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A Wedding Gift Part 1 of ? (M/F, f, mast, voy, sci fi)
By Rzrsej

Sam felt bone tired when they at last solidified on the jump pad.
It wasn’t the journey – the matter transport had been
straightforward enough, a matter of a few seconds from Tokyo to
L.A. No, it had just been the longest of days. Satisfying,
exhilarating, wondrous in so many ways, but excitement like that
obviously comes with a price in energy, and Sam was glad to be
back home where he could spend a good night’s sleep in his own
bed.

Somehow, Tai managed to look her usual radiant self beside him.
If anything, she seemed to be more beautiful than she’d been this
afternoon when she had seemed to float down the aisle in her
wedding dress. He’d never seen anything like it, the way she’d
look then, her dark, almond shaped eyes framed by her shimmering
dark hair, her demure smile hiding what he knew was a wicked
sense of humor and an occasionally kinky mind.

“How can you possibly have so much energy after all that?” he
asked her.

“After all, I married the man of my dreams today,” she teased.
“Why shouldn’t I feel good? Besides, the honeymoon night’s still
to come – that’s the part I’ve really been looking forward to.”

As tired as he was, Sam pepped up a bit at this. It wasn’t like
they’d never slept together before, but he never tired of seeing
her naked body, or better -- lying on top of it. And honeymoons
are honeymoons after all – a first chance for sex as man and wife
comes about only once.

“And where would you like to spend our honeymoon, dear?” he asked
with a grin. “Paris?” At his word, the room shifted to a street
scene of Paris at night, with a magnificent view of the Eiffel
Tower. “Kenya?” Abruptly, their surroundings changed again to a
jungle path, a cacophony of birds and animals all around them.
“Maybe a quick cuddle at the North Pole?” The inside of an igloo
hut this time, the icy feel of the wind cutting through them even
in the parkas they now wore.

Even when it had disappeared, Sam still felt a shiver. A
holo-room was nothing if not realistic.

“No, no” Tai protested. “All I want, really, is to spend the
night together, back in our own apartment, in our own bed.” Sam
was relieved at that. He’d summon up any amount of excitement for
her if she wanted it, spend time in any location if it would make
her happy, but all the same he felt as though he’d had enough
travel for a while.

Tai continued, “Sit down, Sam,” and a loveseat appeared behind
them. Sitting down, she patted the cushion beside her. When Sam
was sitting beside her, she turned to him with a serious look on
her face. “Sam,” she began, “I have something to tell you.”

“It’s all over and you’re leaving me for a professional
wrestler?” he joked, though her serious face had made him uneasy.

“No, nothing like that,” she smiled. “No. It’s about a wedding
gift from my father.”

“What do you mean,” he asked, relieved, though she still seemed
so serious. “Your father couldn’t possibly give us anything more.
No one has ever treated me with as much kindness as your family,
welcoming me into their home, putting together a wedding like
that one. They must have spent a fortune on us.” Not that they
didn’t have a fortune to spend, he thought. Mitch Siko was one of
the richest film-makers who ever lived, his holographic works
setting new standards in the form and renowned by critics and
audiences alike around the world. Even so, Sam honestly couldn’t
see what more the man could offer them – his entertainments over
the past two weeks, and especially the last 24 hours had been
lavish in the extreme.

“This is different,” Tai said, still serious. “My father wanted
to give you something very special, something he has spent almost
a lifetime on.” She reached down to her bag then and, unzipping
it, carefully pulled out a leather photo album. Holding it close
to her chest, she continued, “ You’ve never seen any of my
childhood pictures before.”

It was true: he hadn’t. It wasn’t something he’d ever really
thought about before, but now that she mentioned it, he did
wonder how they could have date for four years without his never
having seen one baby photo, one school photo, one shot of her at
her first piano recital or cheering for the high school soccer
team. He realized, in fact, that there hadn’t even been any
photos in her parents’ home.

“You see, my father is a bit eccentric as an artist. Oh, it
doesn’t always show in his holo-films. He has a keen sense of
what will sell, and he takes it as his sacred duty to make holos
that will satisfy the audience. But there’s another side to him
as well, a different sort of artistry. He takes it very
seriously, and it can strike some as almost beyond avant garde.
He’s made thousands of photos of me over the years, but no one
but him has ever seen them. I’ve never even seen them myself, my
mother’s never seen them, no one. You see, he wanted to create
something that would be absolutely personal, so absolutely
personal that it would only ever belong to one person – the man I
married. This is my history,” she said, holding out the book to
him then. “My whole life in an album. I’ve lived it, but you’re
the first person to ever see it.”

Sam didn’t know what to say exactly. The idea itself was
difficult to take in, that someone would have the
self-discipline, the artistic vision to put a project like this
together; that he would recognize it’s value; that he would give
it to Sam. He was speechless and misty-eyed.

“Will you look at my life with me?” she asked gently but with
genuine humility. He realized then what this mean not only to
him, but to her – to share her experiences with someone in this
way for the first time. And too, he recognized that she was
genuinely asking. When she’d said this gift was for him, she’d
meant it: she could look at these pictures only if he
specifically allowed it.

“Yes,” he said when he’d realized it. “That would be the most
amazing thing I could think of doing tonight.” And he meant it.

Cuddling up close, then, and leaning her head on his shoulder,
she placed the album squarely into his lap. He was almost too
mesmerized to even open it, but when at last he did, they looked
down at her baby pictures.

She was adorable in a pink satin gown, her little body obviously
working as hard as it could to hold her infant’s head up and grin
at the camera with her chubby little bow mouth. And in the green
velvet jumper she wore in the next photo with the cute bow in her
hair.

And there were other pictures to explore as they turned the
pages. Pictures of her with birthday cake smeared all over her
face and hands, pictures of her doing a handstand in the park,
pictures of her learning to ride a bike, her father running along
beside her, his hand just inches from the back of her seat where
he’d obviously just let go. When they came across pictures of her
in a bikin at the beach when she was thirteen, Sam made a learing
sound in his throat.

“Settle down,” she laughed, and patted him on the knee. “I’m just
thirteen there, after all. What kind of pervert are you?” But he
knew she was only teasing.

They went on through pictures of Tai with her date before the
prom, pictures of her at graduation, and pictures of her first
apartment at college.” They were all expertly taken, though they
all managed to have the feel of intimate family photos. In some
it was even clear that Tai was in a kind of teenager angst period
and wanted no part of being photographed. She would roll her
eyes, or stick her tongue out for the camera, or simply find a
way to disappear behind this or that object. And yet somehow her
personality, her essence, was always there. At the end of two
hours, he felt that he’d come to know her in an entirely
different way, and told her so.

She beamed with pleasure, and it was clear that she too had
enjoyed herself, seeing her own childhood again after all these
years. She laughed: “What an ugly girl at some ages though,
right?”

“Are you kidding?” he gaped, “there’s never been anyone so
beautiful.”

“Right,” she rolled her eyes, “that ridiculous uneven haircut,
the braces, and the glasses really showed how sexy I can be.”

“Those were the ones I liked best of all,” he told her, and he
meant it.

She kissed him then, a long slow, kiss, he tongue lightly moving
into his mouth to touch his.

When she pulled away, however, she was serious once again. “Sam.
There’s more, and I’m not sure what you will make of the rest.”

“More?” he was dumbfounded. “What more? Has your dad hired the
Boston symphony to play us to sleep? Will there be elephants?
Cannon fire? Oh wait, strippers?” He nudged her in the ribs.

“Not exactly,” she said cryptically, though she finally smiled at
least a bit. “But close.”

“Cool. I love elephants.”

“No, not those,” she said. She took a deep breath: “Look. My
father’s not really much of a photographer—“ Sam started to
protest, but she held up one hand: “Oh, he’s good with concept,
but he really only dabbles in pictures. No, you know, and the
world knows, that his genius lies in making holofilms. He’s known
the world over for his blockbusters, and those are impressive.
I’m not so over-modest as not to admit that. But he makes a lot
of films that no one ever sees. Personal projects, quirky
material, arty kinds of films: those are his real passion. At the
same time he began making this photo album, he began another,
parallel project.” She reached down again to her bag, and this
time pulled out a holo disk.

Before she handed it to him, though, she took another deep
breath. “I’m not entirely sure how you’re going to feel about
this one, though.” She hesitated, but then placed the disk in his
open palm. “This is another record of me, but this one’s . . .
different. You can see it’s holofilm, and like the pictures it’s
all me. And like the pictures, no one’s ever seen what’s on this
disk.”

Sam could only look at her and smile. If looking at her childhood
pictures had helped him see his wife with new depth, what would
holofilm of her do? What would it be like to watch her move, hear
her voice at 10 or 12 or 15?

He had already made a movement towards the disc slot on the far
wall, when she stopped him: “Wait! It’s not exactly the same,”
she said, her voice shaky with nervousness. “Oh, I guess there’s
no smooth way to explain this, so I’ll just tell you. Since I was
born, my father has been holofilming me, but not just making
standard home movies. He’s been filming me naked.”

Sam sat back down, a bit stunned. “See, I wasn’t sure how you’d
take it.”

“No, it’s ok,” Sam reassured her. “I’m only a bit confused. Do
you mean you and he. . .”

“Oh, no,” Tai laughed then, the tension leaving her face for a
moment. “No, nothing like that. Well, not in the way you mean. It
is sexual, and he meant it to be, but this was made for one
person and one person only – you. He felt that the person I chose
to marry might want to know me completely. Do you understand?
Obviously you know me in the most intimate ways, as no one else
has ever known me. And now you’ve seen what my childhood was
like,” she patted the leather-bound album in her lap. “But that
leaves out a big piece of my life – that part of me that was
private before you met me, when I was a child. He wanted to give
that to you as a gift, so that you, unlike any other man in the
world, would know your wife completely, in every way.” She looked
hard at him and asked again, “Do you understand?”

“Yes,” he replied, “I think so. But I’m still not exactly sure
what it is. These are pictures or video of you naked as you were
growing up?”

“Sort of, but much, much more than that. It’s interactive
holofilm, which means you aren’t limited to just seeing me as I
looked then. You can touch me, talk to me, kiss me, anything you
want, and at any age you want. You can dress me up, or have
dinner with me, or talk about Nietschze if that’s what turns you
on.

“Can I . . .” he ventured.

“Of course,” she answered. “That’s a big part of why dad made it
in the first place. Do you find that too perverse?”

“No,” he said quickly, and then added, “It’s unusual, but it
makes a kind of sense in a way. I’d never consider doing that
with a child, but then we’ve sort of already done that, if you
know what I mean. So, it’s not exactly like doing it with a
child.”

“Exactly,” she smiled at him, relieved that he understood. “I
knew I’d married the right man. But of course, the me on this
disc can be as childlike as you want her to be. Or as adult. But
you’re right. You aren’t going to exactly scar me at this point.”

“So, what’s it like?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. Like my pictures, I’ve never seen any of
this. No one has. But it’s as real as holofilm, which is as real
as life. And some of it is actual recordings of my life, not just
an image that’s been filled with life.

“What do you mean,” he asked.

“Well, let me show you.” She walked over to the wall then, slid
the disc in and studied the contents that pulled up on the wall
monitor. When she found what she was looking for, she selected
it, pressed play, and came back to sit down beside Sam.

Just as she had settled herself next to him and taken his hand,
the world before them changed completely.

Before them was a bedroom, obviously a girl’s bedroom with
pink-patterned wall paper, posters of young male singers hanging,
a white desk filled with clutter, and a pink princess bed in the
middle.

“I never was much of a housekeeper,” Tai muttered in his ear.
There were clothes lying here and there on the carpeted floor, a
pair of jeans draped over the desk chair, and a small stack of
paperback books on the bed.
Within moments, the door opened, and Tai walked in – or at least
a thirteen-year-old version of Tai anyway. She was dressed in a
short blue pleated skirt, with a t-shirt tan t-shirt hanging down
below her waist. Her feet were in flip flops, but she kicked them
off almost immediately. As in the pictures from her at this age,
her hair was cut unevenly, the right side hanging down to her
shoulder, the left cut close to he scalp. Her lips puckered from
the braces behind them, and she wore glasses with dark rims.

She closed the door behind her, and after taking a step or two
forward, turned back around and locked it.

Sam felt himself in a kind of paradise, watching his current wife
as she walked matter-of-factly about her room. Her every move was
lithe, from the way her heels never seemed to quite touch the
floor to the way she tossed her hair to get it out of her eyes.
She seemed to be looking for something, opening drawers and
rifling through the contents, checking her jeans’ pockets, and at
one point even getting down on her hands and knees and looking
under the bed. She finally seemed to discover what it was she was
searching for in one of the books on her bed. It was a piece of
paper, torn from a magazine, creased from having been folded and
stuffed in pockets and drawers. Sam couldn’t quite make out what
was on it from where he was sitting, and it hadn’t yet occurred
to him he could move to another vantage, but Tai whispered in his
ear the name of a singer who had been big at the time.

Again in a matter of fact way, which made sense given that she
was alone, the 13 year-old Tai reached to her waist and pulled
her shirt up over her head. Reaching behind her with both hands
(and poking her tongue out cutely to the side), she undid her bra
and tossed it in the general direction of her closet. Her
just-budding breasts stood up firmly on her chest, the nipples
small, dark and hard.

Just as casually, she unzipped the zipper on the side of her
skirt and slid both skirt and panties to the floor. She stepped
out of them, and, rather than move to the bed, she sat down
crosslegged on the floor in front of her desk. She held the
picture at arm’s length and looked at it for a few moments, and
then Sam could see that she’d moved her right hand down the
length of her stomach and between her legs. He could see her
elbow move slightly, as her hand moved back and forth and she
continued to look at the picture as though she might burn a hole
in it.

Tai leaned over and whispered in his ear again: “I’m trying to
imagine him with no clothes. This is the first time I’ve ever
tried this.” With that, she moved her hand to his crotch, where
his cock was already straining against the fabric of his pants.
He could say nothing, and it seemed as though his mouth had lost
all its moisture.

In front of him, the young Tai shifted position, leaning her back
against the desk drawers and uncrossing her legs so that she was
spread in front of him, her knees up slightly. He was mesmerized
at the sight: her hand cupped her pussy, but he could see behind
her wrist that she was just beginning to grow a few whispy black
hairs. She seemed to be experimenting with herself as she went.
For a while she turned her hand sideways and seemed to saw
between the lips, up and down. Other times she would press the
heel of her hand hard into clit, the rest of her fingers splayed
out in front of her. Setting the picture down, but keeping her
eyes fixed on it, she used two hands to spread the smooth lips
apart, and tentatively pushed her index finger into the hole. The
moved it in and out for a while, her finger coming out wetter and
wetter.

At length, she seemed to grow tired of this, though, and she sat
up. Looking around the room, she noticed a hairbrush lying a few
feet away and, lying flat on her belly, she stretched out a hand
until she had it. Sitting back up, she used her left hand to open
her pussy’s lips again, and her right to slowly and gently guide
the hand of the brush into her cunt. She closed her eyes then,
leaning her head back against the drawers and slowly began moving
the brush in and out. Her left hand moved up to her clit and
began making soft irregular circles.

She never looked at the picture again but rather kept her eyes
tightly shut as she masturbated faster and faster. Within five
minutes, Sam saw her raise her hips off the floor, her heels
digging hard into the carpet, and he heard a small gasp escape
her lips. She trembled, her whole body moving in little spasms
until finally her orgasm seemed to pass. She went sort of limp
then, allowing her knees to come down, arms to fall to the floor.
Still, the end of the hairbrush remained sticking obscenely from
her cunt.

“Pause” Tai told the program, and Sam noticed for the first time
that Tai’s hand was now inside his pants and firmly holding the
shaft of his penis.