Savanah's Swan Song (Chapter 29)

Link to the previous chapter: https://www.patreon.com/posts/savanahs-swan-28-141530504

Savanah’s replicant lazily stretched its arms above its head, causing its pert B-cup breasts to lift skyward.  They seemed on the verge of floating away, perfect orbs unwilling to be constrained by clothing or gravity. 

The keen-eyed droid noticed Savanah’s envious stare and the way the frumpy singer crossed her arms over the fat bags drooping beneath her filthy sweatshirt.   

“You seem to have a lot on your chest, Savanah,” the mimic said with a wry smile.  “Why don’t you go first?”

Savanah’s face transitioned from envy to wrath.  “I…you…” 

While the singer’s face tangled with envy and wrath, her pudgy body, still in the grungy sweats she’d worn the past two days, was a seething mix of sloth and gluttony.  Of course, her replicant already knew she was full of pride, lust, and greed.  That’s how it had been programmed, after all. 

“It’s a good thing you didn’t appear on the Late Show,” it said, smirking at the stammering smorgasbord of sin sitting before her.  “They would’ve cut to commercial.”

Savanah wanted nothing more than to pile-drive the smarmy bitch-bot through the bedroom door…But she didn’t.  She just stared into her lap.

“Leaber alone,” Chad said, still holding his injured nose.  A trickle of blood seeped between his thumb and index finger. 

“She’s the one who attacked me, babe.”  The droid turned back to Savanah.  “But you won’t make that mistake again, will you, tubby?”  When there was no reply, it shrugged its sinewy shoulders. “After all I’ve done, that’s the thanks I get.”

Savanah lifted her gaze.  “You think I should thank you?”

“Yes.  While you’ve been sitting on your fat ass, I’ve been busting mine.  Touring, filming movies, making public appearances.”  The android sat on the bed beside Savanah.  It extended a spindly finger and diddled the roll of pudge hanging over the elastic band of her sweats.  “How much have you gained, anyway?  50?  75 pounds?”

The plump singer sprang to her feet.  Her AI assailant had touched a fatty nerve.  “I don’t answer to you, bitch.  You answer to me.  I’m calling Dr. Wagner.”

The naked robot rose wearily to its feet.  Savanah felt her muscles, what was left of them anyway, tense for an attack.  However, her flawless faux didn’t attack.  Instead, it gave the singer a piteous shake of the head, then turned and retrieved the fractured phone from the floor.

“Go ahead,” it said, handing over the device.

Savanah stared at the spidered screen of her dead cell, wincing at the puffy face staring back. “Give me your phone,” she said, turning to Chad.  When he hesitated, she repeated, “Give me your phone, Chad.”

Ignoring her request, Chad moved toward the bedroom door. “I’m going to brew a pot of coffee. Why don’t the three of us sit down and talk?” 

Savanah started after him, intending to cause a fresh flow of blood on his duplicitous face, but her replicant stepped between them.  “Listen to your boyfriend, tubby,” it said, freezing Savanah with a press of frigid fingers against her spongy chest.  “It’s time you let cooler and prettier heads prevail.”