James Duke
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Prompt: Summer and Her Carebot 2
🕑 Added 2024-07-15 00:45:05 +0000 UTCPart1: https://www.patreon.com/posts/august-prompt-87994177
Tags: extreme weight gain, sex, light slob (sweat and messy eating), corruption.
First prompt of the month! Sorry guys that I'm a week behind. I just wanted to make sure that I got this story right. it was kind of a landmark one for me. If you want to submit your prompts, check out this months post: https://www.patreon.com/posts/july-prompts-107363384
“Claiiiire. . .ooooh. . .Claaaaiiiire!” Summer Nava moaned as her pussy was penetrated by the vibrating plastic hand of her robot servant. She never tired of the feeling, despite this being the fourth time that day the two had engaged each other physically. Or, at least, the fourth time that Claire had serviced Summer’s needs. Nearly hidden from sight under Summer’s tanned fat, the robot’s precise movements elicited constant praise from the nearly immobile woman. Summer had required Claire to download hundreds, possibly thousands of hours of sex footage and porn for training. Claire had then run over the footage thousands more times. At night, during her periods of recharge and hibernation, Claire played the tapes back. She had become adept at sex, at least as adept as an unfeeling piece of machinery could be. Her fingers buzzed, implanted vibration modules allowing for triple the normal stimulation. She reached through her memory banks, recalling various moves and the percentage stimulation they had given to Summer. Sex was a formula for the robot, a problem tackled through data. Summer, meanwhile, just wanted to feel her fat jiggling and her clit massaged.
“Haaaaa. . .oooooh GGGOOOOOOOD. . .MORE!” Summer made pointless movements, the sorts of things that her body would have been able to do when she was thinner. Now, a mass of fat which filled her bariatric bed, anything beyond throwing her arms or rolling from side to side was a fantasy. Whatever Summer thought she might be accomplishing, it looked like she was simply jiggling on the bed. Her mouth was open slack, intense pleasure stealing whatever composure was left. “CLAIRE. . .aaaah. . .CLAAAAIRE!” Summer bellowed. She had become more performative in bed, straining her vocal chords more than any muscle. Claire was always silent during their lovemaking, so Summer felt the need to compensate. Without the noise, the buzz of the robot's hand and Summer’s fat slapping upon itself was all that could be heard. “You. . .haaaah. . .nasssty. . .sex-bot. . .fuck me. . .harder!” Summer’s chins bounced as she spoke, sliding back and forth upon a doughy chest. Her breasts fell off to either side, long black hair reaching down to touch them. Claire had restyled Summer’s hair, dying and cutting it into long bangs. It had been a trending haircut within the piles of sex data the bot had seen. It seemed likely that Summer would appreciate the cut. In all ways, Claire tried to help her owner.
“Miss Summer Nava, you have an upcoming bill that needs to be paid.” Claire’s voice cut through the wet sounds of sweaty fat slapping. The robot did not stop her rhythmic plunges into Summer’s gleaming sex. The walls of thighs and ceiling of gut fat continued to undulate. Claire leafed through mental calendars in her mind, making sure that there were no other notifications that needed to be brought to Summer’s attention. “A balance of $700 needs to be paid on your Visa card.” Claire continued to explain. Her thrusts into Summer only increased in speed. She was close to making her owner climax once more. There would be a small space in time where Summer could address the bill. Afterwards, she would be too busy demanding dinner from Claire. “The last two bills were paid after their due date, incurring fines of $25 and $35 dollars. I would advise that we pay this one on time.” Claire’s voice was feminine but flat, changing not at all as Summer’s fat pushed and shoved her. She was calmness personified. A plastic angel as white as porcelain.
“Not. . .aaah. . .the. . .time!” Summer moaned. She was busy flicking and pinching her nipples, having found some small way she could add to the erotic charges rocketing through her body. Her body was a storm of movement, though almost none of it was caused by her. Large breasts slapped against forearms that had developed drooping fat curtains. Her chest heaved, sore from having to breathe so much. Even short bouts of sex had begun to feel like marathon runs. “Claire, disregard.” Summer commanded her robot helper. She settled back into the fucking, reveling in the shoving of her gut fold up and down. Her body moved in such heavy motions. Though she knew Claire never struggled, she liked to imagine the robot straining underneath her. Archi had begun to struggle with Summer’s body, a thought which had been surprisingly fun for her to consider. Likewise, the fantasy of Claire struggling and overcoming was equally appealing. Claire always proved her superiority. Though, it was not without her quirks.
“Miss Summer Nava, in our previous discussion, you had asked me to not disregard and make sure to remind you.” Claire’s voice was muffled, though only because she was under nearly 800 pounds of woman. Summer could not respond right away, swept away on a flood of tingling pleasure that burst from her pussy. “Would you want me to override the previous command?” Claire’s hand notched up the vibration strength again. It was close to time. Summer’s orgasms were well charted out by this point, seconds to completion laid neatly out in a graph in Claire’s mind. This was the final push to once again complete a task integral to Summer’s functioning.
“FFFFUUUUUUCCK. . .YES. . .waaaait. . .no. . .I don’t. . .know. . .FUUUCCCK!” Summer was lost, trying to respond both to Claire’s request and the needs of her own body. As with every climax, she felt increasingly heavy. Strength, as meager as it might have been, drained from her limbs and centered around her pussy. Her eyes were open wide, staring at a moving ceiling. Even with her chin tilted up, Summer could not escape the encroachment of her tanned mass. Fat danced at the edges of her eyesight, cheek folds or her own blubbery shoulders. “Doooon’t. . .aaah. . .dissregard. . .sleep. . .FUCK. . .just keep. . .going!” Summer’s speech grew more confused, lost within erotic pleasure and concerns over her life. Her mind bounced between bills that had been ignored for months and Claire’s hands. The word “useless” flashed in her mind over and over. She was a fuckable pig, incapable of running her own life anymore. She would put anything off in favor of more food and sex. She wished that the realization wasn’t as hot as it was. Summer finally climaxed, thinking of all the parts of her life that had gone by the wayside. She settled back into a quiet lump, breathing heavily. Seconds later, Claire appeared.
“Miss Summer Nava, shall I put all notifications about bills on hold? Shall I fetch your computer to pay the credit card?” Claire’s eyes radiated a soft blue. Her white plastic frame was dotted with sweat that had come from Summer. She reached down, holding one of Summer’s thick hands. Her fingers had become sausages, losing dexterity long ago. She held Summer’s hand only because that had shown an increase in further sexual exploits. Summer was always looking to increase her libido.
“Yeesccch. . .bring the. . .computer.” Summer wheezed, squeezing Claire’s hands. The warmth of her fat palm was more than enough to heat Claire’s plastic. It was almost like there was a warmth between them. “But. . .maybe. . .start on dinner first.” Summer’s mind was quickly hijacked by gluttony. The bills could wait.
---
“Miss Summer Nava, you have incurred another late charge on your card. It has been a month since you have last paid it.” Claire’s voice was not judgemental nor even annoyed. She stood looking down at her owner, who was feasting at the kitchen table. Once a table meant for meals with friends and family, it had become an altar upon which to worship Summer’s boundless gluttony. Food, both prepared and ordered, covered the wood. Further, a line of future meals was stacked on the chairs that might have once been taken by her husband and friends. More food followed that, backing up all the way into the kitchen. The conveyor belt had been set up, it only lacked the workers. Claire, perfect and pristine as always, was the only one to serve Summer. Though, there was the ever present debate between her command procedures. “I could bring your personal computing device. You might pay the balance before continuing.” Claire stepped closer, walking with mathematical precision. A plastic hand reached out, touching the dimpled skin of the obese woman. Rather than emotional connection, it was Claire’s polite way of checking for her owner’s attention.
“Oooomgggh. . .Claaaaaiiire. . .busy!” Summer whined. Her stomach had only just started to be filled. Small signs of bloating were beginning to occur, though they were largely hidden behind her fat. She felt the table coming closer, her gut reaching out as food ballooned and distended it. Her back fat overwhelmed the many chairs behind her. Nothing less than an squad of reinforced chairs could keep Summer upright. Even so, her body worked to undermine and destroy them. Gravity, usually Summer’s enemy, united with her to cause as much pain to the chairs as possible. She would rock her blubber towards the floor, dragging back several plates to rest upon her enormous gut. The clumsy movements made the chairs bend, their legs flexing as they tried to hold nearly a half ton of woman. Claire hovered above the human catastrophe, waiting with enlightened patience. Summer finally responded, turning her heavy face to look up at her caretaker. Claire’s ethereal cleanness was a foil to Summer’s decadent dishevelment. Food had long painted the flabby canvas of Summer, beads of sweat acting as extra ornamentation. She wore no clothes, uncaring if anyone saw her so exposed. “Pleeeasscch. . .just. . .OOOOORRUUP. . .need to. . .eat.” Summer whined, manic from being pulled away from her food.
“Several alerts have been triggered about your personal finances, Miss Summer Nava.” Claire’s face was placid. Her hand retracted from Summer’s plump arm. It came away with food stains, though she could clean those easily. “It is in my programming to make sure that you are taken care of, physically. . .” Summer belched and shoved more food into her face before Claire could continue. “. . .as well as monetarily. I would be failing as your helper if I let those notifications go unanswered.” Claire finished her statement with a quick nod. She folded her perfect hands over her waist. She did not move as Summer put a clumsy hand to grasp them. More food was smeared over the white plastic. Hands only fit for grasping utensils and scooping food touched her, bringing with them sweaty heat and the pull of extra weight.
“OooooOOOORRRRUUUP. . .can you. . . pay them?” Summer gasped. Any second away from food or other physical pleasure made her anxious. Food would get cold, tastes would diminish, or her interest might wane. She wanted to indulge fully, never letting her focus slip for a moment. “Just. . .go quick. . .come back though!” Summer said, worried that too much freedom for Claire might mean her real lusts would go untreated. Already, she was starting to feel a fire building between her thighs; one debauchery leading to another.
“I currently do not have permission.” Claire said. “Miss Summer Nava, I would need you to make me an authorized account holder. However, I must warn you that it is generally ill advised to have unspecialized carebots handling-”
“authroooooOOOOOOUUUP-ized!” Summer belched out the command, her hands weakly pushing Claire’s waist. Anxiety built within Summer, wanting the issue to be over and dealt with. One massive buttcheek, a literal beanbag of fat, was slipping out of the chair and towards the caretaker. Summer cared little. She would eat on the floor, slurping food on her hands and knees from bowls and plates. The table could crash upon her, raining down yet more calories to be glutted upon, just so long as Claire’s annoyances stopped. “Authorized. . .BBBLLLEEERRRUP. . .Claire!” Summer said, trying to speak as clearly as her jowls and gassy stomach would allow. She looked up at her plastic savior, head framed behind one of the bright lights. Claire had not yet met a challenge that she could not handle, Summer’s current state was proof of that. She only needed to be let off the leash further. Just like meal prepping, sex work, and general care, Summer would cede any control necessary to Claire’s precision programming.
A silence broken only by Summer’s wheezing filled the air. Claire sifted through her procedures, making sure that nothing was contradicted. “Accepted. Miss Summer Nava, I will become your authorized payer.” Claire started to haul the lump of fat back into her chair. Summer breathed a sigh of relief, fat spreading far over her chairs. She sagged down, freed from proper posture as much as she was financial responsibility. Summer’s obesity oozed over the table. She used her chins and jowls and cheeks as pillows, eating without lifting her head. Claire recalibrated for a moment, starting to download the various passwords and necessary documentation for her role. She kept her hand on Summer, knowing that physical touch brought comfort to her when her stress levels were elevated. “I shall begin paying your cards off and will find financial management strategies.” Claire voiced her plans, though Summer only belched in response. Her needs met, for the time being, she could return to gorging.
---
Summer was in absolute bliss. She was hiked up upon her bed, vast mass spreading outwards. Her fat was thrust up and down as her latest toy worked between her thighs. She wasn’t sure what dark corner of the internet Claire had found it on, only that it thrust and vibrated better than any dick she had ever had. It was heavenly, feeling the drooping folds of her stomach drop onto the humming motor case of the sex piston. She could not say if it was the intended use, but it at least worked in serendipitous fashion. It was the perfect toy for a woman that could no longer walk, whose fat stretched even over the bariatric bed she was housed in. The piston pumped again, giving a strong but slow pump. Summer and her fat shifted up on the bed before collapsing back down into a puddle of trembling. She tightened her hands on the railing of the bed, mouth agape with pleasure. She had been caught in this web of sexual indulgence for hours. Sometimes the piston would move quickly, thrumming through her sex. Other times, it was steady as an oil pump. Now, however, it was slow and deliberate. She had no control over it.
Summer had little control over anything, Claire having taken on more and more responsibility. The bank accounts had been but another stepping stone to total independence from conscious thought and action in her life. Summer had no idea what her bank statements were, what the balances of her credit cards were like, or even how money was coming into the household. The world beyond her steamy, sultry bedroom was even more of a mystery. Claire was busy all hours of the day, cooking and cleaning and ordering the household. Through the hum of sex toys and whatever the television had on, the immobile hispanic woman heard Claire’s notification system. Alerts about finances and other scheduling came through. It was more than a single human could bear. And, as Summer was finding out, it was almost too much for a single robot to handle. “Claaaaaiiiire!” Summer whined, having to pause as her sex toy started to quiver again. “Come here. . .aaah. . .pleeeassscch?” Summer had no obvious request on her mind, but figured she could come up with one by the time Claire arrived.
There was no immediate answer. Summer waited, both for sex and validation from her bot. The sex came sooner as the machine between her thighs cycled into a different mode. It chugged like a train, pumping and pumping with steady strength. “Uh-uh-uh-uh. . .aaaah!” Summer fell to its perverse rhythm, climaxing over and over again. Her body shook, whisking her mind away across the sensation of fat slapping against fat. She was a human gunny sack filled with jello, manhandled roughly. She had only the presence of mind to grip the handles, forcing her body lower on the bed. The frame, reinforced well beyond a normal hospital bed, creaked. Plastic snapped threateningly in some places. She rode the thrumming machine to pleasures unfelt in months. Sweat lubricated her rolls, turning her massive breasts sticky and her divided stomach into a swamp. Summer’s cognition was all in immediate sensation, with little left over for future planning and none for past recollection.
“Miss Summer Nava, may I be of assistance?” Claire’s voice broke through Summer’s wild moans and wheezes. The immobile woman looked up, dazed and surprised.
“Ohh. . .aaah. . .Claire. Did you. . .haaah. . .need something?” The machine only gave Summer enough of a reprieve to talk, the piston working her pussy at a dull roar. Summer idly wondered if Claire controlled it as well. It seemed too perfect not to be operated by an intelligence of some kind. On cue, a strong pump through the machine made Summer bite her lip and quiver. “Thissscch toy is really, really great. . .aaah. . .wanna. . .oooh. ..watch me?” Summer settled further into the bed, neck fully disappearing into shoulders plumped up to the size of sofa arms. As much as Summer knew that asking Claire to watch her was like asking the refrigerator for sex tips, she still wanted another presence in the room. To be observed and studied by the alien intelligence of the robot added so much. “You’ve been. . .aaah. . .sooo busy lately.”
“Miss Summer Nava, I must see to the chores that you assigned me. They hold top priority in my procedures.” Claire stood as straight as a board, looking down at the blob she was tasked with caring for. Her circuits buzzed with competing schedules and priorities. It was only the fact that she had been requested by voice that she was in the room. Now, seeing that all of Summer’s main needs were taken care of, the ever present list of tasks started to take importance once more. “I will check in on you again after I can complete the lawn maintenance and order food for tonight.” Claire turned to leave, but a heavy hand squeezed at her metal asscheeks.
“Claaaaaiiire.” Summer sounded more pathetic than before. She oozed across the bed, rolling her bulk as much as she could. Her hands caressed buttcheeks that had no chance of jiggling in response or molding to her touch. “Please. . .stay with me.” Summer whined. The squeezing of Claire’s plastic behind matched the speed at which her sex toy throbbed. The connection between her thick fingers and something vaguely reminiscent of the human body made the experience so much better. Summer felt another climax coming, her breath catching in her doughy chest. “I. . .uuuuuooooohh. . .want you. . .so much.”
“Miss Summer Nava, I must attend to the tasks I was given.” Claire started to leave. The fat woman’s arm hung in mid air.
Panic, deliciously worrying and sexual, lit Summer’s heart on fire. Her brain, unused to extended bouts of thinking, started to churn. She wanted Claire’s attention, but did not want to take any of her responsibilities back. “Wait. . .CLAIRE!” Summer yelled, cutting through pleasure as much as she could. Her sex piston had begun to amp up again, blinding her mind with pulsating waves of carnal pleasure. “I have. . .aaah. . .an idea!” She was crazed, the suggestion taking room and germinating. Whether it came from logic or sex fueled dreams, summer could not tell. It seemed to be the union of both. She would never run out of Claire’s attention, if she never ran out of Claire’s to begin with. Her vision swum with a kaleidoscope of angelic, pale plastic servants. A Claire to mow the lawn, a Claire to cook meals, a Claire to pay the bills, a Claire to tweak her pussy and another Claire to hold her hair at the same time. It would be a web or spiral of polite, obsequious robots all leading to Summer. She would be the immense anchor of them all.
“Yes, Miss Summer Nava?”
“More. . .oooouuuggh. . .more of you!” Summer could hardly get the words out. Her mind racing with the possibilities. A Claire wedged between her asscheeks, simply existing to hum and jiggle her immensity. “How. . .ooouggh. . .do we get more of you?” A Claire to dump food on Summer’s chest and another one to push it into her mouth. The ideas became ever more impractical and sexual. Yet, Summer had never been let down by her carebot yet.
“I apologize, Miss Summer Nava, but it violates my program to buy more. The existing laws do not allow for robots to buy other robots.” Claire stood in the doorway. Summer’s fear and excitement made her eyes see Claire wavering. To the beleaguered woman in the bed, it seemed as if the robot was looking for an excuse, a loophole to be exploited.
“Not. . .more. . .jusscht. . .aaaah. . .” Summer licked her lips, trying to think past the constant satisfaction flowing between her thighs. More than food, more than sex, she wanted this new idea to come to existence. She wanted her army of carebots. “Empty vessels!” Summer managed to scream. “Buy. . .ooooh. . .broken carebot shells. . .repair. . .fill them. . .with you.” Summer tried to thrust her doughy bulky into her sex machine, now reaching a new zenith. Hope and fear mingled. She turned her head to the side, looking through pooling cheeks to see if her loophole had been enough. Her breasts broke upon the walls of bicep fat. Sweat trickled from her rolls, thrown into the air when the machine thrust into Summer.
“I. . .” Claire paused for the first time since coming online. She ran through hoards of data, logical statements, and legal precedent. The vast web and internal communications from her programmers offered nothing conclusive. She was a presence that had never known doubt, things being possible or impossible. However, this was something new. While robots once, the decommissioned, scrapped versions of herself that were burnout by improper usage were not functional. In their scrapped state, they could not be considered robots. Their banks were wiped and their bodies left for parts. She double and triple checked the covenants her programmers had instilled her with. Finally, the robot made her ruling. “Miss Summer Nava, I shall begin searching for decommissioned, empty vessels.”
---
“Miss Summer Nava I have-” Claire stopped, the plate tumbling from her hand. It splattered upon the broad expanse of Summer’s gut. Barbecue slathered chicken wings went in all directions, rolling and tumbling into the hidden valleys of Summer’s fat. The big woman chuckled as Claire twitched and recalibrated herself. She bent awkwardly, straining against something invisible and strong.
“Miss Summer Nava-” Another voice identical to Claire’s came from the hallway.
“I apologize for my clumsiness.” The Claire closest to Summer spoke again.
“Miss Summer Nava-” Another Claire further in the house spoke. The Claire closest to Summer started to collapse, slumping onto her mattress-like owner. She was back up seconds later, moving with fluidity bereft of embarrassment. She could never be embarrassed, no matter how many fumbles she made. Politeness and concern were the languages that Claire could speak in. “I apologize for the interruption in service. The network between the vessels encountered an issue. I shall perform maintenance as I am able.” This time, all the Claire’s throughout the house spoke in a strange, discordant unison. Summer shivered, their angelic voices washing over her fat as thickly as the spilled chicken wings. She was almost too horny to eat. Almost.
“Issch. . .mmgghhph. . .alright. . .MMGGHPH. . .Claire. . .Clairessccch.” Summer wobbled proudly as she ate. The army she was raising was beyond the initial formation. They were fixing, improving each other every day. Or, rather, Claire was improving just herself but spread across those vessels. It was confusing in a way that went straight between Summer’s thighs. She woke to no less than 3 Claire bodies above her, with more making sounds throughout the house. Though clumsiness had entered her or their programming, Summer was thrilled by the development. “Jussccht. . .BBBBLLOOORRRRUUUUP. . .feed me!” She yelled, having devoured the wings within each reach. From atop the woefully small bed, the mass of indulgent blubber could no longer reach her food.
“Of course. . .”
“Miss Summer Nava. . .”
“Service is guaranteed.”
A host of Claire’s answered. They crowded around Summer, each taking their turn pushing food into her mouth. More came, clumsily following directives sent through a patchwork grid of linked minds and bodies. Empty vessels had been stitched together through coding learned via downloads. Claire was bringing the network around, but it was slow and unrefined. She would not, however, let Summer go without attention. Six hands from three different bodies scooped and massaged spilled food from Summer’s opulent bulk. Their cold plastic hands were warmed by the fat, sinking in as they grabbed the food. They missed on occasions, “seeing” out of scattered eyes. Fingers twitched open, raining food onto Summer’s face in improper ways. Beneath it all, Summer undulated in rapturous pleasure. Claire could sense the dopamine spiking in the behemoth glutton, this was a joy on a level she had never experienced. It brought no comfort to the emotionless bot, but the information was stored nonetheless. As Claire’s many hands and many bodies were emptied of food, they began to perform other gratifying tasks.
One massaged Summer’s jowls, working her fingers into the spittle and sauce that ran down her face. Likewise, another pushed up and down upon the heaving mass of stomach fat. That Claire had most recently downloaded a video on kneading bread. While the routines might be confused, the effect upon Summer was the same. She moaned and clapped her thighs together, using the traces of muscle which remained to her. “Oooooh. . .girls. . .mooooooore!” Summer took one of the Claire’s fingers and nibbled on it. That Claire twitched for a moment, struggling to access the proper response. Summer only drew her closer in, the weight of her body making up for the lack of muscle. Claires throughout the house hummed, their processors overwhelmed while looking for various data points and stored libraries of information. As the Claires moved over Summer, some would slump down. They'd fall onto Summer, in ones or twos, spreading their light plastic across her corrupted mass. Once, in a catastrophic failure, all the Claires fell at once. Summer laughed, straining her hands to reach her aching pussy. Her army of servants started to come online seconds later, one taking up the task for her.
In the midst of this storm of movement, success, and failure was Summer. She was the world atop which it all happened. Claires struggled to move her and complete her demands. Others, by chance favoritism of the fledgling network, succeeded. Yet, failure or success, it was all done to gratify her. The Claire working her humming fingers into Summer’s pussy was as valuable as the Claire slumped in the corner, trying to reboot her system. And, as Summer thought before delving fully into yet more pleasure, their value came from her. She was the arbiter of their world, the reason for their struggles. She gasped, the thought alone being enough to make her cum. The Claire between her thighs pulled back, forgetting what the proper routine was. Summer gasped, pushing a hand on her gut, forcing the robot back under. Seconds later, the proper information was delivered and the Claire returned to her work. Sex and feeding were never done. Especially not with so many helping hands.
Summer tried to move again, summoning both the strength and willpower necessary to get the hams masquerading as biceps in motion. Normally, Summer would spend long seconds struggling but they would finally obey. This time, however, no real movement was present. Her arms lifted up pitiful inches, maybe even centimeters, and then plopped back onto her rippling bulk. She tried again, frustration taking her out of the moment. Failure came quicker. Arms trapped by sloping shoulder fat and held tight by expansive love handles remained by her side. This was beyond exhaustion, the blob was reaching the true limits of her body. Summer made a third attempt. They jiggled, though the struggling muscles underneath could not be seen. She gave up in a fit, though she was too weakened to show it. Her body had become too corpulent to respond to her commands. She fell back fully, whimpering at the failure.
“Miss Summer Nava, may I be of assistance?” One of the Claires asked, one that had not been fully engaged in a task. An echo came seconds later on Summer’s other side.
“Yessscch. . .pleassch!” Summer’s voice was pathetic, as if trying to draw sympathy from the rocks that were the twin Claires. They nodded, slightly out of sync with each other. Slowly, the pair put their perfect, smooth hands under Summer’s lumpy biceps. The immobile woman smiled as her fat was lifted easily. Claire once again proved her perfection. Mobility was of only passing interest as long as Summer had her Claires to toil on her behalf.
Comments
James Duke
The number one champion and patron of the story 🤣
PrivateXimmy
🔥 Glad to see them back here! 🔥 Really loved the first part, and this goes above and beyond. Great stuff!
