Technophilic Nightmare, Part 2

by GadenKerensky

Summary:

Randall, after being captured, finds himself reunited with the rest of the crew... most of them. Some remain unaccounted for, and others are taken away, one by one. Soon it is his turn, and more intolerable, nightmarish ecstasy awaits him... and perhaps, an opportunity.

Copyright 2025 ©️ Gaden Kerensky All Rights Reserved. Do not use for AI.

 

How far was it taking him? Where was it taking him? It was further than they had gone when he trekked from his lifepod to the campsite. But not so far away from the mountains that he couldn’t see them in the distance when he craned his neck to see the ground below.

That’s when he noticed what looked like a long, dark-metal conduit running along the ground… and slowly realised it was some sort of tunnel, or something, large enough to fit several vehicles through. It glowed with red lights, and though highly technological, it had a biomechanical hint to its design.

Further still, he saw another such tunnel come into view, and out of the corner of his eyes, a third… all three slowly converging together, like spokes on a wheel.

He groaned, feeling like he was being edged now, that gentle stimulation not going away.

He kept watching the ground below… and soon, strange grass gave way to metal and glass, as rounded, curving structures came into view, glowing with red lights, sharp antennae and pylons jutting out everywhere. The structures were steadily getting larger and larger, and much taller, electricity crackling between the various pylons and antennae.

Then, he was pulled from the machine’s sucking port, his throbbing cock left to bob in the cold air as he was lowered away from the machine’s body, and allowed to face the looming structure that he was brought to.

It was a towering spire, at least a kilometre or more in height, with satellite towers joined by struts and what looked like passages, ovoid nodules protruding off the side the structure. He didn’t get a good look at its peak, but he thought he saw a number of large antennae and what looked like radomes or something similar.

Red lights pulsed everywhere around it, and he saw dozens, if not hundreds of those flying machines slowly flitting about, their tentacles waving lazily behind them as they patrolled and transited in and out of the structures through various iris doors.

Such as the one right ahead of him, dilating and revealing a dark interior lined with cabling.

The sense of foreboding he got was immense, but he hadn’t the strength to resist as he was brought past the threshold into this ominous place.

The machine carried him through tight passages, until, he was brought to a chamber, the floor dimly lit by the red optics of the machine. He spied numerous smaller iris hatches on the metal surface, and as he was brought to one, it opened, revealing a platform just large enough to accommodate his form, even slumped.

He saw Henrietta brought forth as well, and dumped on another such platform. Immediately flexible tubes, not unlike tentacles themselves, rose up from the edges of their platforms, and curled overhead to form simple cages.

Moments later, their platforms dropped with surprising speed, making Randall’s stomach lurch.

They were drawn down into another chamber, lit by red and white lights, highlighting the gunmetal grey of the smooth, rounded walls only broken up by conduit-like pillars converging to a point in the centre, flanking short ramps that led to iris doors all round.

The floor was a lighter colour of grey, and had glowing lines that pulsed with red ambience, converging into a ring around the centre of the room, of which their platforms, two of several, were arrayed around.

In the middle of this ring was a conical device that seemed to be projecting a hologram of geometric shapes and symbols Randall could not understand.

But immediately after this, he noticed all the little alcoves around the large room, between the ramps, where naked humans huddled.

Many he recognised.

They recognised him back, the eyes of one pudgy man lighting up.

“Randall?” they hissed out quizzically.

Randall didn’t know them personally, but he grabbed Henrietta’s wrist, and dragged the quiet, glassy eyed woman over to the alcove where several of the other humans were gathered. A quick count, and Randall figured there were more here than when they made camp near the wreck of The Maxim.

“You don’t recognise me, Randall?” the man asked. He was pudgy, with thinning hair, and middle aged. His skin had a natural tan to it, and dark brown eyes that were hard to make out in the alcove.

Randall shook his head.

“Sorry, I don’t know your name, but I do remember seeing you on the ship before,” Randall conceded.

The man shrugged; even with a crew of 100, not everyone knew everyone’s name, shifts and schedules kept people apart, and without nametags now, well, Randall wouldn’t have a clue.

“Alon Malto. I’m the guy who was at the wreck site. Was with you when Gina was… well, you know what,” he said, trying to dance around the word.

Randall looked him up and down, noticing that the man was unharmed. None of the survivors appeared to be in any state of injury, though there were some subtle marks that suggested what happened to them.

“They got you too?” Randall ventured.

“They raped everyone,” Alon said grimly, saying the word up front this time. “Didn’t matter who except anyone who got injured trying to escape them. Those guys, they got taken away. Don’t know where...”

Randall tried not to think about it.

“Are some of these people from the missing pods?”

Alon nodded.

“Yeah. They all made it down safely. One-hundred-percent survival rate escaping The Maxim. Only, they got caught before they could even make contact. They’ve been here a bit longer than we have, but...”

He trailed off, a look of fear and dread crossing his face.

“But, what?” Randall asked.
Alon sighed.

“Only half of them are actually here, and not everyone from the camp is here either. You know how I said they took the injured away? Well they took some of the others away, but randomly. We haven’t seen them since, but one of the crew here before us, she said… she said they saw someone. A human they’re sure wasn’t on The Maxim. But that’s impossible, we’re the first ones on this rock.”

“That’s not quite true,” Randall corrected, and proceeded to recount what they found at the LEYLINE Project lab… and what happened to them.

Alon’s eyes widened.

“You got to be fucking kidding me… why the fuck did we not know!?”

“I’ve got a feeling whoever was involved didn’t want to leave behind a record. Seems they were pretty sloppy about it,” Randall grumbled.

A nearby woman let out a defeated groan.

“It was a trap...” she said. “They left the damn place and accidentally baited a trap.”

“Question is, what are we gonna do now?” Randall suggested, and he received grim looks.

“Like what? We don’t even have a way out of here, we don’t know how high up we are, or whether there’s any way for us humans to get to the ground. This place wasn’t built for us… well, maybe to contain us. But these things can fly. And god knows what else. The only thing they haven’t seemingly done is torn us apart, but then again, who knows what they’re doing to the people they’ve taken...” Alon stated with a defeatist attitude, one Randall couldn’t blame him for.

He was feeling much the same. He looked around at the other humans, looking full of fear and uncertainty. Some looked like they had cried recently, others were blank-faced like Henrietta. A small handful seemed catatonic. And a number of others were… looking oddly ashamed? Perhaps, from having enjoyed what happened to them, angling their bodies to hide certain reactions they had.

Randall decided to see if he could see the others, venturing into the open with a sense of dread, like a small creature scurrying over a field beneath open skies filled with hungry raptors. Nothing attempted to grab him, and that’s when he saw Satsuki, looking shocked, but otherwise aware of herself, along with Claude, who seemed to be doing his best to maintain his composure.

He moved over to them, though there was hesitance in his motions, expecting contempt and hatred for ‘abandoning them’.

Instead, Satsuki’s eyes seemed to light up a little.

“Randall! You’re alive!” she exclaimed, but did not get up from her position, hugging her knees to her chest and keeping her naked body as covered up as possible.

“There was nothing you could do for us,” Claude said, preemptively trying to assuage any guilt Randall might have had, not that it worked too well, but he did his best to hide it.

“Didn’t matter in the end. They got all of us,” Randall stated glumly.

“Surprised any of us are remotely sane,” Claude remarked, clearly referencing just how… intense, the machines stimulated all of them.

“Not all of us, but they seem to take the ones that break. Along with the others...” Satsuki said, trailing off and tucking up tighter.

Randall grimaced, and decided to take another simple headcount; there were about seventy or so people in the chamber. He wasn’t sure on the exact count, but that meant plenty of people were missing; the injured, the ‘broken’, and those that were simply ‘chosen’.

He looked around again, and noticed a conspicuous absence.

“Where’s Captain Carrow?”

Claude shook his head.

“We didn’t see her when we arrived. Only a few people did, and that was on the way here… she was never brought to this room, far as anyone could tell,” he explained.

It was an unsettling thought, Randall wondering if she was chosen immediately because of her leadership position.

But he kept thinking back to what Alon said, that someone saw a person not part of The Maxim’s crew. He wondered, if that was true, if people from the lab were still alive after all these years.

It wasn’t that long… if they were cared for, they’d only be a little older. But what were they like now, after years in the captivity of these machines…

He shook his head, and tried to get more information.

“When they… when they ‘come’, what comes? Those flying octopus things? Those shrimpipedes? Something else?”

“I only saw the big ones that got us come in here, dragging Kyong away kicking and screaming, and some woman from the command staff,” Satsuki said. “I don’t know what happened to the others with us...”

She went quiet, and Claude looked away. Randall grimaced, but fortunately, Claude shook his head, and continued himself, changing the subject.

“Can’t say I saw anything different… but someone else claims they saw something big through one of those doors another time. That’s where they came from, entering through there, picking one of us and dragging them away. Can’t see much out there though, it’s dark, and… weird. This place wasn’t built with humans in mind.”

That Randall figured when he saw this place coming in, and based on Alon’s remarks, the interior was probably even more wild.

Still, a part of Randall nagged at him to at least try. It was strange, he never really considered himself the sort to stay determined and defiant.

“I’ll leave you two to it,” he said, patting Claude on the shoulder. “I’m gonna ask around some more info.”

They nodded, and Randall moved to the other groups, asking questions, but he didn’t get much else from them, just more of the same, though he did hear from the woman who claimed she saw someone else outside the room, someone she didn’t recognise.

“They had long blond hair, that’s all I really saw. They looked tall, and I think they might’ve had something mechanical on their back? That’s all I can give you, didn’t get too good a look at their face. Could’ve been a pretty woman or an effeminate man, but they weren’t anyone I recognised.”

“That’s still something,” Randall remarked, considering what he knew about the lab; people were reported missing before the evacuation, and during it, the machines attacked in force. He already conceded that if they weren’t killing people, there could’ve been staff from the lab still alive from then. Just, if the machines weren’t killing people… what were they keeping them for other than organic sex toys?

He was deeply concerned at the possibilities, moving on to another alcove to ask what those people had to say.

That’s when he heard the sound of one of those iris doors hiss open, showing off the exterior beyond; Claude was right, it was dark and weird, a criss-crossing web of conduits dotted with glowing red lights, along with pulsing cables down the far wall of the organic-looking structure, rounded supporting beams branching off main pillars and forming rings that gave Randall the impression of an erratic honeycomb.

There were several flying machines milling about outside, but it was the one that floated through the door and landed on the ground that caught everyone’s attention, a few panicked cries filling the air, but the machine paid no attention to any of those noises.

It scanned the various alcoves, examining the many scared, cowering humans… before crawling over to one, and plucking a man screaming from his hole.

It was Alon Malto, the man Randall had just spoken to. He felt a pit in his stomach for it.

Alon struggled, but as always, it was hopeless against these things, and he was swiftly coiled in the embrace of several tentacles, the rest carrying the machine out of the room, Alon’s terrified cries trailing behind. The iris door then shut, and there was silence.

It was haunting, and Randall realised his breathing had stilled. He exhaled, and got his breathing back in order, but he was positively frightened.

Several people broke down into tears, others trying to comfort them. Randall heard one person muttering under their breath.

“Well… at least he’s gonna feel good...”

That person did well to keep others from hearing him, but Randall still heard. But looking over, Randall saw the man looking as if they were questioning what the fuck they had just said themselves, and buried their face in their knees.

Everyone was rattled, and Randall had no idea of what they were going to do.

It was then, he realised, that the people from the unaccounted for lifepods had to have been here a few days already… so what did they eat? Where did they… relieve themselves.

He found one of the people from those lifepods, and they helpfully, if uncomfortably, explained that the machines had accounted for that; at the back of each alcove were holes people could sit in, covering their bodies up to their shoulders so they could go with some privacy, not that there was much when everyone was naked.

And after people were done, they were blasted with water like an extra-strength bidet.

It seemed the machines didn’t like their captives filthy.

As for food… every now and then, the pillars they sent people down on would drop into the floor… and when they came up, there were magnetically fixed bowls filled with a bland-tasting ‘dough’. It wasn’t horrible, though it was quite moist.

It had an energising effect though, and it seemed to last, so people were confident it was nutritious… they hoped.

A few had apparently refused to consume anything… but as some of the first captives said, hunger is a compelling argument.

Sure enough, there was a dull ‘ping’ noise, and those platforms descended.

They vanished for a moment, and rose again, elevating above floor level to table height, now furnished with those bowls filled with numerous balls of that ‘doughy’ substance.

Randall tentatively crept towards the offerings, feeling his stomach rumble. Others did the same, though some remained hiding, not wishing to give into these machines more than they had already.

Truthfully, Randall had no idea what was in the stuff, there could’ve been contaminants meant to affect them in different ways… but there was only one way to find out, and starving was not on his bucket list.

He reached into one of the bowls, and took two of the balls, each the size of a burger. They were pale grey, and lacked much in the way of texture.

With another grumble of his stomach, Randall steeled himself, and took a bite.

It was… bland. Not tasty, not disgusting. Moist, and quite smooth, and it went down easily enough. He finished the two balls, and felt that was enough.

The others lined up, and some made sure to keep the distribution equitable. Not that hoarding food was feasible in this prison cell…

When most everyone but those who refused ate their fill, the pillars retracted back into the floor. When they returned, they were back to being flush with the floor, the bowls now gone.

He muttered to himself as he finished off his balls of nutrient dough, if that’s what it was.

Now he was just left to wonder what happened next. He could hear chatter, but most people were quiet, probably thinking the same as he was. What happened next? When was it their turn?

He was surprised no one tried to kill themselves yet… though, perhaps those machines intervened too quickly for it to matter.

He was wandering back over to Claude and Satsuki, when one of the iris doors opened, and another of those machines flew in and landed on the ground… this time, Randall thought he saw something long and big outside the door, just glimpsing the edge of whatever it was.

But his focus was mostly on the machine that just entered, as he ducked into the nearest alcove.

Its eyes began to scan, sweeping those beams of red light across the room… and slowly settled on him.

A pit formed in his stomach, and he felt his blood chill. It seemed his time was up. He wanted to run, but that instinct meant little in a place with nowhere to run to.

The machine scuttled over to him with that swift but unsettling loping, claws clanking against the floor with a metallic keening. And then, he was coiled by several of the machine’s tentacles, held tight and pulled against its body.

He struggled in reflex, grunting in fear, but he did not scream, even if he felt like it.

With him secure, the machine scuttled over to the door, and once on a little landing pad outside, it kicked off and took flight.

Now Randall was able to see that the structure they were in was one massive, central column, its exterior lumpy and with numerous landing pads and transit tunnels protruding from it into the surrounding tower structure.

The architecture was a bizarre blend of cold organisation and almost organic arrangement, with the interior surface of the ‘shell’ that surrounded the central column covered in the broad, web-like honeycombing reinforcing beams he saw before, which branched off to join with the central column.

He couldn’t see above, but below, he saw a bright blue light pulsing at the very bottom of the tower, and the occasional arc of raw electricity run up glowing conduits arrayed equidistantly around the outer wall, running straight and true without deviation, the crackling audible as each occasional pulse travelled by.

He was being taken downward, passing by dozens of other flying machines, some which seemed to pause to look at him.

He wondered just what they had planned for him.

He was carried, until they came to an opening in the outer wall, leading into a tunnel filled with glowing red lights, likely connecting to one of those satellite structures he saw on the exterior.

He was soon brought into another hollow structure with a central column, though this one was considerably smaller, the structure overall lacking the same depth, more spherical, with the internal column much shorter.

The interior of the shell wall was covered in glowing red nodules, all pulsing with a red light.

An iris door ahead opened, and he was brought into another room, this one looking rather spartan in appearance, with no obvious features or functions.

He was placed on the floor, and he dropped to the ground and crawled backwards in fear, tucking up as that machine loomed over him.

In a moment of stress, he shouted at the thing.

“What do you want from me!?”

It did not answer, simply ‘cocking its head’ at him as if examining him in curiosity.

Then, he heard more metallic clicks, and turned to look over his shoulder slowly.

He realised then, with terror, that he was not simply alone with this machine… several eye clusters told him that much, as more of those tentacled alien robots emerged from alcoves around the room.

He looked around frantically, instinctively searching for an escape that didn’t exist.

He was trapped, surrounded… and soon, restrained, as several tentacles, all belonging to different machines, reached out and coiled around his limbs, once again lifting him in the air, and holding him spread eagle.

He struggled in reflex, but he was afraid of what was to come next.

The machines crowded around him, tilting their heads, scanning his body with those beams of red light. Was he being appraised like a prize breed? A valuable gem? Or a premium cut of meat?

He didn’t know, their mannerisms were obtuse to him, but they didn’t seem entirely robotic…

That was when he was made aware of a new presence, a machine clacking its way towards him; it looked like a mechanical crab with a small body and disproportionately long legs, with claws that seemed undersized for its already small body… not that it didn’t man it was tiny; it was about two thirds the size of the squid machines, and easily stood to their height on its long legs.

It didn’t have eye stalks, instead possessing a pair of dense eye clusters, each optic no bigger than his fist, separated by what seemed like folding chelicerae.

It approached him, and several feeler tentacles emerged from its head. It wasted little time in coiling them around his cock and peeling back his foreskin, and strategically pressing the cool tips to various points around his glans, shaft, and his balls.

Immediately, a moderate vibration and electrical current were imparted into his flaccid shaft, and it gently caressed his member with its feelers.

Randall winced, gasped, and flinched from this touch, but no amount of defiance kept his cock from erecting.

However, once his member was erect, the machine didn’t go much further. Instead, it scanned his crotch, and brought its claws to his legs, clamping down his thighs near the pelvis.

Its ‘chelicerae’ opened, and articulated arms reached out, as it scraped what felt like a sort of razor blade over his groin. It didn’t hurt, though it felt sharp. It focused on what few strands of hair he did grow. And it followed up with a pass using some sort of laser, something that stung just a little bit. It was thorough, removing every little thread on his balls and around his lower body, those articulated tools reaching behind him, between his glutes, and along his perineum.

His flinching was kept well in check, and soon its job was done. It was over quite quickly; with his genetic mutation, he didn’t have much to shave, but he suspected he was now smoother down there than ever.

It finished by secreting a gel-like substance all around his crotch and dick, the cool substance tingling pleasantly as it was lathered in by those feelers.

Only then did it leave, scuttling away and vanishing through one of those iris doors.

When it closed, the squid machines around him began in earnest, caressing his body with their claws, pushing against his balls gently, gliding their segmented, metal limbs carefully over his body.

He gasped, feeling stimulated even though he didn’t want to be. But when he saw those feelers emerge, he panicked, eyes widening; he remembered their touch. What they could do. There was no forgetting them… his body certainly didn’t.

However, this time, the glow at their tips seemed dull, and when the first tendril touched his body, he practically jumped.

Except it was anticipatory reflex; the stimulation imparted was quite dull. Stimulating, but nowhere near as intense as before.

However, this time, there were quite a lot more of them, all roaming around his body, touching him, caressing him with more precision and firmness than the larger tentacles did, imparting that light stimulation that didn’t quite seem like electrostim. He didn’t know what it was, it just made the nerves react pleasantly… and could be amped up to maddening intensity.

He counted at least six machines around him, craning their bodies up and down to explore every inch of his body with those tendrils.

He whimpered in fear and arousal he could not resist, a shuddering gasp leaving his mouth when several of those feelers wrapped around his neck. They didn’t squeeze, but their tips left tingling trails wherever they slithered.

He flinched when they touched his nipples, but the last time that happened, it was so much more extreme.

Perhaps they’d dialled it down to not break him too quickly… but it was making him more and more certain that these machines weren’t so ‘soulless’.

That recording from the scientist, the rambling one… he said they were after pleasure. That they wanted it. Did these machines have a sentience now addicted to sexual stimuli?

Dammit, he was not a scientist, this sort of conjecture wasn’t doing him any good. And it was getting harder to think with all the little points on his body subjected to that tingling stimulation.

His cock was no exception, several of those feelers winding around it and grazing along the underside of his corona and across his glans. His frenulum was rubbed with little circles, and the very opening of his urethra was grazed by the tip of another feeler, the rest of its silvery length wiggling firmly against his mast.

His balls were tied up in worming tendrils sending that tingling sensation into the skin of his sack.

Even the veins starting to bulge around his shaft were being traced and teased by feelers. The gel that crab machine lathered into his cock still lingered, so those feelers were able to glide quite smoothly around his shaft.

He gasped, and that was enough for several of those feelers to slip inside his mouth and explore it. He let out a startled, confused noise, but even closing his jaws did little to stop them from exploring, and he didn’t think he could bite through them, even if he tried his hardest. His teeth probably would’ve broken before he pinched those tendrils.

They focused on his tongue, tingling tips of feelers tracing random shapes against his tastebuds, making his tongue feel strangely numb, but simultaneously buzzing.

He was sure, at this point, they were doing this for their own enjoyment, though he had no idea if they were individuals, or if this was some sick hivemind deal, deriving pleasure from what they did to their human captives.

They certainly didn’t punish his flinching and attempts to shy away. Maybe they enjoyed lively ‘prey’.

He grit his teeth around those tendrils exploring his mouth, but the tension in his jaws was instantly loosened when a touch to his back door caught him off guard.

A startled, muffled noise left him, and he looked over his shoulders to see one of those machines dropping low to give its feelers the best access to his rear, using several to caress his glutes whilst several others prodded and teased at his pucker, circling and tracing that sensitive ring of muscle.

With their tingling touches, it was a lot more stimulating than he wanted to admit, his hips bucking involuntarily, and precum already starting to dribble from his tip, lathered into his skin with the gel from before by those many exploring tendrils.

His fingers and toes flexed and curled, his muscles tensing all over. He could feel a climax building in his loins already, but it was not going to come too quickly, not at the pace these machines were working at.

He feared that perhaps that was the point, eager to see how long he could last.

If these machines had an edging kink, he was doomed.

Those feelers continued to crawl all over him, though they focused on his weak points, circling caresses to his nipples seeing his eyelids quiver and flinch constantly, atop of everything else. His backdoor felt increasing pressure, as if those tendrils were eager to push inside, whilst his glans was never without the touch of at least half a dozen tendrils prodding and poking it with those buzzing tips, and that didn’t include the feelers teasing his corona, both its sides and beneath it.

Precum dribbled constantly from his tip now, a sure sign that an orgasm was being readily cultivated inside of his loins.

Inside his mouth, he felt those tendrils push deeper, his jaws loosening up and minimising resistance to pushing inside, exploring every nook and cranny in his mouth, though they seemed cautious about doing anything that might have triggered his gag reflex. It seemed, perhaps, that these alien machines preferred clean sex, even if they nominally didn’t have to worry about more vile human substances.

It did leave him feeling a sense of unwilling submission, having his mouth filled by those probing tendrils, but there was nothing that he could do to muster any sort of meaningful defiance.

They had their toy, and they were going to enjoy it. He just hoped they weren’t planning on breaking it.

He let out a weak cry when those feelers to his ass finally pushed inside, winding around themselves in a braid and pushing deeper, wriggling all about and quickly finding his prostate.

The shrill noise that escaped him was hardly manly, nor was the needy, vigorous bobbing of his cock from how much those feelers were stimulating his prostate.

Precum oozed liberally from his tip, smeared into his skin by all those tingling feelers to keep him nice and slick. The lecherous machines seemed to scan his dick every now and then, subtle red beams sweeping over his junk.

He started squirming some more out of reflex, and they didn’t fight him too hard. More and more, it seemed like they really did enjoy a bit of struggle. Twisted things.

He could feel a climax approaching swiftly, the feelers in his ass starting to thrust as one, constantly pushing that thrumming, stimulating cluster of tendril tips against his pucker, which was horrifically vulnerable to that unusual excitation of his nerves.

He bucked his hips, and loosed a garbled moan when he was driven over the edge, several thick ropes of cum sailing through the air, and several more shots deflected and spattered erratically from tendrils sliding over his pumping tip.

His hips kept bucking as they kept stimulating him, edging him up to that point of it becoming torturous… and with fear, he realised they weren’t going to be holding back like the one that snagged him did. Perhaps because their feelers were at a lower intensity… or perhaps because they had all the time in the world now, and wanted to test his limits.

He whined, he gasped, he cried as those coiling, slithering tendrils around his cock kept going, stroking, tracing, and imparting that low-level nerve stimulation that felt so good, terribly so.

He had started to buck in dry climax now, and even when that was done, they kept going.

Randall grit his teeth, straining his face; it wasn’t necessarily the nerve tingling that was getting to him, but the constant, slick roiling of those feelers, on a cock that had already ejaculated.

The touches to his nipples and the thrusting in his ass just added to the horrific pleasure, as his gasps grew louder.

He was on the verge of crying, tears starting to well up in his eyes as involuntary twitches wracked his body.

He couldn’t beg, not with his mouth explored by more of those feelers.

And then, finally, they pulled away, sliding those braided tendrils out of his ass and releasing his cock, slithering away from his nipples, and removing themselves from his mouth.

He was left to pant hard and do his best to regain his composure. His cock still traitorously bobbed from how sensitive and stimulated it was.

Other feelers still caressed his body, but the tingling they imparted was even weaker now. Just gentle touches to maintain a level of arousal… before they inevitably continued again.

Then, one of them moved in front of him, its red eyes casting a sinister light upon his face.

He cowered in reflex before it, wondering what its plan was… the thing was so much larger than he was, and there was less than a foot between him and that large, central eye bigger than his head.

Then, it tilted itself up a little… as another rounded port opened up in the centre of its lower ‘face’, between the openings for the feelers.

This one was a simple transparent tube covered in a slippery lubricant.

He didn’t even get a chance to wonder what it was for before the machine tried to force it into his mouth, the tube more dexterous and animated than it seemed.

He tried to deny it access, but a sudden push against his ass by those braided tendrils, those tips imparting their full strength stimulation, saw him gasp.

That was enough for the tube to push into his mouth, the slimy lubricant clinging to it surprisingly sweet.

Moments later, a clear substance was pushed into his body, Randall forced to drink down whatever it was as a cool weight formed in his gut.

When the tube withdrew, he tasted a cool, almost minty residue leak from the tip, before it retracted back into the port, the plate covering up the port once more.

He sputtered a little, and wondered just what the hell it was they made him drink.

Whatever it was, it prompted the machines to start groping him all over, claws gingerly pulling on his glutes and kneading his thighs, brushing over his chest and using the ports in the middle of their claws to ‘kiss’ his nipples, briefly sucking on them before releasing with tilting pulls.

He whimpered, feeling his erection bob with new vigour, those machines leaving his sensitive parts alone for now… until, as if satisfied by a criteria he was not privy to, the machines then brought their feelers back to his body, and his sensitive parts.

This time, they were at max strength.

His body arched like a taser had struck it, his muscles tensing and every nerve in his body pulsing with a stimulated fire. With all those tendrils all over his body, even pushing into his ass once again, it was if everywhere was an erogenous zone… and his actual erogenous zones triggers for madness.

When he felt that braided set of feelers in his ass press against his prostate, he let out a silent scream and almost jerked his hips with enough force it felt like he was going to fly out of the machines’ grip.

His glans almost hurt with how much stimulation it was experiencing, keeping his hips jerking erratically no matter how much he tried to regain control, but his body was no longer his.

Feelers entered his mouth once more, the tips making his tongue spasm wildly. Each nipple that was stimulated made his body jerk in potent reflex.

He was already beginning to writhe, tears rolling down his face at this horrendous pleasure.

Another orgasm was already building up inside him, as additional lubrication was provided, one of the machines looming its ‘mating port’ over his hips from above, trickling down that subtly-grey, slimy liquid right onto his crotch. It mixed with the fresh dribbles of precum from his cock, which throbbed and bobbed ceaselessly.

Ragged, desperate groans left his mouth, garbled by the tendrils that were once again exploring his mouth, even sliding over the back of his tongue to tease the entrance to his throat.

His fingers and toes twitched randomly, his eyes unable to clench shut by the intensity of that unnatural stimulation.

Several tendrils each rubbed and traced his nipples, his belly flinching tightly from the occasional brush by those feelers, and of course, his cock itself, covered in over a dozen feelers each attacking a different point against his glans, his shaft, and his balls.

Naturally, he came hard in record time, spraying his second load all over the nearest machine, hardly concerned by the messy spattering across the frontal eye.

His tongue lolled out a little, gurgling noises emanating from his throat as the machines continued their terrible work, even after his climax.

The thrusting in his ass, paused frequently for prolonged, firm presses against his prostate, made his cock bounce violently.

It felt like another orgasm was churning in his loins, but he’d already cum, and unlike the first time, it didn’t seem like they were easing off their attack.

He felt like he was losing his mind, the pleasure centres in his brain tingling non-stop from the sensory bombardment to his nerves.

He writhed and twitched and spasmed, the machines seemingly fighting back only enough to keep him from hurting himself, but he was hardly aware of them at this point, slowly falling into a world of his own, lost in his lust and the pleasure. He could barely discern any individual point of stimulation at this stage, all the feeler tips just blending together into one encompassing haze of ecstasy.

And then, pushed by the relentless stimulation his body was being subjected to, he came again, sputtering a weaker barrage of shots onto the nearest machine, but he was no longer coherent, save for a tiny part of him that wanted this to end before he completely lost his mind.

As if answering that tiny part, the stimulation all came to a sudden end, and the feelers retreated back into the machines. Though he couldn’t be sure if it was all that sudden, his sense of time had grown warped as a result of such wicked and overwhelming stimulation.

It was three times. Three times was already a lot, but under that kind of assault, with two of those orgasms being without any respite in between… it was almost mind-melting.

He groaned stupidly, his mind still trying to collect itself, when the machines laid him down on the floor in the very middle of the room.

There was no need for further restraint, he was completely weakened and on the verge of passing out.

Then, there was a jerk, and he was lowered a little, a platform revealing itself, imperceptibly flush with the floor just prior. Holes formed around the edge of the platform as tubes snaked overhead, forming a simple cage as he was taken down into another chamber below.

He was groggy and barely aware, when those tubes retreated, only for some sort of mechanical arm to pluck him from the ground, attached to a circular rail on the ceiling. The grasping claws of the arm were padded and soft, but their grip was unyielding.

Several secondary arms grabbed his arms and legs and kept them spread eagle, as he was moved over towards the curved walls of the dark chamber, broken up only by the red glows of small, half-capsule alcoves spaced equidistantly around the walls.

When he was placed in one of these ‘pods’ he felt his limbs grabbed by mechanical tentacles that then drew his arms and legs into soft, padded holes that bound him up to his shoulders and pelvis, the soft material exerting a pressure that wasn’t uncomfortable, but ensured he wasn’t going to be pulling free any time soon.

By this point, he was starting to regain some of his faculties, and blinked his eyes to get his vision clear again.

That’s when he realised a number of the ‘pods’ on the walls already had occupants… members of the crew, albeit they appeared to have breathing masks locked onto their faces, their genitals covered up by some clamping device with a tube, and caps placed over their nipples.

He started struggling as fear crept back into his slowly sobering mind, but it was even more useless than with the machines.

He watched as ports opened in the soft material of the alcove, as flexible tubes snaked out and placed those caps upon his nipples, a very soft, subtle pulsing sensation providing a modicum of stimulation.

What came next was an armature rising up from between his legs with a conspicuously shaped ‘clam shell’ apparatus that looked all too suited to closing up around his hips, the interior surface covered in many small bumps and nubs that flexed with a wave as the soft, malleable inner surface was seemingly activated in preparation to conform to his shape.

Indeed, when it closed around his crotch, it was a perfect, snug fit around his cock, balls and thighs. Immediately after, he felt another piece of soft material press to his perineum, as a slick, smooth probe was inserted into his rear. He moaned involuntarily at this, but there wasn’t much of a stimulation, just a gentle warming and buzzing. No thrusting. The other side of his probe was another of those soft pads, pressing snugly against his tail bone, as the material against his back and his ass took his shape for maximum comfort, squeezing a little as if to lock him down.

And finally, before he could really comprehend that, he watched as a breathing mask snaked down on a tentacular tube, pressing securely against his face, covering his mouth and nose, clasps automatically locking around his head so it would not come undone.

He let out muffled noises of fear, and shook his head, but the mask made it hard to do much… and after feeling two tiny tendrils snake into his nostrils somewhat uncomfortably, he felt a cool air pumped into his mouth and nose both.

At first his eyes widened in panic… and then, a lethargy fell over him, weariness taking over his mind.

His will to fight and struggle drifted away as weariness crashed down around him, urging him to sleep.

His eyes fluttered a few times as he fought for as long as he could… but after what he had just endured, his mind and body were exhausted.

Before long, his head lolled, and he went slack, slumbering in the alcove that kept him so safe and snug for the time being…

 

Randall wasn’t sure how much time past, or how long he’d been out for, only that when he awoke, he was hanging from the arm that had grabbed him prior and placed him in that pod.

The arm was in the process of moving him, though he had no idea where. He didn’t get a chance to find out, as suddenly the entire complex rumbled violently.

The arm went still and placed him against the floor, as if out of caution. The dim lighting in the structure flickered, and then there was a shower of sparks from one of the cables at the base of the armature, where it connected with the rails.

The lights went dull, and he felt the arm weaken. Then there was stillness.

It was quiet for a moment, and he was left wondering just what had happened.

However, after a few moments, he tentatively tugged on his limbs.

It was hard, but when he felt some give, he mustered all his might, and managed to get free, stumbling and wobbling and almost falling over; his legs felt like jelly.

However, what he didn’t feel was starving or unwell. If anything, he felt surprisingly full of energy, along with a fresh weight in his gut. Had they been feeding him in his sleep?

He looked at his flaccid member, and noticed seminal residue clinging to the very tip of his glans, almost concealed by his foreskin. The damn machines must have milked him when he was out. At least he didn’t feel like he was in any major discomfort, no real aches or pains.

For whatever reason, they seemed to have a vested interest in caring for their captives.

He grimaced at the other people, unconscious in their alcoves; there was nothing he could do for them, he wasn’t even sure he could remove them safely.

But he was free himself, and he could move around… but where would he go?

The room was rather sparse, and lacked much in the way of contours or shapes he could hide behind, save for small, rounded protrusions beneath each alcove.

He wandered over to one, wondering how long he had before that arm came back to life… but what knocked it out to begin with?

That’s when he heard a hissing noise.

He ducked behind one of those protrusions, trying to drown out the muffled, unconscious moaning of a human above him, the woman sounding like she was having a light orgasm in her induced coma.

He peered over his cover at the source of the noise, and saw an open hatch exposing a tunnel just large enough to crawl through, every surface covered in gunmetal conduits and cables with ribbed or smooth surfaces.

He heard a scuttling noise, and ducked down in fright when he saw a spider-like machine scurry from the vent, crawling rapidly over to the seemingly inactive arm. It climbed up to the main unit connected to the ceiling, and proceeded to dig its ‘pedipalp’ claws in along with its ‘chelicerae’, sparks beginning to fly as it appeared to initiate welding, or something like that.

He grimaced, but then realised the vent was still open, and no further sounds were coming from it.

He paused for a moment, and then decided that it was better than waiting around for the machines to figure out he was loose.

Besides, there were either two options; either the machines or some hazard within the vent would kill him, or the machines would recapture him and rape him some more.

He allowed himself a bitter smile at the thought, before slipping around his cover, hoping the maintenance ‘spider’ didn’t see him… and cast one last sorrowful look at the handful of captive humans in the chamber, room for many more.

He then crawled into the duct, having to get onto his hands and knees.

It was cramped, and uncomfortable, and he could feel a tingling throughout his skin, the electrical charge in the air palpable. He feared electrocution, but as he thought before, if not the machines, then maybe the hazards would, and he wouldn’t have to worry anymore.

The duct made a turn downwards, and he let out a panicked shout when he started to slide. Fortunately, it flattened out gradually enough, and he came to a stop with only some minor friction irritation. He grumbled to himself, and kept going, until he found himself met with numerous offshoot ducts and intersections.

A quick death, he could hope for that, but starving in these vents, lost and disoriented… that wasn’t terribly appealing. And he had no sense of direction in here now.

Still, he kept going, hoping to find some way out, or something of note, or just anything.

He wished he wasn’t naked though. It’d be less hell on his knees, and the cool, electrically charged air wouldn’t made him feel so uncomfortable, especially between his legs.

As he continued, he passed through a section where the conduits either side of him curled away into cavities in the structure, the vent contained by cage-like panelling. He saw lines of raw energy, crackling with blue brilliance, pulsing to god knew where in this alien structure.

He left that behind, and made a few turns, and then tumbled again, sliding down and flipping onto his belly, until he groaned in an awkward position, tangled and loosely folded over. It was a pain to get himself right again in the cramped confines, but that’s when he saw something ahead; a dead end.

He had not seen a dead end the entire time he was in these vents. They seemed to go on forever.

And there was something about it, that seemed to suggest more than met the eye…

He crawled towards it, and pushed against it.

It was solid… but not entirely static. He felt motion.

He turned himself around, and with some force, kicked against the panel.

It budged, but it was made of sterner stuff. He kicked several more times, loosing a frustrated growl, before the panel finally popped free with a spark that zapped his ankles. It stung, but nothing more.

There, he found himself looking out into another passage, one just barely big enough for those tentacled machines.

He popped out of the vent, and decided to move along swiftly, expecting that breakage to attract some sort of attention.

The tunnel was featureless however, and if he was spotted, he wasn’t going to have anywhere to run… though, if he was in the open like this, surely they had security systems.

Who was to say the entire megastructure wasn’t one giant machine in of itself… was it just as horny as the rest?

He decided not to think on that as he ventured ahead, the dull red lights lining the middle of the curved walls his only illumination.

It wasn’t very good, so he didn’t notice the iris door at the end, and his shoulders slumped.

It was a long shot to begin with that he’d get anywhere, this was not a place built for humans.

Then, the door suddenly opened with a loud hissing whoosh, and he laid eyes upon the same central hollow of the spire he saw before, somewhere lower down than before.

Numerous machines floated about, swirling around the central column like listless bees.

Of course, he was met with a semi-circular landing pad, and nowhere else to go. He sighed, and decided to double back, and try his luck in the vents.

That was, until, he heard a loud, electric groaning noise, and he turned to see with eyes wide in horror, a new terror.

It was a machine alright, like a centipede. Except, unlike the ones that added shrimp into the mix that latched onto humans, this one was almost pure centipede save for a pair of scorpion-like claws protruding from just behind its head on either side.

And that it was the largest machine he’d yet seen. It was at least a hundred meters long, sporting hundreds of mechanical legs that somehow clung to the interior wall of the outer shell, its long, segmented body sporting dozens of red pods along the edges of its underbelly on each segment between the legs. Numerous tentacles seemed retracted into ports along its underside, ready to shoot forth and do whatever it required.

He couldn’t quite see the end of it, obscured by one of those branching bridges that connected the central pillar to the outer shell of the spire, but he could sure see its ‘face’.

Two eye clusters were nestled around a nest of spiky protrusions just beneath the ‘brim’ of its upper plate along its head segment, whilst numerous small armatures with claws and manipulators lined the lower edge.

The eye clusters seemed rather undersized on the large machine, but each set of nine red optics seemed fixed firmly on each.

He felt like a deer frozen in headlights, unable to tear his gaze away from this terrible, awe-inspiring machine. His body wouldn’t move, he was paralysed with fear.

There was a tense standoff where it seemed like no side was going to make any real move… until nerves got the better of him, and he let out a scream, and turned to run.

He didn’t get more than ten meters before one of those claws grabbed him and yanked him back towards the terrible machine’s face.

He squirmed and pushed against the metallic claws that held him, realising that they weren’t quite scorpion like, having three claws instead of just two, and more articulated for better grasping. Much like a demolition claw.

But it was meaningless distinction in the end, as he was held before it, those spikey, blade-like antennae seemingly twitching.

For a brief and terrible moment, he expected it to impale him… swift retribution for his escape.

But it did no such thing, instead revealing numerous ports beneath its eyes and the cluster of antennae, as a veritable beard of tentacles emerged.

They were smoother and thinner than the tentacles possessed by those squid-like machines, meaning they were able to coil tight and close to his body without any pinch risk when he was handed from the machine’s claws to its tentacles; now it seemed more like a mix of centipede and lobster, continuing the very insectoid-slash-aquatic design philosophy of these damned aliens.

He was held spread eagle, each of those many tentacles coiling tight and roaming all over his body. Some were smooth tipped, others had small manipulator claws that could fold into blunt tips, unlike the far less smooth and more mechanical tentacles of the flying machines.

He was almost cocooned in its beard of tentacles, struggling in reflex, but he felt secretions from a number of the tentacles, leaking a greyish, slimy fluid against his skin and along their surfaces.

There was no foreplay or preamble with this thing; his ass was immediately claimed by a tentacle that had wrapped tight around one of his thighs for leverage, pushing deep and kinking against his prostate, the lubrication it released more than sufficient for its forceful entry.

He cried out in strain and stimulation, and the slow but targeted thrusting that followed quickly got his cock to full mast, bobbing attentively.

A tentacle wrapped around it, and started to stroke it with fluid, rolling motions, slipping off and wrapping back around with mercurial movements, grinding against his glans.

His balls were fondled with tugging pulls and strokes, encouraging the growth of a nice healthy load.

Tentacles with manipulator tips opened up wide, and proved they were just as capable of latching onto nipples as those of the octopus machines, leaking more fluids and suckling vigorously.

He couldn’t help the whines that escaped his body; though it was hardly anything like the mind-breaking stimulation that gaggle of fliers put him through, the sheer… assertiveness of this attack was getting to him.

Was it punishment? Was it not as advanced as the others so it didn’t understand the nuances of foreplay and teasing? Did it not care?

These thoughts were getting harder to hang on to as the stimulation increased, gentle vibrations and electrostim being imparted onto his sensitive points.

He grit his teeth and clenched his eyes shut as he tried to keep his head above water, so to speak, but he couldn’t help a gasp of pleasure… allowing a tentacle to plunge into his mouth.

His eyes widened, and he shook his head to try and dislodge the appendage, but it was already sliding over the back of his tongue and into his throat.

He gurgled and sputtered, but did not vomit from the tentacle in his gullet, pumping back and forth slowly, and pumping a slow, but steady and thick stream of that oddly-sweet lubricant.

He twitched madly, tugging his limbs, but they were fought by those tendrils that kept him spread eagle, so many slithering intimately around his body.

He felt one slide between his buttocks and coil around one of his glutes to give it a squeeze, another snaking from above to grope the other cheek.

Now that he was plugged and in the process of being milked, he was being treated to more tender caresses, though the main points of stimulation were as direct and assertive as ever.

Other machines floated past ignorantly, paying no heed to the human being violated by the giant machine, held what felt like hundreds of meters into the air over a near-bottomless shaft.

He could feel a pressure building in his loins already, his body growing accustomed to the terrible lechery of these machines already… maybe.

What this machine was doing to him was rough… but it wasn’t the same thing as having his nerves excited so directly.

Several tentacles coiled around his head, one around his neck and jaw, another around the back of his skull and over his eyes, blinding him.

He shivered, because now all that stimulation seemed to grow more intense to him, not being able to see, only feel.

He bucked his hips and arched his back, the tentacle slipping around his cock squeezing a little bit tighter, eager to milk a load right out of him… only to have his glans suddenly swallowed by another tentacle, many tiny bumps starting to buzz and vibrate as they tugged and sucked on his helm, pushing him closer and closer to the brink of ecstasy.

The sucking head of the tentacle twisted in reciprocating manner against his tip, adding to the stimulation.

He was very close to losing it, muffled moans loosed into the tentacle probing his throat.

It only took a few more vigorous pumps and gentle twists to make him release a fresh load into the machine, that tentacle sucking up his ejaculation with intensity, not willing to let a single drop go to waste.

He bucked hard, feeling the suction and stroking continue after his climax was completed, once again on the verge of post-orgasmic torture.

This time, however, the massive machine did not seem so keen on doing that to him. Instead, he found himself being handed off to yet more tentacles, the ones that seemed retracted into its underbelly, and more akin to the ones on the flying machines.

They carried his slack body along, passed from tentacle to tentacle, until he found himself being placed into one of those pods, the glass canopy rolling upward into the machine to allow Randall to be placed inside, his arms pulled into waiting receptacles, discovering the pod not unlike those alcoves that he had been stuck in before.

Except, this time, no mask was placed down on his face to lull him off to sleep. He simply had a sleeve slide down over his cock and a probe slip up into his ass, leaving him to moan helplessly as both buzzed.

It was to his dismay that he realised that neither source of stimulation was enough to make him cum, only keep him terribly aroused for an extended period of time.

He whimpered at this, feeling like this was the real punishment for his attempted escape. Now he was left to watch the surroundings pass by as the massive machine began ascending again, crawling up towards the top of the spire, scuttling along the walls effortlessly. The red hue of the pod was fortunately not too harsh on his eyes, but it obscured much of the things he saw outside. So he didn’t have a really good idea of how much higher he went, until he thought he saw a ring of crackling energy about fifty metres above, though he was hardly sure, and didn’t have a good look at it from his position, his centre of gravity shifting and tilting, his view of the world outside tipping constantly as the thing moved.

It seemed to curl off the wall, moving towards the central pillar, wherein it crawled through another open door, its many legs planting on the rounded opening until it was inside a large chamber within the pillar, almost too small for something so large, having to curl around the room.

There, the canopy opened again, and he was plucked from his pod, left erect and aroused but not permitted any release, the tentacle grabbing him proceeding to dangle him over yet another iris door, this one at an angle, capping off a protrusion at the base of one of the many supporting pillars ringing the room.

The iris door opened… and he was dropped.

Randall let out a cry of fright as he fell, but the chute levelled out gradually enough, sliding down with fortunately little friction.

There was a hole waiting for him, and he came tumbling out into a new, smaller chamber, one that was only large enough for one of those flying machines, maybe two if they squeezed themselves inside.

The room looked much like all the others, smooth walls broken up only by slim supporting columns, just barely sticking out of the metal, with the ceiling rounded like the walls. However, he noticed bright blue lights forming a ‘star’ shape in between the converging tips of the pillars as they went flush with the ceiling before they could form at the centre, the lights sticking out only a third of the way between the ridges of the supports.

The floor didn’t have much save for a singular raised ‘dais’ in the centre, at least two meters in diameter. It seemed like it was covered in a sort of soft material, making it seem like a bed of sorts.

Other than that, the only other thing of note was an iris door on the opposite side of the room to the chute he’d just emerged from – which, after a quick check, he realised was now shut, the panel barely noticeable – that looked only fit for human use, too small to allow any of the larger machines through.

He moved past the ‘bed’ and searched for anything else of note, when the iris door suddenly opened.

He had to shield his eyes, because a blinding light shone through, like he was staring at the end of the metaphorical tunnel.

Of course, he wasn’t stepping into it… instead, something – or rather, someone – was stepping into the room with him, the sound of soft, bare feet against cool metal reaching his ears.

A shape passed before the light, though when he opened his eyes, he could only make out a silhouette, obscured by the glare. But he was certain that it was of a thick-set, curvaceous woman. It seemed oddly familiar…

The iris door then closed, and the light was eased before his eyes. He blinked a few times to get them adjusted… and then they widened with shock and recognition.

“… Captain Carrow?” he ventured.

It was indeed Moira, standing naked before him, looking rather calm. She seemed expressionless, and was regarding him quietly.

He noticed that she’d been shaved perfectly smooth around her groin.

Randall stepped towards her, his heart beginning to race with adrenaline.

“Captain, it’s me, Randall! Thank god you’re alright!” he said. But truthfully, he wasn’t sure she was alright. She wasn’t saying a word, and her eyes seemed glossy and unfocused, just a little bit.

“Captain? What’s wrong? C’mon, we have to figure out a way out of here,” he said, going to grab her shoulder.

She suddenly snapped a hand to grasp his wrist before he could, and then her eyes seemed to suddenly focus on him, losing that glazed appearance and burning with a strange, unknown intensity.

In the next moment, she let go of his wrists… and clasped the sides of his head in her hands, and forced her lips to his in a deep, firm, and unyielding kiss.

Her tongue slipped into his mouth before he even had a chance to stop her, and she tilted her head to better mesh her lips with his own as she kissed him, lustful, assertive breathy grunts emanating from her throat as she worked her jaw away.

His eyes were as wide as could be at this point, doing his best to push her away, but she was having none of it, tangling her tongue with his and pushing towards the bed, proving how strong she was.

There was nothing he could do to resist her, and he was unwilling to use any force against her, he didn’t want to hurt his own captain.

The kiss broke with a gasp from both parties when she pushed him down to the bed. She wasted absolutely no time in capitalising on the height difference, lifting a leg to bring the foot down upon his cock, those soles proving surprisingly smooth as she rubbed his girth up and down slowly, but with enough pressure to coax some fresh life into his member, slowly softening after being freed from that giant machine.

He could only look at his captain with utter incredulity; Moira Carrow was never the sort to fool around with anyone. She was always so serious, and though he could see that familiar assertiveness in her eyes and on her face, she’d never expressed any desire to get intimate, least of all with any of her crew.

Those machines must have done something to her… and that’s when he saw it; a shallow, segmented metal strip running from the base of her skull and down her spine, armatures pressing flush along the back of her shoulders.

It did not restrict her movements in the slightest, just slightly protruding from her back.

“Captain… no...” he muttered feeling a sense of defeat and horror… but it didn’t linger easily, not when she slotted his mast between her big toe and the one next to it, and started pumping up and down, gently twisting her foot to rub against the underside of his glans whenever she rubbed up to his tip.

After a few moments of this, she pulled her foot away, only to bring her toes to his jewels, juggling the sack with the knuckles, or brushing downwards with the pads.

He gasped softly, gripping the springy, pliant material of the ‘bed’, feeling unable to do anything but… let her do what she intended.

If he couldn’t bring himself to hurt her, and without any avenue of escape… he was at her mercy, though she was clearly being manipulated.

That way she suddenly ‘snapped on’ seemed rather mechanical… but the way she was moving now was too human. She even gave him a thin, domineering smirk here and there, but it was always fleeting, in between a softer, less focused look, like she was just… giving into desires, not quite herself.

It didn’t take away from her skill, however, though maybe those machines put it into her head. Could they do that? Did they intend to do that to him?

He couldn’t believe how often he fell to conjecture during these moments, but these damned alien robots had more questions than answers, even if their purpose for kidnapping him and his comrades was for simple sexual gratification.

Moira’s footjob ended after a while, as if she was satisfied she’d teased him enough, or grown needy for other pleasures… though not necessarily her own, evident by her crouching down before the bed and grabbing his legs to slide his hips roughly over to the edge.

There, she grasped her breasts, and clapped them tightly around his cock.

It was enough to make him flinch, though it hardly hurt. The complete opposite, Randall finding her taut, generously endowed chest a warm embrace that he could not easily ignore.

She opened her mouth and unfurled her tongue, dribbling saliva right down into her cleavage. Only the tip of his cock remained visible, and her drool rolled down the slope, disappearing into the depths of her bosom.

Of course, it wasn’t the best lubricant, but she wasn’t going to have much trouble; his time in that damnable giant machine left a rather lingering film of slickness all over his junk. Her saliva was just a handy addition to make it that little bit wetter.

Once she was satisfied he was sufficiently slicked up, she squeezed her breasts even tighter… and began grinding them in opposite directions, rolling over his glans with one and nearly smothering his balls with the other at the extreme ends of each stroke.

She lathered her saliva into his skin, and then proceeded to clap her breasts together against his mast repeatedly, her taut breasts surprisingly pliant. They weren’t super soft, perky thanks to her deceptive musculature. But pleasant all the same, especially whenever squashing around his cock, exerting a tantalising pressure all around him.

He huffed, his toes curling as she started shaking her chest, rapidly slapping his member left and right as she made her breasts swing and jiggle pendulously.

The almost-silent, meaty slaps reached his ears, and they were all too obscene. But in time, Moira lost interest in just teasing him with her breasts… and with two hands, grabbed her breasts firmly, and started to pump.

Up and down, from root to tip, she stroked his mast, making sure to really grind over his glans, slowly increasing speed until her bust was slapping against his chest.

Her breasts jiggled with each little impact, Moira moving her body quite a lot to get the strokes nice and long.

He heard that this sort of thing wasn’t the most comfortable, but she didn’t seem to care at all, more focused on wringing out a load from him… and to his dismay, it was working, gasps leaving his mouth as pressure built up in his body.

He started to shift in pleasured discomfort, listening to the breathy grunts of exertion coming from Moira’s lips, his captain working hard to make him cum, drooling more saliva down onto his tip as it repeatedly appeared out the top of her cleavage before vanishing back into its depths.

The slapping of her breasts against his crotch was quite loud now, as were his grunts of pleasure.

“C-Captain… Moira, you gotta stop this!” he pleaded, attempting to reason with her, to get through to her, but she wasn’t listening at all.

She just kept pumping his cock with her bosom, lusty breaths leaving her lips, her face strained with her effort.

Under such assault from those delightful breasts, Randall’s willpower was thoroughly whittled down and degraded, and with a loud, whimpering moan, he bucked his hips and loosed a fountain of cum from up between Moira’s tits.

She kept stroking, though unlike the machines, only to keep his ejaculation going as long as possible, and to make it was intense as possible – for what a human could manage at least – and once he was done spurting, she stopped her motions.

She slid her breasts away, the slick noise of his messy residue sticking to his rod and from her provocatively pressing her breasts together several times reaching his ears.

She looked at him, that same, soft, lust-addled expression that sometimes sported a bit of a twitchy grin. It was almost as if she was in a daze, but she wasn’t that unfocused, not like when she first showed up.

Randall was feeling so many conflicting emotions; his captain just gave him a titfuck whilst under potential mind control of alien machines that held them both captive.

How the hell was he supposed to square that with himself?

His mind was given the chance to focus on other things, when she gently gripped his member in one hand, and cradled his sack in the other, and proceeded to give him a slow, gentle handjob.

Her grip was light, and her speed was slow, rolling over his still sensitive glans – and earning a few winces from him in the process – and gathering up some of the last dregs of residue, and lathering it into his dick to keep the lubrication fresh.

His hips twitched from lingering pleasure, but what she was doing seemed more to keep him hard and aroused while giving him a chance to recover for the next round, than anything to make him cum again.

It was more mercy and gentleness than he had received from the machines, who seemed eager to test the limits of their human toy.

Still, he gasped and winced, his cock still quite sensitive from his orgasm, and feeling a sense of shame at being sexually assaulted by his ‘boss’ when she was quite likely not in her right mind.

But for being a hard-working, no-bullshit ship captain like herself, with years of experience in less prestigious sectors of industry, Moira’s hands were surprisingly soft…

It made him feel simultaneously worse and more lustful, for feeling good, and because it was Moira doing it.

The way she fondled his balls was also masterful, applying a gentle, twisting stroking with her hand, tugging on his balls and using her thumb to gently toy with each orb contained in his sack. She rubbed at the base of his scrotum, and carefully squeezed his jewels, applying a pressure that was stimulating, and not painful.

Whatever had come over her, it had either imparted new skills into her… or kept her from hiding techniques she already knew and never dared show.

Still, as she kept this gentle, obscene massage going, Randall slowly grew more frustrated, much as he tried to suppress that feeling. But it was a sign he was recovering nicely.

So that was when she decided to bring her lips to his tip, giving it a lecherous kiss, before wrapping them around the helm.

He winced, his cock bobbing from the sensual contact, a tiny dribble of fresh precum meeting her.

She lapped it up without hesitation, and proceeded to swirl and roll her tongue against his glans with eager glee, rolling her lips over the curves of his helm in a similar manner, starting to suck slowly.

He winced, watching her work, still stroking the bottom of his cock with her hand, giving it a gentle twisting motion as she sucked on his tip. Though this only lasted for a few moments before Moira popped free, only to start rather fervently licking his dick, pressing her tongue firmly against whatever sensitive part she attacked, tracing and swirling it around his glans. And when she dropped lower, pressed her tip up beneath his corona to really tease him.

He winced and felt her lips graze up and down his mast, passing by her hand, down to his root, where she wrapped her oral folds tight against his base right above his sack. She sucked and nibbled hard, tongue flicking against his skin between her lips and teeth.

It was such a needy stimulation, it made his fingers twitch with unexpected oscillation.

Moira shifted her lips lower… and handed off his balls to her mouth, lips wrapping around his sack and sucking his jewels into her mouth.

Her tongue polished his balls, gently tugging on his scrotum in the process, quiet slurps escaping the seal of her lips. She gently twisted her head, and continued to stroke his mast, the murmurs of her hazy, needy lust sending pleasant vibrations into his balls.

“M-Moira… stop...” he pleaded, but she still wasn’t listening. He didn’t think he could get through to her at this point, merely endure the pleasure she was driven to inflict on him.

After nearly a minute of tending to his balls, her lips travelled back up his mast, until they slipped luxuriously over his glans, teeth ever so gently scraping against his sensitive tip for but a moment.

Then, she did something more… she started to rotate, turning herself around and placing herself on the bed.

He watched with widened eyes as her hips loomed into view, her knees pressing to the ‘bed’ either side of his head. Wet pussy lips hovered above him, dripping her arousal right into his mouth, those plush thighs and curvaceous glutes ready to smother him.

And they did, dropping down right onto his head, trapping him between warm, soft flesh, plush ass cheeks and thighs conforming to his cranium, but the muscles beneath ensured the softer outer layer imparted a pleasant, firm pressure.

Her vulva pressed hard to his lips, and that was before she started to rock her hips, grinding her pussy against his mouth.

He could feel her breasts brushing against his gut, all as her lips slid against his glans, tongue pressing to the little depression right below where his corona met above his frenulum.

She started undulating her tongue like a wave, right against his glans, before slowly gliding down his dick with reciprocating head moments, imparting a spiralling sensation with her lips. She murmured softly, Moira seemingly enjoying this, or too overcome with lust to care if she didn’t.

Meanwhile, Randall was left to helplessly groan against her pussy, sputtering from just how aroused she was, leaking into his mouth.

For a moment, he was tempted to stick his tongue in, to return the favour and eat her out. But he held onto his sanity and kept himself from doing anything foolish. He couldn’t do that, not to his captain, even with the state she was in… but he was sorely tempted.

Especially with how… vigorously she was grinding to his face, those thighs and glutes, and her toned if curvy belly too, all closing in around him and smothering him in the warmth and the softness.

He gripped the ‘bed’ tight, trying to keep his eyes wandering, even as Moira fondled his balls in one hand, and stroked the root of his cock with a thumb and index finger pressed together to form a tight ring.

Of course, she worked most of his length with her mouth, his glans repeatedly slipping into her gullet, and deeper when she slid that second hand away to let her lips press right against his base, tongue snaking out to just tease at his balls and to wrap around his mast. She did not gag, she did not show any sign of discomfort whatsoever, wrapping her lips and her gullet tight around his shaft before pulling back… and repeating the whole process over and over.

He moaned from this gloriously skilled fellatio, feeling how her lips tugged and dragged up his rod, how her tongue pressed firmly to the underside of his cock, how the edges of her muscle hugged the rigid cord that ran its length, and the cool residual saliva that followed. And she repeated the whole thing, twisting down to his root, and then back up again, her free hand sometimes pumping the base before it had to retreat from her lips.

Every now and then, she tilted her head so his glans pressed against her soft, moist cheeks, a particularly soft touch. And just as intermittently, she paused to suckle hard either to his root or his helm, tongue thrashing either way, though she paid particular attention to polishing and rolling her muscle over the slopes of his tip.

He would’ve thought that after being subjected to the impossible pleasures of the machines, something like this wouldn’t have done it… but he was wrong, Moira’s efforts were tingling his nerves plenty well.

Pressure was building, though she didn’t build it too quickly, sometimes sliding her mouth right off his tip, unfurling her tongue so she could slap the back of his helm against her muscle, before resuming her incredible oral.

She was picking up speed, and her murmurs of needy lust grew louder. She was driving him towards orgasm now, and not holding back. She wanted him to cum now… and with how tight her gullet hugged his glans whenever it plunged into her throat, his resistance was eroded quickly.

With a loud moan, he bucked reflexively up into his captain’s mouth, Moira squeezing her thighs tight around his head and pressing her vulva almost crushingly tightly to his lips to feel the vibrations of his moans. She pushed her lips down to his root and suckled ravenously, tongue thrashing and stroking his mast to coax every drop of his ejaculation out, fondling his balls to help, her other hand keeping his hips somewhat under control.

He shivered beneath her as she devoured his load effortlessly. And once he was done, she slipped off with a lewd gasp, tongue curling off his mast.

Before he could even hope to recover, she was already moving, loosening those terrible thighs from around his head, and dragging his body fully onto the bed until his legs were no longer dangling off the edge. With that done, she moved even further, sliding her hips forward, gliding her vulva over his face and chest, leaving a glistening trail of her arousal all the way down to his belly.

She pressed her labia to his erection, her clit prodding his mast as she ground against his rod needily, gasps leaving her lips. It was giving him a moment to rest, but it wasn’t allowing him to get soft either. Another of her gentle rounds of light stimulation to get him ready for the next go.

He looked at her, and found his gaze drawn to her curvaceous ass, her wide, voluptuous rear swaying from her grinding, almost hypnotic to witness.

He had never thought about how beautiful she was before now, but he wasn’t getting much choice in the moment either.

After a short while of this teasing, and self-stimulation on her part, she lifted her hips up, grazing her pussy folds up his cock and across his glans… though her womanhood was not the goal.

Instead, she rocked her hips forward a little more… and started grinding her pucker firmly to his slick glans.

This caught him off guard; a lot of people were still resistant to anal, though given how much his ass had been plundered, he didn’t think anyone else was all that unfamiliar with it… but to have someone like Moira so eagerly threatening the backdoor penetration like this, that was particularly surreal.

Of course, this whole situation was surreal, nightmarish, and excessively erotic.

He huffed and whimpered slightly, waiting for her enticing hip swaying to end, and her body to take his cock to the hilt. For a moment, he was beginning to think she wouldn’t even try it… and then, she began to drop down slowly, that tight pucker stretching over his glans, tugging tight and putting up some resistance, but it became obvious to him that she was rather practised at this point, and he was not the largest insertion she’d taken. Hardly surprising, given circumstances.

That didn’t stop her rear being exceptionally tight and stimulating, a muffled grunt leaving his lips as he tried to maintain his composure. But Moira adding a stimulating twist to her descent did not help things, her hips rocking side to side and forcing his glans against her walls, that curvaceous rump drawing his attention no matter how much he tried to ignore it.

Soon, her rear pressed to his lap, and he was left to feel her cheeks conforming to the contours of his crotch, squashing down wonderfully. It was enough to make him moan… but that wasn’t all of it.

She started to grind, gyrating and rubbing her ass to his lap, twisting his member about inside her. Feeling the soft skin of her curvaceous rear gliding over his hips and thighs and belly was a wonderful sensation, utterly delicious, even if Randall felt shame for enjoying Moira’s madness… but it was just too good.

She changed directions, rocking back and forth, which caused her to take his cock just slightly in and out of her rear. Even her spine seemed to flex with hypnotic motions, despite her bulky stature.

Huffs of pleasure left both their lips, but soon, Moira wasn’t satisfied with just grinding, and began to ride.

It was slow at first, but the tightness of her ass drew strained moans of pleasure right out of Randall’s mouth, feeling the sensation of her ass squashing against him repeat over and over before she picked up the pace, until she was moving fast enough for her cheeks to gently slap against his groin.

She shook her hips to push his cock into her walls at an angle and stir up his member with twisting motions, but whenever she wanted to take the whole of his cock, she stuck with the straight bouncing.

She slowly picked up speed… until her taut glutes rippled from each impact, the clapping filling the chamber, her breasts starting to bounce.

He leaked precum into her ass, gasps and moans issuing from his mouth constantly. He started to shift beneath her, his hips bucking and twitching in reflex, that pressure building yet again.

How the hell was he still able to go? He should’ve been running on empty at this point, especially after that giant machine milked a helluva load from him. And god knows how many times when he was out.

He didn’t feel that spent. Close, but not quite there yet… and he wasn’t all that tired either.

Had they done something to him?

Thoughts made harder to contemplate by the bouncing of his body from Moira’s intensifying ride, the clapping loud in his ears along with her sharp moans of pleasure.

She leaned back and braced herself against the bed, rocking her hips and letting her breasts swing wildly.

He was about to lose it… when she did, a loud cry of ecstasy ripping from her mouth and filling the air with her euphoria.

Her body spasmed, and his balls were coated in arousal from her pussy. It was the clenching of her ass, however, along with the shudders coursing through her, that sent him over the edge too, Randall crying out moments after her. He bucked up into her pinning rear, feeling the pleasure race up his spine as he unloaded into her ass. She rocked back forward, bracing herself on his knees, until their mutual orgasm subsided.

She recovered slightly, and then relaxed. For a moment, they both panted together, not moving at all, until Moira raised herself up and started leaking his own seed over his cock and his jewels, especially when she shifted forward, and sandwiched his mast between her cheeks, and pinned it against his belly.

The sensation was… tantalising, to say the least, her toned, curvy rump squeezing around his cock, trapped between her buns and his gut, and gently grinding to keep him hard.

He gasped a little bit, starting to feel tormented by this gentle stimulation during his respite moments. He was never given a chance to recover fully, but every time, he gave a full load for her. And he felt like he had enough in him for one more round.

The gentle grinding of her ass persisted for a little while, before she finally turned round, and sandwiched his cock between his gut and her vulva, her labia splaying either side of his rod and ‘slotting’ his cock between them.

She rocked back and forth on his dick like it was a rail, coating it in her profuse arousal, more stimulation in preparation for what was to come next.

Her eyes… they were burning with a lustful need, for something more than just sex.

Her pussy folds wrapped around his glans, Moira focusing on his tip for a brief moment, rolling her nethers against his helm and lathering it with her arousal, before sliding back to do the same to his root.

She did this several times… until she was confident, in her lust-addled mind, that he was ready.

Randall wasn’t sure he was, though he could only endure her… but watching her raise her hips up, letting his mast stand on end, and rest her entrance right on his glans, the slow, gentle teasing gyrations of her hips the last obstacle before the inevitable penetration… it filled him with a sense of fear.

He was about to fuck his captain. Moira Carrow. The firm, strict and dignified captain of one of the most advanced ships humanity had built.

She was about to drop down and stick his unprotected dick right into the depths of her pussy. It felt wrong, that he shouldn’t be doing this.

But he wasn’t the one in charge. He was merely the focus of her induced lust.

So, after a few more moments of this dreadful teasing, it was time for him to meet with what he dreaded… as she slowly dropped down upon his rod.

Her hands gripped his pecs, fingers splaying wide for support as she straddled his hips, knees either side of his body.

Her hips lowered, and soon she was resting upon his lap, rump pressing to his crotch and his thighs, a sigh leaving her lips.

A small whimper left his, but Randall could do nothing, but feel her start grinding and gyrating her hips against his crotch, much as she had done when he was buried to the hilt in her ass.

It was stimulating his sensitive cock already, her walls squeezing and flexing possessively, loosely stroking his mast. She was surprisingly tight, and that only added to the sensations as she stirred his dick about in her pussy, grazing her cheeks upon his lap with her circular motions.

She moaned loudly, switching from that twisting, to side to side or back and forth rocking motions, trying to work his dick up towards the inevitable ride. Juices flowed ceaselessly from her pussy, coating his slick balls and mixing with the seminal residue she’d dripped from her ass onto his balls beforehand.

His groans only seemed to excite and encourage her, and he was left to feel her rapidly shake and gyrate her hips every now and then to earn more sounds of pleasure from his hips.

But like before, she didn’t have too much patience to simply grind against his crotch. She wanted more than just that… and so, started to bounce once more.

Slow at first, like with her ass, adding twists and gyrations even as she rose and fell.

A practised, tried-and-true method, one that left him whimpering beneath her even more pitiably than before. She didn’t mock him for this… she didn’t really show any sort of emotion beyond her lustful need for his cock, picking up speed until she was slapping against his hips, her breasts bouncing and clapping together in circular fashion.

The wet slaps of their colliding bodies were loudest, however, Moira’s arousal unbelievable to Randall.

He never thought he’d see Moira even remotely like this, letting her inhibitions go and just cutting loose.

Least of all with him as the target of her release.

Pants and gasps of bliss left her lips as she continued her ride, twisting and tilting her hips every now and then to put pressure at either end of his cock.

But then, she did something unexpected… she rolled forward, still rocking away with her hips, taking him in and out of her depths with a moist clapping, shaking her hips vigorously and rapidly. However, she now laid atop of his body, breasts squashed against his chest and constantly shifting with caressing rubs from her humping.

She clasped the sides of his head, forcing him to look into her eyes.

And then, she pulled him into an assertive kiss.

His eyes widened, and he loosed a startled noise, but like her first kiss, he couldn’t pull away, feeling her tongue slip into his mouth and tangle with his shamelessly.

She twisted her mouth to mesh her lips to his more efficiently and obscenely, muffled murmurs and moans leaving her and filtering right into his mouth.

Randall had no choice but to endure this, but some shameless part of him was starting to enjoy Moira’s company; the way she kissed, the way she felt and moved atop of him with that body of hers, the way she fucked him… it led to guilty feelings, knowing that she wasn’t in her right mind.

This place… it was all kinds of messed up.

But more pressingly, he felt a pressure building in his loins, ready to blow at a moment’s notice. Cumming inside his captain… it was too ridiculous for words… what if he got her pregnant? Would these machines even care for human babies?

Could she even conceive after whatever they did to her?

Irrelevant questions in the face of impending climax, the tips of her fingers digging into his head as her kiss grew more forceful, her jaw working away as if sucking air right out of his lungs and gulping it down.

Her riding only got faster too, her walls starting to quiver. That was a certain sign she was getting close.

If they came together… in her pussy no less… he really didn’t know what to think.

Everything was madness.

He whimpered out a moan as he started to shiver, and Moira, in response, started riding with a desperate speed, as if determined to orgasm with him, gasping into his mouth as her kiss grew more salacious and obscene.

He groaned, clutching the bed for support, fearing he might have somehow flown away into the void waiting outside the chamber.

He tried to hold off, even as his body bounced from how hard Moira brought her hips down upon his rod, the bassy, wet clapping filling Randall’s ears with obscenity.

When Moira’s bounces grew faster, but shorter, that signalled the end for his resistance, and hers… and both loosed intense, straining moans into each other’s mouths as climax took them.

Randall bucked up into Moira’s pussy, and she pushed down as firmly as she could manage upon his crotch, pinning him in place as spasms rocked her nethers.

Her walls clenched tight around his girth, shuddering vigorously and practically milking his pulsing cock for every drop of cum she could rip from it.

He started to shiver beneath her, twitching and squirming as she rode out his orgasm for a prolonged length of time, humping him even when he stopped squirting and she stopped spasming. But moments after, she shivered, and then went slack atop him, panting hard from the exertion. The kiss was broken, and she nestled her face into the crook of his neck, recovering from the ecstasy that she had endured.

Randall was doing the same, his chest heaving as he tried to get his breathing under control, and trying to ignore the mess of mixing semen and pussy juices squelching around his softening member… idly hoping it wouldn’t have to get hard any time soon.

A sense of dread fell over him; he’d just ejaculated inside of Moira Carrow. Even now, concerns about unexpected pregnancy weren’t unusual for anyone… but in these circumstances, where he couldn’t even be sure what would happen to any potential child?

He didn’t want to be a father, but he didn’t want to think what these damned alien robots would do with one.

Randall decided to distract himself from such grim thoughts by bringing his hands to Moira’s back, and trying to pry the metal panels latched to her back off, but he met with absolutely no success, as if the contraption was grafted to her spine, though she did not react in any way.

Then, Moira slowly stirred for unrelated reasons, groaning as she lifted her head and fixed him with an apologetic expression.

“I’m… sorry, Randall… I had to… I needed to… I wanted to…” she muttered.

It was her voice, but it didn’t see like her. She was never so… soft-spoken, so gentle and aroused. It didn’t seem stilted or forced out of her, but she still seemed lost in the throes of some ecstatic, debauched trance.

He gave her a concerned look, and grasped her shoulders.

“Captain… what did they do to you...” he uttered softly.

Suddenly, the iris door to the chamber opened, and a new figure walked in with confident strides, exuding a commanding aura even naked, save for the metallic braces along their upper arms and their full legs, a shallow mechanical ridge clinging flush to their spine and up to the base of their head, ‘wings’ spanning the backs of their shoulder blades branching off from the main spinal conduit, like a more advanced version of what Moira had. The braces even extended to her feet, a plate slipped beneath them whilst studs provided grip, a pair of hydraulic-like supports at the back elevating her ankles giving the impression of heels.

But she was no woman Randall recognised; tall, pale, with platinum blond hair cut straight and kept shoulder length. She had bright hazel eyes, and lips that seemed almost glossy red, pursed slightly in appraisal of him. Her face was angular, but beautiful, and her physique was slim with a few curves where it mattered.

She had no pubic hair, her pussy and her nipples, though not aroused, fully bared to the world without any sense of shame.

Her presence was commanding, even nude, and she looked down upon Randall with an indecipherable gaze. He was sure she was not one of The Maxim’s crew.

Eventually, Randall couldn’t keep his curiosity in check.

“Who the hell are you?” he asked, Moira ignorant to the newcomer.

“Randall Koch?” the mysterious woman asked with a neutral tone.

The fact she knew his name filled him with dread.

“Yes?” he ventured, though he felt he should not have answered her.

She regarded him for a moment, and then nodded towards Moira, who then seemed to become aware of the woman’s presence. Moira nodded in return, and slowly rolled off Randall’s body, causing him to groan as her pussy tugged on his cock, but now he was free, Moira panting to herself and resting.

Leaving him to stare at the newcomer, Randall suddenly feeling alone with the mysterious woman.

She then outstretched a delicate arm.

“You must have many questions. Come.”

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 2 of Technophilic Nightmare