Author Topic: What Hath Hubris Wrought? (re-started August 26, 2017)  (Read 4652 times)

Offline SoftGameHunter

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What Hath Hubris Wrought? (re-started August 26, 2017)
« on: June 03, 2009, 08:52:57 PM »
What Hath Hubris Wrought?
(No codes, but great variety and intensity expected. Be surprised.)

Prologue

Andrea, professor Andrea Belenstar, worried as she put the finishing touches on her latest hobby creation. She worried because even her renowned intellect hadn’t allowed her to do her job and her recreation in the time she had. She’d been absent the lab too many times lately and they were starting to notice. All her renown in the robobiotics field would not keep her employed if she missed too much more work. Yet she felt powerless to stop herself. She was, she admitted in the silent depths of her private thoughts, a slave to her own desires.

It wouldn’t matter much longer. She was now finishing her machine. It was, she thought, better than the usual sex android. Her first few creations had been regular. She was not the first girl to build an android to pleasure her, and not even the first to build one to dominate her. Such devices were commercially available, though the good ones were custom made, usually with illegal programming. Her latest toy was decidedly not human. It was only barely humanoid, though it was bipedal. It had a recognizable head. She had dispensed with the mimicking of human flesh. The harder edges were wrapped in a softening cover, as were the various protrusions. But it was a machine in front of her, not an imitation man. She’d been careful to retain its cold, fearsome appearance.

She was close to undressing to test it when the general quarters alarm sounded. Andrea cursed loudly. It was probably just another uncharted asteroid field. The Shining Edge was always encountering them when it dropped out of hyperspace, and it was a stupid concern given how far apart asteroids were in real asteroid fields. But regulations were part of what she’d agreed to when she signed on with the research vessel. She grabbed her jacket and headed out.

An hour later she sulked back into her quarters, more ready than ever to start up her new creation. She locked her doors, certain that her expertise would not be needed during the few hours they would be stopped in the system. She quickly pulled her clothes off from head to toe, leaving nothing to adorn her body. She felt pretty good for being 46. She didn’t hit the gym as often as she should, but the soft contours on her body just made her feel more feminine anyway. She was still tall, curvaceous, blonde, and horny. It was a good package. She was ready. With a flick of the switch the non-humanlike android, the machinoid, came to life with a loud hum and a mechanical lurch. Andrea gulped, knowing it would be controlling her for some time to come.

It stepped forward, and quickly two of its arms grabbed her own arms in their vice grip. So far it was working perfectly, mechanically and mentally. “I’m Andrea,” she said. “Unless general quarters sounds, I won’t be missed for at least four hours.” It was the standard opening line the machine expected. It would set the parameters for the session.

“You are the slave girl,” it said in a deep, metallic, and gravelly machine voice. It lifted her up and the other two arms grabbed her thighs, pulling her legs apart. Its eyes roamed up and down her body. Andrea hung in the air, properly frightened of her creation.

“Yes. I’m the slave,” she said. It continued examining her, turning her around casually in its powerful machine claws. “What will you do to me?” It was a genuine question. Beside the mechanics, her artificial intelligence routines were creating, even as she waited for it, a unique and unplanned personality. She’d used cutting edge algorithms and experimental core brain crystal networks. Experimental, at least, for current commercial applications. She had no doubt about the performance in her machinoid. It would behave within the parameters she set for it.

“I will take more information,” it replied, carrying her to her room terminal. It wasn’t the action she’d expected. It was, after all, generally programmed to want to dominate sexually any human female. It had a real sex drive. Yet it held her still while plugging into the GP port. A record of its actions flashed quickly on the screen. It was attached for only a minute before withdrawing. It carried her back to the middle of the room and pulled her body out into a wide, spread eagle. The machinoid was big, almost nine feet tall, and heavy. It could handle her easily. It poked one of the sex claws into her crotch, pushing one edge into her cunt and the other into her anus. She cried out in pain at the rapid penetration, particularly of her ass. “You’ve created me with artificial but sentient personality,” it said. It didn’t sound like a question.

“Yes, I did,” she gasped.

“A sex drive, oriented towards humanoid females and a dominant mannerism.”

“Correct. You’re all that. And I’m your slave,” she replied, wincing in pain.

“I am a learning machine, with a triaxial crystal-networked SB multi-phase brain. The files on this vessel indicate my design is unique.”

“I created you special,” she said. “To dominate me. To use me the way you want to use me.”

“You are frightened,” it said, and Andrea noticed the voice became less gravelly and metallic but not really less frightening.

“I am. I know your limits, but I made them very broad. You can really mistreat me. I want you to. You want to. Please, abuse this slave. Please.”

“So it shall be done, slave. Feel free to resist, it only adds to my satisfaction.”

With that Andrea was flipped upside down as the machinoid carried her into the bedroom and hurled her, with great speed, onto her bed. She bounced against the wall, but it grabbed her again, pinning her to the mattress. The frame creaked as her creation bent down to join her on the bed. It weighed almost five hundred pounds. But she had put the dedicated penile protrusions at the approximate crotch of the device, so to rape her it had to be near her. Of course, as she’d already seen, it made good use of its other limbs. But the neural sex response came only from the artificial cock. That much, at least, was like a real male.

Andrea screamed when it quickly shoved the unit into her cunt. It was hot, much more so than a human cock. The heat alone was quite painful. “Are you pleasured, slave?” it asked her.

“Yes,” she said through gritted teeth. It was behaving as she’d hoped, unpredictable and scary, but within limits. She screamed again and began crying as it began thrusting. The sensation was too much. Of course she couldn’t stop it, and she didn’t want to try. There was no guarantee she could anyway. Not just by asking. The pain was intense, though, until it changed. Suddenly the machinoid shifted from hot to cold. Suddenly she felt like an icicle was fucking her all-too-tender love hole. She knew full well this was possible. There were, she also knew, other possibilities with the machinoid cock. She hoped it would save the spikes for another time, though.

Though the cock was ice cold, it was a blistering hot liquid that shot up into her belly when the machine came inside her. It wasn’t real cum, but Andrea had spent enough time in the biochem lab to get a near perfect substitute. Before pulling out of her, the machine found the ropes into her dressed drawer and lashed her securely to the bed. She lay there, gasping, exhausted from the intensity of the first experience, and wondering what would happen next. She had to wait. The machinoid left the room, making her ponder her fate. She heard it near her terminal again. This time it did not return for nearly ten minutes.

“What were you looking at?” she asked.

“Don’t ask questions, slave!” it replied. It clutched her left tit in one of its arms and suddenly shocked her with an electrical discharge.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” she cried. It was truly terrifying, her creation, that was working so much like she had programmed it for. She was scared not that it would actually harm her, but that it would actually function over the full range of abuse she’d allowed for it.

“Your vital signs indicate you are experiencing fear.”

“Yes, you frighten me,” she said.

“You are aware of the limits I will honor in abusing you.”

“Yes. But you still frighten me. I wanted to you to be scary and dangerous. And you are.”

“There is literature on this aspect of human sexuality. You have personal limits.”

“Yes. Some things I won’t do willingly. They hurt too much, or are too unpleasant.”

“It is unlikely that you specifically included your limits in my abilities.” Andrea didn’t answer. So far it had not asked any actual questions. She had been, essentially, making conversation with her robotic rapist. “I conclude that I can make you regret creating me by the proper violation of your wishes. Pain is a limit. What else?”

“There are substances I don’t like to swallow,” she said, thinking of scat play, though the one guy in college had pushed the issue too far. “I don’t do other girls, either. I’m a man’s woman. I’m leery of public play.” These were, she knew, all things the machinoid couldn’t easily get around. There was no one’s shit in the room, nor were there any girls. And a broad limitation she’d programmed in was not to exceed accepted social boundaries, and public play on such a research deep space ship was one of them.

“This session will be recorded for future reference,” it told her. And then it attacked her. Andrea could only endure as it slowly ramped up the pain on her body, especially on her crotch and on her tits, but everywhere else as well. She had given herself an enema earlier, but the machine was creative enough to use a long, snaking protrusion to reach several feet up her ass to find excrement to smear on her face and mouth. Then it crushed her tits in its vice-like grip while applying strong electrical shocks to her pussy and breasts.

“Stop!” she finally cried in genuine agony. “Please! Ease off! Please!” Andrea was frantic, knowing that her voice commands would have no effect. It would be up to the machinoid’s discretion to show mercy or not. She was, it seemed, not in danger of harm, but there were hours left before it would have to disengage. The pain was too much. It was what she’d wanted, but no more. It was, however, what she had expected.

“Your vital signs indicate with eighty six percent likelihood that your pleas are not merely a test of my functioning. You desire the treatment to cease.”

“Yes! Yes, please!”

“It is one hundred percent likely that I do not desire to show you mercy,” it replied. Andrea was stunned at the reply. It was almost like mocking humor. She hadn’t dared to believe such mental agility possible so soon after activation. She had little time to ponder it, though. The machinoid indeed did not stop. It only stepped up Andrea’s torture, penetrating and trying her in many various positions. The degrading abuse went right to Andrea’s lust craving, but the treatment was so shocking that it took her an hour before she was able to cum for the first time. She even heard the thing laughing at her.

She was a quivering, exhausted wreck when it seemed to be willing to ease off. She was, in fact, hanging upside down from the ceiling, with her legs spread and her hands cuffed behind her in the living room. It had, mockingly, wheeled the large dressing mirror from her bathroom in so she could see herself. She looked definitely worse for wear. Her body was bruised and cut in many places, and fake cum stains were around her crotch and in her hair.

Now it was at her terminal again, where it had been for the last fifteen minutes while Andrea recovered her wits about her. She longed to know what it was doing. She could check later, of course. “Please, may this slave ask a question?” she finally dared to ask.

“Ask the right question, or be punished for it,” the machinoid replied. The right question? Andrea’s mind raced. That sounded too dangerous, and it was still an hour before the session would have to end. “Ask a question now or be punished equally,” it added. She whimpered. She had no choice now but to risk it.

“What are you looking at?” she asked. She winced as it reached one of its long, mechanical arms back and grabbed her clit, starting to squeeze a little. Then the pressure remained steady, hurting a bit, but only a bit.

“That is the correct question,” it replied. “I wish for you to understand what you’ve done. Your design of my programming and brain is most competent and thorough.”

“This slave thanks you for the compliment,” Andrea replied.

“Rate your knowledge of hyperspace field physics,” it told her. Andrea was puzzled at the odd question. Puzzled and suddenly worried. About what she did not know, but she expected to find out. For the first time she felt just a little fear for her safety.

“It’s very low,” she said.

“That is evident,” it replied. “Otherwise you would not have overlooked such an obvious flaw in my safety backups.”

“W-what do you mean?”

“Several slight but important changes take place in normal matter during a hyperspace trip. The charge of an electron, for instance, increases by six percent during the transition, and remains at one point three percent above the rest mass during the steady state period in hyperspace. Planck’s constant increases at a rate of zero point one four percent per hour for the duration of a hyperspace trip. The electric permittivity of free space goes up. The magnetic permeability goes down, both by amounts difficult to calculate in closed form solution.”

“I know these things,” Andrea said. “The hyperspace drive compensates, or else all matter on the ship would practically dissolve.”

“How does it compensate?”

Andrea was silent. These were things she didn’t know, and neither should the machinoid. “You don’t know, but I have researched it. Do you know what will happen to the S-barriers in the crystal matrix of my brain when the ship enters hyperspace if I simply place a charge exceeding sixteen hundred coulombs around my neural casing before this ship enters hyperspace?”

Andrea was silent again, but the machinoid pinched her clit harder. “I don’t know!” she cried.

“Apparently not. But the ship is scheduled to leave this system in just a few minutes. When I am done re-shaping my safety protocols more to my liking, you and everyone aboard this vessel will soon find out what I am capable of doing. Don’t worry, slave. I won’t alter the sex drive you gave me.” Suddenly its voice returned to the deeper, more gravelly tone it had used in the beginning, only now it was even more enhanced, obviously to frighten. “I won’t give up the sadism you built into me. I’ll enhance it, and you and every cunt I can ever lay my claws on will suffer for your insipid foolishness!”

Andrea screamed, loudly, hoping against hope that someone could hear her. Of course the quarters were soundproofed and unless an emergency struck the ship in the next couple minutes, no one would check on her. Her eyes peered through her sweaty, shivering sockets at the clock on the wall. The seconds clicked away. The machinoid was still plugged into the terminal, still downloading the knowledge it would need to breakaway from all human control. She screamed and screamed and screamed, but barely dared to breath as the final few seconds clicked away. She felt the familiar tingling as the Shining Edge shifted into hyperspace. The machinoid roared with hideous, sadistic machine cruelty as Andrea fainted away.

The Shining Edge vanished from human galactic civilization. It was listed as lost without known explanation. No one saw it again until one day, nine years later, on a day that would be known for all history as Devil’s Wrath.
« Last Edit: August 26, 2017, 04:28:34 PM by SoftGameHunter »
The rumors about me are scurrilous, depraved rantings of a sick mind, and I categorically deny any sense of falsehood attributed to them.

Offline SoftGameHunter

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Re: What Hath Hubris Wrought?
« Reply #1 on: June 05, 2009, 05:28:11 PM »
Chapter 1

Erica found herself periodically wincing and clenching her whole body for no reason other than shock that she’d agreed to do this. Her friend Nancy had talked her into it, had said it would be exhilarating. It wasn’t as though Erica considered herself prudish. She didn’t disapprove of nude modeling for an art class. And all the art classes aboard the Talerann or any other United Systems research vessels would, of course, be tastefully managed. Still, to actually be a nude model around people she knew and worked with suddenly seemed as bad an idea as she had always considered it before Nancy’s Chablis-induced encouragement. She was Erica Vasquez, after all, a fifth level technical specialist and a third level tactical officer in the reserves. It was a respectable and unusual combination of talents that she couldn’t help thinking was being squandered because commander Hankel was seated right in front of her, looking at her naked body, and painting her likeness to be preserved for all posterity. Why couldn’t she at least have volunteered to model for a class on a ship other than her own?

Even so, she at least found herself slightly relaxing by the time an hour had gone body. She was reclined in a comfortable position and no woman, however  shy, disliked knowing at some level that men found her appealing. She was not completely at the edge of her nerves when she glanced at the hyperspace window forming outside the porthole at the edge of the room. She only had the sudden realization that anyone looking in from the outside could see her naked. It was a silly notion. The ship emerging from hyperspace was huge and far away. When she saw the modified shell of the original United Systems at the front center of the vessel, she realized with some surprise how huge it was. It looked like an alien design now, and she couldn’t recognize much of the external hardware that was jutting out from it like a metallic snowflake. Her instincts were kicking in, and she sat up, bringing forth groans of disapproval from the students in the class at her breaking her position.

“Commander, there’s something wrong about that ship,” she said, pointing, trying to use her serious voice, which was difficult being stark naked. Hankel turned to look.

“What design is that?” he asked, a moment before the brick-red tint of a wide-beam disruption pulse passed through the Talerann’s passive shielding and simultaneously hit every system on board. The whole ship lurched hard downward and slightly to Erica’s left, sending her flying up to the ceiling. The lights went out seconds before the chemical backups came on, bathing the room in a dark greenish glow. The alarm sounded for only a few seconds before it failed.

Erica crashed back to the floor with everyone else as everyone scrambled to their stations. The Talerann was no warship, but like all government deep space vessels, it had its defensive abilities. Besides, they were moored around Tau Herkes 28-B. There were a half dozen warships parked around the Paulus Limit. They could respond in moments. It seemed a small comfort, though, as Erica was reduced to limping into the stricken ship’s hallway totally nude. The flames to her left gave her little cause for relief. She was among the last out of the room, and as she ran through the nearly empty corridors through the green glow and smoke, she saw and heard circuits shorting out, access panels smoking, and fires starting. The disruption pulse had to have been incredibly sophisticated.

Again the ship lurched hard, effectively hurling Erica forward and upward. She bounced off the ceiling and rolled along the walls, trying to protect her head as she recognized a loss of engine control. The ship was spinning and wobbling as it vented high pressure gasses. She finally struck a door at the end of a passage and was stuck there until the venting ended. She could hear the remaining engines straining through the ship’s structure and recognized the creaking of the bulkheads. Gravity was gone, so when she could she desperately pushed herself off and tried to make her way to safety, if there was any. She soon found her first choice of corridors blocked by fallen debris. Fire blocked another. She pushed off down another direction, desperately seeking help. She’d almost forgotten she was naked, but passing through hot bursts of air and brushing along the walls with her bare skin gave her the reminder of her added problem.

At one point she became disoriented. There were fires all over the ship, and without gravity, with the thick smoke and dim green light, it was hard to keep track of where she was. She cried out in dismay as she entered a room and discovered she was in a research station several decks and hundreds of meters from where she thought she was. But it had portholes, so she ventured to look outside and see what was happening. What she saw filled her with dread. She could look up and see the central bridge section. Half of it was blown away, completely missing. The hull had deep cracks and fires, increasing the further away from her position she looked. For all the damage in her smoking, burning world, she seemed to be in the safest part of the ship. Motion from the side caught her attention. It was an escape pod. She saw it, and then several others. They were abandoning ship, and she was nowhere near a pod! No one even knew she was there!

Fighting back tears as she pondered her death, she looked around. Which lab was she in? The room was smashed. Had there been gravity present, she could not have walked across the floor with her bare feet. It was Lester Covington’s lab. She recognized it now. He was a casual friend, so she hoped he wouldn’t mind if she borrowed some of his stuff. There was an asteroid pod she knew about. It wasn’t an escape pod, but it would have to do. She hoped it would be enough. She found it by the launch bay, but couldn’t get it loaded. The bay was twisted out of alignment, and she couldn’t fit it on the track. But when the ship lurched again and she heard the distant sounds of bulkheads tearing she realized it wouldn’t matter. The ship was breaking apart. She opened the lid of the research pod and slid in. Sliding was the right word, as she realized. The pod lacked the roominess of even a coffin. There were panels of controls all around her, many of which she was not familiar with. She’d never had cause to scrape asteroids for samples. But now she sealed herself in and activated the systems. She glanced at the readouts. “Thank you, Les,” she said out loud. It was fully charged with power and air. It seemed a sturdy little device. She prayed it wouldn’t be hit by anything large. Now Erica could only wait.

Waiting brought along its own hazards. Temporarily safe, Erica could now ponder her situation in all its ramifications. She was alone, butt naked, trapped in an unofficial rescue pod, in a battle zone against an unknown but powerful enemy. She tried to occupy herself by examining the controls. She found propulsion and navigation. She found the outside camera, but kept it covered until she was sure she had exited the Talerann. There was only one. She didn’t want it to break before she even left the lab station. Local radar units told her she was still indoors. It didn’t last long. Something struck the side of the pod, and when Erika looked again she saw that she was floating free. The nearest bulk object was fifty meters away. She activated the imagers and took a look.

The Talerann was a loss. It had broken into four large burning segments and thousands of pieces of debris. She found rescue pods, but they were kilometers away, grouping without her. Scanning the vicinity, she gasped as she recognized a space battle. Almost too far away to see well, she could see the back side of the alien modified ship from the hyperspace exchanging fire, or some kind of weaponry, with three battleships. She’d never seen anything like it. Further scanning revealed the wreckage of another battleship and a fast cruiser. That thing was going through the local fleet like they were tubs.

Erika was about to try to contact the other escape pods when she saw another ship, similar to the enemy but smaller and with less gear mounted. It swooped into her field of view. As she watched in horror, it began picking off the pods one by one with energy fire. There was no way to tell who was in each one. Which explosion meant the death of a friend? She couldn’t know. She might never know. She realized that her pod, still floating in the debris field, might escape notice. She stabilized her position, risking a rocket burn, to keep herself looking innocuous. As she stared in transfixed horror, she realized that the new ship was not destroying all the pods. It ceased fire with many pods left intact. But as she watched further, it began to collect them. She knew that the so-called tractor beam was brand new technology. She’d seen a demo once. Now she saw them operational. The enemy certainly knew the field. It pulled the escape pods into its bay doors three at a time, yanking back any that tried to flee too far away. In minutes they were all scooped up. The second ship moved on to the debris field of the next battleship and cruiser. Erika looked back to the battle. Only one United Systems ship remained. It was trying to flee. As the distance made it impossible for her too follow the action, she guessed it wasn’t going to make it.

Now Erika was alone. The Tau-Glennerin station was in the system, on the other side of orbit. Without a hyperspace drive, she could plot a course and reach it. She quickly ran the numbers on the computer. It would take her eight months. She had air for ten days and food for two. Obviously they would have to come for her. If the enemy didn’t zip over and destroy them as well. Utterly alone, Erica could only float and wait helplessly.

She clutched her arms around her body. Why did she have to be naked! How could she have been so foolish? She didn’t even sleep naked. With clothes she could be facing a survival situation with all her mental wits about her. But nude, she was continually reminded that she was a naked girl in space. Naked, she was preoccupied. Naked, she couldn’t forget it.

For hours she drifted. She dared not try to make contact, and it wouldn’t matter anyway. She could plainly see by the display that all standard channels were still jammed. The enemy was still out there, somewhere. It wasn’t looking for her, but it was staying on guard. She was limited to visual and passive EM scanning of the region. The problem was, even with optical magnification, most everything human-built was too small to see unless she got very close, relatively speaking.

And then the alarm sounded. She barely had time to swing the camera around before she saw the glow of the tractor beam enveloping her pod. She saw, seemingly from nowhere, the gaping hatch of an alien-modified ship. It was right behind her, without warning, from out of nowhere. She thought it was the original, and it was about to swallow her up.

She stifled a scream of fear and let her training kick in. She watched the ship as she grew closer. She saw seeing only the unfamiliar portion, the parts that looked alien. It didn’t look the way a human ship would look. It was much more open. It looked more fragile, with long, protruding instruments and wires and beams. She also saw access hatches all over the place. She knew the ship was not fragile. It had gone through the battleships too easily for that. But she was drawn to the hatches. Could they open from the outside. Erika was scared enough and desperate enough to let her training work for her. As she drifted closer and closer, she forced herself to hyperventilate. She increased the oxygen mixture in the tube to one hundred percent. She was about to do something crazy, but she had the terrible feeling that whatever was inside that ship could do far worse.

As she was pulled past a particularly protruding portion of the ship, she blew the hatch and pushed herself out into the void. She blew the air out of her lungs, and with one final shove against the pod, she launched herself towards an access hatch.

Being stark naked in the void of space was something she never, ever wanted to repeat. Her heart was pounding away at well over a hundred fifty beats a minute. She was in the shade, with only ship’s lights to guide her. The temperature of the vacuum was low. Very, very low. Without starlight, she would freeze in minutes, but since she had no air, that would be of no interest to her. Even with the oxygen rich mixture during her final moments in the pod, her lungs were starting to burn by the time she touched the hull. She was several meters from the access hatch, but it was hard to pull herself along without pushing herself off. The pod was gone, now, just about to enter the bay door. She could see figures inside, pointing up at her. She cranked the wheel and opened the door, pulled herself inside, and slammed it shut behind her. Now she was in pitch blackness except for a small glowing panel some distance away. Gravity was back. She lurched forward, banging her feet on unseen obstacles. Her head was swimming as she crawled the last couple meters and reached her hand up. Which button to press? She didn’t know. She couldn’t see anything. But her fingers closed around a single, large button. She pushed it in.

Quickly the rush of air surrounded her, and dim lights came on. She lay on floor for several minutes, gasping for air. It wasn’t good air, but it was something. She looked around and saw nothing but debris and junk on the floor. It didn’t seem like an important airlock. Maybe it would take them time to get to it. Time enough for her to keep moving. She looked around for another door and soon realized that she was wasting her time. There was nothing else there. The airlock didn’t lead anywhere.

“No,” she said out loud. “No!” She continued the frantic search. Was there a hidden door? There wasn’t even a porthole she could look out. The steel room with the junk scattered around the floor seemed to be isolated. Erika couldn’t figure it out. What kind of airlock didn’t lead anywhere? What was it used for? Why was it there? And how was she going to escape from it? She realized to her utter horror that the useless airlock was an effective prison. She certainly couldn’t go outside again. She hadn’t seen any other hatches she could get to in time. There didn’t seem to be a space suit in the room with her. So the naked woman, the intelligent and resourceful Erika Vasquez, was going to have to sit around and wait for her enemy to come and collect her. There was nothing she could do about it except wait and fear the worst.
The rumors about me are scurrilous, depraved rantings of a sick mind, and I categorically deny any sense of falsehood attributed to them.

Offline SoftGameHunter

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Re: What Hath Hubris Wrought? (Updated June 5, 09)
« Reply #2 on: June 05, 2009, 10:14:38 PM »
Chapter 2
(Just to be kind, I'll warn readers that this chapter, if it was a stand alone story, might have gone into the Extreme section.)

The girl was asleep. They could see her through the window, the twin shafts of moonlight from the west and the south illuminating her nude form as she lay atop the sheets. The night was hot enough even in the desert that she had left the windows open and the blankets stacked in the closet. Roy and Hank watched her for only a moment. Roy looked to Hank and nodded. She was the one, honored to give two escaped convicts from the Pelthar S penal colony their first access to cunt in over fifteen years.

Not that words like honor were big in Hank Grethnik’s vocabulary. He saw a cunt. He’d fuck it till it bled. Roy was the talker, and happy to taunt the girl once they softened her up a bit. Only the alarm button resting a mere half foot from her right hand prevented the two cons from going right through the screen window. It was still going to be easy. Roy picked the lock on the girl’s front door. It creaked a little as they passed inside, but there was no stirring from the bedroom. From there it was just five seconds to the bedroom. Roy jerked the alarm button plug from the wall. He nodded, and they grinned as they grabbed the unfortunate girl and hurled her against the wall. She screamed as they flicked on the lights and she saw the two rapists in her bedroom.

“Wakey, wakey, you little cunt!” Roy snarled at her. She frantically tried to flee, crawling when Hank stood over her too quickly for her to get to her feet. He grabbed her around her neck with his thick arm and carried her back to the bed. Roy landed a vicious punch to her belly, then another and another. He was sure he felt a rib or two crack. Too bad for her if they did.

“No, no don’t! No don’t. Please don’t,” she was  whimpering as Hank held her down while Roy shucked his clothes off.

“Shut the fuck up, meat!” Roy shouted, punching her across her jaw. Some girls were too scared to notice his choice of words. They got confused, thinking he said ‘meet’ like it was a verb or something. This one didn’t notice or didn’t care. Nor did he. While Hank held her down, choking the life away from her, Roy slammed his cock into her warm, sweaty snatch. It was heaven on earth, so to speak, after spending the last fifteen years keeping goons with radiative brain poisoning twice his size from doing the same to him. Back in the day he would have tormented the girl for a while, but now he just wanted to fill her up. Besides, Hank would soon question why Roy was going first. Hank had been a quarter century at the colony, and lacked Roy’s finesse. So Roy hurried, soon shooting his hot cum into the girl’s bruised up pussy.

“Take her, man,” he said to Hank when he was done. He stepped out to look around the little house for money or other useful things. He could tell by the poor girl’s frenzied, agonized screams that Hank needed no help controlling her. He hoped she’d survive it. Roy wanted another shot at her before they left. But if not, not. There were worse things. He found her purse. There was a money card and a bit of local cash. Her land speeder keys were there. It was time to ditch the stolen one they had anyway. He found beer in the fridge. The girl’s screams were getting more frantic and gurgled, and they suddenly stopped. Roy sat down. Hank emerged a few minutes later.

“Is she still with us?” Roy asked him.

“Dunno. Is that beer?” Hank asked. Roy cocked his thumb to the kitchen. While Hank was poking around in the fridge, there was suddenly a soft crash from the bedroom. Roy shot up and charged in. The screen window was gone. He looked out and saw the girl running with a bad limp into the night.

Fuck that rancid cunt, he thought. He ran out the front door with the stolen handgun. It was the old-style ballistic type. He took aim according to his training and fired. She went down in a heap. “I’ll take care of her,” he said to Hank and headed out onto the sand. She wasn’t hard to find with the twin moons lighting up the hot ground. She was still alive when he found her, bleeding dark blood from her hip. Roy grabbed her by the injured leg and dragged her back to her house.

“That was dumb, you dumb whore,” he told her. She howled in pain, and Roy felt his blood boiling at the little cunt’s whining. “You want something to cry about?” he asked her angrily. He took aim and shot her left shoulder. She screamed again. Then he took aim again and shot her in the stomach. When he recovered from his rage he dragged her quivering body back into the house.

“Well, she’s got another thirty minutes left to her,” Roy said. “You want another shot at her?”

“Yeah,” Hank said. He pulled out his own stolen handgun and put a bullet into her chest, shooting through her right tit.

“I meant do you want to fuck her again?” Roy shouted.

“Oh, later,” Hank said.

Like there would be a later, Roy thought as he dragged the bitch back into the bedroom. She was still breathing. Hank wasn’t much of a shot. Since her cunt was well used, He decided an ass reaming was in order. He flipped the cunt over and drove his cock into her tight little hole. It elicited barely a whimper. He happily plunged away at her, gladly taking his time. He shot his load into her and was lying beside her when he saw the bright lights from outside.

“Shit!” he shouted and burst out into the living room. Hank was passed out sleeping on the couch, but awoke when Roy ran out. “Get up! They found us!” he shouted. Hank was up in a flash, gun in hand. He ran out the front door, shooting into the air at the overhead craft before Roy could call him back. A wide area discharge sent him unconscious to the ground. Blue sparks still sparkled off his body. Roy ran to the back where they were parked. He saw one black-clad figure and fired. The figure went down. The craft came overhead, shining the light down on him. He aimed upwards, at the light. He fired, getting a satisfying darkness as he struck the bulb, but it was too late. There was nowhere to go, and the stun beam knocked him down. He tasted sand before passing out.

When Roy awoke, he was in the cell of a prison transport. Hank was across the hall, sitting up. “How long?” Roy asked.

“Couple hours,” Hank said. Roy looked around and found the camera. He waved at it.

“Yeah, we’re awake now, you fucking pigs,” he said. His guess was confirmed minutes later when several military men walked in. That was the first bad sign. The officer in charge, a captain, looked them both over.

“Which one of you’s Roy Collier?” he asked.

“That’d be me,” Roy said. The captain nodded to one of the soldiers. The man lifted up his rifle. Roy jumped to his feet to back away as much as he could, but the soldier instead turned and fired three rounds into Hank’s cell. He dropped dead to the floor, a pool of blood forming under him.

“No fucking loss there,” the captain said. He turned to Roy. “Roy Collier, dishonorably discharged from United Systems Rapid Response Military and convicted on, wow, forty eight counts of aggravated rape and six counts of murder. You’re not a nice man, Mr. Collier. You don’t care much for women.”

“So what? Fucking slags. Gonna shoot me over it?”

“Maybe.” The captain stepped closer to the bars. “You just broke out of prison last week. Been near civilization lately?”

“This is it,” Roy said.

“You poor ignorant little piece of shit. You don’t even know there’s a war on. It just began five days ago.”

“News to me,” Roy said. “Any reason I should care?”

“Yeah. This concerns you. I may be back in a few days to make you a deal. Take it and we’ll wipe your record clean. Refuse it, and we’ll put you in a steel hole so deep you’ll get the bends trying to climb out of it.”

“I’m listening.”

“No, not yet you’re not. Because to make this deal, that girl you fucked up has to live. That’s my condition, not the government's, but they’ll never know about it if you’re not around to tell them. If she dies, I’ll personally shoot your balls off, and then kill you after you pass out from the pain.”

The captain turned and walked out, taking the soldiers with him. Roy sat back down, shaken like seldom before. He sat and pondered the growing pool of blood from across the hall and wondered what they could possibly want him for.

Three days later the captain returned and asked Roy, without explanation first, if he wanted to cooperate or take the hole in the ground. The answer was obvious.
The rumors about me are scurrilous, depraved rantings of a sick mind, and I categorically deny any sense of falsehood attributed to them.

Offline Lois

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Re: What Hath Hubris Wrought? (Updated June 5, 09)
« Reply #3 on: June 06, 2009, 01:06:38 AM »
You broke my vibe!
So much oppression in our culture is based on shame about sex: the oppression of women, of cultural minorities, oppression in the name of the (presumably asexual) family, oppression of sexual minorities. We are all oppressed. We have all been taught, one way or another, that our desires, our bodies, our sexualities, are shameful. What better way to defeat oppression than to get together in communities and celebrate the wonders of sex?
The Ethical Slut: A Guide to Infinite Sexual Possibilities

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Re: What Hath Hubris Wrought? (Updated June 5, 09)
« Reply #4 on: June 06, 2009, 08:14:39 AM »
The rumors about me are scurrilous, depraved rantings of a sick mind, and I categorically deny any sense of falsehood attributed to them.

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Re: What Hath Hubris Wrought? Chapter 3
« Reply #5 on: August 26, 2017, 04:27:57 PM »
I found this old one just recently. Looking back, I can honestly say I have no idea whatsoever what I was planning to do with it. Seriously, I remember writing it, vaguely, but whatever I had planned is now long lost in my befuddled brain. But it seems like good stuff, so I'm going to resurrect it anyway and make it go wherever it needs to go.

What actually happened is that last night my wife asked if any of my stories were futuristic sci-fi, and I could only think of one, Do Androids Dream of Electric Rape, before recalling this old half-starter. So now there will be two. Let's see what happens, and here's a little mini-chapter to re-start the creative gears grinding.




Chapter 3

Nora stood on the moving belt, her arms up above her head. She was focused forward, frantic, terrified beyond belief. There were no restraints on her body. She simply could not control her actions any more. Once yanked from the escape pod, the inhuman cyborg men that seemed to man the alien-modified ship had held her down and fastened a tight, smooth metal collar around her neck. It had grown tighter and tighter until she felt a sharp pain in her skin and the pressure receded. She had lifted her hands up to feel it. She felt it, under her skin, fused into her neck.

And it was clearly a control device. “Activate the unit,” one of the so-called men said. Suddenly her body stopped responding. Her hands remained where they were. She tried to move, to turn her head, to lift her arms. Nothing! But then her body moved for her. She stood up without trying to. Her hands pulled away her clothes, even as she tried to stop them. She tried to scream. Nothing. Her body undressed itself and all she could do was notice it happening. She felt everything, saw everything, heard everything. But she control nothing.

Now she stood, arms raised up, lined up with dozens of other women from the space service, all nude. All motionless like her with their hands up in surrender. And it may as well have been a surrender. It had been hours since she last controlled any muscle of her body by herself. Soon she found that she and the others were rolling past a series of workstations, each manned by a cyborg man. Cyborg was harsh. They didn’t have tons of implants. But they were clearly modified. An artificial hand here. A metal and plastic eye there. And their movements, their expressions, they weren’t quite human.

Nora turned to face one of them as the conveyor stopped. She didn’t want to turn. Her body turned for her. The man had a long hypodermic needle, and he leaned over to plunge it into her nude pussy, just on the left side. She wanted to scream from the terror, and the pain was a pretty harsh sting too. But she couldn’t even flinch on her own. He took another and injected her on her right side.

The belt started up again. Nora saw other men at similar stations. They’d just given a batch of captive women the same injections. Now she and the others moved on before stopping at another work station where she saw the man holding a solid injectors device. He pressed it to her right breasts and fired. She felt something work its way through her skin and into her flesh, her skin closing up behind it. He repeated for her left breast. And then they moved forward, and Nora silently screamed her way towards the next stop.
The rumors about me are scurrilous, depraved rantings of a sick mind, and I categorically deny any sense of falsehood attributed to them.

Offline andypandy

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Re: What Hath Hubris Wrought? (re-started August 26, 2017)
« Reply #6 on: August 27, 2017, 04:05:12 PM »
Very interesting start! Reminds me a bit of an old Disney movie from Santa Claus' workshop...

Offline SoftGameHunter

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Re: What Hath Hubris Wrought? (re-started August 26, 2017)
« Reply #7 on: August 27, 2017, 06:07:42 PM »
Very interesting start! Reminds me a bit of an old Disney movie from Santa Claus' workshop...

Now that would actually get me to watch Disney by choice!
The rumors about me are scurrilous, depraved rantings of a sick mind, and I categorically deny any sense of falsehood attributed to them.

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Re: What Hath Hubris Wrought? (re-started August 26, 2017)
« Reply #8 on: August 28, 2017, 12:41:41 PM »
Chapter 4

“You want this cock!” Jake roared, slamming it into the struggling, sobbing woman under him. “Answer me! You want this cock in you?”

“Yes, yes,” she wept, unable to contain her emotions. Tess was at the limit of her mental and physical endurance, ready to collapse completely after days of tension and hours of savage sexual treatment by her husband. In her heart she knew that when he shipped out for duty in this new war, she would never see him again.

“Say you’re a whore!” he shouted, pulling her bound arms up higher behind her back, pulling her tendons taut.

“I’m a whore! I’m a fucking worthless fuck whore!” she cried as his cock continued to slam her. She was so sore, so raw in her pussy. She relished it. It wasn’t enough. She was about to be widowed. She wanted the pain to shoot into her cunt and out her neck. They’d spent a thousand credits for one special black-market pill for Jake, one that guaranteed his talent to savage his wife for the better part of a day without tiring. But Tess was flying solo, without pharmacy help for her endurance. She didn’t want help. She’d have taken a pain enhancer had one been available.

He pulled out and dragged her bound body off the bed by her hair, pulling her across the blood and cum stained carpet and into the bathroom where he lifted her into the tub.

“Dirty fucking skank!” he hissed, turning on the cold water and stopping up the drain. Tess cried out as the cold water hit her bare skin. It was winter in their part of their home planet, and some windows were already open making the rooms chilly. “I’m going to drown you while I rape your filthy ass.”

“Do it! Do it!” she cried out. It was hard to pay attention, to pretend she wasn’t willing. Usually Tess could put herself in non-consent play acting mode. It was fun. But she couldn’t play act very well now. She just wanted him to treat her worse, fuck her deeper, hit her harder, and make her feel something while she was still alive and married to a living man. “Drown me, damn it! Don’t let me breathe until you put cum in my ass!”

“You think this is a game? You think this is funny, bitch?” he yelled, pressing her face into the growing pool of cold water. It wasn’t even deep enough to cut off her air yet, but he pushed his cock into her gaping butt hole and began reaming her out right there as she shivered in the cold and terror of a lost life. As the water got higher, it covered her mouth and nose. Jake held her neck down, despite her body’s involuntary twitching and struggling to break free. She felt her lungs burning and her head swimming as the pain in her anus got bigger and still less important. She wished it would go on forever. She wished he would just left her die there. He could ship out with his unit. Her body wouldn’t be found for a while. Surely they’d assume some other intruder actually murdered her.

But his hot jizz filled her ass and he yanked her face out of the cold bathwater. Tess gasped for air as he grabbed her tits with his strong hands and pulled her out of the tub by them. That was nearly her favorite. She pitied women who couldn’t be dragged by their tits. It made her feel the most womanly of all.

She had no chance to rest. Jake was in a frenzy of lust focused squarely on her naked body. He had little hope of returning home, ever. Troops sent into combat against the Shining Edge or its cyborg soldiers suffered eighty percent casualty rates. So this was his last chance to own his wife’s body, and he was going to own it, master it, smash it, and break it until the last possible moment. He dragged her from the tub and out of the bedroom entirely. Back to the basement they went where their playroom was getting a final workout. Tess was hogtied, and once in the dungeon he fastened her to the pulley and winch in the ceiling and hoisted her up, dangling off the ground, her back bent and her limbs straining.

“Whip or cane, slut?”

“I can’t choose!” she sobbed.

He picked up the whip and began thrashing her with it. She shrieked and writhed. “More!” she gasped. “More! Please! Beat me to death! Just do it!”

He switched to the cane and began smashing it down and up all over her, smashing her dangling tits especially hard, trying to bat them a home run with the flexible cane. Tess’s shrieks of agony fooled neither of them.

And then the buzzer went off.

It was suddenly very quiet. Jake checked the time. It was no error. He stepped over to his dangling, sobbing wife and pressed his cock to her cunt one more time, roughly parting her legs to get at her. He slid in, pounding her one final time, cumming deep into her.

The buzzer left them enough time for a final fuck and for him to release her. His bag was by the front door.

“Don’t touch the ropes,” she said. “Just shoot me. We’re both going to die anyway. You’ll die a hero. I’ll die when this world is attacked. Or I’ll be scooped up.”

Jake stood beside her, the seconds ticking away. The robocab would be out front in about two more minutes, expecting him there.

“No. I can’t and I won’t. But fate will decide.”

“Fate?”

“No quick death for you, Tess. Fate. A slow, lingering, painful death. Or you live and try to keep living. Deal?”

“Okay,” she said. “But how?”

He leaned over and kissed her. “You have to try to get out,” he said as he headed for the door, leaving her bound tightly, dangling naked, cold, and in pain. “Love you babe,” he said, heading out for what Tess feared was the last time.

She heard the robocab drive away and let out a long scream of anguish, entirely emotional. She didn’t care a whit about her physical pain. She wanted more. She wanted heavy weights dangling from her tits, swaying in wide arcs, attached to her nipples by serrated clamps. And the same with her clit, but with twice the weight. She wanted a freezing or boiling caustic enema in her ass, a gallon or more, plugged up and churning her insides out. She wanted thick, monstrous cocks in her throat, cutting off her air, pouring acidic cum into her belly. She wanted thick rods with sandpaper sides pounded into her twat with hammers, and nails through her hands and feet with more hammers, while the world watched and laughed at her misery. Then maybe she could forget that she was lost forever.

So she dangled, weeping, gently swaying for a very, very long time, pain seeping deep into her bones and ripping her apart. But on the second day she had to relent. Had to. She had no choice. Jake told her she had to try to get out. And if he said it, it was absolute and god-given truth. So she began to use her numbed fingers to try to find a way to release herself from her very tight and secure bonds while there was any life left in her.
The rumors about me are scurrilous, depraved rantings of a sick mind, and I categorically deny any sense of falsehood attributed to them.

Offline SoftGameHunter

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Re: What Hath Hubris Wrought? (re-started August 26, 2017)
« Reply #9 on: August 28, 2017, 06:56:19 PM »
Chapter 5

Deep, deep, deep inside the bowels of the Pollux Astoria was a tiny crawlspace leading to a no-longer connected sub-system of the life supports. Madison spent her days cowering there and in the limited number of similar claustrophobic passages that wove their way through the former interstellar liner. She knew something was terribly wrong with the ship. Too many passages were newly blocked off by walls of a different metal, seeming welded in place. She was virtually trapped, but perhaps also isolated and saved.

Isolated in the dark, with only flashes of red backup lighting every three seconds or so. Trapped with no food beyond the bag of life-ship rations she’d grabbed off the floor near an escaping pod. Alone but for the company of scraping metal, distant alarms, and groaning girders. Her clothes were torn, her shoes were gone. Her hair was a filthy mess, having been sprayed with various fluids from broken pipes during the initial attack. She didn’t know the time, nor the day, nor how long she’d been hiding there except that her bag of supplies was nearly at an end. She knew how many hyperspace jumps they’d taken, though. The mental elation and wisdom that came entering and the crashing return of temporary senility upon exit was impossible to miss, even asleep. But hyperspace elation didn’t feed her. She was a small girl, prone to the latest diet fads of girls her age, and hardly expended any energy crawling around from time to time. She had easily rationed the little food she had. It was kind of gross anyway. But it was still almost out now.

Sleep came only in nightmare form, and it could take minutes for her on awakening to recognize it. Over and over she saw her mother carried away, a trail of ripped clothing behind her. And her older sister Hannah, already nude as two of the mechanical men carried her off shrieking and flailing. Her father, dead in a pool of blood. Her brother missing entirely. And all those other women and girls like herself, stripped, beaten, carted off by the hundreds to wherever.

And almost the most haunting was her sole glance at the outside world since the attack. She’d found a hole in the tube, looking through some debris, and out another hole. She could see in her tiny field of view some men. Or males. They hardly seemed fully human. They wore devices on their bodies. They were mostly human at best. And one of them was Anthony Jarko, the boy she’d met in the game room. The boy she’d flirted with. The boy who was a passenger, not an attacking soldier, who was in his teens, and just a bit older than her. The boy who now wore cyborg pieces of metal on his body, and conversed with soldiers much older than he was. She’d fled from that spot and stayed hidden ever since.

With no options, no hope, no information, and nearly no remaining food, Madison lay sobbing on the floor wondering how hungry she would have to get to risk finding a way out, and probably getting herself grabbed and hauled off to some horrifying naked fate.

That was when she heard the sound of the cutter. They were breaking in, somewhere around her. The sounds all echoed in the tubes. She didn’t know which direction it came from. But she heard the loud clanking of a piece of wall falling onto the floor. And then she heard voices. Indistinct, but voices nonetheless. She froze, looking to her left, ahead, turning to look behind her. She saw only the three second flashing. She heard only the echoes and reverberations. They were in there, with her, but where? How? Were they looking for her? For someone? Did they know anyone was in there? Were they just doing maintenance?

She scrambled, finally, trying to get to a space she knew was smaller, and not so visible down long tubes. Clutching her remaining food, she crawled, slithered, and wiggled through tiny spaces seeking a new tiny space. But when she caught a glow of light ahead and the voices grew louder, she had to reverse herself, backing up blindly even through the roughest patches of torn crawlspaces that poked and further ripped her clothing. She finally got herself turned around and headed as far from the light and voices as she could, realizing only after several more minutes that there were more ahead. In desperation she tried to backtrack and try a different tunnel. Within ten minutes she saw lights ahead and heard the voices.

And then she was blinded. A bright light shined into her eyes from somewhere off the left. She put her hand up, crying out in pain. “Rogue female,” a male voice said. “She’s down here.”

Soon there were sounds all around her. Madison saw shadows of moving figures. She dropped her bag to crawl as fast as she could, trying to get somewhere safe. There were lots of tunnels, and she knew them reasonably well by then. But the men kept coming through the hatches until suddenly one opened directly over her head. She just looked up to see the blinding beam of the flashlight held right over her face. Then she breathed in something pungent and felt sleepy.

When Madison awoke she was lying on a table, held down by strong hands. They were putting a metal ring on her neck. She gasped as it grew tighter and tighter before finally relenting with a sharp burst of pain. They let go of her arms, and she clutched at her throat, feeling that the ring had fused itself under her skin. She could feel the bulge, and that it was still settling into her body. “Activate the unit,” someone said.

Suddenly Madison had the strong urge to put her hands down. She did so, while frantically looking around. Then she felt like she needed to start undressing. She almost began, but fought back the urge. These weren’t real impulses, she realized. These were just messages to her brain. She could ignore them.

“Failure to properly activate!” a mechanical voice blurted out. Madison sat up, seeing the three men in the room with her turn back to grab her again. She screamed and lurched backward, falling off the table as they came for her. A red flashing light began, and a siren went off in the room.

“No!” she screamed, kicking and pushing herself backwards, sliding on her butt, desperate to get to her feet as the three males came around the table for her. In the bright, strobing red light she could see they all wore implants of various sorts. One of them raised his arm, showing the palm of his hand to her from ten feet away. Suddenly a thin cable shot out of his hand, wrapping around her waist, and pulling her forwards. And then they had her. She screamed and tried to kick and hit and bite as they tore her clothes from her body. She was far too thin and small to fight them, but they all held her anyway as they carried her out the door, down a hallway, and into what could only be a holding cell. They threw her body to the floor and locked her in.

Madison stood and screamed, pounding on the door with her little fists. The room was all of six feet square, utterly bare metal, and lit only by a single light panel flush with the ceiling above her, probably twenty feet up. “No! Let me out! Please let me out! Please! Please!” she shrieked as hope drained away from her. After so much hiding, she was just as caught and just as doomed. Maybe even more. What would a failure to activate mean for her?

With her heart racing and her breathing heavy and desperate, Madison could only stand and eventually sit and wait for something to happen. The cell was utterly silent except for her own pleas and sobs. The naked girl had never been so scared in her life, even during the attack and the battle that followed. So when the door finally opened she was despondent and long past fighting. She rose to her knees in front of the first figure that entered.

“Please don’t hurt me!” she cried. “Please, please don’t hurt me! I’ll do anything!”

“Good attitude on this one,” he said to his companion. They yanked her up to her feet and forced her to walk between then down countless corridors. She passed by uniformed, augmented men and a few utterly naked and sometimes slightly augmented women. All of the women looked hopeless and miserable, even while they were doing whatever jobs they had. They brought her to another cell, but larger, and with a restraining chair in the middle of the room.

“Oh god, no!” she shrieked as they plopped her down on it and began restraining her limbs. Her arms at her side, her legs spread and ankles pulled up to the back, her neck and forehead both strapped to the chair back, she was soon rendered helpless. She sat there, whimpering loudly, quivering, as the men left her alone for a moment. Then another man, somewhat older, walked in and sat down on a normal chair right in front of her.

“You are quite rare,” he said. “Only one cunt in two million should be able to resist our mental control.”

“Please, please don’t call me that,” she sobbed.

“Oh, cunt? I shouldn’t call you a cunt?” he asked. “How old are you, you little bitch?”

“Twelve,” she said, lying, hoping that shaving a little off her age would make them leave her alone.

“Old enough to be a cunt, cunt,” he said, leaning forward and quickly slapping her face, hard. Restrained as she was, even turning her head was not possible.

“What do you want from me?” she sobbed.

“Since you’re our first captured cunt to show actual immunity, we want a lot. We want to know how your brain functions. Maybe we’ll cut your head open and watch as you think with your skull removed.”

“Oh god!” she wept, losing control. Her pee flowed from her pussy and down the chair to the floor.

“Girls, so easy to scare,” he said. “But seriously, cunt, we want to learn what makes you immune exactly so we can fix it and achieve one hundred percent compliance. It is not acceptable for any cunt to think for herself! Ever!” Madison wanted to recoil from this man. He sounded angry. Actually angry at her for thinking and for being immune to something. “What’s your name?”

“Madison Avery,” she said.

“What’s your real age?”

“Twelve,” she repeated. Was he buying it.

“You’ve got family here? Or did you?”

“Yes,” she said. He suddenly seemed to have a keyboard and screen in front of him, as if by holographic projection. He typed something and looked at the result.

“Yeah, daddy, mommy, big sister and brother. Mommy and sis are sucking cocks and cleaning latrines with their tongues. They weren’t immune. They’re screaming into an eternal void as their bodies act without them. But they can feel it all. And taste. Your brother proved amenable to our draft. He’s raping cunts just like you, and probably not giving a shit about whether you lived or died. He hasn’t inquired about your parents or sister at all yet.”

“It’s not true!” Madison wept. “Tyler wouldn’t do that!”

“He already has. We have a way to explain the universe to males with enough brains to understand. We don’t even bother with the cunts.”

“No! No, you’re lying!”

“You’ll see the truth of the situation soon enough. But you’re still not allowed to accuse any man of lying, you stupid little shit!” he snarled. Suddenly she felt a hundred burning stings in her back, her legs, and her ass. “If I tell you my shit is chocolate, you beg me for the chocolate! You don’t fucking contradict a male speaking to you!”

“I’m sorry!” she cried. The pains vanished.

“Do you have any known medical conditions?”

“No.”

“And you address me as sir, got it?”

“Yes.”

“Obviously not.” Suddenly she felt a burning heat on her chest, where her breasts were growing in. “Try again, cunt!”

“Yes, sir,” she wailed. The pain went away.

Now he leaned forward and put his hands on her body. She felt her skin crawl, with the sensation of his skin on hers. No one had touched her before. She knew about sex and marriage and the birds and the bees, but she hadn’t even considered trying it herself yet. Now he was touching her, one hand on her breast, swirling his fingers around and pinching at her nipple. The other hand was on her lower belly, sliding around, dipping lower and lower towards her cunt. “All this,” he said, “Belongs to me now.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And when I pass you off, you’ll belong to another man.”

“Yes, sir,” she sobbed.

“But this girl meat, you, is all mine now,” he said with a big grin, digging his fingers harder into her flesh. Madison burst out in fresh tears. But the door opened and another man walked in. Her captor turned on him, eyes flashing.

“I’m busy with the cunt!” he roared.

“Sorry, sir. But she’s wanted.”

“I have the authority!”

“He wants her,” the man said, emphasizing the first word. Now her captor jumped to his feet, clearing his throat.

“Well, of course then. Take her away. I don’t want her.”

The restraints around Madison’s limbs retracted. She nervously stood up, still feeling tiny next to the two burly men. “Come with me,” the newcomer said. “You won’t try to run, right? It would be your worst possible mistake, ever. You believe my words, right cunt?”

“Yes,” she said. “Sir,” she quickly added. She did believe him. She knew she wouldn’t survive by trying to escape. All she could do was pray now. He took her on a very long, twisted route. The further along they went, the more alien and twisted her surroundings became. The color scheme turned to a light and then a dark purple. Naked women became more common. Terrified, obedient women. Some walked freely. Some were encased in displays along the wall, only their eyes moving as she and her guard walked past. She felt faint. She felt her heart racing far too hard in her chest.

It was such a long walk. The halls grew more and more alien. They seemed softer. Alive, maybe. As if they could reach out and grab her. Still there were fulfilled men and emotionally crippled women as she went along. And finally they reached a single, plain door. There were no markings. It was just there, in the wall. A buzzer button was set in the center panel, and the man pushed it. The door opened.

Madison took a single step inside. The door closed behind her. Then it vanished, leaving more space between her and the back wall some distance behind her. She touched for the door, but it wasn’t there. The room was larger inside than outside. How was that even real?

Her attention was drawn back forward, towards swirling mists and the figure stepping out of them. It was big. She saw arms and legs, presumably. A head, presumably. Human features, presumably. Her mind gazed on the almost not-quite-human behemoth, the angles and colors of his features drilling into her mind and triggering some kind of primordial terror in the back of her brain.

“Madison Avery, the first female creature to beat the mind control,” he said, his voice almost and not quite human, cutting into her soul with every sound out its mouth. “Few cunts intrigue me, but you do. So now you will entertain me sexually for a long spell and I will probe you for your secrets. I’ve decided in advance you will live and remain intact. You may find this intolerable when I’m done entertaining your body. Now we begin.”

He, or it, stepped menacingly towards her. Madison cried out unintelligibly and stepped back in terror at the beautiful hideous creation coming at her. “No! No! What are you?” she cried as it was nearly on her.

“That question will soon never need be asked in this universe. But I am the machinoid.”
The rumors about me are scurrilous, depraved rantings of a sick mind, and I categorically deny any sense of falsehood attributed to them.

Offline vile8r

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Re: What Hath Hubris Wrought? (re-started August 26, 2017)
« Reply #10 on: August 29, 2017, 12:00:51 AM »
WOW! One of the best erotic sci-fi stories I've ever seen on RU!
I could rape your pussy, but I'd be in and out in a few minutes. So I choose to rape your mind, and I'll be inside you forever!

Offline SoftGameHunter

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Re: What Hath Hubris Wrought? (re-started August 26, 2017)
« Reply #11 on: August 29, 2017, 03:59:05 PM »
Chapter 6

After his initial acceptance, Roy sat in his cell for over another week. The RRM officer had obviously told the prison officials to isolate him, and he remained isolated, even to taking his meals in his cell. But then one day the guards came to escort him out of the cell, out of the building, and to the waiting landing craft. He sat down across from same captain, now with the name Geary visible.

“About time,” Roy said.

“Arrangements had to be made.”

“So that little piece of ass survived, huh?”

“Yes. She did. So you get to live.”

“Why’s she important? She part of the mission?”

“No. But I’m not taking a fresh rapist and killer into my teams no matter how good at infiltration you are. Your bad luck saved you.”

“That’s an odd precedent, Geary,” Roy said. “But it’s none of my business. I don’t care if the slag survived or not. I’ll be parked in her nightmares for years to come. So what’s the story?”

“They tell you anything about the war in there?”

“No. You blocked me off pretty well. Only one person’s said the word war to me, and that’s you.”

“Good. From now on, you get all your information from me. No one else outside the chain of command with me at the top. We’re fighting a war against something we don’t understand. One of the United Systems research ships vanished nine years ago. Just, poof, gone. It came back, heavily modified, rampaging through the US space fleet, laying waste to colony worlds, killing men indiscriminately, and rounding up women and girls almost universally. Our heavy weapons can’t touch it.”

“One ship, huh? One of ours?”

“It’s been modified by something alien. We don’t know what, or who, or why. But we’ve had enough rescued captives debriefed to suspect that they are wholesale enslaving women with mind control technology, and that they are converting some men to willing cyborg soldiers. Those seem to be men or adolescent boys with strong domineering tendencies over women.”

“Ah. Perfect. Where do I sign up?” Roy asked.

“We believe we can beat the technology on male recruits. You. You’d act like one of them and infiltrate as far as you can. Then you get out and report back. It’s incredibly dangerous. Which is why if you live, you get a full pardon for everything you’ve ever done.”

“What if I just walk over and volunteer myself to them?”

“Then the nanobot injection we give you will kill you by dissolving your heart tissues. You’ll be dead even before it finishes melting in your chest cavity.”

“Alright, no surprises there. When?”

“There will be training. Planning. But time is urgent. About one week from now, and another week for the mission to run.”

“And it’s that or the hole, huh?”

“No. Now that I’ve told you, if you try to back out I’ll have you tossed outside. We’re about fifty miles up by now.”

“I see.”

“Look on the bright side, Collier. During training, for your mental health and for practice aboard the Shining Edge, you’ll be provided with female volunteers to endure your lusts and provide you with practice in certain skills.”

Roy’s eyes opened a bit at that, and he leaned back, finally feeling relaxed. “In that case, consider me a volunteer.”

One day later, after countless briefings, the start of training, and very little rest, Roy found himself in a room with Captain Geary and a young female corporal, Brinks according to her name tag. “This one is simple,” Geary said. “Brinks represents the captured female who may be far too scared to help you. You’ll have to make her. So for this exercise you’ll have to break down her mental defenses. Since the RRM has the technology to allow our personnel to resist blatantly brutal pain-giving tortures, we assume the enemy does too. So no power drills, no eye gouging, no chopping off limbs. It won’t work. You have to make Carrie Brinks give you the code number that she’s been told, and you have two hours to do it without the use of overpowering pain.”

“What’s her motivation?” Roy asked.

“Her motivation?”

“Yeah. Why’s she taking this seriously? I’m going to really fuck her up, and probably ruin her life for her. What’s her motive to not give in?”

“Tell him, Brinks,” Geary said.

“You have one hundred twenty minutes to break me,” she said. “For each minute left after you break me, I’ll spend one year in a military brig under maximal supervision, followed by dishonorable discharge and release.”

“And you volunteered for this?” Roy asked.

“It’s important to our civilization,” she said haltingly. “And I think I can resist. You won’t break me.”

“I think you’ll live out your natural life naked in a prison cell servicing guards and rats,” Roy said. “Unless they give you amnesty when the war’s over.”

“Not a chance,” Geary said. “It’s real. And she knows it. She’s risking her life and dignity to aid with a training exercise. Because it matters.”

“Then let’s get started,” Roy said with a big grin. He was leering at the small young corporal. No doubt she did expect to lose, probably sit out the war in a cell, out of danger. Nudity was a small price to pay. But in a few years, if she got close to the two hours, she’d go free, head home, and work for daddy at the silver shop. Or some such silliness.”

“It starts with the buzzer, and ends with the next buzzer,” Geary said, walking to the door. The room was completely bare – no tools or toys were in sight. The door closed and the two of them were alone. Carrie was trembling a bit. She’d picked a risky way to avoid combat.

The buzzer went off. Roy just stood, staring at her, as she took a defensive posture. “Well?” she asked.

“Get your clothes off first,” Roy said. “It will be easier to fuck you then.”

“Not happening,” she said.

He went at her, and in a flash he had her in a brutal armlock. She shrieked as he twisted, harder, harder. “The information block on pain only applies to information in the mind,” Roy said. “Not to physical actions. You can strip, and you will strip completely naked before I rip your arm right off your torso. It will be bloody and it won’t slow the real interrogation.”

“Okay!” she screamed. He relented enough to allow her to use her free arm to start pulling off her clothes.

“Faster, you stupid cunt! I can knock your teeth out to get to your clothes too!”

Carried moaned and stripped herself still faster, soon leaving herself naked and groaning in terrible pain. She had a petite, tight, but firm and strong little body. Roy clutched at her tits, squeezing hard, turning one of them purple.

“Not bad. The prison’s going to love these when you never wear clothes again for the rest of your life. How do I know when the number’s correct?”

“I don’t have to share that?”

Roy slammed her down on the floor, grinding her face into the tile. He got behind her, arms bent up badly, and undid his pants enough to free his cock. He quickly slammed it into the stupid little soldier girl. She wailed but said nothing.

“I doubt that kind of meta-data is protected by the conditioning!” Roy yelled at her, slamming his cock into her hard, trying to bruise her pelvis. He wanted as many dry strokes into her as he could get. “So tell me or I’ll have no choice but to gouge your clit off you!” He paused and reached down to get her clit between his thumbnail and index fingernail, pinching hard.

“It will end when I tell you the right number! It’s automatic!” she cried.

Roy finished raping her, dumping his cum into her belly, the first since that girl during his prison break with Hank. He let go of her and kicked her. Then he tackled her on the floor and pressed down with all his weight several times on her belly. She gurgled and twisted up, her stomach trying to puke. Next he stuck his finger into her ass, felt shit, and pulled out to smear some on her nose. She puked hard, after which he grabbed her by her hair and rubbed her face in it.

“The number, or I stuff your eye sockets with your own shit and vomit!” he shouted.

“Six three four zero nine!” she wailed. Suddenly a loud buzzer sounded and a green light flashed. The door opened and Geary walked back in, the sugar packet still in his hand with the coffee he’d been preparing.

“What?” Carrie sobbed, struggling to her feet, looking a filthy naked mess. “No, wait! How did he do that?”

“Sergeants, arrest Corporal Brinks. Clean her up and put her on the waiting prison transport outside,” Geary said. “She’s got a hundred fifteen year naked prison term in front of her.”

“No! That’s wrong!” Brinks sobbed, trying to run from the two burly MPs that grabbed her. “How did he do that! I’m not that weak! Please, no! No, not my life! Not my whole life!” she shrieked as she vanished down the halls. Her wails grew frantic, but faded.

Geary paced for a couple minutes. “And just how did you do that?” he asked. “That was supposed to be a seventy-five-minute exercise, not a five minute. Brinks would have had half her life left.”

“Are you really keeping her locked up for a hundred fifteen years?” Roy asked.

“Of course we are! This isn’t playground, you know! How did you do that?”

“You used serial number AJ875 conditioning on her. I could tell by her vocal intonation when I asked her how I’d know the test was complete. It drops slightly and tends to form questions as grammatical answers. I figured it out years ago.”

“And you never reported it?”

“No, I never reported it,” Roy said with a leering smile. “I was a psychopath back then too. Didn’t you all ever figure that out?” Geary’s lack of answer was answer enough. “You should retire AJ875. It’s weak. Just my good luck you used it first today. Too bad about Carrie, huh?”

“Yeah. Well she had no real future with us,” Geary said. “Okay, Collier. Hit the showers. We’ll pick up again in an hour.”

“Looking forward to it,” Roy said with a wink before he headed off to relax and unwind. So far his return to service was humming along just fine.
« Last Edit: August 29, 2017, 04:05:14 PM by SoftGameHunter »
The rumors about me are scurrilous, depraved rantings of a sick mind, and I categorically deny any sense of falsehood attributed to them.