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People would call you a junker, though never directly to your face. Others would call you a scavenger, some would stoop to call you a rat. You prefer to call your profession something like astral archaeology, since you are in the business collecting (and selling) curiosities from an era long passed. Thousands of ships float, wholly abandoned, circuits fried and computers dead from the Great Purge. All of them are just begging to be boarded and stripped of everything that holds value. You aren’t a rescue ship, so typically, you don’t go after any kind of distress signal unless there’s a monetary award attached to the message. This one doesn’t, though, before you dismiss it and continue on to a promising B-Class Destroyer, your eyes happen to glance down at the size and make of the ship in the message. You have to do a double take, placing your finger on the line to read it once more, slowly, just to make sure that you aren’t seeing things, because goddamn. What is it? And what exactly is it doing in the Kuiper belt? You have seen a lot of different ships. Big boys. Little speeders. Military vessels made to swallow resistance like hard liquor, pieces of science ships dusted from accidents, but none of them, none of them, are anything like this. Huge, circular, and from the info your com unit picks up, it looks to be the size of a dwarf planet. Any radars bouncing around in the Kuiper would automatically gloss over it, you think, unless there’s a human like you at the helm to visually confirm something is off. No Sol registration, it wasn’t built here. Without further thought, you copy and paste the coordinates into your ship’s internal positioning system and fire up the engines. The Persephone might as well be an artifact itself, the ancient craft from the time before warp cores. Her nuclear engine barely keeps itself in one piece with every day that passes, you’ve long since forgotten the sheer amount of patchups you’ve conducted just to keep the sputtering thing going. But she’s good, she’s reliable, and she’s literally the only thing you can afford, so you don’t dare complain in case she decides to die just to spite you. It takes a few hours to get there, especially since you have to slow down significantly to properly navigate through the asteroids, and by the time you lock onto the goliath’s dock, you are practically shaking with anticipation. No one tries greeting you over the coms, which is another sign that this completely abandoned. The distress signal itself could easily be explained away by its position, it might have not been lined up for the emergency solar panels to properly receive power until just now. You can’t plug Persephone’s systems to the new ship, for one thing, the parts entirely different, and for another, the goliath’s internal systems are, as you expected, completely dead. No, wait. It looks like it has another set of systems, all separate from the primary circuits. That is usually only the case with military vessels, though often has to be requested right as the ship is being built. The secondaries are in the case of a weaponized pulse like the Great Purge, though most people didn’t have the foresight to be equipped that way until way after the fact. The secondaries have to be manually activated, but the diagnostics read fine. You slip on a portable breathing apparatus, double checking once more to be sure there are no ugly leaks in the hull letting in an ungodly amount of radiation, then open your airlock. First thing’s first; turn off the distress signal, no need for it to scream this goldmine’s position. That might prove to be a problem, though, because as previously observed, the ship is… huge. Though it’s not what you would call compact, and that might make all the difference in your search. You have already tried downloading an interior blueprint, but the cheap-ass translator you have can only filter out speech, it’s going to take the Persephone’s computer at least an hour to take in all the necessary documents, sort them, and then run them through to your native tongue. The ceilings are high, so high at first you think this place must have belonged to giants, the halls dimly lit with a soft yellow glow, almost reminiscent of candlelight. You come across a display of some kind, an intricately painted ceramic vase on a pedestal, of which you can easily observe with your thick-soled boots propping you up. Not giants, then, just people who want to show off how rich they are. You suppose a show of how much cash one can burn must be a universal language. After jogging from one end of the hall, you quickly decide that you can’t depend on finding the communications relay. What you end up doing is returning to the Persephone and broadcasting a damper over the goliath’s satellite, though it’s just about as effective as throwing a heavy blanket over speakers. It dulls the noise, preventing the signal from going too far, and so long as no stray satellites come too close, no one should catch a whiff of your claim. It’s a decent enough precaution for the short term. When you go back to explore, you feel like a child again, a giddy kind of eagerness filling you up like helium, making your head almost dizzy with excitement. This kind of find is a once-in-a-century kind of deal, and you are the lucky bastard to get to it first. The art is what confirms this is a non-contact species. But, you know, art tends to mainly take what is considered to be the best physical features and rarely show deformities, so you can’t really depend on what you see in the paintings as an average appearance. It’s still good to go on, though, when there is nothing else to help. Blue skin, shades of green and purple, no visible hierarchy based on physical aspects that you can glean. No hair, but something like tentacles grows from their heads. Straight, hooked noses. No irises or pupils. While you can’t actually read the blueprint, you can at least use it to see the layout of the ship, even if you have to figure out which room is which. None of the energy outputs looks like it’s being drained into stasis units, and there are no other internal systems besides the secondaries. From what you can tell, this ship is basically a ghost. They wash up sometimes, drifting into the edge of solar systems, the remnants of species that could be long dead or just beyond reach. You suppose there are some vanished science vessels from Sol that have probably begun to arrive at the unknown, becoming ghosts themselves. Up ahead, at the end of the hall, is a massive space that could be some sort of grand ballroom, but as you enter, you find it’s… an apartment? Up ahead, on some kind of elevated platform like its an altar, is the biggest bed you have ever seen. The plush mattress is surrounded by pedestals with a single jar or vase set atop them, eight in total, all making a kind of odd circle around the bed as though whoever sleeps here wants to be continuously surrounded by their finery. There’s a lump, buried under a few layers of silk-like blankets. An oversized pillow? Haha, no, it’s moving, and you’re about to probably die. Taser, where the fuck is your taser? You back up, wildly patting your pants for the little but fierce stun-gun you keep for surprise visitors, but it’s not on your belt (did you stash it in your pockets?), and suddenly you’re falling, something brittle and ceramic crunching beneath your arm. A puff of dust explodes, and your heaving lungs inhale a decent amount of what you can only imagine at the moment is someone’s ashes. When you manage to get your limbs to obey, you stand back up, finding that there is definitely something in the sheets and that something is looking right at you. Eyes inky black and glimmering, face impossibly smooth and blemishless, body sleek and shining. At the center of its chest sits pulsing light of an energy core, washing its inhuman features in an azure haze. Wires come from the back of its head, twisting and crafted to imitate the odd growth that you saw in the pictures, yet still retaining an artificial flare. It shifts its position, chin resting on its four-fingered hand, hips curved against the mattress, a shimmering navy blanket covering just its pelvis area. “Master,” it says, voice smooth and warm, yet retains a kind of automated undertone, “it’s been so long without you. Come and play.” Three seconds of emptiness before your brain can dredge up some kind of response. “I-” pause, think, reassess, “I’m not your master.” “Oh, are we waiting for them, then?” It slides out of bed, mouth in a soft pout. “I suppose, we can get started, they do enjoy watching me divulge in others.” You take a generous step back, head hot and buzzing. Gosh, has your stomach caught a bug? Everything down there feels suddenly tight and stressed. Swallowing thickly, you try again. “I think I just wandered into the wrong room. Really, I should probably be going.” The android’s head pivots to the crushed jar, then to your clothes, bright red powder covering you head to toe, vibrant as neon paint. The soft, synthetic pout turns to a smile. “You probably shouldn’t leave quite yet, that aphrodisiac is probably already taking effect.” Fuck. “Aphrodisiac?” You manage to squeak, hands beginning to shake. “Oh, yes.” It takes another step towards you, one that you don’t shy away from. “A costly one, at that, though not my master’s favorite so I don’t think they would particularly mind.” Fun! Out of all the first contacts you could have probably experienced, yours happens in the middle of a goddamn sex dungeon. “What- what is it going to do to me?” “Oh, not too much.” If it were truly organic, you would be able to feel its breath on you now. “A strange burning sensation should be starting within your genitals, though it probably feels better when you squirm just so, creating the friction you so desperately need. Your mouth should be getting wet, and now your skin is craving touch.” At that, it runs to fingers down your arm, leaving a trail of rising hairs behind it. “This is your first time, sweetling. However bad it feels now, it’s going to get so much worse.” “There has to be something counteractive!” Your brain is fritzing out, everything part of you switching to panic mode. Fuck- your chest, your heart is racing almost too fast, and your core feels too hot, you want to melt. “Well,” the heat from its wires and circuits warm your skin as it bends down closer, “there is one surefire way to ride it out.” One hand snakes around your ass, the other reaching up to the oxygen mask tied loosely around your face. “I need this to breathe,” you whisper, eyes widening with fear as the thought of do I really need to breathe today? crosses your mind. It places a finger on your lips and motions above your head as an almost inaudible hissing noise comes from above, a vent slowly starting to pump clean air into the room. Your breathing apparatus doesn’t scream its low air warning when the android pulls it off your face, metallic fingers brushing against your cheeks, sending shivers down your spine. Barely able to comprehend anything more than the growing ache between your thighs, you try asking the android how it turned the air back on, but you are cut off. A kiss, impossibly passionate from a machine, on your mouth. It’s like a cold glass of water in the dry desert heat, the relief blissful but far too short of satiating the thirst. You are dying now, the only way to save your shriveling body of need is to drown yourself in its oasis. You whine like an animal in heat as it pulls away, trying desperately to angle your pelvis just correctly enough to grind up against it. “I can make you feel so good,” it whispers, mouth open, synthetic tongue almost touching your collarbone. “I haven’t had anyone in so long, I’m starving.” Blindly, you pull the ends of your shirt and pull it over your head, tossing it away without caring where it goes. The android looks over your chest, not with lust, but with fascination, hands coming to rest over your bra. It squeezes once, as an experiment, head flickering up to you to gauge your reaction. Your hands immediately pull the smooth fabric over your head, letting your breasts fall free, and guide his fingertips over to your nipples. Its movements are torture, nothing about the way he rolls and pinches your nipples does anything to relieve the yearning in your core, in fact, it’s so much worse now than it was just a moment ago. Some movements are slow, some are quick and rapid, you think that the android is trying to figure out what your body responds best to, but it’s not enough. You whimper, keening towards, it, unable to beg with words that you want more. “Sweetling,” it murmurs, brushing some sweat-plastered hair away from your forehead, “try to tell me what you need, I’ll do whatever you want, however you want.” You’re shaking now, cold and hot all at once, and you look at it with a dark kind of glee. “Get… on the bed.” The android obeys like a pet, backing up until its legs hit the mattress, crawling up onto the plush blankets slowly, legs splitting apart to give you a decent view of the slit around its crotch. Needless to say, you are rather impressed by the craftsmanship. “Lay down, face up.” You kick your heavy work boots off, probably ripping a bit of the inner sole off in the process. Belt and suspenders are off next, and your pants quickly follow, along with your underwear. Completely naked, you prowl over its body, looking over the plated covers, even catching a glimpse of the wires in between its joints. After moving, you pause, kneel near its neck as per its request so it can see what it is working with. “Fascinating,” it says, almost in awe. “I haven’t seen one of these in person until now.” A shuddering breath is your single attempt at getting your vocal cords to work. “Do you… know how to-” “Of course!” The android sounds almost insulted. “I am programmed with over five thousand species’ mating and pleasure rituals, as well with cognitive receptors to note unknowns and adapt whenever needed. You wish for me to orally pleasure you.” One painted eyebrow raises slightly. “Come hither, sweetling.” You lower yourself, thighs already dripping like a torrent with arousal. The android’s mouth doesn’t feel like plastic as you had expected, but almost rubbery, still undeniably warm and strangely soft. Its fingers open up your lips, long, hot tongue sliding up inside your core, massaging the sides of your walls to see your reaction. Eyes black as night follow your movements as you begin to grind up against its face, mindless to anything but the pleasure it brings to you. Its nose presses up against your clit, arms wrapping around your waist, heated sparks floating around your core with every writhing thrust you can barely manage. There are no pauses for it to breathe, no breaks for you to shakily collect yourself. The heat in your throbbing pussy leaves as its tongue retreats, now aiming for your clit with a kind of fervor that you can only describe as licentious. The tongue flicks, up and down, back and forth, pressing up against your tender skin with a kind of pressure that no human could hope to imitate. Then begins the wider licking, where it laps from ass to clit, testing out the skin around your labia to see if you like it. The tongue pokes, then prods, trying the ring of your hole before opening its mouth and sucking at the skin of your lips. The wet, twisting motions of his mouth against your sopping wet pussy are what sends your over the edge, your orgasm rippling through your body like a disturbed pond. Throughout the quaking, you ride its face, eyes rolling to the back of your head, high, squeaking noises sounding as you try to gulp in as much air as possible. As the shuddering ceases and a cold aching runs through your legs, you stop, scooting off of the android and laying next to him, face up, chest heaving. The endorphins fade almost simultaneously, a dull heat between your legs beginning to roar again, larger, hotter, and you need more. Sensing your distress, the android rolls over on top of you, its weight deliciously heavy against your sore muscles, mouth covered in your glistening slick. “Do you want something inside you?" It asks, voice nearly pitiful at your plight. Shivers, hot and quick, run from your head down to the core at the idea of being filled. “There are so many things I can do, so many shapes to pick from.” It bends down, sucking at one of your nipples so loudly you think the sounds must be echoing down the hall. “Do you want to be full? Do you want a filthy, thick rod to rail you into the bed? Or do you want delicate tentacles to caress and tease you to the edge?” ”Both,” you hiss, desperation choking your voice. “Good girl,” it says approvingly, between your legs. The slit at its crotch glows for just a moment, two panels sliding apart to reveal a mess of wires and metal. Out comes a staff, a stick of metal covered in the same rubbery material as its face, curved slightly. There is no head like a human male’s cock, but the ridges lining the sides gives it a kind of texture that you know is going to feel good inside. Around the shaft, little wiry tendrils begin to snake out, some of the ends blunt, some thin, all wisping out towards your quivering cunt. The tip of its synthetic cock teases your lips, sliding up the puckered flesh and ghosting over your clit. The tendrils reach over, brushing and teasing, sending your brain spiraling down a well of pleasure. Your back arches of its own accord, body trying to angle yourself correctly so the android might penetrate your desperate core, already completely fed up with the teasing. Its hands grip your waist, thumbs digging into your pelvis, and slowly, but steadily, it begins to slip inside, stopping halfway in. The relief of being filled nearly brings tears to your eyes, its staff’s ridges and bumps massaging your insides better than its fingers could. Deliberately, the android pulls out, and you whine at the emptiness, hooking your foot around its waist to beckon it closer. “You’re so tight… is this correct? Are you comfortable?” The android pushes the tip of the rod back inside, and you have to let out a sigh of relief, your eyes rolling up as you let out a little whimper.
”Yes, more.”
The tendrils lash out, some caressing your clit, others following the rod to stroke your insides. You writhe, trying desperately to get more of it inside you, and so the android pushes in further, all the way up to the hilt. All your insides must have melted, your body hot and slippery, a cold sweat on your forehead. There is no resistance as it begins to thrust, a waterfall of arousal and cum lubricating your core, and oh- oh, those little coils find that pattern around your clit that sends sparks through your body. The android can fit its entire shaft into your throbbing core, the rod perfectly designed to hit that one spot within that makes your toes curl and your lungs to fail. Its four-fingered hands pin yours above your head, almost over stimulating you as its metallic chest presses up against your sensitive nipples. Fluttering kisses cover your chin and neck, leaving a trail of heated sparks wherever its mouth touches your flesh. You rock against him, gasping, whining, whimpering in a way you don’t think you ever have, body completely submitting to the machine on top of you like a slave to its master. When you orgasm again, it’s almost painful. The edge isn’t something you teeter over, it hits you like an oncoming freight train, loud, violent, tremors rolling through your body like tsunami waves. The muscles in your core clench hard around the thrusting metal rod, each movement from the android only bringing you more pleasure. You cry out, silenced only by a rough, heated kiss that leaves the taste of your cum on your lips, the android’s face becoming almost… victorious, possessive, in the dim light of its power reactor. “Tell me,” it asks, almost sweetly, “have you ever had better?” Your brain isn’t working, but you know that nothing would come to mind anyway if you honestly thought about it. The android takes your silence as a yes, though, moving off of you in a single, fluid movement, spinning your limp body around to your stomach. After spreading your legs as far as they can go, you feel a synthetic mouth press up against your pussy. You manage to prop your hips up with your weak knees, face buried in the pillows to cover your moans. Its tongue licks at your clit again, movements more ferocious and confident than before, fingers digging into your ass to help spread the skin apart. Then it moves away, just an inch, and says, “I know that you’re shy, but you can tell me, I’ll keep it a secret.” A long lick, from your ass to clit, and, when you don’t say anything straight away, it leans back in and begins sucking. You begin whimpering, gasping for the air to say the words. “You-” “Me what?” Another lick, tongue pressing right on your clit. “The best,” you manage to choke. “You are the best I’ve ever- ha- had.” “I am?” The thing has the audacity to sound surprised. “Thank you, strange alien.” Back against your pussy it goes, shaking its head back and forth for added friction. Fingers slip between your pussy as it continues to kiss and lick at your clit, mouth open and hot, tongue dexterous and… robust. It takes very little for you to cum again, the android’s tongue lapping at every drop as though it is starving, sucking your tender skin just to make sure it didn’t miss anything. You cry out, hips bucking against its face, trying desperately to regain the control you had tossed carelessly out the window. After it releases your legs, satisfied it licked you clean of cum, you lay, breathing heavily, facing up at the canopy of the bed. The android is next to you, on its side, massaging your breasts with the palms of its hand and tweaking your nipples every so often. “It seems as though your fever has gone down,” it says, hand traveling down to your waist. “But it isn’t gone quite yet. There are, of course, some aftershocks of lust that you will be feeling.” True to its word, an angry heat has been building in your stomach, though it is the kind where aren’t certain if you’re horny or just hungry. Hor-ngry? The brush of a fingertip against your clit shocks you out of the thought, a loud gasp coming from your mouth. “I will, of course, take care of you until it is all over.” A gentle, soft kiss is placed on your earlobe. “And when my master comes back, that’s when the real fun will begin.”