CYBORG RAID
By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM
I pondered my image, the curve of the flesh on the man in the middle, the angles of the men who were fucking him from both directions, one in the mouth, one in the ass. How to make the mouths of the men doing the fucking even harder, crueler, they were forcing this man to service them...not that the guy in the middle didn't love it and could take all they could dish out and then some!
My paintbrush, almost of its own volition, daubed itself with more paint and reached up, added a darker curve of shadowed flesh to the man on the left. Yeah, that was the way to do it. More lines were needed and...
I heard the soft "shoosh" of sound as my door slid open. Turned to see... "Ryan!" I greeted the visitor.
"Hey, Seth." Ryan was a member of my own squad aboard ship, and third watch section, same as I, so we saw a lot of each other. He stepped closer and appraised my image, smirked. "I see you're keeping your fertile imagination busy!"
I sighed. Aboard a military vessel with a complement of nearly a hundred, you'd think there'd be more than one gay man aboard. But near as I could tell, I was the only one; it was what had turned a long, dull duty aboard a starship into an even longer, duller one! "It's not like I have much else to do." I eyed Ryan appraisingly. "Or do I?"
I hadn't been totally without sexual contact; a few of my shipmates would get the gay urge now and then. Ryan had joined me in my bed twice before, both times either when he was wasted on illegal alcohol or extremely bored or both. He had the grace to blush at least. "Not this time." he mumbled. Shy like that, he was gorgeous as hell, with his blond hair, pale skin, finely muscled body that filled out his midnight black Space Marine jumpsuit to perfection. I was wearing what a Space Marine wore under it, a gray t-shirt, gray boxers and gray socks, but then, I was in my own room and allowed to be comfortable.
I smiled, he hadn't said "never again" at least. "So to what do I owe this pleasure?"
"Word has it that we're getting close to Cyborg territory."
"And who was it that gave you this valuable information?"
"Lieutenant Gilmartin." Ryan went on. "I overheard him talking to Commodore Seavers."
"And you came running to me?"
"Everyone else is busy watching a football game."
"So why aren't you?"
"I saw it during my last hitch." Ryan's foreknowledge made sense, you couldn't watch current programming a thousand light-years from Earth, you had to watch recorded older programs only. There was plenty of such programming available, but now and then, you found yourself in Ryan's position, a game you knew but the others didn't, you had to make yourself scarce so you wouldn't ruin the suspense for the rest of your comrades by an ill-considered comment.
"So you came to hang with me?"
"Sort of."
"So get yourself comfortable and we'll see what happens." I said as invitingly as possible.
Ryan started to head for my bed and I thought maybe this would be the third time and him sober for a change, when it happened.
"Urr-urr-urr-urr-urr!" the alarm sounded and went on and on and on!
Ryan turned and headed back for my still-open door. "Cyborg raiders!" he called out unnecessarily.
It was as good an answer as any, this ship was under attack. All hands had to get to their stations, help out any way you could, be ready to step in if someone in the gun crew was killed or injured. I got to my feet and started to move like Ryan. But I only got as far as the door when the ship took a hit. Lurched. Threw me to one side, my head impacting against the metal doorjamb painfully hard. And the lights turned themselves out for me, and my part in this raid was over. I'd just knocked myself silly and then some.
I came to some time later and sat up. Still in my room? I should have been picked up after the fight was over, taken to sick bay or at least gotten a bandage on my head. I felt the damaged area gingerly, maybe some blood on it, but I don't think the scalp was torn very badly. I'd have a hell of a bump on it for a while, though.
Motion in the room made me look and I froze. Ah, shit! I thought. Thought, because I was afraid to say anything.
A Cyborg was standing in the middle of my room.
Nobody was quite sure where the Cyborgs came from, by the time we'd heard about them on Earth, they'd taken over a dozen human colonies. The few we'd captured or scavenged had shown their organic parts were human. Maybe an experiment had gone terribly wrong. Maybe some dictator out there set out to create the perfect army and done too good a job. However they had gotten started, though, the Cyborgs were all working for themselves now.
The only thing human about a Cyborg is the brain and some of the central nervous system. The brain is used to power/control the metal body the brain has been placed into. No two Cyborgs look exactly alike and some can be radically different, but most of them looked like this one, like someone had set out to create a human body out of metallic parts but only had a set of written instructions with no illustrations to work from. The creator of this one hadn't done such a bad job, overall, got most of the muscle structure right and the proportions were correct.
The Cyborg was studying my still-unfinished painting. Looking at it with an intensity I didn't understand.
I tried to get to my feet stealthily, but my minute motion still alerted it and it turned its head to look at me.
I swallowed hard, I wasn't quite on my feet, crouching, still unpoised to move quickly. Not to mention still a bit woozy from the blow to my head.
Try conversation. "Hello." I said.
The Cyborg looked from my painting to me. One hand came up, one sort-of-finger pointed at the painting, then at me. Back and forth. A question?
I ventured an answer. "Yes, I drew this." Cleared my throat. "Do you like it?"
His hand moved over the central figure in the painting. Like he was...remembering.
"Did you used to have a body like mine?" I asked him.
He turned to look at me and despite looking at a completely metal face, I got a sense of intense sorrowfulness. "Did you used to be a gay man, too?" I asked him.
The Cyborg started walking toward me, only a couple of steps would put him right up against me.
I thought about running. But where to? If this Cyborg was here, now, then my ship had already fought its battle and had lost, been captured, was being stripped for parts. My chance for life now, such as it was, was to keep this Cyborg interested in whatever he was interested in.
He came up to me and I swallowed hard, tried to smile. "I could be your friend, if you'll let me." I ventured.
His hand came up, brushed my shoulder, moving up my body.
"Sure, we can be friends, can't we?" I said again.
His hand was touching my neck, my face. The metal was cold, so very, very cold.
I started another sentence, but got as far as, "Sure, you and I..." And then I felt a stabbing pain in my temple.
It hurt like hell! I could feel the filaments snaking out of one of his fingers into my body, into my brain! I was paralyzed with fear (was I going to be turned into a Cyborg like this one?), but I didn't dare fight. Only the vacuum of space awaited me if I displeased this Cyborg in any way, I was sure of that. With that in my mind, I lost consciousness yet again, this time knowing exactly what was doing it and where I was.
I awoke some time later and nothing was familiar, nothing at all. Tubes, pipes, wires, metal plates, chaos, the only lighting haphazard and ineffective. I was in the middle of it, lying on a tilted table of some kind, stark naked. The table had some sort of cushioning on it, it wasn't all that hard. I couldn't tell exactly how, but I was fastened into place, neither my arms nor my legs would move when I tried.
But my head would, so I moved my head and felt the pain at my temple and remembered, reached up with a hand (hey, my arm would move!) and felt the place where the Cyborg had touched me, had inserted those filaments that had invaded my brain. It was now covered by a small metallic box, and that was humming softly. Shit! What was this, the first step in turning me into a Cyborg? After all, Cyborgs were made, not born. Would I be turned into a brain inside a machine, with nothing of my own personality left?
A whirring sound drew my attention to the right, I turned my head and saw the Cyborg. My Cyborg. Well, the one that had been in my room, had pointed to the picture I'd been painting.
He moved toward me, toward my feet, which was the lowest part of this table by a good foot or so than my head. Knelt down on one (metallic joint) knee and his hand reached toward my cock.
As the fingers gripped my prick, I gasped. My hand, which had been behaving, had moved back down to where it had been before, and it was out of my control again. I could only lay there while metal fingers enclosed my manhood, fondled it. Gently. Hey, those fingers, they were warm!
I looked down at my Cyborg and he was looking right into my eyes. I had two choices here. I could fight back with all my power, which would amount to close enough to nothing to make no difference. An ant does not battle an elephant. Or I could try to go along with this, see what happened, and hope a chance to escape came along in time to do me some good.
"Hey, you're pretty good at this!" I told him. Hell, I was getting hard in the middle of a nightmare, he had to be doing it right for that to happen! "I didn't think Cyborgs even thought about sex anymore!"
His hand was now beginning to pump on my prick. Jesus, just the right grip, just the right speed, just the right angle! I let out a moan. "Aw, man, it's been so fucking long since someone's done this for me, even a Cyborg hand feels good!"
It did feel great, actually, like I said, everything was being done just right, and the Cyborg hand didn't tire, didn't miss a stroke, didn't change tension. The speed was varying, but in a way that was driving me absolutely insane! "Oh, ah, ah, I'm going to come, I'm going to come!" I gasped out when the pleasure began to swamp my senses. "I sure hope you're stainless steel, because I'm going to blast it all over you!"
I guess he understood me, because something came up and clamped over my cockhead like a small skullcap with a tube in it! It didn't interfere with the pud-pumping and I groaned, grunted and squirted! "Ah-guh-UH, GUH-UH-GUH, HUNH!"
My jizz flew into that cap my glans now wore, and when it started, a pump started up, and the tube began suctioning it out of my prick as fast as I could jet it! I could see the spunk running through the transparent tube, being fed up and around and away into the machinery. With my climax ended, me panting hard and sweating in the rather warm environment, my sperm was ferried into the machines to whatever fate awaited it. Maybe they planned to use me to breed more Cyborgs rather than make me into one myself. A fate better than I'd feared, at least.
The Cyborg which had been whomping my cock stood up and I said, "Man, you're good at this! You must have been a gay man before the Cyborgs got hold of you! Wish I could have met you back then, we could have had a hell of a good time!"
The Cyborg moved toward and over me and I realized that my position was just right for a horny Cyborg to climb on the table with me! Was I about to be.... "Nah!" I said as the Cyborg got one hand on either side of me. "You can't fuck me, what was I thinking? You don't have a...."
I looked down his body as I said this and realized that something had been added. "Oh, dear God, you've had a cock installed!" A thick, hard one, entirely of slick, smoothly polished stainless steel, and it was ready for me!
"Oh, God!" I moaned again as I felt my legs being lifted up. I still couldn't see what was doing this, making my legs and arms stay immobile, or move. Like my brain wasn't entirely mine anymore. I felt the same...except when it came to moving myself when and how I wanted. Someone else was in charge of that.
So my legs rose up and moved into an embrace at the Cyborg's thighs. They enclosed upon his body there, and I felt the metal and tubes and wires as they moved under my flesh. God, that cock was...there it was! I felt the metal as it touched my anus, the smooth steel slick and warm. God, at least the stainless steel of this dildo would be the next best thing to lubrication, it didn't even have a flare at the glans, just a sort of bulge at the right place as if the cock were uncut.
I hissed as the steel prong slid into me. The Cyborg's face moved right up next to me and his eyes were looking right into mine. I could see the lights within them, shining away deep within the depths of that fixture that took the place of his eyesight. Radar, maybe?
He began to fuck my ass and I grunted. God, again the perfect pitch, angle, tempo and speed, to make the perfect fuck. Like he could tell just what turned me on and how to make it better....
I noticed it, then. That light inside his eyes. It was pulsing. Right in tune to my own delight, the more pleasure I felt, the brighter it glowed, a soft iridescence to it, a change in the color, not great, but from near-white to a mid-yellow. Right in synch with my desire, every flux and rise and ebb.
I tested this, moving my hips in rhythm with his thrusts, so that it hit my prostate more directly. An increase in pleasure. The light inside his eyes flickered right in tune.
"You're getting into this along with me!" I marveled. "That's what this box on my head is for, to let you fuck me and feel yourself get fucked at the same time!"
Believe it or not, that made me feel better. I mean, it's one thing to be a captive of an alien race of machines that think human brains make good operating systems. It's another to find yourself the source of that human brain's pleasure, the way in which it can be, can become, human again in the most elementary way.
"Yeah, come on, fuck me, Mister Cyborg!" I grunted at him and resumed my hip wriggles that intensified my pleasure. "Come on, give it to me, give it to me hard and fast, fuck me the way you'd want to be fucked! Come on, do it, faster!"
The Cyborg did speed up, a smooth increase in speed that didn't hurt at all. Most people when they speed up fucking you, do it awkwardly at first, until they can find their new rhythm of movements. For this Cyborg, it was as smooth as a sports car accelerating down a straight, level patch of highway, and the light in its eyes glowed a smooth, mellow yellow in color.
That prick he was plunging in and out of me was slick and warm and hard as the steel it was. I couldn't help but ride that dong right up to the height of climax again and when I did, I clutched at my Cyborg lover and yelled my ecstasy to the heavens and beyond! "Oh, God, I'm coming again, I'm coming, ah-HAH-AH-HAH-AH-AH-AH, HAHHHHHH!"
More of my jizz flowed through the tube on my prick and down and into the bowels of the ship. The Cyborg raised up and pulled his prong out of me, moved slightly away and settled into a receptacle that plugged itself into him in several ways. I had more tubes exude toward me, but these bore a source of clean water, and several sorts of soft but palatable food. My other needs were cared for as well as they came up, without my asking. It's been that way ever since.
The Cyborg comes out of his "socket" at intervals as well, to renew his lovemaking with me. I've come to realize that the sensations he arouses in me are being transmitted not just to him, but to the entire population of Cyborgs on the ship. I am a member of their crew all right, the member whose sexual ecstasy gets beamed into their brains on a regular basis.
I think this ship I'm on is a renegade vessel, one that's broken away from the rest of the Cyborgs. I seem to have awakened something in these Cyborgs that they had lost, the joy of sexual lovemaking, the ultimately human experience. The Cyborg in my room had seen my artwork and remembered what it was to be human, enough to want to feel things again. Now they all know what it's like, through me. So they've set out to find another way to live, one that includes me.
Maybe, by being these Cyborgs' lover, I'm doing more to save Mankind that I ever could as a Space Marine.
THE END
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E-mail the Author at Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM