INDUSTRIAL ESPIONAGE
By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM
Whoever had set up the security cameras inside the compound had failed to cover this back window. Steele levered himself up to it by a rope-hook and a powered reel, then, with one hand in the lanyard, he used the other to wield a diamond tipped glasscutter on the window. The workers who had installed the security system had felt certain that nobody could enter through that small rectangle, and they were right. But the right tools which he wore on his belt did permit him to access the security camera's power system, enough to send it a scrambled signal that would cause the system to reset. Reset would restore the security cameras, but the process took two minutes. Plenty of time for a burglar intent on industrial espionage.
Long enough for Steele to walk unseen around the corner to a larger window that he could jimmy (again with the right tools, anything was possible, especially when working on an older building not designed from its inception to keep out an experienced burglar) and slip inside. By the time the cameras were back in operation, he was inside and the window was closed again. All he had to do now was accomplish his theft, then wait until Monday morning when the regular personnel would arrive, enough people to blend into while he made his way out. Though they would eventually notice the theft, review the security cameras and spot his face upon the exit, he would have ample time to get far enough away to be forever lost. A plastic surgery to alter his already-handsome face, and he'd vanish once again, richer for the experience by a few million after he sold his theft to this corporation's rival. Industrial theft was the only way to go, robbing houses of their jewels was strictly a small-timer's pursuit.
There were plenty of cameras active inside, but he knew that they were only reviewed if something untoward happened, so he didn't attempt to hide himself further. A figure dressed in black stocking cap, pullover and pants with shoes built for climbing any surface with a decent ratio of friction, all of this loose but form-fitting on his well-muscled frame, he made his way to the room his source had mentioned. Inside would be the object of his desire.
And there it was, somewhat away from the tables and machinery which had probably played a seminal part in its creation, sitting in a chair beside the desk. A metal behemoth in the shape of a man provided you were generous about your definition of the shape. An articulated gorilla came somewhat closer, but the legs were too long. A weight-lifter human, perhaps. And the face was of a fearsome warrior if ever there was one. But hell, it was the weekend, the builder had probably turned this monstrosity off, all he had to do was pull that sucker's central processing unit in one piece without damaging it. He had the next thirty-six hours to figure out how to do that.
But he had been mistaken about the robot being shut down, when he got closer, its head turned around to look at him, its eyes glowing red (low powered lasers, maybe, they could be hooked into radar to let it "see" mechanically) and it said, "Who are you?"
Steele blinked, he'd known the robot being built at this research facility was to be multi-tasking, but coherent, intelligent speech was a step above even his expectations. "I'm a friend of Doctor Sloane." he said quickly. "He asked me to come by and take a look at you. He was worried about your synaptic function." That ought to soothe the robot long enough to let him find out how to shut it off, maybe even get the robot to help him!
But the robot said, "If you wish to access my synaptic panel, I will require you to provide me with Authorization Code C-4."
Uh-oh. Well, he had a electromagnetic pulse device (a "pulser") that should burn out the robot's brain upon application, he just had to get it out and trigger it.
But the robot noticed his hesitation and his movement toward his utility belt, a metallic hand came out and grasped his wrist, strongly enough that Steele wondered if it had been broken. His other hand came up to try to free him, the other robotic hand caught that one as easily, he was left with both hands high above his head as the robot stood up. God damn, the thing was about nine feet tall! And mean-looking!
"Without the Authorization Code C-4, I must now insist upon Security Code A-1."
Steele gulped and remained silent. Caught! "All right, you got me." he said. If the robot would let either hand go, he could still get to the pulser, he could try triggering it where it was and maybe that would mess up the robot enough to let him press it to the brain case.
But the robot was ahead of him all the way, a rod extended from the robot's waist to grasp and remove his utility belt, it had a rudimentary sort of three-fingered waldo on it. The belt was pulled off his slim waist and tossed a fair distance away over the tables.
"You are an intruder." the robot informed him. "Intruders are to be dealt with expeditiously."
"Look, just summon the guards and they can call the police." Steele said helplessly. "I'll go quietly." He struggled in the unforgiving grip the robot had on him.
"The police cannot be involved at this point of the operation." the robot informed him. "That would involve a breach in security that could not be contained. All intruders are to be dealt with within the organization."
A private jail? "All right, all right, lock me up then." A jail was a jail, and he'd practiced breaking out of such for a long time. "I'll go quietly, just let go, I think you've broken my left wrist!"
"Initiating security protocols." The robot told him. "First, a strip search."
Steele found that, while the robot released his wrists (neither were broken, thank God!), he was still restrained by a metal band about his waist that was linked back to that waist-rod that had held the waldo before. The hands now quite simply ripped the clothing away from his body, his cap and pullover and t-shirt first, then the band lifted him up bodily and his shoes, socks and pants were stripped ingloriously from his kicking body. The robot didn't react to his struggles in any wise, ignored it with an ease that spoke of superhuman reflexes, when it grabbed his trouser legs to pull off his pants, he was flailing the legs rapidly, but they caught only the cloth at first try and slid the pants off his body with ease. The briefs' elastic waistband was caught with equal ease and came away easily, though the material tore in the metal claws that the robot used for hands.
Now buck-naked, Steele stopped his struggles. "Okay, I'm nude." he told the robot. "Can you call in your security guards and put me in that cell now?" This would make breaking out harder, but he had a small wire secreted among his head hairs, he could fashion it into a lockpick and...
As if reading his mind, the robot's fingers went through his hair, caught the wire, and pulled it from his head, removing several head hairs along with it (not the robot's fault, the wire was wrapped around those hairs to hold it in place).
"Yeowp!" Steele's cry was both of pain and despair, he was truly helpless now, unless the cell they would put him in would fall to bare-hands burglary, he would be trapped until they chose to let him out. "All right, you got it all now, you.... Yeowp!" That was a call of sheer surprise.
The robot's hand had clasped around his cock. Again, the massive metal paws moved with a delicacy that belied their speed, he had been free-swinging, the robot moved, and he was held firmly in the grip, no pain, no muss, no fuss.
"Security protocol override." the robot told him, or nobody, or everybody.
What was this? "Override?" Steele gasped out.
"Initiating private subroutine Beta Zee Twelve."
"What subroutine?" Steele realized what was going on, some sort of employee skullduggery, something had triggered a personal program installed in this robot. This could work out for him after all, maybe and....
"Uh-guh!" Steele's cock was being manipulated by the robot's fingers, in a way that rivaled his own personal attentions to that proud pillar of his manhood in his private moments of release and relief. He went from a flaccid, wilted-flower lump of flesh to a stout column of masculine majesty in two seconds flat, and everything after that was simple ecstasy! "Oh, God, what a hell of a subroutine!" he marveled. Had the venerable Dr. Sloane installed this routine in his robot, or had it been some frustrated, overworked assistant out to both show the great doctor his talent and get some joy out of a difficult job at the same time.
The band at his waist was able to both raise and pivot him without hassle, Steele found himself being lifted, turned around so that his back was to the robot, turned from vertical to horizontal, and the hand at his prick never missed a stroke. Then he was lowered so that he could rest on the floor on his hands and knees, and that took the rather uncomfortable pressure off his waist, the band slackened slightly and he was down, still trapped but no longer pinched. "All right, then!" he gasped as the hand continued its relentless manipulation of his prong. "You've got me where you want me, so what's your next plan?"
He felt a probe at his anus and then the unmistakable injection of oily fluid of some sort. Suddenly, he knew exactly what the next plan of this metallic monstrosity was going to be. "Oh, hell, no!" He gasped out. "Robot, end subroutine, now, damn it, now!"
The robot ignored him, the next thing at his anus was a thicker metal prod that was similarly slicked up. What kind of robotic assistant turns their pet project into a fucking machine? Aw, hell, that robotic prick knocking at his ass was huge! He felt his sphincter being pressed apart, widening, and all he could do about it was howl! "Owoooooo!" he yowled like a wolf at the moon, but the wolf howls in triumph and mastery, he was howling in pain and humiliation! That rod was slicker than any human cock would ever be, it made progress that would have ripped him asunder if it had been an ordinary dong, as it was, it was gliding inside him, stretching his rectum smoothly in all directions at once, minimizing the pain, but not ending it all, no, not by a long shot!
Deeper it slid into him, Steele shrieking all the while. He was getting rap ed by a metallic behemoth, fucked by a robot dong! What sick creator made this monster's tool, anyhow?
The steel prick finally stopped penetrating him at a depth that felt like a yard, but couldn't have been more than ten or twelve inches, if that. Steele threw his head back and moaned. "Oh, God, take it out, take it out!"
"Initiating subroutine Beta Zee Fourteen."
"What the hell is....oh, God!" Steele found out what this subroutine was, when the robot began to hump at his ass. That metal giant could have pounded him into hamburger with those thrusts, but they were handled with easy efficiency, he was fucked but not slammed into, though every thrust of those metal hips pulled that probe out of his ass to the last inch and then rammed it back in to the base again. And the speed, oh, God! The motions were those of the angels, they made him feel...so GOO-OO-OO-OOD! His cock which had faltered under the pain of the insertion resumed its rigidity and the hand at his crotch were manipulating him as adroitly as ever.
"Oh, ah, shit, yeah, fuck me, yeah, fuck me!" Steele moaned. "I can't fucking believe this, the best fuck I ever got and it's coming at me from a metallic dong! Oh, God, yeah, shit, oh, oh, ah, AH, AH, AH, GAHH-HAHHHH-UUHHHHHH!" And he was spraying his spunk all over the floor, moaning, sobbing, what a hell of a good climax, he had spurted so hard, he thought he was going to jet his entrails on the ground!
The robot paused as Steele finished his orgasm, and when he caught his breath, he said, "so that was your subroutine, huh? Not bad, not bad at all." The hand had released his prong, but the steel rod was still up his ass. "If you're done fucking me, could you pull that monster out of me and let me go?"
"Subroutine incomplete." was the reply. "Recommencing sequence."
Steele felt himself being grasped and lifted up by the metal band about his waist once again. Now he was lifted until he was pressed against that massive metal chest, his legs wrapped around the waist.
And that steel dong began to plunge his depths once again.
"Oh...my...God!" Steele gasped as the robot's fucking rocked him up and down. "How long is this going to go on?"
The answer was over an hour, long enough for his ravaged body to recover and climb up to another shuddering climax. He ejaculated all over the robot's chest, panted and clung to the cold steel frame. "Oh, God, please, can I go now? Even to a cell, maybe?"
The answer this time wasn't even in words, but the robot lowered him down to the floor, this time keeping him close, and Steele found himself on his back with the robot atop him. Another new fucking position, that was all it was, and the robot began to hump his ass again.
Steele moaned. How much longer, how much longer?
It took a long time, various positions, each one maintained until the robot had again forced his body into another explosion of jizz. By the end of it, the flood had dwindled to a mere trickle, but near sundown on Sunday, the robot apparently finally decided he'd had enough. Steele was released and lay exhausted on the floor. Staggering to his feet was painful, dressing was agonizing, walking back to the robot, the electromagnetic pulser in his hand, was exhausting. The robot had returned to its seated position on the chair before the desk. He had about twelve hours now until the main crew would return to this building, and he would need to slip out among the crowd. What the hell was he going to do now?
He paused, considering the issue. He'd always done what he wanted to do and to hell with the consequences. Well, what did he want to do here?
Twelve hours later, the men arriving for work found themselves dodging the truck fleeing the compound as it barreled out the gate and down the road. The vans chasing it lost track of it in the crush of morning traffic which the truck seemed to use with supernatural abilities, lights changing green to suit its needs while the same lights frustrated the pursuers by turning red and letting cross-traffic block them at every turn.
Steele got the truck to his house and settled in for a very, very long sleep.
The men who had hired him called that same night. He took the call and said, "Yeah, I did the job, but couldn't get the brain. Fucking robot was left turned on, he had a self-defense program running that I wouldn't want to tackle again any time soon. I finally managed to get away from it, used the pulser to wreck him, and left him where he was. The deal was half the price if I could neutralize their robotic program but not steal the prototype, and that's just what I did. You'll get the money transferred to my account, right? Good. Better luck next time, I figure it'll take them a year to rebuild at best. You can catch up to them by that time. Right, thanks for doing business. My pleasure."
He hung up and went back into his garage where he'd left the truck. Opened the back and stepped inside. "Hey, there, did you miss me?" he called into the dark interior, as he undid and stepped out of his sweatpants. He was bare underneath it.
The response, a metallic voice, came back to him. "Initiating private subroutine Beta Zee Twelve."
"You'd better believe you are." Steele said as the metal band slid around his waist once more and the tube with the lubricant snaked toward his ass. With the money he'd gained from this last job, he wouldn't have to work again for almost four months. He planned to make the most of the fruits of his industrial espionage.
THE END
Comments, complaints or suggestions?
E-mail the Author at Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM