A Pyrrhic Victory

I dare to crack a smile. I have the enemy on its knees. Only metaphorically speaking though. This enemy is a many-limbed, many-jointed thing that bears no resemblance to any Earth fauna. I've already torn off the two-pronged thing it was scissoring at me like a claw.

I guide the mecha forward to strike the killing blow. My command of it isn't smooth; it's meant to be piloted by two people, and I'm playing out this simulation solo.

The mecha lurches and stumbles. Crap. The arousal energy meter is down, below where it needs to be, to give the mecha full power. At my mental command, the harness I'm strapped into massages my breasts. It sends a tingling shiver to my core. Enough to get the arousal energy back up into the green.

My vaginal muscles clamp down on the dildo inside me, playing the role of my co-pilot. In the corner of my vision, there's also a meter displaying the pressure I'm exerting on the dildo. I need to be careful not to overdo it, or I'll fail the scenario.

In fact, that's usually why I fail. I come from a long line of Breeder women. We're endowed with strong vaginal muscles. If the goal is to make your partner climax inside of you, we're well equipped. If the goal is just to keep his arousal energy steadily flowing, it's like watering your garden with a firehose. I have to work hard to hold myself back.

I need to get everything right. I'm lucky to be here, and not back at the Breeder camp with my mother and aunts and sisters. All of my older sisters have become Breeders already. At my brothers had options, even if some of them went off to battle and never came back. As the youngest of the girls, I'm determined to do something different with my life, even if it's a bit dangerous. Especially if it's a bit dangerous.

My mother has made it clear that she disapproves. Women in our family get pregnant easily, often on the first try. Mother sees our fertility as a gift not be squandered. And she worries about me going into battle, something the Breeders are well protected from. But piloting a Double Back is much safer than being an ordinary member of the infantry on the ground. And besides fertility, women in our family are also endowed with extraordinary arousal energy--quick to get turned on, quick to orgasm--as asset when piloting a mecha powered by arousal. Besides, mecha pilots are in great demand and short supply.

Even so, if I slip up, I'll be sent right back to my default vocation. Not that there's anything wrong with being a Breeder. I grew up amongst them, and once I was of age, they taught me their ways. When women in the camp were pregnant and ignored by the men who impregnated them, I'd help keep them satisfied. Life in the Breeder camp isn't bad, I just found it kinda boring. It would be so easy to go with the flow, so easy that it makes me stubbornly want to resist.

Each lurching step of the mecha resonates to my core, as I bound forward. With one of the mecha limbs at my command, I lance through the enemy's body while it's down.

The simulation ends. I'm lowered to the floor, and start unstrapping myself from the harness. Except my fingers are sweaty and shaking because I've been on the edge of orgasm for most of the training session. Which is fine--I'm naturally quick to orgasm, so I've been working on holding off my climax, for situations when I might need to. I have a thought to just finish myself off, but there's an untimely knock at the door. I quickly get dressed and wipe down the equipment.

Outside of the training room, one of the other female cadets is waiting anxiously.

"About time," she sneers as I walk past.

I pointedly ignore her. Passing my evaluation is more important to me than making friends here. It's hard work. I'm studying all the ancient disciplines--soaking, edging, kama sutra--on top of strategy and combat.

Actually, a line has formed while I've been in there. One taut, muscular body after the next. It would turn me on if it didn't also make me feel out of place, with my wide hips, my full breasts, my padded tummy. My body isn't conventionally beautiful, but it gets the job done, if the job is bearing children. My frizzy hair and my persistent acne sure don't help turn any heads though. My breeder training included how to deal with those things, but here and now, there'd be no point.

The other girls are whispering amongst themselves. "There he is!"

I look over across the yard, to where the guys are congregating. They're taking turns with a training room of their own, going through a similar regimen before we all get paired up. We only see them across the training yard, in the dining hall, and at all-cadet assemblies.

I only recognize a couple of them, including Brenn. Brenn's an asshole who has been on my case since he got here, implying that I don't belong, because of my Breeder heritage. Meanwhile, he tries to paint himself as some kind of hotshot, but he also claims he's going to be whisked away to a command position any day now. He comes from money and privilege, and boy does it show.

Most of the girls standing in line are speculating about who they'll be paired with. I find that I have zero interest in that. We don't really have control over who we get paired with anyway, and no one has shown interest in me yet, so why waste the energy. I just hope for their sakes that none of them are pining after stupid Brenn.

----

It's pairing day. I'm still feeling proud of myself for passing the evaluations to get to this point. The entire way, it's felt like the odds are stacked against me, even though I know I'm not the only one who had it rough.

We're all lined up, the latest cohort of cadets. Not everyone who turns 19 decides to enlist in the mecha piloting program. Even so, there aren't all that many of us. Compared to how many mechas there are to pilot, and how many the army needs.

I turned in my preference sheet beforehand. On it, you specify whether you'd rather be paired up with someone male or female. I marked myself as bi. You also list your top 5 choices for who you want to be paired up with. I listed no one. I truly don't care.

They announce the pairs one by one, starting with those who listed each other as their first choice. Then pairs where one of them is a second choice. And so on. I haven't bothered to completely understand the match-making algorith, because I'm not interested in trying to game it. I trust the system.

It's really thinned out by the time I start to take stock of who's left. Somehow Brenn's still there, standing at attention. Something has wiped that smug grin off his face for once. I thought I didn't care who I got paired with, but now I realize I hadn't thought that through. Please, I pray to the gods, anyone but Brenn.

But when the second-to-last pair is called out, it leaves the two of us standing there. My heart sinks, but I knew taking the path less traveled wouldn't always be easy.

They call our names, just as a formality, though we already know. I don't spare him a glance as we exit the field.

They guide us to a room and leave us alone there, an athletic practice room with mats on the floors and mirrors on the walls. There are fewer trainers than couples, so we just have to wait our turn.

"Get what you wanted?" I ask him. It's not entirely ridicule. It's possible that I was on his list, though I doubt it.

He squinches up his face in disgust. "Ugh. You? In my top five? No way. Bottom five, maybe. Bottom one, even."

So we didn't match based on preference at all. We were probably just randomly matched up, from the pool of people who didn't get any of their picks.

Maybe it would have been nice to be on someone's list, anyone's list, but I wasn't counting on it to begin with, so it's nothing lost. But I'm enjoying the fact that he listed five other girls and matched with none of them. There's an element of chance to it that his privileged upbringing couldn't prepare him for. Plus I guess all the other girls must think he's an asshole too.

"This must be your fault," he fires back. It's desperate.

"I didn't list anyone," I tell him. If I said he wasn't in my top 5, we'd be in the same pitiful boat. I'd rather let him drown in that alone.

"You'll literally fuck anyone," he says. "Makes sense for a Breeder."

It shouldn't hurt, but it does. That's what I was, not what I am now. I want to be seen as a pilot, not to be judged on sight because of my thick thighs.

Our trainer comes into the room. He says, "Your first task is to stay conjoined for ten minutes without orgasm."

I knew this was coming, but I'm still nervous now that the moment has arrived. I've never crossed this particular threshold before, at least not with a real live person.

Brenn and I strip out of our jumpsuits. I make a point of watching him undress, letting him see that I'm watching, making it clear that I'm not ogling him. He tries to do the same, but I notice his eyes flick to my breasts, and to the bush between my legs.

I lie down on the mats and spread my legs for him. This isn't exactly how the connection with work in the mecha's command harness, but it's close enough.

He's already erect, and he rolls on a condom. Then he gets down on the mat with me, positioning his body over mine, his knees on the area of mat between my legs. I know what happens next, even if I've never felt it firsthand before. I can feel myself getting hot and wet in anticipation. Even if this is Brenn. That's a detail I can put out of mind.

Then he leans down to kiss me.

"Don't," I say, flatly to his face. "No need, I'm ready for you already."

So without any more preamble, he pushes inside me. The tip alone is enough to make me gasp, despite myself. As he pushes further into me, I feel myself opening, unfurling for him, my body eager to have him deeper.

His breath hisses through his teeth. It seems like every muscle in him is stretched taut.

"Have you ever been with a woman before?" I ask.

"Oh, yeah." It's a moan as well as a response. I'm not sure I believe him, but I decide to let it go for now.

When we're flush against each other, he stops. I can still feel the fullness of his presence inside me. I'm having no trouble maintaining my arousal with an actual cock finally inside me. I've reached that intoxicating plateau.

He's not having trouble maintaining his arousal either. At least, that isn't the problem he's dealing with. He starts breathing harder, hot against my ear.

"Do you always have to...um...do that?" he asks.

"I'm not doing anything," I tell him. It's partly true, partly teasing.

Though maybe he's right, there is a lot going on inside me. My insides are stretching and adjusting to this new presence inside me, clenching down on it, trying to relax enough to make room, only to spasm again. I'm not doing it intentionally, and I didn't even realize it was happening, I was so distracted by the pleasure of it.

He tenses up, and then his tension gives way, his weight collapsing on me, driving him that much further into me. I could enjoy it, if it weren't a sign that we failed.

"90 seconds," the trainer in the corner says. "Go again."

---

Eventually the training schedule has to move on, and we have to come back to that challenge again later. After the first week, Brenn is making it to five minutes most of the time.

At the five minute mark, I feel him shaking, his concentration weakening.

"Imagine you're doing this with someone ugly," I suggest, I'm being sarcastic because I'm starting to get bored and frustrated with this.

"That's not the problem," he says. But sparing the braincells to insult me seems to help him regain his composure, at least for another two minutes. He tenses up and then sighs heavily, and I know exactly what's happened yet again. Brenn rolls off of me, gasping for breath, having filled another condom.

The trainer has been watching us every time, without judgement or commentary. Just starting and stopping the stopwatch. Now he crouches down by us.

"Stop thinking about it as sex," he says. "You two don't need to be life partners. You don't have to be in love. You don't even have to take each other out for a steak dinner first. And you certainly don't have to like each other. No conquest. No compatibility. Throw all of that stuff away. This is just how one person conjoins with another, to power and control the mecha. Now, try again."

This is the most the trainer has ever said to us. Brenn disposes of his soiled condom and puts on a new one before sliding back into me. What the trainer said seems to have helped. This time we're coasting along. Around minute eight, I feel Brenn starting to soften inside me, and I give him a soft squeeze. I try to hold back, but it still makes him gasp.

At minute ten, the trainer's timer beeps. It feels like we could have gone on a lot longer, but for the sake of his self-respect, Brenn pulls out right away. As if touching me any longer than necessary is a sacrifice he makes for humanity.

----

Having passed that test, we get to start training in a double-back mecha. Named for the "beast with two backs" formed when two people are conjoined in intercourse. Between the two of us, Brenn and I have eight limbs, but piloting an eight-limbed mecha together is something else entirely. Depending on how you divide them up, it can move like a spider, a centaur, or any of the other many configurations we've studied.

I've practiced my part of this in the simulation room, but it's different to be in a real mecha, with a real cock in my pussy, trying to move in unison with fucking hotshot Brenn of all people. It takes some practice. That is to say, it doesn't go well at first. Every day seems to involve into a shouting match about whose fault that is.

I ask the trainer, "The mecha feels really sluggish. Do you think maybe Brenn and I are just a bad match?"

"No, it's like that for everyone at this stage," he tells me. "You still have a barrier between you. Once that's out of way, your connection will be complete."

I sigh. We're still using condoms while we get used to all of this, but those are training wheels that will eventually have to come off.

----

We finish guiding the mecha through the training course, and bring it back to base. This is the first time we've managed to do it, and Brenn didn't even cum inside the condom this time.

Whenever we lose our arousal, the mecha loses its energy source and powers down. I have a lot of arousal energy of my own, but not enough to power a mecha solo. Something about having two people united in arousal produces so much more energy. It's true that I could abruptly lose my arousal too, but so far I haven't had that problem, maybe because of my Breeder background. It's one more thing for Brenn to resent me for. He's got a long list of grievances.

This time we made it though. Maybe nine times out of ten we wouldn't, but this time we did. I'm feeling good about it.

When we get back to base, Brenn is on edge. I can feel it in the twitch of his cock, in the tightness of his balls. I relish keeping him in that delicate condition, now that it doesn't matter. He pulls out of me and frantically frees himself from the mecha's harness, and rushes to a private changing stall. The trainer follows after him, and when I get out of the harness, I do too.

It's no secret what Brenn is doing in there, from the rhythmic, wet sounds, or the heavy groan at the end. Jacking himself to completion. When Brenn eventually opens the door, the trainer is standing right there.

"Next time, don't. You need to practice letting it last however long it can." Then the trainer walks swiftly away.

I'm just as worked up as Brenn was, but now I can't give in to that desire. I wouldn't want to give Brenn the smug satisfaction.

----

Finally we pass our piloting test. Somehow, despite it all, we've just about gotten the hang of this. Even if it has taken us longer than any other pair in our cohort.

We bring the mecha back to base. Now all that's left is to get out of the mecha, clean ourselves up, and go get our piloting certificates.

When I pull away from Brenn's cock, I look back, and see the reservoir tip full of fluid somehow, but not the milky white I'm used to seeing on him.

"What's that?" I ask.

It can't be semen. If he'd ejaculated, I would have known. Not just because I know what it feels like when that happens, even through the condom. But also because the mecha would have lost power.

"It's precum," he says. His voice drips with condescension. As if I don't know what that is. "Now if you'll excuse me..."

He gets up, and I see his sack hanging low and heavy.

I'm just surprised he produced that much of it. But then again, the two of us spent an entire hour aroused, with his cock in my pussy. And I probably lost a lot of fluids myself.

It's just knowledge that I file away somewhere I don't really want to find it again. Because after this, the training wheels are off.

----

By unspoken agreement, we end up back in the martial arts training room where we started. Neither of us wants to be the one to proposition the other. That doesn't change the fact that this is something we have to do.

I'm standing as I wait for him, but when he enters, I lie down on the mats again. He doesn't attempt to kiss me this time.

The head of his cock nudges into my folds. For the first time, there's nothing between us. No latex. No protection.

It's going to have to be this way on the battlefield. We need to know we can still control ourselves.

My pulse rises, all the blood rushing to where I'm experiencing new sensations. It's a struggle to keep myself still, impassive. I know I need to hold back from stimulating him too much.

"I need you to pull out," I tell him.

He nods slightly, but I worry that the words haven't sunken in. Sometimes Brenn is like that.

"Look asshole, if you cum in me, I'm going to be out of commission for nine months until the baby's born. Maybe longer, if they need me to breastfeed. I might never get to be a pilot again, and even if I get another chance, I'll have to qualify all over again. You're going to have some really blue balls by then, because we aren't doing this for fun."

Not that there's anything wrong with carrying a child and giving birth. I've seen the process beginning to end, and know it inside and out, just not firsthand.

"Okay. I get it. Besides, if there's no one left to be my copilot, they'll probably send me to the infantry."

I'm a little shocked that he's no longer pretending he's going to be promoted out of combat any day now. What he also doesn't say is that, if he's stuck in the infantry for nine months or more, he might not live long enough to become a pilot again. This puts me a little more at ease. We both have something at stake here.

He pushes deeper into me. It feels different, more different than I was expecting. I can feel every contour of him. I can feel every little movement of his cock. How the head flares with pleasure, pushing against my walls. I nearly lose control of myself. My body is so close now to getting what it truly wants. It would be so easy to just let it take and take from him.

I notice his intensity building up. I nearly missed it, I was so caught up in my own.

"Hey. Breathe," I say. I take a deep breath in and out, and he breathes in sync with me. It does help stabilize him for a little while.

Even so, he barely makes it to five minutes before he pulls out and turns, his semen splashing hot against my leg and across the athletic mat.

"None of it got inside, right?" I ask him, just to be sure.

I didn't think so, but there wasn't a lot of time between the pulling out and the ejaculating. I can't be sure which began first.

"No," he says. "Look, there is going to be a risk every time. Promise not to kill me?"