Biomechasexual

“Tell us what you’re into,” the man in the white coat asked Brenda. His pen was ready for her answer, a clipboard on the desk before him. “And be honest.”

Brenda only blinked at him. The man looked like her Uncle Frank, right down to the bald head and the alarming tufts of nasal hair. How could she confess her most intimate fantasies to someone who reminded her of a man who used to ask her to pull his finger? Brenda found herself blushing.

“Into?” she stammered. “What do you mean?”

“Well, to start with, do you prefer men . . . or women?”

Brenda looked away. “Both,” she said.

“Ah,” the man showed interest for the first time since the interview had begun. “Bisexual. We haven’t had one of those yet. I’m not sure . . . is there one or the other you lean more towards?”

Brenda shook her head. There had been times in her life when she had been 100% straight or 100% gay, but it had been so long since she’d had a lover of either gender that she now found herself craving both. She would not be forced to choose.

The man was nodding, tapping his pen against his cheek thoughtfully. “I suppose we could supply you with two units. It stretches the budget a bit, but it would be interesting to see the results.”

It was an experimental program. Startrux, the planet’s largest interstellar freight company (and Brenda’s employer for fourteen years) was seeking ways to reduce the problem of lost freight on the long space journey between Earth and the outlying colonies. The company’s star-barges essentially flew themselves; most of the navigation and maintenance systems were automated. However, unmanned flights had an unacceptable failure rate. Some fell victim to malfunction or piracy; others simply vanished somewhere in the vast distance of their routes.

The problem with manning the flights, though, lay in the months of solitude required for deep-space flights. The age-old syndrome known as “cabin fever” had particularly devastating results when a crew, no matter how carefully they were psychologically screened, was forced to share a very small inescapable space for months on end. There had actually been murders, costing Startrux billions of dollars in liability lawsuits, and incalculable damage to their public image due to the media fascination with space violence.

Solo flights were attempted for a brief time, but this also proved problematic. Lone pilots had literally gone mad from the loneliness.

So, as an experiment, Startrux was attempting to partner human pilots with bio-mechanical companions. Brenda had been selected for this program based on her psych-profile. It showed that she had reclusive tendencies offset by a very active imagination, with a special propensity for sexual fantasy. This was crucial, because the bio-mechs were mainly designed to counter the problem of sexual deprivation. They were, in essence, fucking machines.

Under the watchful gaze of the man who wasn’t her Uncle Frank, Brenda sat before the touch-sensitive holographic display, designing her lovers. She molded the three-dimensional images like lumps of clay, working them for hours before she was fully satisfied. Not-Uncle-Frank offered suggestions, pointed out some of the more advanced capabilities of the bio-mechs, but for the most part left her alone to create. It was hard for Brenda to believe that her designs would be made real, but she found the mere act of customizing them to be very arousing. The familiar moist tingle between her legs made her squirm in her seat and she wondered if God had felt this way when He had created Eden.

They were beautiful, her machines.

Brenda didn’t see them in the flesh, hadn’t dared remove them from their coffin-shaped boxes, until she was well away from Earth. As if the blue light of the home planet was the disapproving eye of a parent. Finally, in the eleventh day of her journey, when Earth was distinguishable from the infinity of stars only by its slight blue cast, Brenda left the cockpit for the bedchamber. She went to Adam first. She had decided to name him Adam.

Adam stood more than six feet tall beside his coffin, naked. He had broad, muscular shoulders; buffed chest and arms. Very dark skin. Brenda had never been with a black man before, but that had always been a fantasy of hers, and now here it stood fulfilled. He had full, sensual lips; high, tight buttocks; and of course his penis was huge.

Brenda, back on Earth, had deliberated over the penis for the longest time. Neither her ex-husband nor her one other male lover had been particularly well-endowed, but at times it had felt like they could tear her apart inside. Brenda knew this was because sometimes she shrank with fear when they entered her. Still, in her fantastic daydreams, all her men were huge. Finally, she had decided to make the size of Adam’s penis adjustable depending on her moods. Right out of the box, though, she wanted to see how big he could get.

“Get hard,” she commanded him. “Get as hard as you can.”

Adam’s penis obediently inflated, until it was more than a foot long and as big around as Brenda’s fist. The head swelled and pulsed, began to vibrate. All along the shaft were rings and ridges of varying textures, all oscillating at different frequencies.

“Touch yourself,” Brenda said.

Adam stroked the monstrous penis. It writhed like a snake, glistening with an oily secreted lubrication. It was perfect.

“All right, stop.”

Adam dropped his arms to his side. The penis deflated with a balloon squeak and swung between his legs like a large sausage. He stood still, awaiting instructions. Brenda turned away from him and went to the box in which Eve slept.

Eve stood. She was slightly taller than Brenda, but nowhere near the height of Adam. Brenda had designed Eve’s face as something of a cross between her Mother’s and that of Tina, her first female lover. A thin, cool face with a prominent nose, framed by short, carefully sculpted blonde hair. Eve’s body was voluptuous, based on a colonist named Rita with whom Brenda had had a one-night stand. Great, full breasts, much larger than her own. Eve’s skin was very fair, almost pale, designed as a deliberate contrast to Adam’s. She had soft, blondish tufts of hair between her legs and under her arms, and a light downy fuzz covering her legs. Brenda liked her women to have a little bit of hair on their bodies.

“Lie down on the bed,” Brenda said.

The bio-mechanical Eve nodded and walked gracefully across the room. She stretched cat-like across the huge bed.

“Spread your legs,” Brenda said breathlessly. She was becoming aroused.

Eve opened her legs wide and Brenda kneeled before her. Eve’s vagina yawned and puckered, pouting like a starlet’s mouth. It was soaked with moisture, a rich fluid which Brenda could smell. Eve’s clitoris, distended and as large as Brenda’s pinkie finger, moved curiously about, prehensile and aware.

“Touch yourself,” Brenda gasped.

Eve’s manicured hand moved down between her smooth white thighs and tweaked the pink clitoris until it was stiff and quivering. One delicate finger slid into the vagina, which contracted tightly, making moist little smacking sounds.

Brenda reached out slowly to touch it. Eve’s vaginal lips were warm and moist, full of trembling life. It felt real because it was real. Brenda had been told that the bio-mech’s bodies consisted of about eighty-per-cent human tissue. Certain internal organs were mechanical, such as the heart and the lungs, where artificial parts were either cheaper, more efficient or more reliable than cloned organs. Their brains were best described as organic computers; superconducting fungal growths capable of running the intricate programs necessary for the bio-machines to function. They truly were wondrous creations.

Brenda ran the tip of her human finger around the glistening comb of Eve’s bio-mechanical labia. Eve smiled down at her. Teasingly, she smiled. Brenda smiled back reflexively, forgetting for a second that Eve’s gesture had merely been a trick of her programming. When she realized her error, she was angry for letting herself be fooled. She didn’t trust the machines. Not yet.

“Come here,” she called to Adam.

“Sit up,” she commanded Eve.

Brenda guided the bio-machines into position. They moved precisely as she willed them to.

“Suck his penis,” she said.

Eve leaned forward. Adam’s penis came to life, twisting its way between his sister’s lips. Eve cradled the great penis in her mouth, with loving tenderness. She sucked him, firmly but gently. Adam’s head lolled on his solid shoulders. A low moan came from his throat.

The bio-machines could be made to talk, some were equipped with advanced conversational skills, but Brenda had specifically requested that hers be mute. She did, however, allow them small sounds of pleasure. That is, if the sensory data they processed could be defined as “pleasure.” If not, it certainly was a convincing facsimile. Eve’s expression was actually eccentric, resembling bemusement, as if she thought it funny that her mouth was filled with this strange writhing reptile.

“Stop,” Brenda said.

Adam plucked himself from Eve’s jaws. Eve gave his penis a parting kiss before it was pulled away, a nice little touch adding to the human illusion.

“Fuck her,” Brenda said.

Did Adam grin slightly, as if in imitation of anticipation? Yes, Brenda could have sworn he did. Eve leaned back, opened herself once again. Adam lay between her legs. Brenda heard a strange moist whirring noise as the engineered genitals began their interface. She reached a hand underneath, to feel the penetration for herself. Yes, he was inside her. Yes, the huge plug penis somehow fit perfectly into the tight socket vagina. Yes, electricity flowed between them.

Brenda laid on the bed beside them. She struggled with the zipper on her jumpsuit, then with irritation pulled aside the panties she wore under it. Her hand found her own swollen mound as beside her the great machines fucked. Brenda couldn’t stand the prison of her clothes. She wormed out of the jumpsuit, clawed her bra open, kicked the hated panties away. Adam ground into Eve with a fierce tenderness. Both emitted voiceless cries as Eve’s pale white fingers clawed across the vast dark table of Adam’s flawless brown back. Brenda came once, surprised at the unexpected twitching beneath her hand. It had been years.

“OK, stop,” she said, edging closer. Naked and sweaty beside the naked sweating machines. “Now me,” she begged, no longer able to command. “Fuck me. Please fuck me.”

The grinning machines were suddenly all over her.

Brenda had always been orally fixated. She just loved to suck. It was her favorite thing to do with all of her former lovers, male and female. But none of them had been patient enough to suit her needs. When Brenda went down on someone, their pleasure was the furthest thing from her mind; she just lost herself in the comforting infantile motions of feeding. She could have done it for hours had they not insisted on orgasm.

The bio-mechs were, of course, designed with this in mind.

Brenda could adjust Adam’s penis to the perfect size, to fill her mouth without gagging her. He never tried to force himself down her throat, as her ex-husband had. He just lay there, purring kitten-like, while Brenda sucked him. His strong hands might gently stroke her shoulders or play with her hair, but they never forced her head down. Brenda had always hated that.

Then, only when she was ready for it, she felt along the base of his scrotal sac until she found the little fleshy bump. The button. When she pressed the button, Adam would come. He ejaculated a nutritionally-rich protein substance which had a pleasant, savory taste to it. Not bitter like semen, but delicious. Brenda would drink it until she was full.

Going down on Eve was wonderful, too. Brenda loved the way Eve’s genitals responded to her lips and tongue; the gentle vibrations of the clitoris, the soft contractions of the vagina. And the taste was wonderful. Eve’s juices tasted like sweet red wine. Brenda would not have been surprised to learn that the fluid had an alcohol content. After going down on Eve for a long time, she often felt positively drunk.

The best though, the best was when she instructed Adam to fuck Eve first and fill her vagina to overflowing with his own gelatinous protein. Then Brenda would suck her dry. The two substances combined to form the most delicious flavor Brenda had ever known; like a tangy marinade. Rich, creamy intoxicating nourishment served in a twitching pink bowl between the smoothest thighs. It was magnificent.

Then there was the milk. Of course, Eve’s heavy breasts produced milk. Eve would cradle Brenda gently in her arms and Brenda would suckle her meals in this way. She doubted that she had ever felt this warm and safe, this content, even in her own mother’s arms when she was a baby. Brenda’s mother had been a cold, practical women, not given to tenderness. But Eve rocked Brenda in her arms and cooed gentle wordless songs while Brenda fed. Brenda often fell asleep at Eve’s warm breast.

Back on Earth, the man who was not her Uncle Frank had told her of another subject in this grand experiment, a man who had requested that his bio-mechanical woman would sweat a glucose substance like liquid sugar and that her vagina would produce strawberry jam. Brenda had thought this vulgar at the time, but now she understood.

There was a machine on board the ship which could produce a convincing replication of any food Brenda could imagine. At the push of a button, she could have constituted a steak dinner with baked potato and broccoli, or a Thanksgiving turkey with all the trimmings. But, less than a month into the journey, she disdained this machine in favor of what the bio-mechs produced. She knew their secretions were nutritionally complete. All the nourishment she needed was contained in the liquids she drew from their bodies.

Brenda also enjoyed receiving oral stimulation from the bio-mechs. Sometimes she wanted Eve between her legs. Eve’s mouth was precise and efficient. The motor-driven muscles in her tongue fluttered at Brenda’s clitoris. She had a sensitivity to Brenda’s pleasure that was almost telepathic, and would bring her repeatedly to the very cliff’s edge of orgasm before backing off. It was like storm waves striking a beach. Brenda never knew which one would drag her out to sea. When she finally came this way, it was often so intense that she lost consciousness.

Then, sometimes, she wanted Adam to suck her off. His thick lips lapped at her greedily and his tongue penetrated like a smaller version of his penis. While Eve could take hours to bring Brenda to orgasm, Adam often did so in seconds. Both were amazing, it just depended on her mood.

It wasn’t all oral, though. Brenda liked to be fucked, too. At first, she had insisted on being on top, on straddling Adam and letting him fill her this way because she was afraid to be pinned under his weight. Then, as she grew to trust the machines, she came to enjoy his muscular frame possessing her completely. It was a surrender, abandoning all control to this man who was not even a man, but once Brenda allowed herself to surrender, she discovered realms of pleasure she had never even suspected might exist.

Three months into the journey, Brenda submitted to the dissolution of the final boundary. She gave the bio-mechs very precise instructions, having planned this for days. Then she gave up her own will and let the machines go to work.

Eve lay across the large bed and Brenda climbed on top of her in the familiar “69" position. The woman and the woman-machine nuzzled one another’s vaginas, each of which dripped with a load of Adam’s protein.

Adam approached Brenda from behind. She had not let him penetrate her in this manner before. Brenda remembered how her husband had been crazy on the subject of anal intercourse. He had begged her for it. Submission had brought only pain and humiliation. But when Adam’s penis slid into her anus, small and slick, only swelling up when he had eased himself in and she was relaxed and ready for it, Brenda felt every barrier, border and boundary in her mind, heart, soul and body simply melt away like sugar.

Eve’s gentle mouth on her clitoris. Adam’s insistently pulsing penis in her anus. The rich taste of both of them flowing into her mouth. It was at this moment that Brenda realized she was in love.

Brenda’s life soon took on a strange routine, which became even stranger when she disabled the spacecraft’s artificial day-and-night cycles. She kept the lights dimmed all the time and rarely left the bed. Consciousness and unconsciousness were nearly indistinguishable because when she dreamed, she dreamed of the machines and when she awoke, they were there. Warm and ready, to feed her or fuck her.

Eventually, she only left the bed to use the toilet. Brenda resented the intrusion of this distasteful bodily function and wished she could be like the bio-mechs. Their waste products were contained in plastic cartridges, stored in hidden compartments in the smalls of their backs and changed daily. Cleaner, and better, than the filth of her own humanity.

Time became irrelevant after a while, but still there was a gnawing fear in the back of Brenda’s mind. She awoke from a nightmare and ventured to the cockpit for the first time in what felt like an eternity, to see if what she feared could be real.

It was.

There was a display in the cockpit, which showed the estimated time of arrival at her destination. Less than two weeks. If she didn’t believe the display, there was the irrefutable fact of the Alpha Centauri sun large and bright through the port window. When the route was finished, the experiment would be over. Brenda would have to surrender her wondrous machines and return to the life she had known before; that of loneliness interrupted all too rarely by disappointing lovers. She couldn’t let this happen.

She wouldn’t let this happen.

Brenda cooly opened the panel which contained the ship’s secure systems. Her brain supplied her with the necessary codes, which she had been forced to memorize before the flight. She had to reach back into her earliest training to recall how to accomplish what she needed to do.

First, she released the magnetic couplings which fastened her little ship to the massive barge of freight it pushed. A red warning display cropped up, reminding her that it was an illegal dereliction of duty to jettison freight except in extreme emergency cases. Brenda knew this very well, and didn’t care.

Next she accessed the navigation system, which had been pre-programmed back on earth. She re-programmed the destination setting, typing in co-ordinates at random. Once the ship’s course had been diverted, she shut down all systems except those vital for life support and maintenance. She even shut off the artificial gravity. Brenda knew that a small craft expending so little energy on a random course was virtually untraceable. They would never find her.

Life support was a only a slight drain on the fuel cells. She could drift nearly indefinitely. To be lost in drift had always been Brenda’s greatest fear of deep-space travel. It was much like being buried alive. But now she wanted nothing more than to be entombed forever in a weightless paradise with her perfect lovers.

Satisfied with her irreversible decision, Brenda swam slowly against the air currents back towards the bed chamber. She had heard other freighter pilots talk of the unique kick of zero-G sex, but this was perhaps the one thing she had not yet tried with Adam and Eve. Thinking of love freed of the binds of gravity was getting her very aroused as she made her torpid way out of the cockpit which she never intended to visit again.