Margo came too slowly, blinking out flashes of pain and light from her eyes. First there had been a mine, Whitstone, where she'd been asked to patrol. Keep an eye out on the freelancers there. Neither mind the fact that she was a freelancer too. And then, nothing. Nothing worth recounting.
The mine caved in and Margo hadn't been spared.
With her great glyph gear, a magic-aided mecha battle suit, she survived the tantrum of the mine at large. Glyph gears could withstand a lot, being steel and copper enchanted contractions of awesome size and firepower.
But as she regained her bearings, Margo realized she wasn't all that lucky after all.
Her glyph gear, codenamed Theo, was entombed in a mountain's worth of rubble and dirt. Margo pooled on her mana and leaned forward to jump start the internal runes. Her fingers danced along the floating screen made of magic and light, tapping in commands and runic operating code.
The cockpit's lights flickered on. Good.
She briefly paused to tend to herself. Physically fine. No major injuries. Magic vitals low.
Interestingly, Margo only had slight bruising and tenderness that came from being thrown around while inside a glyph gear. Good news considering what could have happened. Anything that went toe to toe regularly with a glyph gear knew the trick of fighting them. All a monster needed to do was to crack open the steel hatch situated in the belly and yank the operator out. Then go for the kill. What an uninspired end.
Her royal purple skin-tight operator suit wasn't much for protection.
The latex-like fabric hugged Margo's slender frame and large protruding breasts. Often time, her nipples were perked. Fat pink nubs so hard and stiff they could have directed traffic in the busiest street in bustling Centralia. Aroused they were by the lack of friction the suit gave. Her wide and lanky legs weren't spared either. Insulated as she was, Margo absorbed every jump and stride the glyph gear made. The sensations, when they reached her, were like caresses and probing slaps to her seated ass.
Just being inside Theo, the glyph gear inactive, made her deeply conditioned pussy ache and throb.
Margo shifted her posture, strawberry blonde curls falling across her pinched face. Keenly seeking something to vibrate against her wanting folds. The operator suit that did this. Lacking space for modesty items like bindings or sorely needed panties. Her lack of underwear was likely the reason why her cockpit's seat was never dry during use. Her womanly essence would come out of her, unbidden. Filling up the womb-like room with the sexual stench of heat and need.
The gears in Theo resisted her orders and magical call to rise.
Not surprising.
Theo always needed a more direct approach if he'd been turned off incorrectly.
Margo braced herself. Placed put her hands to both curved walls of the cockpit, palms pressed firmly. Her hips twitched where they sat. Already excited for what would happen next. Margo redirected her magic to her hands and released, the mana rushing through Theo's exterior shell and metal limbs.
The glyph gear tasted her magic, verifying Margo as his user. Then attacked.
The recoil slammed into Margo, the shock rushing through her full-figured body. Sparks and stars flickered in front of her eyes. Her mouth fell open, unable to contain the obscene wail that left her bubblegum pink lips. Theo was draining her, roughly stealing her natural magic energy to replace his own.
Everything shook and vibrated and rocked.
Margo tossed left and right in midst of it. Trapped in her own body as Theo took and took from her. She moaned and cried, her lips and voice the last two things she had control of. The rest was purely primal instinct. Her hips cocked open of their own accord, gyrating along to the chaotic strumming beat whipping through her body.
Lavish breasts bounced freely, nipples electrified as Theo crossed into her.
Her glyph seals unfurled on her body, black tattoos winding around her formerly unmarked skin. These seals claimed her chest, neck and hands. The weak points of a glyph gear user. Ah, she could feel Theo groping inside of her. His verification process still requiring more.
Goodness Theo, what did he think happened?
Something must have unnerved him for him to be this frisky.
Ablaze, Margo's overwhelmed nerves coursed with pain and pleasure. Each sensation never quite fully pulling ahead of the other. She drooled, mouth a perfect o-shape as she came. Margo screamed, body arching as her orgasm blitzed in and out and in again. All parts of her twitching and canting up, hips spreading, feet curling, arms falling and eyes rolling to the back of her head.
Margo collapsed in a pile of blissfully limp limbs, pussy clenching while her hips pivoted up, Theo still inside, still taking and she couldn't hold it back. She squirted, crying and weeping from the intensity of his unrelenting probing. Her sweet juices, warm and clear, splattered onto the floating command screen. Droplets of her essence briefly glimmered before it was absorbed in, analyzed and processed by the glyph gear.
She panted, star-struck by what happened seconds before.
And then Theo rumbled at her, gears whirring softly. He was pleased, soundly sure it was her.
How in the world-
The visor screens that hugged the front of the cockpit turned on, each zooming in on her dazed state and her dripping hole and erect clit from different angles. That area of the suit transparent, seeping out the sweet juices it couldn't contain. Her seat inside him squished under Margo, the suit and the chair soundly wet. He beeped at her, showing his approval of her well-pleasured form. The messy blush riding on her islander cheeks. Now he would run rune sequences to check his own.
Oh, so Theo did that on purpose? Not liking her to be dry in his cockpit?!
With what little strength she had left, Margo kicked one of the rotation handles. Knowing Theo's oafish ass could feel the sharp turn in his left heel. Perverted machine. Getting her all worked up for nothing.
Basking in the afterglow, Margo closed her eyes and simply breathed.
Theo's thorough examination of her left her weak and wet. Dewy perspiration along her curves and chest. Naughtier fluids in a puddle between her thighs. Dark blonde bangs pasted to her freckled cheeks, her long braid thrown over her left shoulder. She was a wreck. A horny wreck wanting more.
Shakily, Margo unzipped parts of her suit to let in some much needed cool mine air.
Typically, men and women who went into the mechanist profession and picked between the three main classes; gunner, grenadier and glyph gear were on the short side. Hailing from a tiny island from the Eastern Isles, Margo was certainly not. Tall and sun-kissed with blonde hair several shades darker than what you would see in the Central continent, she had a struggle finding clothing that her buxom form.
Her operator suit was a bit of a patchwork.
A tradition started with Margo being unable to pay for more custom-wear at the start of her profession. And now too cheap to pay for something most people wouldn't see her wearing anyway. Zippers lined the more bustier parts of her body. A design element that allowed tailors to add extra fabric without ruining the sleekness the suit provided. The fabric was all the same make and color. So too were the zippers. But Margo couldn't help but feel lewd putting on and taking off the outfit.
Starting with her chest, Margo unzipped the zippers that went round her breasts.
Freed, her weighty mounds jutted out, glistening.
Her thick and brown speckled teardrop-shaped titties bobbed lightly under her panting form, rich pink nipples drawing lines in the air. They ached, her exposed nipples, unsatisfied from Theo's inspection. She considered touching them but decided to bat away the wanton thought. If Margo did, she would stroke the rest of her breasts, taut belly, thighs and more in an attempt to relieve the need she had to be fucked.
One that would go unanswered because there was little in the cockpit that could fit snug inside her needy pussy.
Then Margo went downwards, her hand hesitant as it hovered over where her soaked mound laid. Carefully, she unfastened the zipper there. The touch of it unraveling against her pussy folds, the silver teeth each having their turn stroking her- Goodness, it was too much. Margo bit the inside of her mouth and reclined, enjoying the unintended fondling.
Slowly, her wet pussy was exposed to the inside of the cockpit.
Theo, the simple-minded pervert, could help but return his visors screens to looking at it. She got an eyeful of her own pink throbbing flesh, that lovely slit still dripping essence and sweetness. Undeniably interested in being sated properly by something physical, not intangible and by circumstances as Theo tended to do. She sucked in a breath. Margo was a professional. She still had to go through emergency protocol.
Tending to that unsatisfied piece of work between her legs could wait a little longer.
Margo went back to work, attempting physical commands. The cockpit was active, Theo was awake but it wouldn't mean much if she couldn't get the big oaf to move. Spreading herself out, she straddled the cockpit and pushed. Her intent, aided by what little magic she had left, raced and reverberated through the inner runes.
Theo's metal limbs shook, rising from the dirt mound they'd been buried under.
The glyph gear took one great step, two, then Margo ran out of power. He took too much, the oaf!
