Glyph Gear Margo

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!

Margo grunted, disconnecting from the mana-link she established. Just what was he thinking?! Trick question, because he couldn't! Metal head oaf! Theo surveyed their closest surroundings, filling the overhead visor screens with intel and data. Still ignoring her inputs and overrule commands, he classified and ranked the dangers of the mine from weakest to strongest.

Erying bats. Lessor wyrm. Rock lizards. Cave slimes. That last one... Slimes?

Margo spared only a fraction of her attention to him as she kept on trying to retake control. Some part of her noted the weirdness of the slimes nearby. They were gathering in a collapsed tunnel beneath her and Theo, dropping into a nearby hole mostly hidden by metal sheets and broken mining machines.

What did gunners say about slimes? There was always one slime that would be looking for you. Avoid the species at all costs. Well, she rightly fucked that one up. A good dozen of them slithered along the mine floor, merrily jumping into that hole.

And goodness, was that moaning?

Margo listened quietly, picking through the sounds of the mine and rescue crews somewhere further up. And she heard it again, moaning. The undeniable sound of someone getting rutted hoarse. There was even a gunshot and that woman kept on going. Her cries louder and bawdy. Wait, wasn't that signs of a monster courting?

Holy fuck, a monster courting was taking place!

The slimes would be after Margo even more! Them and their relentless need to fill their breeding dens all at once. Her hips jerked forward, imagining being fucked and filled and passed around the cave slimes.

Spirits, Aulra, Giaaia Goodness and the old gods, this wasn't her fault.

It was Theo being an uncooperative and overprotective asshole. Margo hunched her shoulders, blowing a stray blonde strand from her eyes. Her bangs clung to her sweaty forehead, haloing her healthy tanned cheeks. Theo finished his scan and reported the best route to the cave's entrance. Margo stared at it. It was do-able if she had shoes and clothes suited to climbing. Then the glyph gear kneeled, going into stand-by mode.

Not only was he a perverted machine, he was wasteful as well!

As soon as Margo got him on properly, Theo was probably planning on sending her out alone. Calculating her mana levels and the time it would have took if they'd gone together, he chose her over himself.

Glyph gears were simple machines with terrible, terrible reasoning skills. That's why they deserved to look like copper and steel metal giants. All strength, no brains. Quick to sacrifice themselves to save their user. Commendable but Margo would rather not leave this particular Theo unit here. Couldn't afford it and she rather liked the perverted machine as well.

Theo switched to recovery mode, forcing Margo to do things manually. Wonderful.

Now relying less on her magic as the main fuel source, Theo switched to the emergency tanks on his backside. A potent mix of gunpowder and refined solarium dust. Her cockpit soon filled with that distinctive aroma, the scents of gunnery extract and that pungent brimstone aroma that came from the dust.

Goodness, she almost had her libido tamed. Now it kicked back up, reminding her of the unsatisfied state Theo left her in. Orgasming was fine and good but cumming with a shaft or cock inside her, glorious.

Margo went to the visor doors and tried to will them open.

They budged. A little.

Margo had some upper arm strength. Came with being a glyph gear user and having to do maintenance on her lonesome. But that didn't matter much to the nearly impenetrable front designed to keep all things out and all glyph users in.

The visor doors opened a fraction. An easy way out for someone who didn't have her bust and thick rear.

Margo re-zipped her breasts and privates, thinking of a method to help her escape. Trying to turn Theo back on wouldn't work. She was out of power and the oaf might think she was trying to stay behind for his sake. Eating her rations and breathing in the stray mana in the air could be a good idea. Recharge her magic vitals. However, she didn't want to stay long in Theo. The slimes would eventually realize that there was a gun-wielder in here and swarm her.

Between all this, the glyph gear vibrated.

Scanning any dents outside on his body and doing internal profiling for a damage report on visor screens. Margo never was inside Theo when he was in this state. His main rudder would shoot up in the middle of the cockpit seat and dribble that safe but runny by-product made from the fuel tanks. The white stuff would get just about everywhere.

And Margo hadn't interested in finding out how many washes it would take to get the stains out.

The fuel by-product was safe to eat too, apparently. Many a centralian would ask her for a jar-full to take home if they caught her outside the glyph gear. They ate the weirdest stuff that people homegrown on the Eastern Isles would never think of so she'd never tried herself.

Margo looked at the rudder now rising. Its tip flared and wide, that white run-off pearling on the exhaust slit. That substance might be just what she needed to get out. Margo grinned and pounced.

She went to work, squeezing and rubbing the main rudder.

Long and unbelievably thick, cock-like to her fingers, the rudder stiffened under her intensive ministrations. Her work didn't come without reward. More of that white liquid bubbled up, squirting onto Margo's waiting breasts and waist. Puddling-like but thinner, more transparent like real cum, it dribbled down her form. A pleasant heat, the liquid was fine to feel. Some of the drops landed directly on her erect nubs, the warm sensation titillating her to think of another method to coax more gear-cum out.

Why use her hands when she had a pair of perfectly fine breasts?

Margo unzipped her front, wanting to experience the gear-cum and the main rudder's vibrations directly on her skin.

As long and primed with girth the rudder was, it was easily enveloped into her cum-chasing titties. Once secured, Margo moved slowly. Her soft mounds pulsated from the vibrations the rudder gave, tit-flesh jiggling and quaking under the unfaltering cadence. Neglected, her hips rose and legs spread. Her pussy giving a money-making shot to the visor screens behind her. Knowing they was recording her health status and actions.

Theo was going to give her a hard time tomorrow. Playing with his pseudo-cock while he was asleep.

Margo rubbed her lips on the exhaust slit, blocking the cum until the rudder shook. Then she let go, the rudder weakly cumming. Oh, that couldn't be all it could make. Margo went up and down, her breasts glossy from liquid. She moved her nipples on it, taking in the intense stimulation as it dashed through her stiffening nubs. The rudder liked that. She didn't know she knew or this foreign sentiment managed to assert itself in her thoughts. Good, she thought. It better.

Vibrating at a faster speed, her breasts were pelted with pleasure. The rapid-fire sensual pace bruising her stressed titties. Margo opened her mouth, panting and twitching. Goodness, this rudder was like the real thing. It pushed right into her like a saluting shaft, tip roused in producing more and more of that fluid. Margo went up and down. Her titties slick with the white fluid. Soon she rampted it up, going faster. The gear-cum rained down her breasts, streaming in creamy rivets.

The rudder couldn't withstand it anymore. It outright fired, spraying her in white.

The gear-cum painted the cockpit, globs and gooey splotches decorated the dark walls. Surprised by the sudden finished, Margo didn't immediately wipe the sticky fluid from her face. Fair skin now even fairer in that absolute white. Blonde curls with a wintry dye job.

Margo licked her lips and froze, marveling at the taste on her tongue. Milky and thick, creamy as she moved it around her cheeks.

Why hadn't she done this sooner? The gear-cum was delicious.

Margo went to the rudder, sucking the exhaust slit. Completely forgetting what she been trying to accomplish. Her cheeks bulged, bobbed with her mouth on the rudder. She moaned, elated to have such a thickness between her lips.

Then the glyph gear beeped and she remember the other reason why she didn't stay inside.

Theo's cleaning protocol.

Gray mechanical tentacles, armed with red gloved hands, came out of the cockpit's metal panels. The tentacles were quicker and more focused than your average Theo, enchantments and a hearty diet of the second runic language fed into their metal limbs would do that. In the small cavity space that was the cockpit, all blackened metal and bronze ridge spiraled around the tight space for maximum space usage. Sitting lofty was her command seat, a throne made of golden-like leather and lined with conductor black gears to send her orders to the rest of the glyph gear.

A generally pristine and awe-inspiring sight now a gushy, gooey-ooey, sticky, reeking, white wet wasteland.

The tentacles swabbed and wiped, cleaning up the run-off fluid. Helping their need to cover more space, the glyph gear shuffled the cockpit walls, shrinking the nearly narrow room to be even narrower. Margo knew she wouldn't be spared. Cum-covered as she was from head to toe.

Margo saw her chance and took it. Breasts smashed against the divide of steel and glass, she managed to get one arm out. It didn't matter.

She was too slow.

Spamming Margo's own unique rune code through the screens, the tentacles identified her as a glyph gear user. She struggled harder, trying to get shoulders through. Margo was almost- The tentacles did not care what she was doing, only that she was covered in the substance they were compelled to clean. They dragged Margo back to her command seat, several tentacles sucking up the cum that was left behind her unwilling heels. Margo weakly squirmed, mouth full of gear-cum she hadn't swallowed.

She could, of course, override these tentacles.

They obeyed runic codes with much more loyalty than Theo ever would. But these mechanical tentacles, metal-forged and yet flexible, Margo couldn't help but regard them with interest. Their long lengths, the rubber hands they wore, the speed they had. Perfect substitutes for a cock, something Margo would like very, very much.