Sable and the Supers

Author's note:

This is the eighth chapter I never thought I'd write. Well: It's the seventh chapter I never thought I'd write, and the eighth chapter, which I never thought I'd write. It depends how you like to parse your sentences.

It resolves the world, and ends Sable's story in it. Not her story, mind. Just her story in this world.

If you haven't read the previous ones - this probably won't make any sense at all.

======

Sable lay on the examination table, her legs held out at a relaxed 90 degrees by stirrups, her arms draped above her head but unrestrained, her eyes closed.

The machinery around her, lurking with gleaming arms and tentacles, cruel pincers and thick dildos, was silent and still.

Between her legs moved a thick bar of blackness that seemed to be a hole in the world but which stretched her lips as easily as any dildo.

A small smile curved her lips as she used her own powers to fuck herself. She was drifting in a delicious feeling of calmness, one finger twitching as she used it as the mental focus to move the dildo slowly in and out. She was a long way from cumming. She was simply enjoying the almost meditative feeling of a slow fucking.

It had taken her a frantic, chaotic month to return to some sort of mental grounding after realising that the world around them was being shaped by human souls dropped into it seemingly at random. Every city started out as a crude idea, then shaped its identity around the first human to inhabit it. She still had no idea if the Engineer had been the first, and had not yet found other humans beside him and his two maids, but she had seen three cities develop texture and personality while she was inhabiting them.

The consequences had not pleased her.

Somebody—possibly the Engineer—had created a perverted comic-book world where mind control, forced sex and cheap tropes of damsels in distress were stock-in-trade and just part of existence. She wasn't happy about that.

She was mostly sure the Engineer hadn't been responsible, but she wasn't ruling out that he had dropped into a city with that basic premise and decided to embrace it whole-heartedly. He still bore blame for keeping the charade going.

She was grateful for the toys—she had her needs—but not for the world that had spawned them.

Speaking of needs, her meditative state was drifting off...

One of her fingers slowly circled. Two black bands appeared on her chest, one around each unnaturally large breast. They slowly tightened until her pale mounds had been transferred into slowly purpling spheres. She made a happy, approving sound, still with eyes lightly closed.

Two more black bands appeared, smaller this time, over her oversized nipples. They slowly tightened until her nipples were squeezed, making her gasp then groan with lust.

After a moment's consideration, another band appeared between her legs, slowly closing over her gently engorged clit. The sound she made as she tightened it reverberated around the room and nearly made the dead machinery move.

A smaller dildo appeared between her legs. It slowly pushed into her arsehole.

The huge dildo sliding in and out of her pussy grew large nodules over its surface. Her body was now slowly writhing, her hands clenching and unclenching but her control over her powers still precise.

The dildo grew an arm that curved forward and up, lined on its underside with more nodules. As the dildo pushed into her, the arm first flicked then rubbed then pressed forcefully into her now engorged, tightly clamped clitoris.

It only took two more strokes before she screamed so loudly the sound took several seconds to die away.

She was feeling very lonely. She fluctuated between feeling a strong urge for companionship and conversation with the Engineer, and loathing him so much she was desperate for someone, anyone, else.

So far, she had managed to avoid placing a video call while naked and having a mutual masturbation session, but it had been a close thing.

Still naked but showered and towelled off, she wandered into the control room to check on the progress of her drones.

She had not stayed in the city where she had been planning to settle.

The local Supers had displayed the same astonishing progression towards apparent humanity as the Engineer had reported from Mercura, but with a deeply disturbing quality of taking the capture-torture dynamic for granted, and welcoming it.

Sable couldn't avoid the feeling she was at least partly to blame for that.

She had stayed around long enough to see to Arnaud's moral education, and make sure he was as good as she could get him, before she couldn't stand the city any more and had bailed without warning.

Instead of her previous search for somewhere else that wasn't quite so fucked up, she now had a much more specific goal in mind: She was trying to analyse virgin cities.

She was wandering further from the Engineer's path, trying to make sense of how far his influence had spread, find the edge, and look beyond it.

Her drones were fanning ahead of her, steering her around cities while collecting enough information to look for very specific things.

For days now she had sat at the ship's console whenever a city hove into view, and stared in shock as she saw evidence of more and more lifelike inhabitants—Supers and non-Supers alike.

The influence seemed to be universal, now. There were no more virgin cities.

Her fingers started drumming on the control console.

#

The Engineer's ship was parked in the middle of nowhere.

He had released or returned all his new guests—even Felony, who he had grown far too fond of—and fled the city for an open space where he could sit and think.

He was alternating between bouts of self-indulgent depression, when he drove everyone away from him—his actual human maids included—and he tried to drown his self-recriminations with whisky; angry, raving, violent sex that, somehow, his non-Super maids not only enjoyed but recovered from quickly, and; intense research as he tried, over and over again, to find out how to differentiate humans from non-humans quickly and easily.

So far, he had still not managed to differentiate them at all. This fuelled the next down-spot in his spiral.

He was currently swinging from internal angst to external anger, which meant sex would be next.

When Catherine and Siobhan heard him stalk out of his office, they exchanged a look of mingled relief that he was once more out of his funk, anticipation of what was coming, nervousness that what was coming would push the limits of their toughness, and hope that he would choose them first. Then they stood up and adjusted their uniforms.

He slammed open the door to the dining room, where they were expected to be waiting for him.

"What's the one thing I haven't fucking tried?" He snarled.

Caught off-guard, they gave each other a startled look.

"Master?" They said in quavering unison.

He stalked into the room. "I am asking you as humans, and as intelligent ones," he said. "What is the one thing I have not tried, to work out what makes this accursed world tick?"

They gave each other another look, but neither said anything.

The Engineer stalked past them, heading for the bridge. "We're going to try and find the centre," he snarled. "Ship! Analyse all my maps and work out where the centre of the world is!"

#

The map in front of Sable grew sudden spider-web patterns.

She smirked at it, triumphantly. "Got you, you bastard," she said.

"Is that good, Sable?" The ship asked her.

"Oh, yes, that is good!"

The map had rough lines on it, linking cities. The lines converged towards a point that lay far from the limit of the Engineer's travels.

She pointed off the screen, towards the point. "You can calculate where they converge?"

"Yes, Sable. They all meet, within acceptable margins of error for measurement and calculation."

"Take us to the centre," She said. "As quickly as you can."

"Do I have permission to be seen, Sable?"

Sable leaned back in her chair, put her booted feet on the console, and crossed her hands behind her head. "Quickly as you can, whatever it takes," she said.

"Going up," the ship said.

The control room tilted back, then Sable was almost ejected off the back of her reclining chair as it accelerated past the cushion's coefficient of friction.

She gave one startled shriek, then began laughing as they speared for the sky.

"Ship! What can you cruise at?"

"Mach 7, Sable."

"Make it so, Number One!"

#

The world was far larger than Sable had imagined. The spiderweb overlay on the map had given her some idea but she realised, when she asked the ship's computer to show her a plot of the convergence point relative to her maps, that she had no head for geometry and had seriously miscalculated the distances involved.

The Engineer's original travels had begun far on the other side of the city where she had met him. The distance from where she turned around to the Engineer's origin point was tiny compared to the total distance to the convergence point.

It was, she thought in a daze as she stared at it, like crossing a major ocean.

But at least the blinking dot representing her in her ship was moving with appreciable speed. They had already travelled as far as Sable had in all her time wandering, but had avoided her original city by a wide margin, just in case Gorgora was not still trapped.

Just in case she was alive at all.

Mingled anticipation and frustration was making her as horny as hell, but she had no desire to be taken by surprise, so she was prowling the corridors getting increasingly worked up.

She realised just how worked up she was when she found herself punching the gymnasium doors despite making the deliberate decision to avoid that area of the ship entirely.

"Oh, fuck it!" She exploded. "Ship!"

"Yes, Sable?"

"Where are we, and how far away are we?"

"We are over ocean, Sable, and we are three hours at our present speed to the calculated convergence area."

Sable blinked in surprise. "Ocean? How long have we been above ocean?"

"One hour, Sable."

"Ah." Yes, she was definitely in no fit state to do anything right now, fight or think or anything else.

Except that one thing.

She groaned and pressed her palms over her eyes. "Ship! Stop, and hide. We're going to take a breather."

"Certainly, Sable. I suggest you strap in."

She folded her arms and leant back against a wall that was, by her best guess, in line with the front of the ship. "Ship, put the brakes on. Hard."

She had been right about the wall: When the deceleration slammed her body against it, she didn't move at all to left or right. Even her Super lungs had the air driven from them.

When the deceleration stopped, she practically bounced off the wall.

"Are you alright, Sable?" the ship asked.

"I feel as though I've been punched in both tits," she gasped, holding them. "Which... Open the gymnasium!"

She stalked through the door as it whispered open. "Ship! Veils!"

Over her time in the ship, she had established a wide range of code phrases with the computer, to add to the few the Engineer had programmed in.

For a start, her black costume, with its tall boots, corset and cat-suit, was such a pain to remove that it was much more convenient for the ship to do it for her, and just make a new one instead of repairing the damage.

Robotic tentacles exploded out of the centre of the ceiling, moving towards her with whip-lash speed. Some were tipped with cuffs, some with grippers, some with probes, some with gleaming blades.

Sable had done this so often now that she walked forwards steadily as the tentacles lashed about her, her corset falling off then her catsuit and boots following in strips and sheets, the blades moving so accurately they sliced the fabric completely without bothering her Super-hard skin, until she reached the middle of the room entirely naked.

A table waited, canted at 45 degrees, with movable arm and leg sections and many straps.

She looked at it for a few moments while tentacles hovered about her. "No," she said.

The table disappeared into one wall, moving so fast it was just a blur.

She held her arms out. "Up," she commanded.

More tentacles lashed down from the ceiling but these were thinner, more like ropes, and instead of grasping her with clamps they twined around her arms, legs and torso with a sense of caressing her.

Sable could fly, and do so with precision, but she let the tentacles do all the work as they lifted her off the ground and suspended her in the middle of the room.

Her arms were pulled out to the sides, her shoulders stretched. She was rotated until her torso was horizontal, her substantial breasts hanging. She was supported by metal woven over her ribcage as well as belly, so she was not just hanging from her shoulders and hips.

One leg was pulled up behind her to point at the ceiling. The other was pulled down, until she was in a full vertical split, her hips still horizontal.

There was an expression of peace on her face as she closed her eyes. She had used this room for angry sex, frustrated sex, violent sex and sex that electrocuted, stretched and brutalised her because that had been, at that moment, the only thing that had mollified the rage she had been feeling.

But she welcomed the touch of these tentacles with an eager smile, and rested quiescent in their grip, not pretending to fight or even assist them, as they caressed her skin.

Bundles of thin tips nuzzled at her arse and cunt, oozing a little of their own, scarcely needed, lubricant.

She shivered as they stroked her, then gasped, her nipples puckering, when they began wriggling inside her. She tried to will herself to relax, but despite all her experience, the reactions of her body took a lot of effort to overcome.

Instead of one fat shaft, or one that could swell inside her, the tentacles invaded her as a mass, adding more one after another as she gasped, moaned, groaned, then shuddered with a needy, wordless vocalisation from deep in her being.

Sweat sprang over her body as, satisfied with their numbers, the tentacles began writhing inside her, twining around each other and pistoning in and out individually, the sensation one of continuous stimulation rather than a simple rubbing and stretching.

She lifted her head to give voice to another groan of heartfelt need.

She gasped with joy as her legs were slowly pulled past the vertical, stretching her towards her limit and making her feel even more exposed, open, and accessible.

"Nipples," she managed to gasp. "Please!"

After the Engineer pierced her without asking, her nipples had responded to sharp stimulation with an undeniable, unfightable arousal reaction, the closest thing to a simple orgasm switch she had ever encountered.

Two thin tentacles approached her hanging breasts from underneath, their tips each opening into three neat, almost delicate-seeming long jaws with ribbed inner edges.

They delicately closed over her nipples, squeezing from the tip back. She shouted and convulsed, bouncing in mid air, the tentacles inside her not altering their writhing but her orgasm immediate, unstoppable, and loud.

She descended far enough from its peak for her eyes to focus, the tentacles not stopping and the pincers still squeezing her nipples.

"Keep going," she gasped. "Make me pass out."

The machinery was tireless, and knew her body's reactions intimately and precisely. It kept going.

As orgasm followed orgasm, the pincers on her nipples slowly pulled downwards, creeping towards the floor, stretching her nipples and her breasts behind them, until her body became mere orgasming flesh, the light in her eyes dulling to dumb pleasure before finally winking out.

It took several hours.

#

Supers recover from everything quickly, even near-terminal injuries or sex that drove their minds and bodies past the point of exhaustion and into torture.

Sable ordered the ship to resume travel as soon as she was conscious and thinking straight, and gave herself another ten minutes, lying curled up on the examination table with a blanket over her—for comfort, not modesty or warmth—for her body to get back to normal.

She stepped in and out of a Wardrobe, then just for fun floated back to the bridge instead of walking.

They had been three hours away.

She ordered coffee and then stood in the bridge, patient as a spider, watching ocean flash past underneath them.

#

"Go on," the Engineer said, "ask me why I haven't tried this before."

"Why haven't you tried this before?" Siobhan asked, dutifully. The Engineer had finished strapping her to a padded table that was inclined at a 45 degree angle. Her legs were spread in a perfect 180 degree split, with straps around thighs, calves and ankles. Her arse was just on the edge. Her arms were pulled above her head and behind her, her elbows bent sharply backwards. Her hands and wrists were cuffed out of sight. Her shoulders were under tension, but not straining. Her red-streaked black braids were tied out to each side, to restrain her head.

The Engineer sighed. "Because I was a coward," he said.

Catherine, wearing her heels, stockings, crotchless lace panties and a shelf bra that lifted but otherwise completely exposed her breasts, was slowly undressing the Engineer with unrestrained glee, her hands lingering on every new patch of exposed skin. She had already reduced Siobhan to teeth-grinding jealousy, which had of course been her aim.

"I had been ignoring every possibility of finding out too much about this world, in case I did," the Engineer continued. He was moving enough to help Catherine undress him, but otherwise ignoring her. This had driven Catherine to more doting, lascivious caresses, which had of course been his aim. His nipples were as erect as those of either maid.

"I was scared of what I might find," the Engineer said as Catherine finally pulled his shirt of his last wrist and tossed it to one side, leaving him standing in full chiselled glory, radiating masculinity.

Siobhan felt herself get so damp she began leaking. Her entire being was reduced to her aching cunt, and she was desperate for him to so much as glance at it. But instead he was looking vaguely over her head.

Yet, both maids were paying full attention to everything he said.

"What would happen? Would the world disintegrate? Would I find I had passed some sort of test and have to leave? Would I wake up because I had been in a coma?"

He sighed lugubriously as Catherine undid the zipper on his pants with slowness calculated to drive Siobhan mad.

The Engineer's cock, to full Super proportions, was already entirely visible. The fabric of his pants, stretched almost as tight as a Heroine's costume, fell away as soon as it was released, leaving Catherine with no way to prolong the reveal. She settled for lovingly stroking it instead, tracing its entire surface with one fingertip.

Siobhan made an animalistic noise and her hips, tightly restrained by her position, flexed as much as they were able.

The Engineer sighed again. "I just didn't know, and I was too happy where I was. I was wallowing in contentedness, and I was stagnating."

He appeared to lapse into thought, giving Catherine time to finish outlining his cock through his straining drawers before she began drawing his pants down his legs to the accompaniment of a keening whine from Siobhan.

His thighs, as they were revealed, bulged as muscularly as his torso.

He sighed again. "But I can't put it off any longer. I have to know. You both said you would come with me on this journey, even if it meant the end."

Catherine, who was reaching his knees, nodded and pressed her face to the contours of his quadriceps so he could feel it.