STARBURST ONE
BY GORD


CONTENTS

1	LIFT OFF								5
2	RUDE AWAKENING						8
3	THE ACCOMPLICE						16
4	PAT									20
5	LILLIAN - ALIAS D-29						30
6	DOMITRIX DHELIA						41
7	THE EXSTATA COCOON					44
8	CONCHEETA AND THE ORGANISM			55
9	THE SHOW GOES ON					71
10	THE MARRIAGE WHEEL					75
11	WARP COLLISION						86
12	THYROS SLAVE TRAIN					93
13	THE WRECK							115
14	SLAVES GALORE						130
15	THE MARINES HAVE LANDED				138
16	FRYING PAN TO FIRE - IN ONE				146
17	BIO FEEDBACK							158


Author's Note

Starburst One is basically the continuation of a story called ALIENS.

Aliens was first printed by 'Stag Publications' during the early days of my writing career.

That original pilot story has now been upgraded re-edited and basically rewritten in a hopefully more accomplished style. It also includes editing cuts done by the original publisher, which have now been replaced in the story.

 House Of Gord will shortly be releasing Aliens again in its full format; this time fully illustrated by an artist who is far more accomplished than myself. 

Startburst One, although linked to the pilot by events later revealed, is in fact a story in its own right, and can therefore be enjoyed without prior in-depth knowledge of the bondage misadventures chronicled in the pilot version.

However, in order to bring the reader of this book into focus with that first story there now follows a brief resume of events.

ALIENS

The story opened with Tracy (our somewhat reluctant heroine) being abducted by Aliens and used as a spare part in the drive system of a damaged spacecraft in order to facilitate a return home. Home for these celestial kidnappers is Exon, a distant planet in another solar system. Tracy discovers a more advanced world, where she is treated as some sort of heroine for unwillingly assisting in the return of the two space travellers. She also becomes attached (by various means) to a bio-computer of immense power, that has developed a yen for her curvaceous form: a computer that is addicted to the chip melting sensory emissions she generates during orgasm.

Thursk (the computer) and Tracy enjoy many bondage romps, and these are further enhanced by the arrival of a competitor, snatched from Earth at her request. Tracy and Fiona become the playthings of Thursk, and a situation develops where both women play a dangerous game of bondage reversal as each tries to gain control over the other.

In the final event Thursk outwits them both, and after indulging in some devious behind the scenes skulduggery, manages to engineer a situation in which both women are incarcerated aboard a small scout ship piloted by himself and devoid of any other life forms.

The scout ship is last seen heading into a space warp pursued by Exon patrol vessels as the lecherous Thursk legged it into the Cosmos with his stunning captive beauties.

Read on and discover their fate:


Starburst One

Chapter One

Lift Off

The sub-life capsule energised and the uncomfortable surge of pre- hyperthrust acceleration waned rapidly. Sven smiled to himself as the normal sensation of physical awareness was replaced by the surreal quality of pre-comatose conditioning. For him, the duration of stay in the twilight zone of stasis would be short. A few minutes of careful reprogramming ensured that cubicle AZ-341 would be reanimated shortly after the ship entered hyperspace.

At 24 times the speed of light, telemetric communication with the base station Alpha-Cygnus 8 became an impossibility. In effect, any signals transmitted had a reverse velocity caused by the ship's forward speed. Although the signals were travelling at the speed of light in the direction of the space station, they would in reality be moving away at 1-4 times the speed of light; an anomaly of hyper light travel that could be rationalised by mathematics, but still defied the laws of physics in finding a countermeasure. It was a useful peculiarity if one didn't want anyone to know what was going on aboard the vessel. Conversely, messages beamed to him from base could never catch up until Starburst-One dropped out of hyperdrive; and only then after a long wait. As for the other human occupants of the vast vessel; well, they were programmed to stay de-animated for the next 18.5 years. But for a man like Sven, such a minor detail in program hacking would prove to be of little inconvenience.
The lights of coherent life blinked out on that last comforting thought as the capsule system cut in.

A distant control deck computer registered the dimming of that last human mind. Instantly it energised the final stage of the Bola-Drive, unleashing an explosive pulse of photon anti-matter energy that sent Starburst-One exploding through the light barrier and on into the timeless void of hyperspace. No human could withstand the massive 'Gee' forces of acceleration amounting to some 8000 Gee, but a built-in Plasmagene system in each de-animation unit created a molecular disassembly of the human form. They each became a violet pulsing plasma cloud that was the essence of the person. The Plasmagene could sustain this just long enough for final acceleration to low level hyper velocity to be completed. Then the humans were rebuilt as solid matter and left to slumber in peace.

It was a pity really. The Bola-Drive was capable of speeds in excess of twenty times the speed of light; but until someone managed to create a stable de-moleculiser that could hold the disassembled beings for more than six minutes, humans were limited to trudging around the universe at a shambling LIGHT x 24. In layman's terms that was a mere 446,000 miles per second. Re-use of the Plasmagene in a series of steps was impossible. It didn't work once the ship passed the speed of light, for although it could sustain the field momentarily at sub-light speeds during the final acceleration, it stubbornly refused to re-initiate the sequence once the light barrier was passed. Meanwhile, pure freight cargoes on fully automated ships enjoyed the luxury of whistling around at full bore, in some cases arriving 'theoretically' several days before it actually left. 

Starburst-One also carried freight. However, none of it was required until the human cargo reached the destination, so it would have been an extravagance to send it by robot cargo vessel and have the stuff lounging around gathering dust for fourteen years at the other end... Fourteen being the difference in time for freight as opposed to human cargo. 

The huge 1.6 million ton bulk of Starburst-One shimmered and waived as if of no material substance, then in a searing burst of incandescent cosmic light, vanished from the view screen of Technician 1st class Wally Brant at Alpha-Cygnus 8. Wally cursed and turned the vid-unit down.

Damn! Would he never learn? Every time he got caught out by the flare of hyperspeed transition. Gradually his eyes readjusted to the starry wastes that had swallowed Starburst-One. It never ceased to amaze him how such a huge machine could simply vanish like that. His crotch suddenly grew hot as another thought came to mind. To vanish with a cargo of two hundred and eighty of the world's most beautiful women was a criminal act as far as he was concerned.

Wally cast his mind jealously back to the hundreds of Televid game shows that slowly whittled down the thousands of entrants, all hoping to be chosen as a mate for one of those super rich, super physical, male specimens out in the colonies.

A surviving colonist trail blazer, after two years of 'on planet' service, was richer than any Earthly tycoon as a result of the wages they offered for these virtual certain death assignments. It was the belief that you could be the lucky group to survive that attracted the best of mankind to go for the pot of gold. Now, having been deposited 44.4 light years away, on a planet designated Planet: Lima/Oscar/November-K class / Experimental Research - 280 personnel; .. (or more aptly named 'P.L.O.N-K.E.R.- 280') two hundred and eighty genetically perfect trillionaires had struck lucky and survived to claim the rewards. They could afford anything the known universe had to offer. Little wonder they chose as first prize a cargo of willing, genetically perfect, nymphettes to slake their hard earned thirst for the carnal delights.

✠	✠	✠

Chapter Two

Rude Awakening

Sven bathed in the glow of a massive erection. Then suddenly his mind cleared. A 'hard-on' when recovering from Plasmagene-hibernation? It was unheard of. Normally one could expect a loss of sexual prowess for at least twenty four hours. But as he pondered the vibrant 'stiffy' with an appreciative well filled reciprocating fist, the reason for the quivering monolith returned to swell the monster still further. He sat up; .. and promptly lay down as stars exploded into his brain. The auto shield release had failed to operate.

"Fuck that stupid machine!" He cursed loudly and punched the manual cover release, frowning with irritation as the phoney tinted force shield cover slid back in a simulated solid cover mode.

God! These design wallies were real pillocks. They design a non solid mode of covering something, then promptly redesign the fucking thing so as to mimic the old system. He clambered out of the reclining capsule and stretched his limbs. The stay had only been twenty four hours, but total muscle relaxation even for an hour needed a bit of coercion to get things moving again.

"Unauthorised reanimation. Please re-enter capsule and prepare for retro processing."

The sultry tones of Dhelia the drone computer echoed through the zone as the metal sphere floated into view.

"Piss off Dhelia, I only just got up." Dhelia hadn't been informed of the clandestine hacking of the mainframe 884/Howick that ran the ship.

As with any woman, micro chip or otherwise, Dhelia tended to be a gossip. Any freeloading chatty drone to come within hailing range of her ship to ship com set-up would have been quickly appraised that all was not kosher aboard Starburst-One. It was a trait that none of the drone computer manufacturers ever managed to overcome. Somehow female programmers sub-consciously downloaded a part of their nature onto the bio-feedback chip during the cerebral input phase. No amount of filtering seemed to cure the problem. A move to install male programmed drones was nipped very early in the bud. Men in space wanted to hear female voices and that was the end of it. Well;.. at least most men did.

"Executive command, Sven Olafsun. - Pilot - Commander of Starburst- One. Directive code 28865. You are to simulate voice pattern of human female gagged with ball gag and tape until further orders. - Confirm!"

"MMMMpphh!"

Sven grinned to himself. That was Dhelia taken care of. Now there were things to do.

"MMMph! MMMMrrrrph! MMph! MM! MM! MMph!" Thrusters whining, the metal sphere bobbed up and down in frustration, but was powerless to override an executive command.

"Oh! Do shut up Dhelia; you look as if you're going to wet your knickers. Now cut the racket or I'll have a service droid weld you to the bulkhead.' Dhelia followed sullenly at a distance as he moved of toward the turbo lifts that would whisk them down to the cargo holds some sixteen decks below.

"MMMMMMRRRPHh-יי!

"Oh! Sorry Dhelia." Sven reopened the doors and allowed the trapped drone to escape. Dhelia, whilst being a muted metal sphere, somehow managed to convey discontent at the new twin dents running vertically down an otherwise perfect shining spherical sheath.

"MMMrrrgg! MMMMpphh! MM! MMMMMrr!"

Roughly translated, that was gagged computer language for 'If you hadn't fucked around with the main frame computer that couldn't have happened' Sven got the general drift, and without thinking, found himself talking back to the hovering drone.

"I'll put that right in the morning Dhel!" He paused. "Shit! Twenty four hours in space and already I'm talking to an oversized metal basket ball."

Sven clicked his tongue as a form of irritation at his own stupidity. But then again, Dhelia had been with him on many trips now, and micro chips or no, 'it' had become something of a 'she'. Over the years Dhelia somehow acquired a carefully added pair of eyes painted around the two vid-scanners that served for peepers; .. a joke by an artist friend from Scanlon-167. This coupled to the sauciest eyebrows in the universe, and some false eyelashes Sven himself added, all helped to enhance the female image of Dhelia. In fact, he had on more than one occasion sworn to look up the programmer of his favourite drone. Each time he had been put off by the thought that the implanted sexy voice probably belonged to a huge blimp type; a reject space cadet from the Femlin Corps. Best let the image of a sylph like siren persist. After all, he may have to spend years with Dhelia before they issued him with a new model. The Commodore wouldn't believe another accident. Especially after the way his last male voiced drone 'accidentally' wandered into the path of a comet whilst on a extra vehicular activity. The fact that the comet had passed at a range of some 12,300 miles seemed to bother the Commodore. There was no accounting for the tunnel vision of these upper echelons.

The descending turbo lift crunched to a rapid stop, resulting in Sven being plastered to the floor, then bounced on by an out of control drone that hadn't corrected in time. Perhaps Dhelia was right. A minus 8-Gee deceleration was a bit out of line. Maybe he'd re-adjust the mainframe next. But first there was the cargo to check. Not the crated stuff, the slumbering female variety. He'd waited and planned so long, there was no way he could resist the urge to have his first glimpse of that packed passenger deck of vulnerably inactive dames.

The passage door hissed open, and stepping forward, Sven feasted his eyes on the converging lines of encapsulated females. It was a sobering sight to think that each of those capsules, so numerous as to disappear out of sight, were filled with such infinitely desirable creatures. Any one of them would have been the dream of a lifetime for most men to own. But Sven Olafsun had two hundred and eighty of them; all helplessly packaged and ready for picking. The next eighteen and half years promised to be a very interesting period in his long and somewhat tarnished career as a space pilot. It could well prove to be his last assignment.

But what the Fuck!

He reached out to the nearest nubile form, his hand sliding through the osmotic maintenance force field to caress the occupant's smooth silky skin. The old cryogenic systems would have cost him a hand; temperatures of -276 degrees were unforgiving to say the least. But this Tecoma-Mk 6 system maintained the damsels at a cool +2°C. They were packed naked, at the planetiers request. The only concession to dress were the big presentation ribbons around the neck, wrists, and ankles; a mock bondage that offered these exquisite females in a doll- like format. Huge bows of ribbon were arranged to the front of each tie. One bow under the chin, another wrist bow adorning front-tied hands, to rest demurely over the nude pussy. At the feet, the same applied, except that the bow had been allowed to droop and almost hide the skyscraper patent stiletto shoes. The whole assembly had then been placed in a box lined with rouched white silk to complete the image of a new doll. The men they were destined to meet would awake from their own hibernation to see these gift wrapped super-dolls, arranged, still asleep, in front of their cubicles and awaiting their pleasure. But unbeknown to the women, the hold of Starburst One also contained enough equipment to indulge every kinky sex game known to man, and a few others picked up from alien life forms that defied description.

Dhelia was having the equivalent of a nervous breakdown. Neural sensors built into her casing could read and evaluate human thoughts that were incompatible with Space Corp directives, or the safe running of the ship.

Image 1

Sven Olafsun's mental output was basically blowing every safety warning in her memory banks. The thoughts Dhelia picked up were hardly in accord with passenger comfort and safety, and certainly didn't pass company inspection on the small matter of passenger abuse by crew. 

Sven removed his hand from a firm curvaceous tit, as he reached for a cargo sling dangling from the bulkhead. Catching Dhelia deftly, he snapped the spring link onto her safety tether before she could draw away. It was too late for the drone to do anything. The strap was far stronger than anything her repeller jets could hope to break, and in her muted form, the mainframe was out of reach by voice communication. Effectively she was out of touch with any would be rescuing service droid.

The safety anchor points on her spherical casing were all placed out of reach of her manipulator arms, and the nearest probe input point was some thirty feet away, so direct physical computer connection was a no- go from the start. Only her simulated female voice would allow access via the passage background monitors. That facility was denied her by an executive command. Sven patted her jerking frustrated casing as she strove to break the strap, and then continued along the line of silent beauties, squeezing, groping, stroking at random.

For an hour he indulged himself, finger raping each and every carefully selected pussy as he compared tightness and succulence from capsule to capsule. Finally, his initial lustful contemplation slaked, he left Dhelia with the rest of his new collection as he made his way back to the mainframe control input. The drone's scanners watched his departing back, then turned to look at the rows of living cargo. Something akin to jealousy surged through the electronic brain as the replayed thoughts of her human master burned into her micro chip. Sven was hers, not these strumpet bits of female cargo. Dhelia surged against her tether in frustration. Muted angry noises left no doubt that her programmer had passed over a good deal more personality than was required by the company directive. A venomously vengeful drone stretched her tether to full extent and extended a servicing arm to maximum telescopic length.

The finger clamp clicked shut and reopened several times in impotent frustration as the target remained obstinately out of range by some two or three millimetres. Then a slight stretching of the tether allowed the reach Dhelia needed.

Number 29-Row D twitched and convulsed as metal fingers clamped onto her vulnerable clitoris in a grip of steely pain. Unable to break out of stasis, she could only endure as her pleasurable dream evolved into a nightmare from which there was no escape. The neck and ankle clamps of the stasis couch held her firm as Dhelia drew her clamped prize away. 29-D arched outward, her form breaching the protective force shield that retained the stasis environment. The passage of her body through the active field was facilitated by the drone's built in security signal; a precaution that allowed access and passage through any shield or door aboard Starburst- One.

Onward and outward went 29-D, until her strained clitty was in serious danger of snapping like an overstressed elastic band. Dhelia halted the arm retraction, and after checking that all systems were locked and immobilised, she closed down her central animation processor and prepared to wait. The wicked human thought patterns implanted in her electronic brain flickered with the tingling electrical impulses that were the nearest equivalent to human pleasure as she surveyed the cruelly arched and tormented human female. 29-D looked like being unserviceable for some time, if the rapidly swelling clitty was any indication. As an afterthought, Dhelia re-energised herself and sent a powerful electrical current through her claw arm. The effect was most impressive and she felt good as a quivering reaction in the straining nubile beauty flowed through her pleasure circuits. Dhelia refined her tactics even more. Sliding out the air duster located beneath her claw gripper, she inserted the blower nozzle deeply into the helpless pussy hovering below that tormented clit. Now this really was fun. It looked so satisfying to see 29-D's lower abdomen expanding as her womb was inflated. That should teach the bitch not to entice her man master away.

In her jealous rage, Dhelia completely overlooked the fact that 29-D had very little say in the whole affair; and, given the chance, would very likely have repelled an advance by the lustful Sven without any urging from Dhelia. The gripping claw twisted one full turn, and then Dhelia closed down her circuits to save power. There was no telling how long it would be before Sven allowed her to reach a recharge point. In the meantime, 29-D silently endured a corkscrewed clitty and a rather uncomfortable dose of inflation and contortioned recreation.

✠	✠	✠

Chapter Three

The Accomplice

Whilst Dhelia and 29-D were enjoying their little female get together, Sven decided to look up an old accomplice. After all, two hundred and eighty women were pushing even his legendary sexual prowess to the limit. This little venture required a helping hand. It was time to wind up 'Rampant Roger'. He flicked the storage field off and smiled as his partner in crime self animated and strolled out of the recess.

"Morning Sven!" The simulated voice of a famous rock star boomed out, and Sven nodded automatically in response. It was hard to believe that Roger hadn't moved a muscle for something like six months during Starburst's refit period. It was as if he had just stepped through a doorway from another room.

"Got some work for you Roger my lad. Lots of work!"

Roger became attentive. Ever since Sven had liberated him from a Gay bar on Epsolon-5 several light years ago, his mechanoid life had undergone a radical change. First there had been the small matter of reprogramming. Chasing fellas, or alternatively, playing the role of a female partner in sexual games was not in the itinerary envisaged through Sven's vengeful drunken stupor on the night of Roger's abduction. Chasing and shagging a recalcitrant girlfriend half to death as a reprisal for non-participation was.

She was a flighty little bitch, and having wormed her way into his affections, hitched a freebie lift on his star-freighter with a promise of plentiful carnal nights in payment. The bitch then promptly removed her favours from his entertainment roster as soon as they were into hyperspace.

Sven's retaliation was to do an unscheduled stop at Epsolon-5 with the sole purpose of nicking Rampant Roger; much to the chagrin of the feminised chappies who festooned this liberated world of some ill repute. The next task was to put the non-performing girlfriend into an area with no way out. With some relish he then introduced the reprogrammed droid and sealed the area just to make sure everything went according to plan. In effect, he welded all Deck-12 exit doors and hatches shut.

It was a four year journey. But for Sven, the continuing, never ending round of ravishment became a bore, and he had, after several weeks of voyeuristic Vid screen enjoyment, retired to the timeless embrace of a stasis cubicle. For him, in a comatose state, the long voyage became a mere fleeting gap in his memory. The flighty bitch meanwhile spent four years trying to avoid a sex crazed droid who grabbed and mounted her at every opportunity... Not to mention on occasion securing her for a replay when he was not in the mood to go looking when the time came. Sometimes she would lie for days on end, trussed like a chicken and variously pumped full of food and thrusting mechanoid cock. Fortunately, Roger managed to get the two orifices right on most occasions, although more than once, the helpless girlfriend found herself waffling past a monstrous imitation penis with various items of phallic shaped green grocery stuffed into her lower body.

Sven was severely reprimanded for not ensuring that his mechanoid toy was deactivated during the trip, and also for not checking for stowaways, ergo the bitch, as per his flight report. The well rehearsed story regarding the stowaway status was strongly denied by the well 'rogered' woman, but as it was a common event these days, nobody really challenged Sven's version. Apart from that, her action to claim damages raised smiles, and more than a few jaded shagging tackles as the story unfolded; but not much in the way of sympathy. There were even a few sicko tele- letters from ladies who felt that she was being less than charitable after her four year love affair with an insatiable tireless performing male droid After all, it wasn't every girl who got the chance to practice putting on make-up, washing dishes, eating breakfast, sleeping etc, whilst being shafted by a demonic dick waving droid.

Image 2

"How's the tackle? All in working order I hope?"

'Boooing!'

Rampant Roger stood naked, his Apollo physique glistening and rippling as the massive shaft of his simulated manhood leapt out of hidden recess in his lower abdomen, to quiver in menacing glory.

"Looks OK then!" Sven glanced down, unable to stifle the grin as Roger's blatant sex organ performed its ritual appearance. He'd never got used to the huge flashing orange day-glow end to this monolithic marauder, nor the reciprocating emerald green neon ring that pulsed back and forth along its length. But it was probably the fanfare of trumpets and the spinning chequered balls designed to go with the unsheathing that really creased him up. Rampant Roger's designer obviously had a sense of humour. The monolith wagged in a beckoning mode that was guaranteed to gain the attention of any broad minded female droids in the area. Their human counterparts however tended to run for the hills. 

"Down boy! Down! There'll be plenty of action in a while." The monolith gave two final wags then retracted sulkily into its body recess as the neon display faded.

✠	✠	✠

Chapter Four

Pat

With his droid pal in attendance, they returned to the cargo bay, and after some deliberation, Sven picked out a mate for Roger to practice with. Six months was a long time for a memory chip. Time to refresh it. But first she would need to be suitably immobilised. The sex droid hardly needed his prey to be secured. A nuclear power pack ensured that his power to sustain a prolonged chase was beyond doubt. But Roger enjoyed the spectacle of bound women as a result of Sven's instant Mind-Meld Version 6:2 programming kit. And then there were the containers of every conceivable bondage device ever dreamed of by mankind; (or any kind for that matter) a whole treasure trove of restraint goodies just sitting down there in bay D, deck 18; waiting for him to put it to good use. 

Roger unclipped and lifted the stasis cubicle with ease, then tucking the occupied gadget under arm, he followed Sven's lead. Dhelia, seeing them coming, allowed the tortured clitty to twang back, and the arched maiden gratefully sank back into her stasis chamber. Humming quietly to herself, the drone was a picture of innocence when they finally drew abreast. Sven unclipped the cargo tether, and after a stern warning, allowed the drone to follow.

There was a slight hiss as the seal cracked on that first cargo storage container, and with something akin to awe, both Sven and Roger stared open mouthed at the Alladin's cave of wondrous devices revealed by the lowering ramp. This was just one container. In all there were twelve of those giant metal boxes. Each held somewhere in the region of 50 tons of equipment.

Image 3

With a rising burn of lustful intent, Sven realised that even if he worked diligently for the whole eighteen years, he would be hard put to test all the available tackle on his newly acquired harem of two hundred and eighty desperately unwilling women. Of course, he would do his best. The honour and reputation of the Corps was at stake here. Let no man ever say that Sven Olafsun had not given it his best shot. A vision of his prune like, shrunken and sex drained form being found in a couple of hundred decades did nothing to dampen his ardour.

At a loss to know where to start, they rummaged through dozens of gadgets, before Sven realised they needed a rational approach to the problem. It was decided that they start with an item marked SBO- PLK280/0000-1. This consisted of a very mundane looking device that was little more than a bar with a few adjustable manacles and hoops on it. But it was decided to stick with the plan, so item 0000-1 it was. 

The stasis cubicle contained a nubile curvaceous chick called Pat Chambers, apparently from California USA according to the legend on the plate. Whatever! Pat was an extremely attractive redhead, with a well developed, yet firm body, that had both man and mechanoid panting with the heat of arousal before they'd even released the clamps securing her in. The girl stirred as the mist of stasis began to clear, but long before she was aware of her surroundings, they would have her incapacitated.

The bar arrangement required that she have knees folded to her breasts. A strong flexible dural steel strap passing under knees and over upper arms and the shoulders ensured she remained thus. A further knees-to- neck collar connection ensured a total lack of freedom to alter the format. Suitably positioned clamps soon imprisoned her wrists in a position alongside her knees. Then leaving Pat lying on her side, both of them stood up and watched as the redhead made the final transition from blissful unconsciousness to being acutely aware that she was in deep shit.

"Who are you? What are you doing? Let me go this instant." Pat was obviously not amused. She knew the face of her rightful recipient by heart, having fantasised over his holographic picture for several months now. Neither of these unsavoury characters even closely resembled him. The faceted plastic palooka was obviously a droid, and the other guy, some lecherous asshole who had diverted her from the intended rendezvous with her mega rich stud on PLON-K.E.R.-280.

Image 4

Pat began to scream invectives at her captors. Having previously been a film star, her vocabulary in that department was second to none. Even Randy Roger flinched at the verbal attack on his library chips, and although he was well versed in swearing modes of some one hundred and twenty-six planets, Pat had the 'not-found' bleeper in his electronic Thesaurus working flat out.

They allowed her to rave for a while. Then, on an order from Sven, Pat was lifted from the lying position and balanced awkwardly on her feet. Not an easy task when compressed into a squat and wearing high heels. But balance she did. The options were to fall on her ass, .. or face, depending on the fickle whims of regenerated gravity; a force never renowned for its consistency in any given direction at the best of times. Either way she had no means to protect herself.

Roger prodded her jutting butt with a toe, and to maintain balance, Pat found herself forced to waddle forward with her lower legs performing a strange gait that swung her folded form from side to side. She cursed and swore as the prodding toe nuzzled her exposed pussy and produced more humiliating steps forward. Her face blanched as Sven spoke to his accomplice.

"OK Roger, she's all yours. Enjoy the chase," he chortled, giving Pat another pussy nudge.

Roger needed no urging. Simulated sexual response nodes were already feeding the microchip equivalent of nice feelings to all his electronic pleasure centres. The design was brilliant. Small heaters spread a warm glow through the mechanics of his flashing neon knob, whilst hydraulic injectors lubricated all his joint bearings with a super slippy additive that made him feel all wobbly at the knees. Meanwhile, low level electron flows were titillating all his 'feel-nice' chips.

Pat strained her eyes upward, and after taking one look at the lecherous intent on that plastiderm face, decided that retreat was the better part of valour.

Booing! The appearance of Roger's pride and joy amidst all the usual razzmatazz confirmed her assessment of the best action to take. Waddling like a duck, she scooted off down the passageway, followed by an appreciative Roger who was treated to a perfect view of a most provocatively animated rear end, folded, exposed, and swinging from side to side with each and every awkward step.

He could have easily caught the fleeing Pat by speeding up to a fast walk; but it was far more enjoyable to let her continue the bid to escape, even though it was totally irrational and doomed to failure. Two decks later, Roger in fact cornered Pat; but only in order to add a bit of extra enjoyment to the scene. A clip-on weight swinging from her clitty was really a fun idea... At least Roger thought so. Pat didn't seem quite so impressed. Her attempts to escape were now tinged with the trauma of having her overstressed love-bud stretched and swung from side to side with each step, and the heavy weight dragging along behind her plucking gleefully at its anchor as it conspired to snag and catch on every damned rivet and projection available. But the masochistic content of her inner thoughts soon had her succumbing to the natural urge to lubricate an exposed and partially receptive pussy. It was big mistake. Roger didn't even have to keep her in view now. It was simply a matter of following the trail of glistening spots on the deck; .. spots that were getting more numerous with each passing yard. Poor Pat! Her love nest virtually sprang a leak;.. aided by a jerking clit weight that continually broke her love tunnel seal with jerking deformation The heavy tread of that following droid with its pulsing meta-plastic prick was a thought she couldn't ignore. And whilst the prudent half of her brain powered scuttling legs to keep her ahead of the glowing apocalypse of that vibrating mechanoid phallus, her lust was doing its utmost to bring about her downfall. Lust finally won the day, but by a most devious means.

By confusing her rational thoughts, the evil monster of sexual need clouded her brain; .. a fact impressed upon her most effectively when she skidded to halt in a dead-end vending bay full of drink and food dispensers. Oh Shit! Now the crap was sure to hit the fan. Pat felt as if her offered charms had suddenly become endowed with flashing lights as her total vulnerability came into full focus. Backing into a corner in an effort to bury her lewdly offered charms into a steel bulkhead, she watched with trepidation, as Rampant Roger appeared.

Roger halted at the entrance to the bay and leaned nonchalantly on a machine as he leered at the cornered prey; his massive monolithic phallus wagging suggestively with pulses of hydraulic power.

Pat saw her chance. It was a forlorn hope, but with Roger leaning on the machine to one side of the passage, and slightly off balance, there was a chance she could reach and pass through the gap on the other side before he could react; .. if she was really quick. Pat skidded slightly as she accelerated, and a bemused Roger watched as the waddling form rocketed past.

"Way Ter go sweet lips." The new speech chip Sven had added was doing marvels for Roger's chilled-out new image. He was on a default setting of Humphrey Bogart kick this week. His eyes telescoped outward a full two inches as Pat made her getaway move; the chequered balls noticeable revving up in anticipation of the chase. But Pat's escape plan was doomed to failure. Secured as she was, vision was not at a premium, and having just managed a respectable speed, her progress was abruptly terminated by an offending fruit juice dispenser at the corridor end. 

At the last second she saw the obstacle, but was powerless to swerve. Her head vanished into the gaping maw of the cup dispenser with a thunderous crash that had the dented, rocking machine flashing its lights like a demented pinball machine. Before she could retract, the sliding plastic splash-panel dropped and pinioned her neck, crushing both nose and mouth down onto the drainage grill.

It got worse by the second. Polyprop cups began to bounce down onto her skull from an angry malfunctioning vendo, but unable to drop squarely, they failed to register. So the cups kept coming. Pat screamed and shouted as her head was steadily engulfed by the white wall of crushed Polypropylene. Her breathing remained mercifully unrestricted, thanks to the drainage grill. The pressure grew, until finally, enough face was compressed onto the grill surface to trigger the next stage. Ice cold lime juice deluged onto her head in a final insult as Pat accepted the inevitability of her approaching Waterloo.

Roger halted some ten feet back from the perfectly offered target; whilst Dhelia jinked about in gleefully lustful anticipation, her thrusters whining and sputtering as they struggled to maintain an erratic flight mode. Seeing these human women shafted by a droid appealed to her sense of justice; more commonly described as bitchy female jealousy. The thrusters were joined by the whine of hydraulics, and Roger's wagging pole notched down to a horizontal action mode, then zeroed in on the twitching target. 

"Of all the gin joints in all the world, you had to pick my juice machine to get stuck in." Roger's 'Bogart' appreciation mode won no merits with Pat; but then she had never seen the ancient classic films 'African Queen' and of course 'Casablanca' which first saw light of day eons ago. 

The presented rear end made one final desperate effort to escape then steadied, ready for the inescapable. Rampant Roger as the raunchy knight began his charge, the phallic lance at the ready and aimed with precision at Pat's decidedly sticky pussy. Roger always savoured the successful outcome of the hunt.

The impact when it came was a text book strike. The day-glow head of that awesome weapon peeled her apart like a snow plough, extinguishing its light deep into her silky warm depths. There was no hesitation, no finesse; .. Roger simply impaled her like a juggernaut entering a tunnel. With a sort of squelching thunk, he buried the colossal tool to the hilt in one plunging stroke.

A muffled scream of dissent from the Polyprop cube told of Pat's disapproval. Hydraulics whined and her skewered rear end was lifted upward. Simultaneously a pair of rotating chequered ovoid balls routed her pussy lobes with devastating effect.

Juggled, pummelled, .. massaged, the juicy mounds reacted with intensely satisfying sensations as the off-centre bollocks routed and rooted with gay abandon.

The scream became a continuing phenomena as a result of the jerking thrusts that threatened to permanently embed her head first into the drink dispenser. Roger didn't believe in pissing around. A screw was a screw. Foreplay and mutual satisfaction were two items of programming he was sadly lacking. In fact the only programming other than that required to guide him to the target, was the instruction that each female target had to be reduced to a blubbering exhausted pussy drooling wreck before he could consider the task done. Sadly his judgement of having attained that goal was largely based on the verbal outpourings of the subject being serviced.

Roger noted gleefully that the crushed Polyprop cups formed an excellent sound proofing. Pat, already well into her second orgasm, was effectively silenced. A job well done would have to be a considered decision on his part, without reference to her feelings or utterances on the matter. His thrusting ministrations notched up another level as the jerking pulverised pussy and jouncing buttocks increased the frenzied puppet-like motions. 

Pat was like a rag doll on the end of that lurching lance; stilettoed feet lifting clear of the floor, back arching and buttocks spreading with each compressive lunge. The sounds of over lubricated reciprocating thruster action left nothing to the imagination. The fettered helpless woman was well shafted, and that was a fact. Even the sound dampening Polyprop head packing was insufficient to absorb the continuous 'woofing' sounds Pat emitted with each massive injection of his monolithic phallus.

Effortlessly Roger continued his pistoning ministrations, inspecting the plasti-metal nails of his left hand with a nonchalant air as the receiver of his attentions buffeted helplessly under the onslaught. Occasionally she would stiffen in her flexible compression mode and shudder convulsively with the unwanted muscular paralysis of successive orgasmic eruptions. Pat's rear quarters were awash with the copious juices of her arousal, her love lips reddened and bloated with the pressure of hot lustfully superheated blood. But the torment went on; .. and on; .. and on. That metallic marauder deep within her love channel simply went on stretching and plundering with contemptuous regard for the delicate nature of her internal softness.

Pat orgasmed time and time again, each time cursing her own weakness; yet in her mind, knowing that any woman in this situation would be challenged to deny the erotic sensation of being so thoroughly and forcibly taken. After all, it was safe sex; .. probably the safest of all, given that all sexually capable droids were of the self sterilising variety.

The trussed woman groaned and woofled yet again as a particularly energetic series of thrusting insertions sent yet more messages to her erupting pussy. Roger responded by compressing her rear end powerfully with each thundering thrust.

0000MMMMMpppppphhh!... 0000MMMMMpppppphhh!.. 0000MMMMMpppppphhh!... 0000MMMMMpppppphhh!. 

Pat's response, although muffled, was suitably satisfying to Roger's audio receptors. She seemed to be enjoying herself.

✠	✠	✠

Chapter Five

Lillian-Alias D-29

Meanwhile; our intrepid flight Captain was unpacking another lovely. 29-D finally gained her release from the threatened resumption of Dhelia's clit stretching admonishment as she was released from stasis. Having selected the number two item from the equipment container, Sven rapidly ensconced the luckless beauty in a very effective device. It turned out that she was called Lillian; but that was academic really. With two hundred and eighty heavenly bodies to play with, there was hardly going to be any time to learn names.

Again, the device was simply yet highly effective; .. almost a carbon copy of the number one item. It differed only in that it was far more demanding, and of course, with the logical progression of numbers, far more incapacitating than the previous item. Lillian's wrist were connected firmly to her ankles. Additional clamps situated further along the pole encircled elbows and knees, whilst at the far end, a massively powerful collar clamp surrounded her fragile slender neck in an overkill of inescapable Chromolin steel. The design ensured that her head, lower legs, and feet remained in perfect alignment; .. and of course, her thrusting rear end always available. Talk about turkey-trussed. Poor Lillian was totally at the mercy of her tormentors. She was folded and fastened in such a way as to offer her charms in all manner of interesting positions; none designed to impede or reduce access to her succulent young and relatively unused sexual attributes. Fortunately, her firm conical boobs were relatively safe from marauding fingers due to the covering of her upper thighs. But that small consolation was far outweighed by the feeling of total vulnerability offered by her taut bottom and peach like under-thighs.

Image 5

Although she couldn't see her nether regions, a cool breeze emphasised the vulnerability of her jutting semi aroused clitoris, and the rapidly swelling mounds of her mons. Lillian was no different from any other woman in this respect. An auto feminine reaction was unavoidable as soon as her sexual organs were placed in the ready position; be it by her own hand, or those of another. The shaft of her love tube grew hot with unwanted desire, oozing in readiness whether she like it or not. It was a reaction that had bedevilled women from the beginning of time. The brain said no; .. and the pussy screamed yes. Even now, rape cases revolved around the same insurmountable question. Did she mean it when she said no; .. and then stood with pussy drooling streamers of pre-sex lubrication?

Lillian wasn't sure herself. Sven was a fine figure of a man. OK, perhaps not so impressive as her chosen Greek God. But then her chosen Apollo was another eighteen light years into the distance and future, and Sven was here right now with a magnificent erection raging in his tight fitting flight suit. She tested her bonds ineffectually, and peered pleadingly at Sven. But his only reply was to wait for her to try and speak, then shove a massive expanding pear gag between her generous lips. A few twists of the outer control handle and Lillian was speechless for the duration. The trussed woman felt her semi aroused clit suddenly acquire a hardened jutting status as her libido took control. The last remaining defence was gone, so now she could enjoy the sensation of abandoning herself to unavoidable pleasure.

Sven levered her body upward, balancing her trussed form on the tripod of her own chin and captivated arm-leg arrangement. There was no escape. Everything a man could dream of having at his disposal was offered 'a-la-carte'. Sven, a sexual gourmet of some repute, wasted no time in tucking into the feast. The buzz of a zipper opening was the sound of a death knell for Lillian's twitching semi-willing pussy. Unable to resist in any way other than to rock her offered delights ineffectually from side to side and make muffled waffling noises past the gag, she tensed in anticipation as a hot taut penile helmet pressed purposefully against her mons. Sven toyed with her. Gripping his vibrant shaft, he slid the hot tumescent tip back and forth in the outer crease of her well lubricated love lips so as to pre-lubricate its bulk in her love juices. Lillian gasped, and without consciously realising what she was doing, arched her body receptively to press against the silky hardness of his lubricated rod. But Sven continued to bait her with his slithering torment. She arched again, her entreaties becoming more urgent with every pass through her slick sex lips. Then without warning, Lillian felt the rock like shaft begin its plunge into her inviting depths.

It was an exquisite feeling as the slippery male pole split her pussy and began to fill her with sumptuously commanding force. She struggled with feeble moaning movements, but was pleased to find that she was held immovably presented. It was good to know that the responsibility for her lustful feelings was something beyond her control. The bonds removed her guilt and allowed her to revel in the glorious glow of a welcomed semi-rape. But then Sven was good. His intrusion was masterful, purposeful; .. ponderously powerful; yet gentle for all its inevitability. Lillian knew she could do nothing as the invading shaft stretched and bored to her very core. Amazingly she found herself enjoying the feeling of being taken so completely. The shaft bored inward, smoothing out the delicate membrane of her love channel into a deliciously taut shaft of gripping ecstasy as it forcefully expanded her passage. Lillian groaned loudly through the gag as she felt herself being inexorably pumped full of stiffened irresistible manhood.

Sven reached full insertion in her hot receptive tube. The deeply buried head of his weapon nudged against the neck of her womb, whilst its root was firmly gripped by her overstressed sex lips and titillated the throbbing bud of her engorged clit. He paused and savoured the moment, enjoying the faint but positive twitches of muscular response in her lush love lips. She was trying to resist the mind-bending sensations of being taken in such a manner, but her wanton sex mouth was betraying her. 

Sven, feeling the first tentative convulsions of Lillian's cataclysmic meltdown, pandered to her needs in a moment of benevolent generosity and began to bludgeon her mons with powerful hip thrusting strokes. The mere fact that she was bound and gagged circumnavigated all the normal titillation required to bring a woman to the boil. Lillian was already a seething morass of superheated sexual steam, and within a few strokes of commencing his thundering attack on her pulsing pussy, she was exploding into an eruption of unparalleled orgasmic power. Sven piled on the pressure, his thrusts growing faster and more powerful with every stroke. Lillian was by now blubbering incoherently into her gag as she was held in a limbo of inescapable orgasmic detonation that went on and on. The fact that he could continue until his own lust was spent was sufficient to maintain the oozing power of the waves washing over her. She couldn't resist; that massive hard shaft of manhood just kept exploding into her love shaft with massive injections of stiff hard maleness. She was his to do with as he wished until he decided to release her.

The resilient cushions of Lillian's upturned buttocks proved too much for even Sven's iron control. He bounced joyfully against the taut offered lobes; gleefully relishing the delightful suction of her grasping pussy, and allowing his carnal lust a free reign.

His plunging pole swelled to bursting point inside her pussy purse, testing the internal elasticity of the bound beauty to the limits. Then the surge began. A tidal wave of pulsing seminal lava raced down the reciprocating conduit of his manhood and erupted into the deep recess of her body. Lillian groaned as her orgasmic pleasure reached new heights; fuelled by the hot gush pumping powerfully into her fettered form. The semi- willing rape was now complete, and she was without guilt. Her means to resist had been removed, and thus she was able to enjoy something she couldn't avoid. It was a fantastic feeling.

Sven's demonic pumping ended in a long shuddering sigh as he pushed rigidly down into her sex well and maintained the pressure whilst his hot urgent pulsing gusts waned in intensity. He leaned on her, enjoying the glow of release; taking pleasure from the fact that he could use this helpless trussed beauty as a novel and sumptuous garage in which to rest his spent manhood as he recovered.

She could do nothing to prevent his abuse of her folded form. Sven enjoyed his power a while longer, then finally withdrew. Stooping, he adjusted the mouth stretching gag downward in size and prised it out of her mouth. She could sense him standing behind her as she flexed an aching jaw, but he didn't speak.

Lillian mewed almost wistfully. It was nice to just lie there, filled to bursting point with hot virile male; skewered on his shaft like a piece of meat ready for the barbecue. She heard the footsteps of her tormentor retreating, and for the first time took stock of her erogenous predicament. Even though he had gone for now, she was still parked conveniently for use at any time he chose to dip into her slick channel. She shifted her bound form, then losing balance, toppled sideways to lie helplessly on the cool durilium decking. Lillian was still contemplating the enormity of her bondage when Randy Rog' hove into view.

Booing! His trusty phallic sword sliced the air with a swish. It was the sort of sound normally associated with a flashing karate chop in a cheap Kung Fu movie. The sex sword rose for action, then adjusted like the howitzer on a tank as it zeroed in. Movement stopped, with Roger's pole coming to rest poised at forty-five degrees. Suddenly Lillian felt her tautly stretched charms prickling with a sense of vulnerability. Her eyes grew wide as the monstrous synthetic prick beckoned her and waved a mocking incandescent helmet in her direction.

Holy Shit! The thing was the size of a Titan mining mole. The phallic tunnel borer lowered with awesome intent and was pointing straight at her twitching openings. Her struggles became frantic; but to no avail. Sven's expertise with bar and bindings left her trussed like a chicken ready for roasting; or in this instance, a chick ready for ravishing.

Roger moved over to his prize, and after hoisting her over, reinstated her in the more favourable shagging position, head and knees to the floor, juicy holes pointing upward.

Lillian's impalement was no more sophisticated than Pat's had been. He simply leaned forward and fell into her. Then, without further ado, Roger roughly shoved the neon pole-pierced woman to a handy corner, her nose and lips forming the major part of her perambulation as they spluttered and blubbered along the floor. With head basically secured in the confines of the corner, Lillian was fully immobilised for any ensuing action. And action there was. Almost and hour of 'Rogering' passed, before the humphing, thoroughly shafted, and rear reamed Lillian was given temporary relief. It was nice to expand from the compressed bundle of womanhood an hour of constant thrusting produced as she was shoved tighter and tighter into the corner. The novelty of having her other opening reamed for the first time wore off at an early stage in the proceedings. It was interesting to be sure, but bloody painful for a virginal rear-reaming. 

The inter ship com' system boomed out nearby.

"Roger! Where the fuck are you? Get your ass up to deck 18 D,.. on the double." It was his boss in need of assistance.

Rog' looked wistfully down at the gasping, only half used woman on his pole, and then with a shrug withdrew. He was about to simply let her exhausted form roll to the floor, when another thought zapped into his microchips. Lillian groaned as her sore bottom resumed normal size, then expelled her breath in a gasp as his mighty metal mast switched targets and plunged back into her slick pussy. The gasp quickly turned to a shriek as that deeply implanted glowing head swelled without warning and assumed the size of a grapefruit.

"Noooooooo! Please Noooooo!" Lillian's pleading drowned out the hiss of Roger's hydraulics. But the effects, whilst unheard, were nonetheless visually startling. Roger's shaft lifted to the horizontal, and now sported a squirming trussed female pivoting madly on her own captive pussy. She looked so sweet all banded up and dangling like a shop sign. Roger gripped the outrigger formed by her mated lower arms and legs, and twisted the impaled beauty round on his vibrating pivot. She looked up into his eyes beseechingly, but Roger just grinned and loosed his grip.

The weighty outrigger swung down under the influence of the starship's artificial gravity, as Lillian performed like a keeled self-righting boat. Her stability was tested to the full as Roger made his way to deck 18.

Image 6

Roger, endowed with a droid's strength and approximately three times the bodyweight of a human, found Lillian, as an off-centre, swinging cock ornament hardly an inconvenience. Sven's eyes popped as the dynamic duo appeared!

"What have you got there Roger old chap?" Roger looked a little puzzled as he scanned speech modes to find this new style. He never ceased to be amazed at the human capacity for mimicry. Sadly, Eton public school wasn't in the chip store, so it looked like the 'Cool Dude Mode' would have to do for now.

"Oh! It's the Lillian chick; found her hot to trot in the lower service corridor, but I reckon she's chilled out now." Sven smiled at Roger's somewhat strained rendering of the laid back street wise Chicago pimp. 

"Looks like a mean set-up there pardner." Roger nearly blew a fuse. John Wayne had been dead some two hundred years before his micro chips came off the presses. Now his human alter ego seemed hell bent on flaunting this exasperatingly unattainable mimicry skill at will. Churlishly he twitched his dick and took out his annoyance on the jerking, wailing, female who was waved around as easily as a piece of candy- floss.

"I have a mind to sample that thar dame Roger boy. Just hold her steady a while." Roger ceased his twitching dick mode, and Lillian settled to a stable uncomplicated hanging object. Sven immediately slipped a dildo hook into her rear opening, and before you could tweak a tit, had connected and drawn back her pony tail to the anal fixing point. The arched fully skewered and very uncomfortable Lillian was not amused. 

"Get me off this plastic pimp now you lousy bastard. I'll have you court martialled as soon as we get to P.L.O.N-K.E.R-280 I'll!" The tirade tailed off abruptly as Lillian saw Sven's space Corp pants hit the deck, revealing a rampant shaft pointing straight at her ranting mouth. 

"You wouldn't dare," she hissed through clenched teeth. "You wou-?" 

Sven nodded to Roger, who after a moments frowned incomprehension, got the message. He expanded his pulsing fully engulfed pole to double its standard girth.

"AAAAARRRRRRGGGGRRRRUUUuuuuummmpppph!"

Lillian's scream ended in a gulping gobbling noise; .. not unlike that of a baritone turkey being throttled. A couple of pounds of hot throbbing 'Sven' rearranged her vocal cords with remarkable results. She made to bite, but the same massive stretching pulse in her tender pussy soon appraised her that a wide mouth configuration was infinitely preferable to a pussy with hovercar garage capacity. Roger seemed to enjoy expanding his massive hydro-chopper at the merest whim. In fact, if Lillian could have seen, he was now nonchalantly leaning back against the wall inspecting the nails on crooked fingers in his favourite 'bored mode' as he offered the fully speared Lillian for oral servicing of his human friend.

"Gwuuffflw! Grrrrwwwllll! - Guffflllwwwrr!" The busy mouth refused to remain quiet as she serviced Sven in a sort of reluctant chewing suck. Lillian's mind flashed back to her childhood, and all of a sudden she understood why all ice lollies and stick mounted sweets were phallic in shape. A male dominated world had been pre-programming her for the task of oral servicing from a very early age.

"How about some variety old chap?" Roger stared at Sven for a second or two, and then finally found the nearest chip to Eton. Cambridge would have to do. "Certainly old boy! Anything to please a friend my good fellow." Even the gobbling Lillian couldn't help but giggle. But Roger soon showed her the error of her ways. Unseen by her, the chequered balls stopped spinning and split open to reveal twin sets of serrated grippers. Lillian yelped past Sven's tool as they connected with her stretched pussy lips. The yelp rose about eight octaves as they snapped shut with commanding force. There was no way she could slide off that invading phallic pole now. Which was probably just as well. Apparently those balls formed an integral unit with the pussy bulging monolith of his metal dick... Then, the said integral unit began to rotate.

The warbling cry of a fully shafted rotating love toy was something all men should hear at least once in a lifetime. But right now, Sven was too far gone to appreciate the niceties of Lillian's orchestral renderings. In fact Sven was about as close to a heart attack as it was possible to get. Total loss of control followed as he exploded with a hitherto unbelievable ferocity into the silky waffling oral hole of the unwilling maiden. Her orbiting taut stretched lips tested even his considerable restraint to the limit. But that was only the visible part. Lillian's tonsils and gulping throat were doing a rotary blow-job massage on Sven's bloated penile helmet that was something else. It was an amazing thing to feel the deep undulations of a female throat whizzing around on the end of one's dick. Roger maintained his air of detachment as he effortlessly continued to rotate the twitching trussed female on his boss's quivering shaft. A couple of quick upward jerks with her internal rotating pussy pivot, and Sven rapidly experienced a dual explosive response as the curvaceous whirling female mass jiggled up and down in a cyclically flexing motion that defied description. Her oral spindle remained at the same height, whereas her pussy gripped fulcrum was moving up and down. The effect of having to accept a continuously altering angle on Sven's exploding pole was no fun at all, at least not for her. Sven thought it was fantastic as the droid speeded her up to blur of spinning bondaged trauma. 

Roger simply raised an eyebrow in mock surprise when a drained, exhausted Sven finally collapsed and fell out of Lillian's spluttering mouth. Then as if remembering that he still had a spinning lump of pulsing womanhood on his metallic manhood, he halted her spinning, located the nearest drink dispenser and jammed the unfortunate Lillian head first into the dispenser hole. The clamps disconnected from a very sore pair of pussy lips, and the stationary woman endured in helpless fury as the droid's metal and plastic monolith deflated and resumed its normal boring activities in her brimming overworked sex tube.

✠	✠	✠

Chapter Six

Domitrix Dhelia

The days passed quickly. Having tried all the more mundane items from container one, Sven began to dig deeper into the pile of goodies, bypassing the lower numbered bits of gear, and moving on to the more adventurous equipment. He was watched by most of the previously re- animated maidens from stasis, who were at present safely ensconced in the equipment of earlier trials. Dhelia meanwhile, found herself in seventh heaven when servicing of the fettered felines was entrusted to her. There were some pretty evil concoctions of high energy food supplements aboard, and she made it her personal mission in life to select the most disgusting she could find, and then stuff the helpless trollops to bursting point with the revolting mush. Dhelia was experiencing the electronic equivalent of sadistic pleasure by inserting the feeder tubes, then watching the helplessly trussed females expanding to bursting point with the unpalatable gunge. There was something quite satisfying about force feeding a bound woman.

Her idea of exercise left something to be desired. Electrical charges through nipples and clitoral nodule were a favourite; theoretically mooted to create muscle reaction in the bound girls. Walkies was another that did little to exercise anything other than Dhelia's insatiable and misguided thirst for revenge. Again, those tormented protuberances came in for a hammering. Equipped with null 'Gee' collars and floating in line ahead, the steadily growing cavalcade of variously restrained females spent most of the day being towed at speed around the deserted and empty cargo bay 8-F with their clitorises forming the tow hitch.

Image 7

In ten days, Sven and his mechanoid sidekick had revived, trussed, and sexually stuffed some thirty-three nubile and definitely miffed chicks. But so far there were no signs of flagging in either contestant. The word contestant was becoming pertinent; for contest was what the whole thing was steadily shaping up to be. Sven, whilst unable to match the droid's mechanoid stamina, was light years ahead on style and inventiveness. Roger on the other hand was really pissed that he couldn't out think his boss on matters of a non quantifiable nature, and sought to out screw him instead. The luckless lassies meanwhile were inextricably caught between the two in this battle of intellect versus hydraulic stamina. For a masochistic few it was a dream come true. For the others it was a nightmare that refused to go away.

Dhelia meanwhile, continued blithely unconcerned with the competitive antics of her partners in crime. As long as there were bound left-overs lying around for her to tease and torment, she was a happy drone.

To the bound lovelies, she was a demon, who's appearance sent shivers through their forms as they struggled to escape the inevitable of her attentions, only to finally capitulate to the inescapability of their restraints as Dhelia gleefully vented yet more misery on their offered forms.

✠	✠	✠

Chapter Seven

The 'Exstata' Cocoon

Sven marvelled at the complexity of the gadget. It was an Exstata cocoon; liberated from the all female Amazon inhabited planet of Trylon-31. He'd heard about the abortive raid by a full ten brigades of Space Corp marines in an attempt to seize control of the planet. If rumour was correct, only one ship with a mere seventeen survivors managed to pull clear. The rest of the captured survivors were basically given a death sentence when they were sent to the state prison, condemned to twenty years for insurrection. Sixty two men in a prison holding some three thousand sex starved amazonian women were unlikely to live more than a few months at best. The Corp never recovered its former arrogant unbeatable image after that debacle.

But at least the whole episode hadn't been a complete waste. The fleeing space marines lucky enough to escape, managed to snatch a few items of loot before scarpering skyward with their tails between their legs. Not least of which was the Exstata cocoon; .. a device that was almost legendary and only ever been seen in operation by a handful of out- world Trylonian exiles. They in turn revealed jealously guarded details about its potential.

One has to remember that Trylonians actually dispensed with men altogether back in the mists of time. Women discovered the way to reproduce without recourse to the messy coupling enjoyed by most forms of life in the galaxy. But the search for pleasure from sex never waned. As a result, they became a race of Amazonian lesbians; which to an outsider seemed like the ultimate solution to the war of the sexes.

Men were deemed obsolete in Trylon culture. But the Trylon women were wrong. The seed of need for man was there. No matter how they tried, the fantasy of being taken by a virile, vibrant male persisted.

And so the Exstata cocoon was born. Originally it had started life as a tool of state oppression. Any female who dared to shun or speak out against the lesbian way was inserted and 're-educated'. A nice word for sexual torture and brainwashing. But then an enterprising female scientist secretly modified the device and indulged herself in a few fantasy scenarios at the mercy of the machine. She enjoyed herself so much that a friend was given a go. Word spread in high office, and pretty soon, more than half the ruling class owned a modified cocoon; .. usually concealed somewhere in their cellar. It was only a matter of time before the thing became legal. To have tried to block its development would have been to flirt with revolution. Even the ruthless ruling Chen warriors could see that.

So, with all obstacles removed, the private sector went to work on the device with a vengeance. The result of their years of work stood gleaming and invitingly in front of Sven. He took a whole day reading the translated instruction book, and even then he'd not discovered all the machine's secrets. It was a masterpiece of pleasure engineering that only a woman would ever fully appreciate. However, he noted with glee that it still incorporated functions that could be abused in the wrong hands.

He closed the manual and a grin spread over his face as he cast his mind over the living portion of his delectable cargo. 104-C would look most delightful mounted in this machine. Her file described her as a strong willed, hot headed Norwegian lass. After studying the holographic photo of her statuesque figure, those high arrogant Scandinavian cheek bones, and piercing blue eyes, Sven could well believe it. This was indeed a chick not to be messed with. Perfect fodder to test the Exstata on. Let's see if she was so high and mighty after being exposed to the Exstata for a week or two. If all the rumours were correct, she would be reduced to smouldering orgasmic rubble by the time she was released... A pliable sex crazed female who would be as easily controlled as a kitten.

Image 8

Sven had to admit to himself that he was going to enjoy this. In his early rutting days he had been rebuffed by a Norwegian chick in a most embarrassing manner. So now 104-C could pay the price for another's temper. Sven raised his wrist communicator.

"Roger, drop whatever you are doing; .. or screwing!" He added as an afterthought. "Bring 104-C stasis cubicle down to the container deck right away." Sven turned back to the Exstata and began to prepare it for use. Roger; assuming he could tear himself away from whatever diligently carried out task he was performing, would be arriving in about ten minutes with the 'fortunate' lassie who would give the cocoon its first test. As it happened it was some fifteen minutes before Rog' sauntered in.

Whatever; or rather, whoever he had been busy doing, was apparently interesting enough for him to forget normal etiquette as a result of the goings on. Roger was blithely strolling around with his rampant chopper at full neonic blast, still dripping with the copious love juice of his latest conquest.

"Put that thing away you bloody mechanised flasher." Roger glanced down, and then guiltily retracted the display. The look of scalded puppy dog on his face was pure magic. In fact, despite his IQ of 2006, Roger in human mental terms was on a level with a 6 year old when it came to sex, day to day living and the like. Sven watched as he placed the stasis cubicle down and felt his own libido rising to full steam as he looked in on the Junoesque figure of the sleeping Barbie Doll. My God she was a stunner. Excellent material to test the Exstata on.

He prodded and squeezed her breasts in wonderment, unable to grasp the fact that they were all hers. There was no sign of any deeply implanted silicone in either of those thrusting firm melons. And that bottom. Jeez! What a perfect set of succulent cushions for any rear reaming male to use as shock absorbers. He indulged himself in a blood pounding fantasy as his hands kneaded and savoured the curvaceous opulence of the wench with appreciative wandering fingers.

The cubicle was de-energised, and the stirring form, stripped of her ribbons, was lifted out. Carefully, both Roger and Sven laid the stunning woman out on the cocoon's base mat, and then stood back. The girl; Tina, was coming round fast now, but Sven stayed his hand from energising the control on the Exstata until the awakening female had been given the chance to assess her surroundings. A flash of recognition and a sudden widening of eyes betrayed the fact that Tina was suddenly connecting the images to those she had seen on vid records, and a device she'd heard described by Trylon refugees back on Earth. She tried to sit up; .. at about the same time as Sven's finger jabbed downward.

A faint hum broke the silence and the naked Tina seemed to stiffen into a straight line and a faint aura of green suffused itself over her form. Her bid for freedom was over before it even got started. She began to rise, slowly, almost imperceptibly, towards the cocoon's centre. It took a full minute, but finally she was suspended by invisible force-fields and held captive at the core of the device. Only her eyes moved. Frantically they conveyed her alarm. She knew what this thing could do to a woman and was under no illusions as to what men would consider good wholesome fun; .. given the control they had with this machine.

It was sound proof, escape proof, and driven by a mini fusion power unit. Not only that, but it boasted complete bodily regeneration capacity. Roughly translated, that meant she could never age or die. If they so desired, she could be kept in perpetual torment for infinity without any of the natural degeneration associated with ageing. It was a daunting prospect.

Sven began to play with the controls, still basically experimenting with the machines devastating potential. Only a woman could have designed in so many devices and controls. A man would never have even dreamed of half the things this contraption was capable of.

He pressed a winking light button that resembled what appeared to be a smooth silhouette of the female form. The faint glow around Tina changed colour momentarily, then, with slow inexorable progression, her form began to go black from head to toe. Tina was systematically being endowed with a super tight coating of syntho-rubber. It took fifteen seconds to seal the maiden totally into her personal cocoon, leaving only a permeable membrane over the nose and mouth for respiration. It wouldn't do to suffocated the poor maiden before he'd had ample opportunity to avail himself of her delights. Sven reached out and slid the restraint field control back from 100%, setting it at 75%. This allowed Tina a small modicum of movement. Sufficient to permit excellent spectator sport as she writhed in a desperate attempt to escape. But alas, for Tina that is, there was no chance of escape. Countless millions of powerful Amazonian dissidents had screamed and writhed in unstoppable ecstasy and torment on the machine's originating planet. None had ever escaped from an Exstata. In fact it was a certain fact that the four female Corp Commandos who formed part of that original Federation attack brigade were at this very moment still suffering their life sentences in such machines down on Trylon 31. No-one had ever bothered to consider that a life sentence whilst contained in a machine capable of maintaining them at their present age and health status, was in effect a sentence of infinity.

The female commandos no doubt tried to take their own lives when captured. Unsuccessfully it would appear. A warning sent to Earth demonstrated all four being placed in the cocoons prior to permanent sexual torment. It was ten years since that abortive raid, and they had lived every second as orgasmic prisoners. Sven had spent the whole ten years trying to figure a way to rescue them, but so far he'd chickened out. His motive was not entirely an unselfish desire to free them from unspeakable torment, but based more on his belief that after that level of sustained arousal, they would make excellent sex toys for his lustfully intended usage. Any notion of being tough female Space Corps commandos would have long since been eradicated. Displayed in public shopping arcades, the four women provided a steady income as slot machine attractions. Whilst the basic format of perpetual sexual torment was unchangeable, for a few Trylon Skellons, ('the local currency) one could enjoy ten minutes of seeing these women fitted with incredible orifice decorations or suited in any form in a material to suit one's own personal taste. Commercially lucrative modifications even allowed the reshaping of the occupants to a variety of muscle punishing contortions whilst being mechanically screwed. As a result, these particular slot machine attractions always had a queue of prospective eager players, ensuring that the four female commandos could never rest from the quivering ultra stressed contortions they were forced to perform.

In fact Sven had it in mind to keep them 'as is' for background entertainment, assuming of course that he ever figured a way of snatching them from Trylon-31. But now it was Tina's turn to sample the delights of a modified Exstata at first hand.

Sven began the fine tuning of her form. First he adjusted the rubber skin's tightness. The default setting was reasonably tight, but customising could increase the surface tension by a factor of twenty. He chose factor five to start and watched avidly as Tina's squirming was perceptibly reduced and her form squeezed down a couple of dress sizes. A quick twiddle of another control, and the rubber sheath over her breasts and buttocks vanished as if by magic. Once freed, the curvaceous constricted flesh of boobs and bum wasted no time in bursting provocatively from the apertures of their ultra tight covering to form quivering jellies on her heaving chest and a sumptuously extruded pair of hemispherical bottom lobes below her hovering body. Sven looked on thoughtfully, chin cupped twixt thumb and forefinger as he contemplated the many different control modules at his disposal. Seconds later the sheath surrounding the base of her extruded mammaries constricted at his command.

"Hmm! Much better," he mused. Spherical boobs cinched excruciatingly tight were so much more becoming he thought. The look in Tina's eyes told a different story.

Finally he selected plasma whips, and watched avidly a the tendrils of pure energy wrapped wraithlike around the exposed lobes of those peachy buttocks. For the moment they remained inactive; merely cloaking, almost caressing the tender mounds like a translucent swirling mantle of ominous intent. And so they would remain, until Sven chose to energise them by setting a predetermined punishment level. Alternatively, they could be switched to operate on the cocoon's built in default settings.

He chose to allow the wisdom of the Trylon 31 females have full control. After all, who better to assess a woman's threshold levels than another woman? The default setting it was to be As it happened, that was nearly double the level he would have thought a woman could withstand. But then, Sven, for all his knowledge of women, was not endowed with personal insight into the workings of the female form.

He moved on, fully exercising his choice of selectable alternatives that could be pre-programmed. It was almost as brain-teasing as reprogramming the Starburst's mainframe computer, given the choice and setting options available. A waist cinchier was an absolute must. Sven chose black carbon fibre over flexi-durilium as the combination waspie he required. The choice materialised on the squirming rubber figure, but at standard setting. The control knob clicked from number 2 (normal) to number 8 (extreme) That seemed better. She looked much improved with an abdomen more suited to a flying insect than a woman. Bulging syntho-rubber covered cheeks, bulging eyes, bulging bum, and erupting boobs, all seemed to convey that Tina was not entirely in agreement. In fact those beautiful eyes positively daggered venom in his direction. He overrode the default setting for the plasma whips and watched with interest as her angered look rapidly changed to one of pleading. The sinuous tendrils of energy lashing her offered bottom showed no sign of any force, but merely changed colour slightly as they wove a magical pattern of livid welts on her creamy flesh. Sven knew full well that the seemingly innocuous silent image of those whips belied the dreadful stinging torment they were inflicting on Tina's twitching lobes. He'd heard that each stroke was the equivalent of a strike with an ancient cat-o-nine-tails, but without the tissue damage associated with that historical device. The massively powerful exertions of Tina's form as she fought the constraining rubber and force field was mute testament to her endeavours to escape the retribution being meted out.

Sven relented and allowed her to slump fitfully into a neutral position as the waspish torment returned to normal hue. Tina seemed to be repentant. The venomous looks were no longer apparent. But unfortunately for Tina, the default setting would soon be handing out another dose of the same; .. only this time at levels determined by the Amazonian Trylon females.

Now it was time for the implants. Sven stood ten minutes flipping through all the options in the instruction manual, but finally decided to start with something simple. He selected a smooth 100 millimetre diameter mega- drive 'Model A-13' for her generous bulging mons, and a 'Type DD-2' rotary butt plug to grace her virginal rear entrance. A quick press of the 'install' and he watched enthusiastically as the hovering maiden tensed and then began to buck violently against the force field.

There was none of the old-time solid material objects with this advanced technology. The force field itself reshaped, and the computer generated syntho-rubber coating parted to allow entry as the writhing energy field prised her apart and flowed deeply into her forbidden recesses. Instantly it assumed the correct format as laid down by the inventor's criteria. The sheathing flowed back as soon as this was done and gripped the pulsing columns of energy, so sealing the maiden completely.

For the moment the recess stretching entities were stilled, but that was a state soon to be rectified. Sven glanced down to the start cycle on his controller and selected 'Standard + 10 for the insert activation level. That should keep her happy for the first few hours. His descending finger was halted as a flashing light warned him that the program still had settings to be chosen. He jabbed at the 'help' index button and watched as the micro computer listed things still to be attended to. 

A small reminder readout lit up. 

PROGRAM INCOMPLETE: 

Please designate settings for :
Oral Mode required:
Oral status 	OFF		(Sound permitted.)
	X		ON		(Type of sealant required)		Standard
	X				(Level of suppression)		50%
Breast Mode required
	X		OFF		(Free natural status)
			ON		(Options must be nominated before selecting)
	X				(Covered)					100%
					(Tension level)				0%
					(Traction Mode)			None selected
					(Stimulation level)			Default
Setting Clitoral Mode required
			OFF		(Free natural status)
	X		ON		(Options must be nominated before selecting)
	X				(Covered)					100%
					(Tension level)				0%
					(Suction mode)				0%
					(Traction Mode / Clamped)	None selected
					(Stimulation Level)			Default
Setting										80%
Special Options for Labia - Press F2 for lists.

Sven was stunned by the choice. Flipping through the endless list of options, he finally settled on a fairly basic style to get started. His first selection increased the oral silencing to 100% and installed a mouth bloater: whatever that was? Then he decided that nipple stretching was the order of the day, and not wanting to push things too far, he set the traction for fifty millimetres. A stimulation level light immediately began to flash, informing him that the low level default setting was impossible to maintain with that much tit yanking going on. He adjusted upward to 50% above default and the selection locked in.

A clitty stretching of the same distance needed an 80% stimulation setting to quell the warning light. But now the manual console selection button was showing green, and with something akin to sadistic glee he condemned the hovering beauty to his choice of torment.

Instantly, as if by magic, lips squeezed tightly together and cheeks snapped outward to form rosy bulge's either side of her face. Titty nodules sprang outward, seemingly pinched and pulled by invisible fingers, then began to strum with twanging vibrations. The clitty followed suit a few micro seconds later.

Sven was overjoyed that his first attempt proved so stimulating; .. for him that is. For the silently screaming Norwegian it went a considerable way beyond mere stimulation. In an instant her status went from a minor case of complete compression and encapsulation, to a mind melting condition of instantaneous orgasmic torture. Sven could only see the outer effects of his programming. In the keening maiden's depths, swirling pure energy fields, formed into facsimiles of solid objects were ravishing her lower body with uncanny insight into the needs of pure lust. Tina, in the space of twelve milliseconds, escalated from protesting helpless female to a cosmic level of erupting explosive carnality. She was aware of the captive female commandos on Trylon 31, and in the past openly scoffed at the thought that such a punishment could be considered inhuman by the space corps. Only now as she sampled a level of 1.0% that set for punishment could she gain an insight into the excruciating unspeakable torment of those distant women.

Sven watched the silent bubbling container of sheathed orgasmic torment a while longer, then set the control for forty-eight hours, and left in search of new games to play. After two days of permanent orgasming torment, Tina was liable to be a mite more controllable and receptive to her new role as a concubine on the good ship Starburst.

✠	✠	✠

Chapter Eight

Concheeta and The Organism

Whilst rummaging through the first container, Sven spied a heavy box that looked more like a radiation flask than a packing carton. To further that initial impression its entire surface was covered with warnings in every language known to the Federation of Planets. After a quick search, he located a message in Earth 1b tongue (UK English).

DANGEROUS BIO-ENTITY ENCLOSED

Open only whilst wearing Zylon 7 - Mk 4 Biological suit. 
(or higher level classification)

Sven was intrigued, and reaching out almost gingerly, he stripped off the packing lists and instructions. With half an eye watching the box lest it leap up and grab him, he opened the notes and began to read.

This X4-114 model container is the only safe mode of transport for Hinlon organisms.

Hinlon Organisms?? What the hell was a Hinlon Organism? He read on with eyes growing wider the second, his cheeks reddening with excitement. Jeez! This thing surely had to be the ultimate bondage toy of all time. Professor Hinlon was apparently the geezer who first discovered the new life form. Unfortunately it would appear they were still trying to drag him away from his find, which had become quite attached to the strange Earthling. Sven punched his wrist com and shouted for the wayward droid.

"ROGER! Get me a!" He peered back at the notes... "Get me 'Zylon 7 Mk 4' Bio suit will you, and get it down to the cargo bay... Chop! Chop!. Oh! And pick up that dame called Concheeta on your way. You know, the big busty Mexican with all the curvy bits in nice places." He particularly fancied this bronzed maiden, due to her likeness to a certain Cypriot born Counsellor Troy in an ancient 'Star Trek' video he'd seen at the space museum; .. copies of which had long since been a regular show on board any starship Sven was piloting.

"Gotcha Boss," came a the reply. "But Boss, Dey all got curvy bits in da right places mon." Sven signed and shook his head.

"Cut the West Indian crap you plastic Rastapharian palooka and get busy."

"Yes Sir! At once Sir! Anyting you say Sir!"

Sven was temporarily dumbfounded as his microchip manservant exhibited distinct annoyance at being disturbed in his licentious pursuits. He could see the time rapidly approaching when Roger's obedience circuits would need some readjustment. Barring that, he could simply pull out his animation chip whilst he wasn't looking and jump on the circuit board. A nice dose of frozen inactivity, no doubt enhanced by a bevy of trussed maidens placed strategically out of his motionless reach, would have a salutary effect without recourse to reprogramming. But then again, a simulated-sex-denial mode might blow the sex crazed mechanoid bozo sky high. Shrugging this minor complication aside, Sven ploughed back into the notes.

Roger appeared some twenty minutes later with an even more interesting arrangement adorning his neonic knob. The stony faced ice maiden from the USSR who proved too difficult to handle for Sven, was passed to Roger as a hand-me-down.

Roger having used his immense strength to subdue the formidable Ruskie, shagged the living daylights out of her.... Then; whilst having one of his rare microchip brainstorms, perceived an even better way to savour the volatile charm offered by this recalcitrant female.

First of all he oral speared her with his day-glow chopper, then retained her wildly protesting struggles with the help of Dhelia, who was only too pleased to pass a shock of stunning level through the offered ass of the bent-over leviathan. With nerves scrambled and brain stunned, the struggling gobstoppered lady collapsed to hang ignominiously from her new task as Roger enlarged the head of his shaft to grapefruit proportions thus preventing her from falling off. He fitted himself with a steel neck collar adorned with integral cuffs, then added a similarly equipped waist belt to his restraint attire.

With Dhelia gleefully assisting, they hoisted the semi-conscious female back over herself, bending her neck to highly uncomfortable levels in the process. Both ankles were quickly snapped into the neck cuffs on either side of his head, and her wrists drawn behind his back to lock into the droid's waist belt cuffs. This was how Roger appeared to the boggle eyed Sven. Bent backward like a railway arch, inverted and stood on end, the recalcitrant maiden was gobbling away on his monolith dick fit to bust, whilst Roger seemed totally unaware that there was anything untoward about walking around with a trussed mobile blow-job attached. 

"My Gawd! How did you get her to perform like that?" Asked Sven as the ice maiden waffled and gurgled on his pole.

"Like this Boss."

"AAAAAwwwwwwmmmphhh!"

The up-ended woman stiffened, then burst into a delightfully erotic thrusting dance; her pussy surging in and out before his eyes with the frenetic contortions of her body as she frantically stove to escape her bonds.

"What the hell did you do?" Roger just grinned widely as Dhelia flitted around chuckling in electronic glee.

"Oh! I just lengthened my cock to 2.745 times its standard length and increased its diameter by a factor of 3.782. Sven stood open mouthed as the decimals rattled around his head. Just like Roger to be so precise. 

Image 9

"You mean two foot long by three inches wide then," he offered after a quick rounded up calculation based on his knowledge of Roger's standard anatomical specs.

"Not correct, but close enough," was the exasperatingly nonchalant reply. "And I initiated rotation at twenty revolutions per minute."

Sven stood rubber legged as the bucking maiden tried to cope with the three inch rotating dick that was straightening her gullet almost to the belly. She was fortunate enough to have a generously wide mouth. But even so, Roger's idea of a decent sized gobstopper was stretching things to the limit. Mind you, he had to admit the eye bulging topsy-turvy face brought a glow to his own crotch. The steadily deepening crimson hue of the entire shackled form did much to reveal the degree of discontent contained in the squirming Russian.

Sven took the offered bio suit, and ordered Roger to put down the stiffened, trussed Concheeta he was still carrying under his left arm like a sack of potatoes. He saw now why Roger was so upset at being disturbed.

"Tell you what Roj' why don't you stay to watch me try this next idea on Concheeta. It sounds like fun; if the book is anything to go by." Roger considered the offered detail sheets for about 15 microseconds, the length of time it took for him to absorb 8000 words, and decided it might be worth the wait. In the meantime Sven ordered Dhelia to do something about the mincing, wildly oscillating pussy owned by the insanely protesting, dick gobbling, female Russian attachment. Her efforts to escape were showering him with hot urinal liquid as her demonic struggle negated other bodily controls. Roger could have simply reduced his rotating throat router; .. but simple solutions seemed such a pain in the ass. Given all the micro-thought modifications to his brain's 'perv mode' any semblance of logic had basically been destroyed so as to enable him to perform his new prime directive. Dhelia was on or about the same level. Her G/14FF-490/J-003 behaviour chip was designed to produce a continuous learning spiral whilst in the service of her human masters. Unfortunately, being with Sven for so long had endowed her a logical progression pattern that rated her alongside the Earth vegetable classified as a carrot.

Nulling the thrusting mons with a Neural anaesthetiser, she quickly selected a staple gun from her maintenance kit and stapled the cleft tightly shut with a dozen shining stainless dural alloy clips.

Sven shook his head in disbelief. How did he ever manage to get himself lumbered with this pair of bumbling electronic dumboes. Roger looked puzzled at his reaction. After all, the remedy was entirely effective, and the side effect of an almost cosmic level explosive response in the struggling body was easily with in his power to accept. Sven made as if to say something, but decided it would probably just be a waste of time and breath. Turning to the bio suit, he began to pull it on.

It took ten minutes to climb completely into the heavy garment, and nearly as long to fit the helmet and carry out test on the microbiological integrity of all the various sealer slots. But eventually he was ready. 

With some difficulty, he dragged the trussed Concheeta over to the quarantine chamber and bundled her in, enjoying the feeling of her well- developed, very desirable firmness as he manhandled her trussed form over the lip of the air-lock. Returning for the heavy box, he climbed inside the chamber with her and swung the door shut. The big door seal wheel spun, and the safe light glowed green. Roger, Dhelia; .. and the uninterested Russian who was occupied with other more demanding problems, moved over to the viewing port to watch.

First, Sven ordered Roger to lock the door from the outside, and then he stooped to release the struggling Mexican charmer. The frightened girl struggled to her feet and cowered in a corner, trying to cover her curvaceous nudity with her recently freed hands. But she needn't have worried. The suited space monster in there with her seemed more interested in peeling the security seals from a weird looking box.

Sven finally had them all off, and taking a deep breath he prised up the heavy lid and peered inside. At first it was the merest crack, then sighting the contents he swung the lid full open and looked down with apparent dismay. The box was full of some sort of mustard goo.

Whatever had been in there seemed have died and decomposed.

He was about to throw the box down in disgust when a movement in the corner of his eye made him look again. The yellow gunk was moving; .. forming itself into a glutenous blob that seemed to pulse with malevolent life. Suddenly it sprang upwards. Spreading across the front of his suit, the gungy mass began leeching outwards in all directions. ... Searching tentacles of sticky suckling goo roamed all over his protective bio suit, but eventually, Sven began to loose his fear. The suit was proving impregnable to the beastie. Even though it was little more than animated jelly, he could feel the frustration as it was cheated by the impervious material. Suddenly the thing retracted all its searching tendrils and huddled in a quivering sulk. A wide-eyed terrified Concheeta suddenly lost control of her fear and screamed loudly. Instantly a single tentacle of ooze sprang up from the blob, and almost like a periscope, began to search the room.

It swept past the quaking Mexican charmer on the first scan, and then sprung back to investigate further. The twitching tentacle tip was literally sniffing the air, and judging by the excited tremors Sven felt through the suit, it reacted in roughly the same way as himself when exposed to the fragrant scent of females.

Concheeta pushed herself up onto her feet searching the room for an escape route, and at the same time Sven felt the beastie become hard and tense. It was preparing to launch itself at the vulnerable unsuited woman.

Concheeta dived sideways at about the same instant as the jellied glob took to the air. With a splat it impacted on the bulkhead where its target had been mere microseconds before, then seeking out the fleeing maiden, it launched again.

The quarantine room became a side show of flying jelly and fleeing maiden as Concheeta always kept one step ahead. That is until she made a fatal error and tripped over Sven's deliberately placed foot. With a screech of fear she sprawled full length, and as her shapely butt rose in the effort to rise, the Hinlon thing connected with a triumphant leap that cleared almost twenty feet.

Image 10

Mostly the flying gunge impacted in her delectable bum cleft; but there was still sufficient spread to cover a sizeable chunk of her wobbling nates. Sven watched in fascination as the thing began to spread out, becoming thinner and thinner as it steadily encroached over the full surface of her body. Concheeta was frozen and still. No doubt the thing somehow neutralised her muscles while it gained a foothold. Whatever the reason, he saw that it was becoming invisible. Well, not so much invisible, more a case of mimicking her body colour and partially by actually being absorbed into her microscopic skin pores. After two minutes it vanished completely, and Concheeta was showing signs of movement.

Sven remembered the instruction book and tentatively released his visor. If the book was right, the Hinlon was completely safe to others once it had completed its infestation of a body. Nothing flew at him, and a nervous prodding of Concheeta's bottom produced no reaction at all. He gladly climbed out of the stifling bio-suit and gave the thumbs up to Roger. There was a hiss as the door seal broke, and picking up the moaning, limply moving form of Concheeta, he carried her out and laid her on a nearby bench.

"Now what?" Asked Roger who hadn't bothered to read the book past the first ten pages.

"Now we wait for thirty minutes. That's the time it takes for the entity to access and assimilate every single part of her body. Apparently it is the only known life form that can live in any known type of carbon based body or life form, and that's because it metamorphoses itself to match the gene and DNA structure completely. In half an hour even the antibodies and defence mechanisms of her own body won't be able to tell the difference."

"But won't it hurt her?" Sven was amazed that Roger was actually showing concern, and he rushed to put his mind at rest. The prime directive of not injuring or killing a human being was apparently still the droid's most powerful emotion.

Sven surmised that his instant mind-meld kit had passed over slightly more of his secret feelings towards the opposite sex than mere lusting anticipation of their bound forms. He studied Roger's worried expression closely as he answered.

"No, not all. The Hinlon is completely symbiotic. It actually protects the host. Concheeta here is now immune to any infection or virus; the Hinlon simply absorbs and redesigns the DNA in any foreign body that could harm its host and maintains a safe haven for itself. Even physical damage is repaired in seconds. It could regenerate all the tissue damage sustained by a direct hit from a blaster before she even had a chance to think about dying. They all looked at the prostrate woman, noting with some surprise that she was undulating slowly and emitting the unmistakable sounds of a female experiencing great pleasure. Sven grinned to himself.

"Seems the Hinlon is trying to figure out the female orgasm syndrome. In pure brain wave terms orgasm and pain are inseparable in thought patterns, and it must be trying to figure out how Concheeta derives pleasure from pain. According to the book this is the longest part of the full integration process and takes about twenty minutes. Not bad considering men have been around women for twenty million years, and we still haven't figured it out."

"So why don't all humans opt for hosting one of these things then?" Asked a perplexed Dhelia. Sven grinned.

"Ah! Glad you asked. In actual fact there's a rather unusual side effect that not everyone is keen on developing." Sven paused and picked up a weird headset and controller, ignoring frustrated attempts to get him to impart more. He checked his chronochip and bade them wait another three minutes until the induction period was over. Impatiently they all remained silent, and the room was quiet save for the sound of a madly guffawing Russian lady who was plainly not a bit interested in someone else's problems. The audio interruptions to his thoughts were annoying Sven.

"Roger! For Pete's sake shrink your cock back to normal size will you.' Roger grunted as if remembering and the Ruskie's frantic straining entreaties eased back to a standard slavish gobbling of his prick as she gratefully resumed normal service; .. obviously eager not to be given another lesson in droid control techniques. Sven nodded approvingly and donned the head set as he checked the chrono' again. It was time. 

He switched the hand device on, and concentrated on Concheeta as the others looked on. For a few seconds nothing happened. Then, almost unnoticed at first, her feet began to discolour, turning first a dark brown and then progressing rapidly to an ebony black. The discolouration began to move slowly up her legs, then suddenly Concheeta's eyes snapped open and she began to shout.

"What are you doing? No stop it please, stop it now." But Sven just smiled and continued to concentrate.

The woman seemed to fighting some sort of invisible bonds, but in fact they were bonds from within. The blackness crept on, sweeping over her mons and the thrusting mounds of her towering breasts; on and upward until it engulfed her head leaving only the face in its natural colour. Boggle eyed, they all watched as the skin seemed to come alive with a viscous quality and her legs seemingly flowed into a single longitudinal sheathed column. Next were her arms; positioned at her sides, they simple flowed into sculpted ridges down either side. The movement ceased leaving a black glistening effigy in place to the brown skinned maiden who had lain there only minutes before.

"Well what do you reckon then?" Sven inquired lifting of the headset. "The Hinlon is receptive to telepathy; it can transform Concheeta's outer skin into almost any format I want, and also bend and shape her, so long as its within her anatomical limitations. I just imagined I'd like to see our curvaceous lady in a form fitting syntho-rubber sheath, and hey presto, there she is."

"No please no! Pleeeeease!" Sven paused and narrowed his eyes in concentrated thought.

"MMMMMRRRRRrrrrrrrrrpphh!"

Concheeta's lips first blended over and ceased to exist, then a second later became the same black ebony as the rest of her.

"Put her on the floor Roger and I'll show you what else she can do." Roger lifted the squirming figurine with ease and placed her carefully down. Standing back, he waited for developments as Sven concentrated again. The blackened form began to change shape. Slowly at first, but accelerating rapidly as the seconds ticked by. Concheeta was losing her hourglass figure and steadily filling out to form a smooth formless sausage. Her head vanished completely, then the legs thickened out, until finally all that remained to be seen was a giant smooth skinned Frankfurter endowed with all the attributes of a circumcised male sex organ. Talk about phallic symbols. Sven's mind had effectively reduced the poor woman to a colossal penis. Two beseeching eyes peered at them from the perfectly formed penile helmet at the end of the giant wriggling female dick.

"Great! What do you reckon Roj"?"

Roger stared at the undulating sex object, his electronic brain full of questions.

"Has it inflated her or what Boss?" Sven laughed at the suggestion. 

"Nice thought, but no." Apparently that is her outer skin. All the Hinlon does is to alter the molecular cell structure to a much less dense arrangement, which as you will realise occupies a far greater space. It's basically the same as releasing compressed air. In a pressure bottle it's small and compact, as is Concheeta's normal skin. Now it has expanded and been shaped as it grew." Roger nodded in understanding and then fired his next question.

"How come this Hiblong thing will do all this for you then?" Sven grinned and corrected him, mentally making a note to refresh the library and memory chips of Roger's brain. It seemed that they were carrying too many bits of useless junk.

"Hinlon!... It's a Hinlon Roger. It complies simply out of self preservation. Once it has integrated with a host, it's stuck with it. There's no way back. This tele-gizmo has a built in signal that allows it to know that we can destroy it by microwave. The down side being that Concheeta would die with it. So we have it by the balls so to speak.

Image 11

First, it has to comply for its own sake; then it has a code of moral ethics that won't allow the host to be injured. It has to do anything I ask of it; as long as Concheeta won't be hurt. If she's placed in danger it will automatically do everything it can to protect her." Roger seemed impressed, but Dhelia was staying out of range as she listened, her optics riveted to the squirming sausage.

"Here, watch this, I've just thought of a great way to demonstrate all this. Roger use your manual override and open the turbolift doors." Roger made as if to hesitate, but then complied as Sven gave him a reassuring nod. The doors slid smoothly open and the room filled with an eerie howling as the shaft was exposed. Sven went over and looked down, quickly gripping the door edge as a forty-seven deck drop made him feel a mite queasy.

"Roll her over here and watch carefully." Roger gave the black tubular Concheeta a shove with his foot that sent her rolling, then lunged forward to stop her travel as Sven stood back to allow her to pass. Roger fully expected him to arrest the movement towards the shaft's gaping maw. But Sven held Roger back with a restraining arm as the frantically flexing sausage shape trundled towards certain death. Even Dhelia was emitting electronic pops and squeaks that were her equivalent of a female shriek. 

Suddenly the consternation changed to amazement as Concheeta began to reform, even as she rolled. Her body resumed a vaguely human shape during transition, and it was possible for them to see that she was folding, or rather, being folded into a curled up foetal position. Mere milliseconds later, and less than two foot from the door, her form metamorphosed into a perfect sphere, a ball that was too large to pass through the door. The rolling Concheeta rebounded, and in doing, so revealed an odd side effect of her reshaping. Hands, feet, in fact bottom and face, were all recognisable in the smooth curved surface, albeit flattened out to form the sphere as a whole. Even the frantically working lips could be seen flexing against the imprisonment of the Hinlon restructuring.

A full sensuous mouth that had ceased to exist externally, was seen to be completely functional behind those non existent lips. That gave Sven food for thought. Some serious and pointedly directed thought was swiftly interpreted by Concheeta's symbiotic lodger.

Her mouth resumed normal operation, about the same time as the black sheathing retreated from a pair of previously sealed love lips. Eyes appeared, and a slight distortion of the ball enhanced the previously unblemished surface to form some nice neat buttocks. Sven nodded approval and moved in for the kill, rolling Concheeta to place her pouting pussy at a convenient angle. It was amazing! Those small topographic additions made Concheeta's incredible conversion seem all the more bizarre by endowing her with recognisable and definitely female attributes. A black ball of rubber like substance had no attraction at all. But a woman converted to a spherical object was a whole new 'ball game.'

Sven's lust lance sprang out with almost the same alacrity as that of his manic mechanoid manservant; .. less the flashing lights and spinning chequered bollocks of course. Nonetheless, it was an impressive performance for a guy who had been phallically pumping women up non stop for days now.

Concheeta's wailing increased dramatically. Although her face was diametrically opposite that of her thrusting love tube, it didn't take a degree in sexual psychology to figure out what was causing Roger's clearly visible look of rampant glee. The wail escalated rapidly to a scream of disapproval as she felt her distant pussy undergoing some serious finger reaming. Seconds later her spherical form was rocking to the timed thrusting intrusions of Sven's swollen manhood. A quick afterthought through his telepathic link endowed the luckless Concheeta with all the qualities of an inflated beach ball, squeezing down to an elliptical ovoid, and then springing back to full roundness as he withdrew for his next thrust.

A joyous time was had by all as each opening in the female sphere in turn played host to either man-made or man-owned phallus.

Of course, Roger just had to show off, and having parked the fuming Ruskie in a corner, he lofted the rotund, fully penetrated Concheeta on his hydraulic powered sex pole and paraded around with a monstrous grapefruit of femininity ballooning from his loins. Next he pogoed her around the room in a no hands bravado. Sven watched with amazement as he rolled up atop the ball of womanhood, and wondered if she could actually feel the effect as she was bounced around the compartment on her deformed tits;.. sensitive items that just happened to be vertically opposed to her beleaguered sex tunnel in her new exciting format.

Fully sated himself, Sven called off his predatory plunging mechanoid, and motioned Dhelia forward. At the same time, he reverted the liquid streaked spherical woman to full smooth exterior, her womanly attributes and facial features mere embossing on the taut perfectly formed ball. 

"Reckon you should take her for a spin now Dhelia, give her time to unwind so to speak." Dhelia needed no second bidding, and before one could blink an eye, the hovering electronic vixen was butting the rolling Concheeta towards the door, careful to ensure that the incredibly reshaped woman rotated on a central body line that would guarantee all her attributes, including her face, formed the rolling contact area.

Sven sighed. Pity it wasn't the real wondrously curvaceous Counsellor Troy who had graced his view screen with monotonous regularity. He had spent many a long space flight lusting over that fulsome desirable woman as she minced across the screen. It wasn't that Concheeta was a million miles away in similarity, but to have had the real cock rousing Troy at his disposal would have been infinitely better. Then it struck him, and he conjured up the image of his heart throb in his mind. By the time he next saw Concheeta, the Hinlon would have copied his mental image to the minutest degree. Now there was a nice thought.

He grabbed at the inventory list and noted with glee that there were another twenty Hinlons in stock. A round dozen Counsellors should prove to be most exhilarating.

✠	✠	✠

Chapter Nine

The Show Goes On

The months passed with a never ending routine of exhausting, yet pleasurable tasks to complete. Starburst-One was steadily becoming a mass of tethered, used, female forms, tended dutifully, and somewhat spitefully, by Dhelia in her role of warder for the various discarded sex toys. However, they were not entirely forgotten by all their abusers. Rampant Roger could always be relied upon not to pass up the chance to unmercifully shag any loitering helpless female bodies that happened to be encountered on the way to wherever he was going. Trouble was, going anywhere tended to be a two or three day trek, given that most passages and cargo spaces were now littered with morsels of cast off experiments from their lust engineering. The Troy room, as compartment 66-S on deck 18 had become known, was always good for a multi- houred voyeuristic treat.

66-S was a null 'Gee' vacuum compartment, initially constructed for the shipment of quarantined space debris. Sven however, found a much more interesting use for its unique properties that occupied all the spare time of the twelve perfect Troy replicas.

Arranged as a facsimile of an executive desk toy, the dozen lovelies endured a never ending cycle of tit and bum bouncing contact as they swung in the perpetual motion permitted by their almost weightless, frictionless, environment. In actual fact, it wasn't really perpetual, they would one day become motionless due to the 0001 % gravity Sven introduced to make the gadget work.

Held rigidly stiff by their symbiotic Hinlon guest, at Sven's mental request, they were suspended by their long plaited manes of silky raven hair, divided into twin tails, and connected to an overhead framework. At first glance, a painful arrangement; .. but in fact not so, due to the fact that they only weighed a few ounces each in that low level gravity. Sven had hung them tit to tit for one pair, then bum to bum the next in an alternating sequence. Then having checked everything out, added two springs at each end to inhibit uncontrolled swing movement. Pausing in his labours, he took time to savour his triumph over the sumptuously curvaceous replica images that teased and tantalised him during many re-run's of those ancient movies. The long gone Counsellor Troy had a lot of dick teasing to repay. With a sense of exquisite excitement, he lifted the end maiden and let her swing forward on her suspension. Drawn by the light gravity field and the limiting spring, Concheeta -1 impacted nipples to nipples with Concheeta - 2. The impact instantly transferred by contacting bottom to Concheeta-3 and so on, until finally the full inertia of Concheeta -1's swinging body was transmitted via the living link to Concheeta-12, who promptly flew up on her suspended arc to precisely the same height as number one. Her return swing in turn rippled through the suspended human link to launch number one in a repeat performance. The continuing collisions of opulent femininity produced an astoundingly arousing display of quivering desirable flexing curvatures that defied description in anything other than orgasmic appreciation. Whoosing breath expelled by each impacting body added a new dimension to the fun, the various collisions being distinctly identified by completely different sounds. Two bottoms in collision produced a sort of thudding smack, whereas boob bouncing convergence was heralded by gasps alone. Resilient shock absorbing tits were soundless.

Hours would pass without any realisation of time as the various voyeuristic onlookers became enthralled by this never ceasing display of bouncing boob and bottom'ry, much to the dismay of the performing Troy look-a-likes, who could only see extended performances mirrored in the bulging eyes peering through the view port.

Image 12

Relief from torment was usually limited to the daily servicing of breather rigs and feeding by Dhelia, who without doubt, was exhibiting a most uncharacteristic drone behaviour as she re-animated them with a vicious prodding push.

But then, that wasn't the only bitchy game of that spherical miscreant Dhelia.

Unbeknown to either Sven or Rampant Roger, she had been busy with Tina, who was still enjoying her stay in the Exstata machine. An over active design chip in Dhelia's circuitry quickly arrived at the conclusion that this clumsy humanoid design could be easily upgraded with a few small circuit modifications. As a result, Tina discovered a level of excruciatingly unbearable pleasure somewhere in a factor of five above that endured by the distant captive female Corps troopers. Had anyone bothered to check lately, they would have been astounded to find that Tina's whole form was becoming opaque as a result of the level of molecular excitation that had become her lot. The form of the tormented beauty thrashed violently despite a 100% holding field, such was the violence of her orgasmic eruptions. Her entire body was seething with mini flashes of lightning, daggering from one super excited neuron to the next; whilst wraiths of tendril like plasma wormed around in endless torment, adding a sort of demented order to the chaos of her ultra exploding libido. The lips could be seen to be formed into an endless scream for mercy; but none could hear as she endured the power of a nucleonic sexual meltdown. And still the electronic lashes scythed at her buttocks with flailing lashes of pure energy. Dhelia spent many hours busily circling the tormented image, her in-built female jealousy sending the electronic equivalent of sadistic enjoyment to an overloaded microprocessor.

✠	✠	✠

Chapter Ten

The Marriage Wheel

Meanwhile, Sven was contemplating the fruits of his search in a newly opened container of cargo on deck 32. The search revealed an interesting item of equipment and a vid-book describing the planet of its origin.. 

Yantock 3, a planet in the outer reaches of the Crab nebula, seemed to be a place that merited a visit; that is if he managed to survive the next eighteen years of this present joyous journey, unscathed and still sexually functional. The social culture that was developing there over the millennium had taken a strange quirky path that appealed to his warped sense of ethics.

In general, life was considered necessary only to enjoy the fruits of sexual coupling. On the face of it, life on Yantock appeared be a utopia for both Sven and his wayward droid. It was the courtship ritual that was of particular interest to Sven. Maidens who came of marriageable age underwent a rather traumatic selection process that did little to forward the cause of feminine rights, and a whole heap for the maintenance of male supremacy. Upon reaching the age of eighteen, which in Yantock years was twenty two by Terran standards of time, the luckless maidens were ensconced in featureless marital rings at the precise second of the dawning of their fateful birthday. It was unlawful for a woman to be un- wheeled after 1:am (unless married) on the day of reaching age. The wheel was a doughnut shaped device of a solidifying mouldable material, not unlike the epoxy resins of Earth.

Image 13

In explanation of this strange ritual, the book went on to explain that choice of the female mate was deemed only to be valid if uncluttered by the allure of her physical beauty. The selection was based purely on her genital region, and the skill with which she could use her womanly attributes. Breasts were ruled to be distracting, and therefore compressed and concealed; as were facial features and limbs. All that could be seen of the woman by the morning of her eighteenth birthday was her wide spread pussy and a rear view that framed her jutting defenceless bottom lobes in the open circle of the wheel's centre... And so she would remain, sometimes for months.

In some cases it was years if she was unfortunate enough to be lacking in the skills of pubic control; for without those skills she was powerless to influence the many exploratory tests of prospective suitors who would sample her sexual wares, and would simply be wheeled back to the stockpile for someone else to try.

Initially when the ritual was first introduced, feeding had only been allowed by state licensed inspectors. They were the only persons authorised to hold pass keys for the oral cavity; although that was apparently superseded by later developments. This seemingly strange condition of hire precluded the possibility of a male suitor being influenced by voice or sensuous suckling lips as the ensconced maiden sought to influence his decision. It was a precautionary arrangement that presented a major logistical problem. Despite the obvious wisdom of the rule, it quickly proved to be unworkable. The solution led to the present day shaping of the marriage wheel.

Original versions were designed in a square format to facilitate parking the female in a choice of four positions, and it was rapidly discovered that visiting thousands of registered men who had marriage wheels on hire for approval made feeding an impossible task. In addition, there was the problem of transporting ensconced females to homes of eager testers from the stockpile in each town's marriage selection unit. So by simply reshaping the original block-like shape to a doughnut configuration, it was possible for the prospective suitors to simply log their hire application at the selection unit, spend a day sorting through row after row of occupied wheels, and then bowl the chosen young maiden home like a hoop. It was also a simple matter to return daily to government feeding centres for her nourishment.

But cut backs in government spending required the reduction of inspectors required to man the facilities. Self feeding centres quickly sprang up in most suburbs and town squares, and it became an accepted sight to see rapidly rolling marriage wheels barrelling through the streets on a regular basis as they were trundled to the plug-in feeder points dotted around the administration center. To further swell the trundling traffic of bowling hoops, there were the undecided wheel testers, returning wheels to issue centers in order to extend the hire period for further evaluation; .. or alternatively, returning non performers for exchange. At any given time, the public feeders situated at most town centers, were cluttered with parked marriage wheels whose occupants were powerless to prevent themselves being pumped full of tasteless, albeit, nutritionally rewarding gruel.

Photosets in the book showed many scenes of the various cities on Yantock, and all without exception showed dozens of the luckless ladies reduced to rotating doughnuts of femininity barrelling along in the background. It was a commonplace sight. Punishment of non performers was also a public and rather traumatic event. Citizens would line the sloping streets every weekend, armed with tawses, and gleefully swipe at the visible rotating sections as the wheeled maidens were sent bowling down a hill, in many cases, mothers and fathers, unknowingly adding chastisement to their own offspring. Any married women who exhibited an aversion to laying the tawse on heavily as a result of their own personal experiences in a wheel, were quickly seized upon and added to the procession of whirling targets.

However, their lot was not an anonymous one. Wheels with married woman ensconced within their claustrophobic confines were clearly marked with details of the occupant, and as often as not, were kept that way for weeks on end as the husbands enjoyed a sort of second honeymoon. Unwheeled women who after marriage were found to be rather drab in appearance were usually re-wheeled and spent most of their married life as giant screwable hub caps.

Sven became engrossed in the detailed description of Yantock's strange and exciting social structure. The marriage ceremony itself being of particular interest for a man of his persuasion. First the maiden would be bowled down the aisle, followed by a lengthy procedure as a priest blessed the bride's lower body openings, a ceremony that entailed cleansing with Holy water, and then beating them to drive out evil spirits that may be lurking in the warm succulent depths. Religion being what it was, (celestial wise) insisted that chosen instrument best equipped to achieve this was a bundle of whippy birch like sticks. Pussies and butt holes could only be considered cleansed once both openings were swollen and scarlet, and the juddering defenceless buttocks striped with inflamed weals. The final joining of man and woman was quite unique and in fact a sort of proxy affair. The local deity was represented in the form of a huge statue endowed with a massive horizontal prick. It was to this monolithic phallus that the task of marriage was entrusted.

Lifted by the willing hands of the congregation, the wheeled maiden was jammed onto the waiting cock, and then spun for at least half an hour as hymns of praise were sung. Wobbling violently as a result of the off centre angling of her love shaft, the hapless wheeled bride endured first with her front opening, and then the rear. A tenth orgasm cemented the marriage and was greeted by wild cheering as the wheel was lifted down. The task of releasing the bride was then left to the new husband, to carry out at his leisure. Most new wives usually spent the honeymoon incarcerated in a wheel.

The manual also made mention of other procedures incorporated in the mating ritual. It would seem that the food contained an inhibitor, a hormone mix that prevented conception for the wheel maidens during the many trials they were likely to undergo. However, it didn't always take, and on rare occasions a bulging torso hub was the result. Unfortunately, the law made no provision for women who were to become pregnant before being selected for marriage. An unmarried woman was maintained in her wheeled format no matter what her condition. Two pictures of pregnant wheels covered that eventuality with images of a bursting hub section as the lower abdomen was forced to accommodate all of the unborn sibling. Sven whistled quietly to himself as he tried to imagine the trauma of childbirth whilst ensconced in a wheel.

Sven's eyes were aglow with lustful anticipation as he put down the vid- book and rolled out the first of many seven foot diameter marriage wheels. No anonymity for his wheel girl. He would actually have an insight into the contents of the wheel.

At first it looked to be solid, but closer inspection revealed that it was actually two doughnut shapes, joined with a precision that left only a hairline fissure around the circumference.

He returned to the book and quickly read up on installation of the maiden. An almost invisible clear sealing tape was holding the basic mould together, and with that removed, the two ultra lightweight halves separated to disclose a pre-moulded interior awaiting its juicy filling. The recesses were obviously crudely formed, and only vaguely resembled the nubile curves and shape of a real woman, but the mould contained packets of some sort of moulding material, assuring him that once the luckless lady was installed and the mixed components added, her body would be rapidly incapacitated as the mixture expanded to lock her in position. He punched at the tele-vid comlink.

"Roger, I need a new toy down here in the cargo hold. Pick a nice juicy specimen;.. something with plenty of bum curvature will you, and bring her straight down." Roger duly arrived, oddly, strangely unadorned with his own pulsing payload of femininity; in addition to the chosen maiden who was making feeble semi conscious efforts to escape his underarm transportation. Sven eyed the mechanoid with some concern. 

"What's bothering you Rog'?... You feeling off form or something?" 

Roger stared at the floor in his best embarrassed human expression. He didn't really know what it meant to be embarrassed, but a series of implanted scenarios that required this human reaction were being activated by current events. He mumbled something that Sven hardly caught.

"What was that? What did you say?" Roger took a deep simulated breath and looked up.

"I think I'm impotent boss." Sven's jaw dropped, then with great effort, he managed to quell the great surge of laughter welling up in his belly. 

"You're WHAT---?"

"Impotent!.. I think I've overdone it and worn out my libido chip." Roger was obviously serious; and to prove his sincerity, he activated his erection mode. Sven watched with barely disguised tremors of laughter shaking his body as the neon monolith put in an appearance.

It was pitiful. Gone was the explosive sword swishing extension;.. now reduced to a creaking, juddering, advance accompanied by the whining rise and fall of a faltering hydraulic system. The beast finally reached full erection;.. held for two seconds as it gave a solitary blink of neon light, then slowly it began to sink down. Roger looked dejected and forlorn as the once proud penal lance assumed a vertical dangling mode between his legs.

The fact that Sven had collapsed to the floor and was rolling around clutching his stomach in an attempt to ease the pain of his huge belly laughs, did little to ease Roger's mental trauma. And now, even the underslung maiden was giggling and laughing as she studied his drooping dong at close quarters.

For five minutes, Roger endured the humiliation as his boss fought to regain control of his humour. Finally, tears streaming from his eyes, Sven climbed to his feet and confronted his mechanical mate.

"You dozy great metal twallop. Your utility fluid reservoir has run dry. All you need is a can of Hyspin 320 hydraulic oil and you'll be back on form in no time." Roger looked perplexed at first, then as the realisation dawned, his plastiform face lit up with a radiant grin. Without so much as a word, he unceremoniously dumped the protesting maiden at Sven's feet, and was gone before either of the watching humans could say a word.

"And don't forget to bled the air from the system before you-!"

Too late!.. He was well out of audio range. Never mind, the first female to test Roger's rejuvenated sex drive was in for a rough time. Air entrainment in the system would ensure she had the shag of a lifetime as his massive plundering pole jerked and jinked uncontrollably in her warm love shaft.

He turned back to the fully conscious woman at his feet and contemplated her lusciously curving well rounded bottom. Turning her over, he was pleased to note that she also had a well developed fleshy love nest to match. The bewitching mounds of her sex portal were taut and firm. A perfect choice for testing the merits of the marriage wheel. Seeing as that was all that would be seen of her once installed, it boded well that the visible parts should be so exquisitely proportioned and succulently inviting.

In an instant he saw the careful forethought that had shaped the Yantock culture. Here was a perfectly desirable reproduction item, but in the case of the man who liked big boobs, she could well have been passed over. Her tits were of the medium variety, firm egg plants of femininity, but sadly lacking the ponderous bulk demanded by some lusting males. The girl eyed Sven and then the open mould of the wheel. It didn't take a genius to figure out the final configuration. Sadly, her lunging attempt to escape lasted a mere 1.5 seconds as Sven's hidden hand appeared from the small of his back with the stun gun. Her fleeing form slumped ungraciously to the floor as her muscles turned to jelly, and she lay wide eyed as he moved over and began to drag her to the wheel.

Overall, installing the maiden took a little over ten minutes, and that included the hardening of the moulding foam... Well within the effective neutralising time of the stun gun. In fact, by the time the luscious lovely was able to test her confinement, Sven had already been enjoying himself by rolling her around for some five minutes. It was an amazing device to be sure. Not an once of movement or sound escaped from the stiffening enclosure, and yet all that a man could ever wish for was neatly framed and presented at the rotating core. Like the bull's-eye of a target, the succulent offered centre was just asking to be plundered from either side. Upper thighs and nipped waist radiated like living spokes, whilst the essence of femininity hovered hub-like in the wheel, a surreal and invitingly disembodied nucleus of inviting curves and secretive valleys just waiting to be explored. It was so de-personalising; .. so pure in concept. The living feeling woman ceased to exist. Non essential distracting items, like limbs, facial expression, and sound were eradicated at a stroke. All that remained for evaluation were the items of her prime function. A Yantockian male took a wife for what she had between upper thighs and waist. The rest was considered a surplus bonus.

Sven felt an incredible urge to plunge into his newly acquired 'prime function' but after wrestling with his short term desires, he decided to savour the forthcoming attractions, and contented himself with a little foreplay. Idly he wondered what it felt like to be reduced to a crotch and ass stock item as he rolled the doughnut to a position that left the spreading crotch inverted.

It was obvious from the frantic clenching of buttocks, and frenzied quivering of her love lips that the ensconced maiden was doing her utmost to escape. But it availed her nothing. The pouting mouth of her sex and a tight quivering butt hole remained available for use at any time. He prised the luscious nates apart and peered into the valley of her bottom, marvelling at the tight nervously pulsing ring of her rear entrance, a neat pink powerhouse of gripping muscular luxury that promised much in the way of pleasure.

Sven grinned and allowed the tensing buttocks to hide their secret as he made his way around to the front. There, he teased the coy clitoris from its hiding place between the lush full lips of her mons, and mischievously slipped on a mini auto-vac clit suckler. Within seconds the disembodied pussy was leaking generous amounts of love juice. Sven watched gleefully, then, reaching for a sonic razor, he removed the maiden's lush silky pubic down and robbed her of even that tiny morsel of privacy. Denuded and smoothed to peach like perfection, the twitching love nest quivered with impotised expectancy as he toyed with her presented charms. Already those magnificent buttock lobes were exhibiting horribly unwanted contractions as the clitoral leech worked its magic, and he savoured the powerfully erotic muscle action with some relish. 

Selecting a pair of massive dildos from the abundant supply of teasing toys, Sven quickly inserted them into both front and back openings. This in itself triggered an enraged response in his 'Y' fronts as he rolled the wheel to present her spread charms uppermost, and then with his face mere inches from the twitching love nest, began to ease the massive intruder ponderously into the virgin shaft of passion. It was so satisfying to study the elastic fleshy love lips stretching and reshaping as they first resisted, then yielded; .. shaping and stretching delightfully to accommodate the girth of the monster.

Insertion of the second dildo into the anal dildo sheath proved even more uplifting. The puckering rosebud clenched and fought to resist. Potent powerful buttock muscles crushed his fingers between warm resilient lobes of desirable female rump; inadvertently massaging his hand with a most uplifting effect. Inevitably, her tight orifice capitulated as the sphincter gave way, expanding to a taut shiny circle as it suckled and swallowed the fluted dildo in helpless defeat. Her rump cleft indented deeply as savagely gripping and resisting buttock muscles struggled ineffectually to deny further encroachment in her most private tunnel. To no avail. Ponderously the massive phallic implant slid through the shining fleshy ring and bored deep into her deepest recess.

Mere minutes passed, and both marauding moles had vanished without trace into the depths of the warm resilient female wheel hub. Sven savoured the finished article, then availed himself of a custom designed marriage wheel rolling accessory. Flicking the wheel expertly, he whipped the helpless female hoop into motion along the mile long main access passage.

The huge doughnut and its living component was soon bowling along at a fair old clip. He smiled to himself as a loud clackkety clack emanated from the depths of the spinning central exhibit. Pairs of steel balls installed within the deeply buried dildos would be certain to pass some very interesting sensations into the whirling disorientated captive; .. vibrating and tantalising the walls of those hot female tubes as they clashed and bashed with each rotation. Time enough for the final savouring of this lovely. First she could endure as she began to fully understand the incredibly vulnerable and impossibly secure status of her whirling form.

Maybe after a few hours of play, she would finally get the message that this was her lot for as long as the lusting crew of Starburst One chose to keep her ensconced.

✠	✠	✠

Chapter Eleven

Warp Collision

Sven was on the third lap, and the exposed spinning core of the wheel was literally gushing copious amounts of unsolicited love juice when it happened. At first it was a mere shudder running through the hull of the giant star ship, then as he paused in thought, the entire surrounding structure seemed to warp and distort most alarmingly. A giddiness overcame him as his balance faculties struggled to cope with contradictory sensory input from ears and eyes. For seemingly an eon of time, he watched helplessly as the spinning wheel continued its progress unaffected save for a wobbling distortion that defied explanation. Sven's brain struggled to assimilate this strange phenomenon. Then it struck him. They had collided with a space warp. His clandestine main- frame computer hacking somehow disabled the automatic detection and avoidance systems. Starburst One had impacted a nebulous unpredictable rent in space; .. head on!

Bulkheads and hull frames quivered and shook as the awesome forces of disrupted time space continuum played havoc with the molecular structure; his own form and that of the rapidly disappearing wheel maiden who was subjected to the same forces, wavering and bending in impossible flexibility. Then as soon as it had begun, it was all over. 

For a while, Sven just leaned against the bulkhead and took stock of the situation. Apparently, they were lucky. None of the weird transposition anomalies reported by early space warp encounters seemed to be evident. His body felt whole and functional, in fact quite normal;.. although for a second there he did have a brief flash that placed him in another compartment. Sven eased himself off the bulkhead headed for the control room. A quick computer scan would soon appraise him of any changes brought about by their passage through the warp.

Ten minutes later a boggled eyed Sven ran the report for the third time in order to confirm two previously unbelievable readout's. There was no mistake, but how and why was a question that remained unanswered. Rampant Roger ventured his own hypothesis.

"Looks like any living tissue that wasn't free to move and absorb the warp forces during transition was duplicated Boss." Sven nodded without speaking as his mind ran over the various damsels they had dotted about the place who had been left in bondage. At a rough estimate it was thirty or forty. Which meant that they now had an equal number of duplicates. Every woman in restraint had an identical twin. This trip was getting better by the second. The other minor problem created by the rent in space was hardly a consideration. Starburst-One was now approximately seven million light years off its flight path. In effect, they could all end up spending the rest of their lives on this vessel with no hope of ever returning to their own solar system in their lifetimes.

The warp transported them across an almost inconceivable distance in a split second; .. even Starburst's state of the art hyper-light drive engines couldn't hope to reverse the trip in less than a few thousand years. On reflection Sven decided he had no real problem with that. Given their heavenly fettered cargo, and the fact that Starburst-One could sustain all aboard virtually forever, who cared if they couldn't get back?

With Rampant Roger in tow, Sven went on a tour of his newly expanded domain, eager to view the new acquisitions and assess possibilities. It rapidly became obvious that many duplicates were in fact not exact copies, as was born out by the first rubber sheathed nymph they came across. 

Bug eyed, two heavily banded maidens stared incredulously at each other, identical in every detail at first glance. But a rapid inspection by the lustful Captain and Roger soon revealed that in fact the copy version was sheathed in a hybrid human and rubber skin, whereas her former self was still a sheathed version with a removable syntho-latex covering.

Image 14

A look of total disbelief spread over the features of the cloned damsel as her flexing fingers began to stick to each other. Sven moved forward to study the phenomenon and then turned back to Roger.

"Best get some talcum powder Roger my old son. This chick has materialised with a skin of raw uncured latex, and she's liable to homogenise into a solid lump if we don't do something quickly." Roger nodded and vanished from the room, returning minutes later with a sprinkler can liberated from the pharmaceutical stores on route to P.L.O.N-K.E.R. 280. They spent a busy half hour, unfettering and powdering the luckless lass, although careful not to release her completely at any given time. The manic protestations of this newly created beauty left them in no doubt that the human prototype blueprint responsible for her existence had successfully transmuted all the anger and indignation at being used as a bound fetish sex object. As they worked, Sven had a sudden thought.

"Chart and record the location of that warp Roger, it might come in handy to increase our stock." Randy Roger grinned; a superior sort of smirk creasing his plasti-skin face.

"Already done Boss! It occurred to me that if we find and outlet for these chicks, we have the makings of a highly lucrative business." Sven looked up at him with amazement. The macho mechanoid certainly had a point. They could keep the originals as their own and produce as many clones as they needed, simply by zipping through the outer edges of the warp when stocks ran low.

"That's one helluva idea Roger my old buddy. Run checks on all the originals as soon as you can... Make sure there's no watering down of original DNA and Gene format when they split." Roger nodded, and tucking both of the squirming well secured look-a-likes under his arms, he sauntered off in the direction of the bio-genetics lab.

Sven, cast an eye to the flashing warning light indicating a main frame computer problem, then hitched a ride on the turbo lift and hurried to the main control room.

The main computer was freaking out. Confronted by a star system that bore no resemblance to any galactic maps in its prodigious memory, the 884/Howick navigational computer was suffering the electronic equivalent of a nervous breakdown. It wasn't easy to guide a million ton trans-light freighter through the crowded galaxies when you had no idea of what lay more than a few micro-seconds ahead.

Sven hit the manual override, and zooming to long rang broad spectrum scan not available to the precise requirements of the Howick guidance system, he selected a path that showed no discernible obstacles for an hour of flight time at this speed. Quickly switching to deceleration mode, he programmed the great ship to initiate a sub light saunter through the universe and set the proceed timer for fifteen minutes. Time enough for himself to get into a deceleration couch, but not enough to unfetter the various lovelies dotted around the ship. It was going to be a very uncomfortable time for those poor unfortunates; .. but a lot less traumatic than ploughing through a planet that might get in the way. Roger, with his immense structural strength would barely notice the negative multi Gee forces, but those soft female bodies would suffer massive straining torment as the ship slowed down. Fortunately, they were in no position to voice any complaints. Sven finished the strapping down amidst the wailing screech of warning klaxons, and had just snapped the final buckle shut as the Ion retro drives cut in. It took three hours fifteen minutes in all;.. not bad for a crash slow down, but also not good for comfort either. 

Drained by the continual effort of bracing against the colossal deceleration, Sven eased his aching body out of the couch. Despite the molecular support transmitters built into the ship, slowing down from multi light speeds was not a pleasant experience at any level of operation, even though 99.9% of the forces were being absorbed and dissipated by the support field. Without it, slow down would have to be spread over a period of some thirty years. Anything less and the massive negative Gee forces would tear them all apart.

Easing cramped muscles, Sven stumbled over to the control console and checked that all was kosher. Starburst-One was now jogging around the empty wastes at a mere half million miles an hour; a velocity easily within the computer's capabilities in local guidance and object avoidance mode, even without star maps.

He flipped the scanners to maximum range and eyeballed the view screen as the immediate vicinity sprang into view. At trans light speed, nothing was visible to the human eye, but now he could see that the area they were in was festooned with galaxies. Seemingly they were actually within one of them, judging by the fact that numerous stars complete with attendant solar systems were within range of his scanners. He studied the jewelled heavens a while longer, then setting parameters on the instrumentation, he tasked the computer to search for class 'M' planets... Planets that would support human life, and may therefore conceivably have developed similar life forms. The 884/Howick flashed a warning that the search would take some time given the preponderance of stellar bodies in the region, and Sven, casting his mind back to the fettered portion of his passengers, left the electronic monolith to its work. 

The passageways and cargo holds were not a pretty sight. Most of the bound lovelies were collected against forward bulkheads and had been pinned mercilessly by the crushing forces of speed reduction. However, despite the incredible discomfort they suffered, the ship's support system had, in the main, protected them. None seemed any worse for wear other than a few bruised butts and various other areas of their anatomy, and of course an increased level of hostility towards the captain of this celestial brothel.

Roger re-appeared at that moment. With his help, the two of them painstakingly collected all the trussed females, including their cloned partners, and began to centralise them in a neat pile at the center of the main recreational lounge. Then began the task of scanning and tagging the writhing heap of bound femininity.

Roger's investigations revealed that although none of the originals had been genetically watered down, a DNA anomaly proved that it would be folly to attempt to reproduce from the clones. In effect they would have to unfetter and de-animate the clones in sub-life capsules for any future runs through the warp to prevent reproduction. That was assuming that any were left on board at that time. All in all, that didn't seem to present any real problems.

The remote computer link bleeped at them, and both turned to see that the 884/Howick had completed its task. There were 267 planets within reasonable range that conformed to class 'M' specs. Of those, it detected life on 189, and further deduced that humanoid life-forms accounted for 80% of that figure. Two lustful optimistic female stackers looked at each other with smile creased faces as entrepreneurial success stared them in the face. By sheer luck they had seemingly emerged in an area of space where there was a preponderance of humanoid evolution. 

"Looks like we're in business you big plastic plonker." Sven slapped the mechanoid heartily on the back then nursed his hand as the droid's tough unresisting frame sent stinging shock waves through his fingers. Roger filed the new name for himself in memory, along with the other eighty six names his human boss had used in the past.

It took two hours to sort through the fettered goodies, but at the end of it all, the clones were stacked in one corner, and the originals the other. Leaving the twin piles of cinched misery to ponder their fate, the men went in search of the equipment they would need in order to display and market their wares. Customers would want to see the sales items in similar equipment so as to better the judge the various attributes;.. without being swayed by a particularly spectacular item of equipment or its contortioned effect upon the subject. A relatively plain girl in an enforced contortion could well blind a potential customer to the stunning attributes of another placed in a somewhat mild form of bondage. Not that there were any plain girls amongst Starburst One's cargo manifest.

✠	✠	✠

Chapter Twelve

Thyros Slave Train

The 'Thyros' slave-train shackles in container H-47 seemed ideal for the task in hand. An excellent multi component device, designed to interlock with as many other sets as was required, and each set identical in appearance.

Whilst Roger busied himself ferrying the mass of equipment from cargo hold to the pile of fettered females, Sven decided to investigate another container that promised to reveal a veritable treasure trove of exotic costumes and fitting equipment for the entrammelled lovelies. He was not disappointed. It was indeed an Alladin's cave of wondrously revealing and body sculpting clothing that defied description. Unfortunately for the helplessly waiting recipients, none of it was designed with modesty or comfort being a consideration.

It took them almost a day to move all the gear to the preparation room. Exhausted, yet alive with rampant expectations of the finished spectacle, Sven slumped into a handy recliner as the tireless Roger continued to sort and arrange the mountain of equipment ready for use. As it happened, it took longer than expected, and without realising it, Sven slipped into a sleep of unending pleasurable dreams as the exertions of the day demanded bodily replenishment.

He awoke some ten hours later to find Roger patiently waiting and the equipment carefully sorted into procedural order. Grabbing a quick snack from the auto-vend machine, Sven eagerly joined his mechanised mate for the forthcoming fun and games. The captive girls, although bound and gagged to a most uncomfortable level, managed to glean a modicum of sleep, but were now wide awake and watching the proceedings with some trepidation. Dhelia force fed them all during Sven's cat napping adjournment, albeit with a bland tasting liquid mush that served only to supply all the necessary nutrients, albeit with very little gastronomic delight.

The first task was to nose and clit ring the lot. A task that was accomplished by releasing one at a time and fitting them into a custom built securing frame that clamped arms and torso into a single homogenised unit, but spread the legs wide and held the head firmly pulled back so as to be immovably positioned. Pain nuller guns quickly anaesthetised the areas of interest, and a Nando Mk II Slave Ringer quickly and painlessly adorned each damsel with a matching pair of control rings in her most sensitive areas. As a sop to his own personal taste, Sven had Roger slip an extra ring into each nipple. Ringed tits were not really a requirement for what they had in mind, but then it did look so nice to see a female with her most sexually active nodules ringed and controlled.

As each was completed, they were fitted into the costumes Sven selected and then added to the growing line clamped into the Thyros Slave Train shackles. The costumes themselves took infinitely longer time to squeeze the nubile bodies into; actual connection to the Slave Train was swift and easy. Sven had chosen a long forgotten material for his coffle of beauties. Leather was a medium often referred to in ancient manuscripts, but rarely encountered in the vinyl and plastic era of the present millennium. As it happened, the container in transit held the entire consignment of a twenty first century erotic costume supplier, that until being purchased by a P.L.O.N-K.E.R. 280 millionaire, were the treasured possessions of a collector of historical bondage items back on Earth.

In essence, the basic costume envisaged for the final assembly was formed by a skin tight lace-up all over body suit of the finest kid leather. It was the lacing that took the time, in that the perfect wrinkle free leather encasement of torso and each limb was achieved by full length lacing of each and every appendage and item. Whilst the supple kidskin allowed full movement, steel rods designed into the torso and neck area produced a stiff unyielding corset of leather that held each heavenly body in a mode of strict and decidedly uncomfortable deportment. In addition, the instructions supplied with the suits recommended that they were fitting after being soaked in water, and then allowed to shrink after fitting. Sven had already attended to that suggestion by immersing them in a pressure vessel so as to speed up the absorption period. The discomfort was further enhanced by the addition of the matching helmets, complete with integral plug gags of immense proportions and broad bands of reinforced cowhide that strapped over the top and compressed the lower face in a powerful grip.

As if this was not enough, the designer had added external handles that allowed the mouth stretching orifice fillers to be expanded still more and preclude any possibility of removal by the incumbent.

Matching arm sheaths topped off the whole assembly most effectively, and once laced, reduced each maiden to elbow grinding impotency as the laces were inexorably drawn in. External wrist and elbow bands of cowhide attached to the sheaths supplemented the holding power in a massive overkill of restraint. But Sven had even more diabolically lustful trauma planned for his collection. Glittering skyscraper heeled flexy- steel calf boots, and a matching waspie cinchier were fitted. With the waist crushing cinchiers ratcheted to maximum adjustment, the assembly as a whole produced a series of staggering hour glass figures complete with mouth watering hip flares of superbly encased leatherised female. It also produced a cacophony of gasping groans as internal organs were squeezed out of the path of the encroaching steel constriction. The internal pressure on the soft sensuous bodies was most delightfully displayed as the clinging tightly laced leather extruded the most delicious parts through carefully sculpted openings. Naked leather framed bottoms lobes became rounded and lustfully tautened; .. tits prodded bulbously forward like half melons, and pressurised nipples stood out like acorns from the boobs foremost arrogantly thrusting extremities. A handy slot running through the crotch provided easy access to any other parts that might require attention.

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Of course, none of the sumptuously displayed ladies were exactly enthusiastic about the idea of their conversion to fetishistic sex objects, but the awesome strength of that mechanised sex maniac Roger left them little in the way of options. Dangling with feet six inches from the deck in an iron left handed grip that scooped hair into a useful suspension item somewhat inhibited any real attempt at avoiding the events taking place.

And so it came to pass that thirty six trussed originals looked on with trepidation at the thirty six mouth stoppered bug eyed facsimiles of themselves, albeit somewhat modified in stature and appearance by Sven's choice of wardrobe. Each original was looking on with a mixture of awe, uneasiness, and something akin to total disbelief as they singled out their own doppler image. The stunning impact of what they themselves would look like, if so attired was frightening, and they all knew that no red blooded male would be able to resist the temptations of the flesh once faced with such a spectacle. The mere fact that dozens of spare leather suits and cinchiers were still residing in the heap brought in by Roger did little to ease their qualms. They were given no time to dwell on that eventuality as the next stage of preparation continued.

The neck yokes went on first;.. simple steel devices shaped rather like a flat bone in plan view, yet strangely shaped at one end so as to form a shape similar to the prow of a boat. They were also hinged at the spreading neck fitment so as to allow differences in height of any slaves, and were fitted with some sort of swivel ball joint that would allow side movement. After some puzzlement by the eager fitting crew, and a lot of perusing of instructions showing installation techniques, Sven finally figured it all out. The boat prow end snugged into the cleavage whilst the neck clamp situated at the top neatly aligned with the throat. A few minutes was all that was required to fit each girl with one of the yokes. Thirty six women stood apprehensively with their yokes jutting from between vulnerable breasts as the next stage was unravelled by the instructions.

It was a simple matter to manoeuvre each into line behind another and snap the collar connector on the other end of the projecting yoke to the back of the girl in front. The result was a long snake of fettered femininity that stretched some forty yards down the main passage. Each woman was held inescapably at a distance of one yard from both of her leading and trailing links in the human chain. None could look down as the preparation continued, or else they would have been able to see similar units (although these were simple flat connectors) being affixed along the line of ankles. Unlike the neck yokes, these ankle contraptions had no flexible couplings at all. Unfortunately, looking down was impossible; the neck yokes and steel reinforced leather collars prevented any head movement at all.

Working on opposite sides of the column, Sven and Roger completed the fittings and stood back to admire a line of women, inextricably connected at neck and ankles, and by the rigid nature of their connections, committed to moving as a single unit. Sven unconsciously rubbed his crotch as he surveyed the line of jutting bottoms and sleek tightly sheathed forms vanishing into the distance of the passageway. It was a heart warming, crotch inflaming sight, and the two lusting co-conspirators wasted no time in finalising the Slave Train.

Despite magnificent efforts to resist, the luckless ladies were powerless to prevent their arm sheaths being dragged upward to a shoulder crunching extreme, and the rings beyond their encased fingertips being swiftly connected to the clit ring of the girl behind. Steel stiffening ribs built into the underside of the sheaths ensured that the elbow-welded arms remained as unyielding rigid units that could only swivel at the shoulder. Any attempt to ease the strain on their aching shoulder joints brought an instant wail of muffled disapproval from the girl behind.

In the time taken to assemble the Thyros yokes, the suits had shrunk noticeably as the moisture leeched out, and as a result the entire column of heavenly bodies was now being subjected to horrendously powerful compression;.. in effect, extruding the uncovered lusciously sumptuous sections of the women into stark relief.

Sven completed the clit connections as Roger busied himself with the drive units for the column. There were two, one arranged at the front and one at back. Both were fixed mechanically to the ankle yokes, both left and right, in such a way as to engulf and connect the ends of the yoke spars inside the unit. Obviously, whatever the purpose, it required a deep and strong connection to carry out the task in hand.

Seemingly they were ready to test, but just as Sven was about to energise the units, Roger called for him to wait as something else came into mind. He hurried away and returned after some minutes with an armful of shining steel 'U' shaped high tensile steel bars, each roughly a quarter inch in thickness.

"I was wondering what those holes were for in the yokes boss. Then it suddenly dawned on me." Sven inspected the holes he pointed out. There were two rows on the underside of the flaring bow shaped section; situated above the jutting boobs, and the other barely visible below.

Roger grinned at his boss' frown of puzzlement and selecting a U bar, he located the ends into the holes with a 'U' bar encircling the chosen breast at a point close to her heaving chest. A quick shove produced a loud clicking as the bar ratcheted inwards; and an eye bulging, keening scream of protest from the helpless woman. Theatrically, Roger stepped back and waved a hand towards the result like a conjurer who had just performed a complex trick. Sven was gobsmacked.

The 'U' bar had almost vanished into the root of the thrusting tit, cinching it tightly up into the curving underside of the yoke, and due to its massive compression, projected the resultant spherically presented titty orb outwards and slightly downward at an angle of forty-five degrees. Click! Click! Click! Click! Click!.. More muffled protest, and the poor woman sprouted a second obscenely clamped boob to match as Roger added to her discomfort. Clamped powerfully at the neck, her tits deliciously cinched up and welded to the underside of the yoke, the well secured maiden was completely controlled in a most salutary and humiliating way. Her entire body was presented as a blatantly fetishistic extravaganza.

Image 16

The passageway echoed to the clicking of rapidly applied 'U' clamps, watched by the trussed originals as a column of abused spherical tits grew before their eyes. With the whole line completed, Sven went back along the line, adjusting here, clicking there, checking each bursting nipple for maximum explosive pressurisation. Roger produced some nice cow bells to hang on each ringed nodule as a finishing touch. Meanwhile, Sven arrived at the leading female, and indulging his natural artistic talent he chose to use the full range of yoke holes available on this unlucky damsel. Gripping a nipple firmly, he pulled her boob out to full extension, ignoring the muted pleas of derision emanating from below the helmet's tight oral cover. Holding the nipple tightly, he proceeded to fit additional 'U' clamps along the full length. The result was a pair of tits squeezed into stubby bulging meaty sausages of segmented ballooning excess, inextricably welded to the stiffening yoke with just the end sections, complete with bursting nipples, resembling hardened lemon sized playthings. He jiggled the thrusting lemon sections, drawing muted pleas from the superbly gagged leader.

It was fantastic! Those pulsing over pressurised titty extrusions looked set to explode at any second. Sven patted and stroked the massively cinched boobs, and erupted spontaneously into his trousers as he savoured the feeling of mercilessly contained female tit. His hand squeezed the pulsing blood engorged lemon extrusions as if to extract juice from the purpled nipples. No matter how much she strained and pleaded, her bursting obscenely sculpted breasts remained completely available; presented as inviting steel cinched toys for as long as he chose to enjoy them. He cradled both titty sausages in his hands and luxuriated in the gentle swelling and contracting curves extruded by the unyielding steel hoops; a product of her exertions to escape and a consequences of a heaving chest. Roger moved up alongside him having finished his task, and nodded approval at Sven's leading lady configuration. He watched with envious eyes as his boss shifted his grip and milked both lemons simultaneously. It was befitting that the figurehead of this column of traumatised lovelies should have her boobs daggering out on display. Reaching forward he added his own input as Sven withdrew his hands. Two heavy cylindrical weights that clipped neatly onto the ringed lemon like extremities hardly managed to pull down the thrusting tit fruits, such was the pressure of their extruded containment. The girl strained in the body stiffening embrace of her bondage as he playfully lifted the attachments and allowed them to drop. Two throbbing ovoids quivered and bounced delightfully as if sculpted in resilient rubber; but the pitifully keening maiden couldn't move a muscle in her defence or turn away as he repeated the manoeuvre over and over again. She just stood there impotised and rigidly contained as her sensitive female orbs were fiendishly abused. Sven mentally took his hat off to the Thyron's. They certainly knew a thing or two about reducing women to helpless playthings.

Backing away, Sven eagerly took the offered control and leered at the totally helpless line of nubile beauties, savouring the ultimate power the hand-held controller gave him; .. taunting them with the inescapable torment the device could unleash. Without warning he pressed the energisation button and consigned the stiffly erect coffle of maidens to instant mobilised slavery. A muffled wail of dismay echoed around the cavernous bay as the slave line was galvanised into action.

The motivator units hummed into life, smoothly lifting the left hand yoke with effortless ease, despite the fact that some thirty-six fettered females were resisting with all their might. The unit whirred on and thirty-six shapely leather clad legs rose in unison before stepping forward and transferring weight with a delightful Pony style high step. The desperate entreaties of the Slave Train rose higher, but had little effect as the unit hummed powerfully and forced them to repeat the movement with the other leg. Within seconds, the whole column was accelerating to marching speed and moving off into the distance with exacting precision. It was a staggering sight. The tight lace-up suits gave the crushingly sheathed forms an almost unreal quality, almost like that of high density foam mannequins. Each leg lifting step produced a new set of tight single groin creases that radiated from the mincing pussies and flared outward to the beautifully sculpted hip; each rearward travelling leg creating a cutting sharply defined crease that accentuated the join of thigh to buttock. It was the sort of effect one would expect if the females inside had been inflated into the tight costumes, rather than the suits reducing down onto them. There was no ripple or quiver in any of the encapsulated body parts, they were just firm sumptuously curving lines of feminine perfection. Even the super enhanced hip lines radiated tiny pressure creases below the cinchiers, left no-one in any doubt as to the massive compressive forces that produced such ridiculous waists. The reduction was so severe that the flare of the hips travelled horizontally outward almost two inches before starting the downward curvature. Their lower torso and buttocks seemed to explode from the lower edge of the cinchier in brain melting sculpted hip lines. It was mind blowing to appreciate that there were real living females inside those potently contoured shapes.

Roger quickly turned to a master control on the bulkhead, and the lead female in the column stared boggle eyed as the extent of their enforced march became apparent. Roger activated the doors for the entire length of the deck, and stretching ahead was the shining steel plated passage that ran the full one and a quarter miles of Starburst's immense length. 

'Sausage-tits' pranced forward, her bursting lemon-tit extensions jangling and jerking as the weights swung wildly in all directions, whilst the main bulk of her boobs pulsed and swelled impotently within the crushing confines of their cage like 'U' clamping. Held stiffly erect and sheathed into total compliance, the luckless mannequin woman was unable to favour her forcibly elongated tits in any way as the forces of forward motion worked her against the yoke and wrought havoc on her tender vulnerable appendages. From her angle of view she could only see the outer edges of her abused breast tissue, but that fleeting view was sufficient for her to appraise the deeply grooved flesh of her magnificent chest hardware and catch the occasional glimpse of the bloated purple lemons at their extremities as the weights swung them into view. It was a frightening feeling to see two highly sensitive parts of her anatomy jutting out so vulnerably; cinched up like pieces of oven ready meat, and yet be powerless to protect them as she marched forward.

Already her cheeks were bulging massively from the facial opening in the all encompassing helmet as she tried to convey her discontent; and the ordeal had only just started.

Walking backwards at a pace that kept him just ahead of the prancing lead female, Sven gave the gag expander handle another turn just to make sure she never got a chance to voice her views, then for good measure squeezed a pulsing lemon tit hard to check the effectiveness of his adjustments. Her face assumed a deeper shade of scarlet, but the sound levels remained the same. Sven continued his reversed travel for a while longer, so as to get a close up view of this perfectly controlled marionette. The prancing, body sculpted, tit jutting apparition, could only plead with wide eyed desperation as she was inexorably powered forward. There was no way she could avoid the exploring hands that were gleefully wandering over her tightly compacted curves, lusting at the resilient compressed feel of her cavorting body. Finally Sven moved to one side and allowed her to pass, his hand hovering for an instant on the powerfully formed hip curvature and dragging across the sumptuous fullness of her flexing buttock side, absorbing the full cock tingling sensation of mobile compacted womanhood through his trembling fingertips. A real warm woman, yet somehow with a solid feel to her body as a result of her containment. Every nubile inch of her was controlled and presented in an all enveloping bondage that allowed him to do with her as he wished; .. with any of them for that matter. It was hormone stirring stuff to be sure.

For a while, the two salivating letchers kept pace with the lustfully activated column, but finally they decided to rest whilst the helpless beauties marched off into the distance.

"What a joy to behold," remarked Sven, who by now was boasting a massive bulge in his flight suit crotch. "Shouldn't have much problem selling that lot," he added, eyeing the neatly arranged row of performing bottoms. Roger nodded in agreement.

They allowed the prancing column to continue on toward to the end of the ship, then simply reversed the motivator units and watched entranced as the awkwardly gyrating row of wobbling bottoms returned with an ever increasing volume of jingling bells as they marched in reverse. Retro energised slaves produced an even more interesting spectacle, a veritable sea of mincing, mashing, buttock cheeks that jiggled and jounced in a most delightfully uplifting manner. No doubt the concentration and effort required to produce such a vision of animated rumps was horrendously traumatic, but then again, they had no choice.

A reversing column passed and retreated along the passage. The front view presented as they backed away was another story. Red protruding heavily cinched cheeks bursting over the confines of the gags, sideways bouncing stringently cinched tits, and clitty jerking fully sheathed arms; the assembled slave train was a three dimensional tapestry of completely controlled femininity. Only now, the full traumatic impact of their hopeless plight was etched piteously on the straining faces. Each and every one of those helpless women knew that there was no escape. Even if they fainted, the yokes would maintain their captive forms as performing links in the chain and they would simply awaken to a continuing nightmare of controlled servitude.

The Starburst coffle weren't to know, but on Thyros itself, slave trains moved from place to place unattended. A train was simply assembled, placed on the correct national highway, and energised. Sensors built into the road guided the prancing columns, and it was not unusual for trains to be sent on journeys of a hundred miles or more. Unable to influence their plight in any way, the superbly controlled slave women, be it a coffle of three, or a big order, up to a hundred or more, would prance their way through all weathers, across deserts, over mountain ranges, until the destination was reached. It was crushing experience for them to find themselves miles from anywhere; not a soul within miles to offer any help or comfort; reduced to naked completely helpless parcels of trussed and exhibited femininity, trudging along and at the mercy of a mindless motivator machine. Thyros slave columns were not even extended the somewhat dubious protection of body covering as Sven's column was.

But perhaps worst of all for those Thyros coffled lovelies were the enforced rest periods overnight, when they were brought to a stop and held motionless throughout the long dark hours, wondering what may be lurking around their defenceless forms. Unfortunately, later models of the Thyros Yoke Train equipment, were not amongst the Starburst's cargo. According to the book, the newer models employed an additional waist yoke, and motivators that engaged with neck waist and ankle yokes in a single unit.. The advantage was that the stationary overnight columns could be stopped with ankles together, and then arched into an impossible back straining bow for the duration of the night. Slave trains sent by these new devices usually arrived half broken in and required very little in the way of further subservient training. No matter how weary the slave train was after a day's march, they dreaded the sinking of the Sun that would trigger the light sensitive demobiliser mode. The Sun would dip below the horizon, and seconds later a groaning column of pussy thrusting arched statuettes would be helplessly offering their cinched tits to the golden sky of a dying day;.. often as beautiful silhouetted art- forms against the vastness of an empty desert landscape.

Male nomadic Thyros children in fact grew up with passing slave trains as the major source of entertainment. Those jouncing cinched tits were prime targets for crack shots with catapults, as were the rolling bottoms. Often in remote areas they would climb up onto the neck yokes and use the marching slaves as transport, giggling, teasing, and generally humiliating the helpless adult women in an orgy of childish glee. The favourite method of seating was to straddle the yoke facing to the rear and use the jouncing tits as stirrups come footrests. This allowed the little monsters to savour the effect of standing up on the cinched boobs; mirrored by the angry nostril flaring faces of the tit owners. The venomous, yet completely impotent glares from the strutting gagged women was pure magic for the youngsters, who in retaliation for any visible show of anger, simply wound the gag expanders even tighter, ratcheted the gag bands to a lip crushing seal, or increased the foot pressure on the thrusting tits in order to emphasise their superiority over the strutting bound females. After reducing the whole column to ultra mouth stretched trauma, having ensured that all the fuming faces were deeply grooved with the cheek crushing alterations to the ratchet overbinders, they would hop down and laugh gleefully as the super gagged adult women continued helplessly on their predetermined course; heads fixed rigidly staring ahead, and no doubt seething with impotent fury. Young sisters often watched from a safe distance as their brothers had fun, knowing that one day they too would be secured into a slave train, unless they were lucky enough to be plain looking and selected as breeding wives.

Other more inventive budding sadists took to hanging bundles of thorn from the rear of each neck yoke so that the hard working bottoms were perpetually spiked and jabbed as the cavorting buttock lobes helplessly chastised themselves with their enforced locomotion. The more unfortunate slave trains were those that encountered a youngster who had recently been chastised by an irate mother, and as the only incapacitated females within reach, the coffle women would reap the full force of the child's animosity towards anything feminine. Such slave trains were easily recognised when they arrived by the black and blue hues of tits and bottoms that had undergone extensive anger release therapy.

Taking all things into consideration, one had to admit that Thyros had certainly perfected the art of controlling and humiliating their captive females. Thyros slave yokes were obviously the design of a master in the art of crushing rebellious spirit. Any woman who had her boobs root clamped rigidly to the same device encircling her neck was sure to be very careful not to flex or attempt any alteration in torso angle lest she de-tit herself. The yoke guaranteed an erect stiffened and totally compliant posture whatever trials and tribulations they were forced to endure at the hands of young delinquents encountered on their way to new owners. Of course, the visual rewards of reducing a breast root to less than half its normal support area were not to be overlooked in any technical appraisal. The spherical reshaping and pressurised tautness all added to the overall effect of that sea of bounding ricocheting female attributes. So no matter what on-route tormentors vented on their helpless forms, they had to endure, as sons had their fun, and fathers looked on with lust filled eyes.

Sven shook off the crotch warming mental vision gleaned from the book, as a groan of dismay sounded close by. Turning, he saw the bound originals staring at the demise of their own facsimiles as they marched closer. Some had obviously heard of Thyros. Neither of the lusting male onlookers spoke, yet both human and microchip brains came up with the same thought.

Image 17

Three hours later, two perfectly matched side by side columns of Thyros connected maidens were marching back and forth whilst the lounging slave masters compared original and repro for any discrepancies in form. Matched in pairs for positioning in the completed yoke train, the lead girl of the new column had fought valiantly as she laid eyes on her future format at the head the first column. But it had all been in vain. Now two sausage titted maidens presented their aching over pressurised lemons for appraisal.

"Good job we marked them differently Boss. I can't tell the difference between them." Sven agreed. But his intentions in altering the design for the majority of original maidens had been for entirely different reasons. Unlike the warp produced facsimiles, the originals had their nipple rings connected to the ankle yokes by thin chains and springs. Prancing women with bulbous root cinched tits jerking and stretching was a particular fetish of Sven's. But it was a far better sight if the women were the engineers of their own trauma. The leaders were the only exceptions. A heavy steel bar running through the nipple rings of all four thrusting titty lemons ensured that equal discomfort was shared by both sausage chested women as the swaying bar jerked their pulsing lemons from side to side. 

He turned back to his partner in crime and smiled as the reclining Roger spun a hovering balled woman on his massive hydraulic erection. His mechanoid mate was certainly coming up with some novel ideas.

The well trussed balled up woman was gagged in a most novel way. Instead of a normal ball gag, Roger had forced a mini 'Null-Gee' generator into her gaping mouth, and having preset it for zero, encased the woman's head in a tight rubber helmet. In effect she was now weightless and hanging on her mouth. It made her most useable in all manner of positions. Later the oral filler was replaced by his phallic sword, and the 'Null-Gee' ball thrust into one or the other of her lower orifices.

Roger tired of her slithering encasement on his throbbing plasti-metal shaft, and with a hearty hip thrust sent her spinning form floating up toward the ceiling where she hung miserably in her available configuration, her recently vacated pussy dripping the secretions of her own unstoppable arousal, and her puckering ass desperately trying to retain the Null-Gee ball so as to prevent herself plummeting through loss of its effects. Sven eyed the floating female thoughtfully as he rubbed his chin.

"That gives me a great idea for a sales gimmick Roger my old son; but enough of that for now. First we have to scan all the possible venues and select one for our sales debut." The scheming pair left the twin columns of traumatised women in mark-time mode. Sven, unable to resist a backward look as they exited the compartment. Goddammit! They looked so ravishing like that, marching on the spot with all the curvy bits bouncing and flexing... The seventy-two marionettes weren't quite so impressed by the splendour of it all. Perhaps it was the crushing embrace of super tight laced leather, or the forcibly achieved hourglass, steel reinforced perfection... Whatever! It was definitely an un-fun scene for them, and getting worse by the second. Dhelia, acting on instructions, indulged her electronic sense of jealousy by jamming each mincing crotch full of massive front and back dildo implants; .. not the normal rattle and roll type, but a model that had been discovered along with the other goodies they were wearing. Unfortunately they were designed for an alien race that were half as big again as Terran females, a race that also required a proportionately larger dose of stimulation to rise to orgasm.

Minute electronic signals, automatically adjusted by integral sensors to each individual female's personal resonant frequency were soon pumping horrendously powerful exciter signals into the myriad nerve endings in each pumping pussy and squirming butt hole. Simultaneously the whole marching mass exploded into irresistible orgasmic gyrations as they marched doggedly on.

Dhelia wound the master control to maximum and then flitted around in her own electronic equivalent of orgasm as she watched the suffering female columns battling against the dual effects of the motivator units and their own uncontrollable eruptions. Scarlet faces, bulging beseeching eyes, and snorting nostrils were music to her jealous audio receptors when supplied by fettered human women.

Super powerful emissions from the implants had the helpless slave train experiencing massive pussy spasms within seconds. Dhelia, not content with mere unbearable trauma, added to the ordeal of selected individuals by using her animal goad facility to send sharp stinging shocks into madly flexing hard working buttocks.

The columns tramped on and on, marking time and unable to move away from the source of their increased torment. Tits jiggling, bells ringing, pussies mincing and mashing on the huge monolithic inserts they continued their puppet like ordeal, whilst two distant unconcerned captors entered the control room and began to scan for possible venues. They were completely unaware of the fact that Dhelia had scanned and identified the motivator unit's control frequency. However it is doubtful they would have disapproved of her speeding up the prancing women to a running on the spot mode.

Resultant visual effects were staggering. The sight of seventy-two trussed and superbly controlled women orgasming violently as they performed a rapid high step was quite extraordinary, and Dhelia was delighted in the sight of the multitude of juice streaked leather thighs glistening in the glare of the overhead lighting. The men would be away for hours yet; plenty of time to really drive these helpless human trollops to the limits of endurance, and then some. Already the frantically meshing labial lips were frothing, some even blowing bubbles as the inner workings of the motivated women pumped air back and forth through the viscous film of their own unavoidable arousal.

Motivators whined and accelerated to overdrive, and the frenzied staccato of racing stiletto heels rose to a new level of synchronised torment. Dhelia reduced her thruster lift, and stabilising at rump height, the sadistic female drone casually cruised down the line of stomping legs, feeding her jealousy chips with the images of thrashing buttock muscles and masticating pussies, frequently prodding the selection of mincing pussy mounds with her goad so as to produce delightful jerking spasmodic reaction in the fully stretched, hard working love lips. A quick jab at the steel rectal inserts always produced an equally violent response that sent the hard working buttocks into a frenzied muscle clamping exertion as they continued to mince and gyrate.

Image 18

Occasionally she scanned upward, and seeing a boob perhaps not performing as well as it might be, she used her utility arm to shove the offending 'U' cincher even tighter into the ratcheted sockets and then applied the goad gleefully to the tautly distended dancing orb. But she tired of that. The cruelly cinched tits produced no response due to the severity of their containment. They simply absorbed the stinging bolts like living electrical sponges and continued to bounce and ricochet from the underside of the yokes. If she happened to touch the wildly dancing nodule thing at the tip, that would produce a high pitched response from the head above, but it was difficult to home in on such rapidly moving targets.

Dhelia envied the superbly feminine shapes of these nubile human women, and it pleased her to mould and punish the women for owning something she could never have. However, the steadily rising symphony of squelching super lubricated pussies, keening gagged protest, and muscle grinding exertion went someway to easing her envy. Scarlet faces, muffled begging pleas, and liquid streaked crotches were all such enjoyable responses to her ministrations.

Rising to face height Dhelia amused herself by hovering in front of each rigidly positioned head and mocking the cheek bulging, thoroughly silenced mouths that were desperately pleading for mercy.

The disembodied heads looked so cute perched in that neck stretching reinforced leather, held stiffly immobilised by the yoke; .. heads that were completely de-personalised by the smooth tight skin of the helmets. Trussed, yoked and corsetted as they were, she could do with them as she wished and they no choice but to endure as she used them for her own enjoyment. Unhurriedly, Dhelia meandered along the lines of reddened faces, studying each cheek cinched, eye popping face at her leisure, secure in the knowledge that none of them could move a muscle in their defence, or manage the slightest twitch to ease their plight. 

The muted sound of screaming horribly unwanted orgasmic torment sent exquisitely pleasurable currents surging into her silicone brain and was further enhanced by the visual impact of a sea of pleading eyes as they high stepped and cavorted to the demands of the irresistible motivators. 

It amused her to reach out and pinch the flaring nostrils of various struggling straining women; watching with glee as the scarlet hue of the faces grew deeper with the struggle to breath. It produced a sort of chain reaction in the stomping column as the women desperately attempted to free their pinioned arms, thus jerking the tender clit of a following sufferer, who in turn passed the automatic arm straining message onward. Dhelia made a note to try and engineer a passage on any Thyros bound vessel if they ever got out of this fix. She had no doubt that life on that planet would be a never ending round of pleasure with coffles like this trotting all over the place.

Dhelia moved to the head of the column, and activating her magnetic grab, she fastened herself to the horizontal bar of the jostling lemon titties. The magnet gripped firmly, and she switched off her levitating thrusters so that the full fifty pounds of her bulk dangled from the bar. A quick electronic signal, and the trotting column was energised to move forward. Dhelia settled down to the ride of her life as she was born forward by the fettered orgasming slave train of traumatised women. It was a marvellously smooth ride considering the jerking motion of her human power unit. But then she was cushioned from the effects by four resilient lemon shaped shock absorbers. Sausage-tits MK 1 and MK 2 were hardly amused, but then they didn't have much say in the matter as their rigidly controlled heads remained staring straight ahead; eyeballs popping and gagged mouths mewing pitifully through the massive silencers.

✠	✠	✠

Chapter Thirteen

The Wreck

Hours of patient survey and media transmission tapping by the hard working flight deck pair produced three possible venues within a day's shuttle ride of their position. All were inhabited by intelligent life, and more importantly, were in a time of development that made slavery likely if not commonplace. After some further consideration the nearest planet was dropped. Both men considered it unlikely that the five legged octopus like inhabitants would find a Terran female attractive enough to spend money on. They might buy the odd one as a curiosity item, but sales were hardly likely to be high. Besides, the planet had no currency that they could determine, and nothing in the way of precious stones, metals, or artefacts that would be acceptable as purchasing medium.

Planet two, although humanoid in occupancy, was in the throes of some sort of inquisition, and neither of them really wanted to dump their coffle of beauties into that despotic cauldron of torment. So it looked as if number three was the one to go for.

Sven disengaged autopilot and edged the massive star freighter closer to the azure blue planet. Selecting a high orbit to maintain the ship out of range of their somewhat crude astro-surveillance equipment, he re- engaged the computer navigator. Settling back with all scanners at maximum sweep, they made an in depth study of the surface. It looked good. This planet was (development wise) somewhere around the period that had existed on Earth in the late 1800's as far as morality went, but technologically advanced to an equivalent closer to the 1960's. Slaving was still prevalent in many parts of the globe, and females were of the prized variety when it came to high priced merchandise. Male slaves were general sold by the batch for labour;.. but the shapely female gender of the species seemed to generally be purchased as single items, and usually by rich collectors of such exquisitely pleasurable ob-je-dah.

It seemed perfect. Starburst's computers had already sampled the world wide language for analysis and had confirmed that translator modules would be able to handle the conversion.

Sven glanced up as a bright light began to blink accompanied by a high pitched beeper tone. It was the distress beacon warning. His hands flipped across the console adjusting, tuning, then finally locking on to the source. It was on the planet surface. *Somewhere down there was a ship in distress.*

Impossible!

This culture couldn't possibly have achieved space travel yet, and would probably only reach limited low orbit hops within the next twenty or so years. It had to be a crashed vessel from another world, and given the frequency of the beacon, a world most probably situated in their own distant galaxy.

Roger zoomed the vid scanners to full magnification, and fleetingly through the cloud cover, the all seeing electronic eye picked out the crumpled metallic sheen of wreckage in a sparsely populated agricultural area. The cloud closed over, but not before the vid scan had recorded the image.

They played back and froze the frame, enlarging and enhancing by computer, and watching avidly as the picture grew in definition. There was no doubt. It was an old Gamma style ship with early ion drives, probably from a planet in the outer reaches of their own galaxy. The definition grew sharper, and suddenly Sven peered intently at the screen and then reached for a dusty old distress log that resided in pocket at the side of the console. The camera had picked up some ident' markings, and they were of a design that triggered memories.

*See Alien's first printed 1992*

He scanned the pages of reports for anything that would jog his memory, but was beaten to it as the computer overlaid a message on the screen.

C:>
VESSEL IN DISTRESS IDENTIFIED
MEDIUM RANGE 	GAMMA TYPE 4 
ION-SOLAR POWERED VESSEL 
NAVIGATIONAL-SYSTEMS TYPE AA/2366 
GENERAL COMPUTER -THURSK' MK 16 
REGISTERED EXON-CLASS 'M' PLANET 
STAR QUADRANT 2377-Q/FF56
REPORTED LOST - STAR DATE 23-66-56-4
FEDERATION RECORDS UPDATED TO INCLUDE LOSS
AT TIME OF EXON				AFFILIATION.
KNOWN OCCUPANTS
2 TERRAN FEMALES - PRESUMED ABDUCTED.

Sven stared incredulously at the screen. The ship and its occupants were part of Space Corp legend. It was reported that the vessel vanished with two Earth women, previously abducted by Exon space travellers, who were then fully integrated with Exon society before a joyriding trip ended with them vanishing into oblivion. But that was only the half of it. They were (if legend could be believed) reported to be two of the most scintillating, stunningly attractive humanoid females ever to cruise the space ways.

Sadly, Sven remembered that the disappearance had been some four hundred years ago if the star date was correct. By now those lust generating ladies would be no more than dust. What a waste of material. He was still mourning the loss when Roger interrupted his thoughts.

"Hey boss. That shipwreck looks pretty damned new for a four hundred year old wreck. Is it possible the computer screwed up on the recognition?" Sven quickly ran a re-check, but the answer was the same. For a second or two he frowned in concentration, then as if suddenly suffering a brainstorm, he ordered Roger to scan the wreck for traces of human tissue. Holding his breath Sven stared at the screen as the computer sent searching fingers of scanner beams through the distant crumpled metal.

C:>
TERRAN TISSUE SCAN-NEGATIVE
LOCAL TISSUE SCAN- POSITIVE- LOCAL PLANT LIFE AND MICROBE DEBRIS

Sven's face literally glowed with anticipation.

"Christ on a crutch! ..They probably survived the crash." He clapped his hands, so great was the feeling of elation at this revelation, but upon seeing his mechanoid mate in a state of confusion, he calmed down long enough to put his thoughts into words.

"It just occurred to me. That ship vanished in the same quadrant as we did. OK it was at a different location by inter stellar nav-com, and at a different time. But if you take into account the galaxy spin over four hundred years that would account for that anomaly. Those chicks ran into the same warp as we did."

Roger stared at him blankly as his micro chip brain performed some mega complex calculations. Then his plasti-form features broke into a grin.

"You're right boss, almost exactly the same position in the Galaxy quadrant. But how-?" He faltered as the electronic brain tried to grapple with the impossible. Sven's illogical random access human brain won the day with an inspired guess. Sometimes pure logic was a pain in the ass;.. and this was one of those times.

"It's not just a dimensional warp, that warp is also time bending. Both ourselves and the wrecked ship have been projected through time and distance. For all we know those girls may have crashed yesterday."

Both man and machine locked eyes as the possibilities of such an event generated all sorts of pleasurable thoughts.

"Run a full planet environmental and data scan Roger... Let's see how this little world operates." Sven's enthusiasm was infectious, and Roger was galvanized into action by his eager tone.

The answers took fifteen minutes to be processed, but the end of that time they had most of the answers. The planet, named Distress-1 by the Starburst crew, for want of a better title, was slightly bigger than Earth, had a rotational spin that in conjunction with its smaller twin Sun's produced an six hour day and a surface temperature that on the whole matched their own mother planet. The twin Suns although more distant provided a similar heat input as a result of the dual heating effect, but also produced a Sunrise and Sunset with double the Earth frequency. 

"Looks like we're in for a real dose of Jet Lag on this baby Roger." Roger simply shook his head and smiled as he readjusted his internal atomic clocks to a six hour cycle.

"Not me boss. I'm already programmed for a double shift of shagging." Sven cast him an annoyed look.

"Bloody show off!" Inwardly he was envious of the mechanoid's ability to make such changes so as to fully enjoy the benefits of worlds like this. 

"Can you access the computer memory on that wreck and see if there are any bio' records of the chicks?" Roger didn't answer, he simply returned his light speed typing fingers to the keyboards again. Patiently they waited.

"We're in luck boss. The main-frame Thursk still has fragmented data available, and by the looks of it, very detailed. In fact I've never seen such incredible detail on the human body before." Sven pulled back the hazy memories of that old legend, often discussed in just about every space Corp bar.

"If I remember the story right old buddy, that Thursk computer had a yen for the ladies. There was even rumour that the thing went apeshit and scuttled off into the boonies with the chicks. But nothing was ever proved. They know the ship crashed a warp, but how and why isn't on record. But if it was true that it took a shine to them, that would account for the detailed anatomy records." He paused as the computer indicated a particularly strong and well preserved section of records. They peered at the screen intently, both mystified by the reams of complex data rolling down the vid viewer.

"Translate that lot Roger, let's see what we have here. The 884/Howick paused for a few milliseconds as it considered the data, then flashed up a layman's interpretation.

C:>
DATA INDICATES DETAILED ANALYSIS OF TERRAN FEMALE ORGASMIC BRAIN OUTPUT.

TWO DISTINCT DATA FILES, - INDICATES TWO FEMALES, ANALYSED BY ONBOARD THURSK COMPUTER.

Then it was true. The Thursk computer had fallen in love with the two women, and obviously spent many computer hours trying to decipher the fantastic event of a female orgasm.

"Roger take the strongest of those figures and ask the Howick to run a surface scan for any matching data." The flashing mechanoid fingers quickly gave new instructions.

The twenty minute wait as the instructions were carried out was an eternity for the watching men. But at last, the message they had hoped for exploded into brilliance on the screen.

C:>
DATA MATCHED
SOURCE LOCATED AT EQUATORIAL REGION - TWO DISTINCT MATCHING FILES - SOURCE FULLY ACTIVE AND OPERATIONAL.

"Yippee!" Sven was a picture of triumphant glee. Not only had they found them, but they were alive and well. His outburst suddenly subsided as the readout continued.

C:> THIRD SOURCE AT SAME LOCATION
NON LIFE FORM - FREQUENCY MODULATION INDICATES ARTIFICIAL LIFE FORM HOLDING SAME DATA.
SCAN INDICATES ALL SOURCES CONNECTED AND OPERATING AS SINGLE UNIT.
POSSIBILITIES;
1. LOCAL RECORDING OF DATA
2. SECTION OF ORIGINAL THURSK UNIT STILL OPERATIONAL. FEMALES STILL UNDER CONTROL OF THURSK UNIT. HUMANOID APLHA WAVE IMMISSIONS EXTREMELY HIGH.

C:>
1ST CHOICE 		10% PROBABILITY
2ND CHOICE		90% PROBABILITY

"Jeez! That randy computer is still shagging the shit out of those dames Roger. See if you can zoom in on the location and find out more." Roger eagerly complied. Unfortunately, although they were able to locate and view the structure surrounding the source, metallic particles in the materials used in construction prevented any penetration of the shell in order to see inside. From the outside it seemed fairly ordinary, and judging by the style and situation, was some sort of public building. Roger zoomed in on a plate affixed to the front, and within seconds the Howick had translated the weird lettering into readable text.

'Agricultural Research Unit' Nonplussed the two pondered as to why two living active females would be situated in an Agricultural Research Unit. A zoo perhaps, as alien exhibits;.. but a farm research facility? 

There were too many ponderables to consider with any chance of a right answer. The solution was clear to both of them. As soon as they could, they would have to go for a look see.

"How long to Sunset Roger?" Roger asked the Howick.

"23 minutes 18 seconds boss. And apparently these jokers sleep at the moment of darkness, no night-time partying or pissing up." Sven pursed his lips as he thought.

"OK, we can shuttle down to the outskirts of town. As far as I can see there are no military installations that might have any detection devices in the area, so there's a fair chance we won't be picked up. Besides, the information the Howick had accessed indicates a global government and unified population. I doubt they even bother to keep an air watch for intruders seeing as there's no threat to national security." Roger agreed. 

"What about the Slave Train; .. do we take them down now or what?" 

"Best leave them here for the time being." Sven reached out and flicked on a deck scanner. "Besides, Dhelia seems to have the situation under control." They both leered at the screen as the marching columns of Thyros yoked females trotted into view. There was no doubt that the spherical drone was having a ball judging by the vision of scarlet hued eye rolling faces.

Leaving the seventy-two helpless straining overstressed beauties to the tender mercies of that merciless drone female, they made their way to the shuttle bay and prepared the small transport for flight. Within minutes they zoomed out of the massive hanger doors, and the colossal bulk of Starburst One was dwindling into the distance.

Nightfall was already a racing shadow of gloom on the planet surface, and setting the flight nav to the co-ordinates supplied by the Howick, the tiny craft scuttled downward into the gathering darkness of nightfall. 

It was short hop; barely ten minutes elapsed before the whispering ion thrusters settled them down in a small clearing less than half a mile from the target. Roger ran a double check on the atmosphere, but it was a wasted effort. The Howick had already accurately analysed the air and found it to not only be breathable, but of a much higher quality than that of polluted Earth. There was a faint hiss as the airlock was breached, and for the first time in centuries, Terrans set foot on uncharted soil; if one discounted the two unwilling Exon passengers at the Research Establishment.

Sven did a brief survey of the surroundings and indicated that the town and its research facility were to the East of them, Roger promptly pointed in the opposite direction as his built in directional nav' system indicated differently.

"Clever bastard!" Sven muttered under his breath.

They set off at a quick walk, grateful that the undergrowth was light and afforded them little in the way of resistance. Within minutes the dark silhouettes of habitation were showing against a slightly lighter night sky. Full darkness never arrived on Distress -1; two Suns prevented that. Instead the inhabitants were provided with a deep twilight gloom that was useful if one was attempting night time travel.

Roger's infallible nav' system led them unerringly through the town, and soon they were confronted by the austere frontage of the place where the women were. Not a single inhabitant made and appearance as they walked through the silent dwellings. When these people slept, they really zonked. No messing about with a night life.

The building was wide open, as were just about every door they had passed in a town sweltering in a hot summer evening. Apparently, this culture had evolved in a way that precluded crime as was the norm on Earth.

Cautiously they ventured in, mindful of the fact that there might still be a local insomniac loitering around who may be somewhat alarmed at their trendy space Corp outfits. But lady luck was with them. The place was deserted save for two Terran females and themselves.

Impatiently, the two would be rescuers moved on past row upon row of weird and wonderful agricultural exhibits, until finally they came to a portal leading into an antechamber. An eerie pulsing glow from within pulled them up short, and moving to each side of the doorway, they peered nervously in.

Image 19

The room was empty save for a central exhibit that was the source of the glow. Sven and sidekick moved into the room, stunned into silence by the vision before them. They had found the source, but still their eyes refused to accept what they saw.

Without doubt it was the two Terran females, and what looked like salvaged pieces of the Thursk computer. It was the configuration that defied any rational acceptance of what they were witnessing.

Surrounded by a rope barrier to keep the public at a respectable distance, stood a small dais with two, four foot high, domed glass cylinders, it was these that were producing the pulsing glow. But the contents staggered the imagination of both celestial rope and ravish artists, despite their extensive knowledge of the subject.

Bent double and banded tightly into a hairpin format were the two missing women. Obviously they were affixed to some sort of base mounted column, but that was hidden in the fold of their bodies. It was a mind blowing sight. All the legendary stories of their exquisite form had been understated. However, arranged as they were with tautly folded asses rearing skyward, the effect was simply leg jellifying. Agog with awe the two circled the exhibit, eyes drinking in every detail, their lust generating genes running at full throttle. What a spectacle the girls made. Despite the extreme banding that was cinching them into total immobility, both forms were continuously pulsing with vibrant powerful exertions as the ministrations of multiple connections to their beleaguered bodies engineered a never ending mind sapping pre-orgasmic morass of writhing arousal. The whole rear of the stretched bottoms and shapely rubber sheathed thighs were a glittering cascade of leaking labial fluids that bore mute testament to the unending torment of unfulfilled arousal. Sven was snapped out of his reverie as Roger spoke.

"Hey Boss! This Thursk is still running and operational. In fact they've jury rigged the salvaged parts to the girls." Sven's memories of the legendary facts suddenly clarified. He remembered how the girls had initially been kidnapped for use as beta-wave generators in the Exon ship engines. But that was before the Exonites released and accepted them into the community. How the hell had they ended up back in the same predicament? Roger supplied the answer. Having found a compatible intergalactic data transfer socket in the casing of the old computer console, he drew out his facsimile belly button and plugged directly into the humming Thursk. Within seconds, his prodigious logic brain chip interfaced with the ancient computer, and he knew everything that was stored in the memory.

"Well? Don't keep me in suspense you sadistic plastic plonker. What's the story?"

"The story boss, is that Thursk here did go apeshit. After they departed on that unauthorised joy ride, he conned one of them into putting the other in a jar; then conned the remaining woman into allowing herself to be put into the other. Apparently he used the service mechanoids to finish re-installing the second girl in the modulator capsule. Then the devious bugger deliberately took the ship into the warp so that they couldn't be followed. Thursk knew that the Exonites would disconnect the girls and close him down if they found out that he'd become self aware, so he scarpered with the chicks." Sven permitted himself a smile as Roger lapsed into street slang he had picked up on Earth.

Unfortunately, he got so involved with the chicks, he went over the top and let them go into orgasm. That was a big mistake, considering they were at the time, a functional part of the drive engines. The orgasms, once started after such a long period of arousal and denial just went on and on. Thursk couldn't regain control as he was too closely connected; his circuits were being scrambled by the same uncontrollable emotions that he was inheriting from the girls. Anyway, without Alpha-wave modulation the engines just shut down. The whole spasming shebang then just spiralled down into the atmosphere of this planet until the auto eject systems cut in and chucked out the main module. Thursk went in with the main fuselage of the ship and got all busted up, but the girls and the capsule dropped straight into a farming community just south of here. They called in the research scientists, and the rest we know. Luckily, Thursk, despite his lusting after the women took the precaution of assembling the Modulators in a passenger zone so as to give them all the protection of the safety systems.

It seems the locals boffins figured out most of the operation and reassembled what was needed from the wreck of the ship, then just plugged them in and let them provide public entertainment." He was close in his assumptions, but not entirely correct. The boffins still considered both women as some sort of evolving chrysalis creatures that warranted study and needed to be left undisturbed so as to develop naturally."

Sven's thoughts immediately latched onto the leading question.

"How long? How long have they been here?" Roger grinned broadly as his eyes swung back to the continuously animated rear ends. 

"Would you believe eight months boss." Sven felt his legs giving way as his brain tried to cope with the image of an eight month old arousal without the release of an orgasm. He turned to see Roger's face going a dark shade of scarlet and his limbs begin to tremble.

"You bloody peeping Tom. You've tapped into their minds through Thursk haven't you?" Roger didn't answer other than to gasp as his synthetic eyeballs began to spin in their sockets. The full blast of two females suffering exquisitely engineered arousal was almost melting his chips. Sven swung to a small screen set flush into the face of the computer console that suddenly glowed into life. Thursk and Roger, in a combined effort, were unconsciously converting the captives thoughts into visible text on the screen.

C:>
"Heeelp! Help us! Mmmmmmrrr! UUUrrrrrggggg! For God's sake help us! Arrrrgh! Mmmmmmrrr!"

Neither of the connected computer brains could find a true textual equivalent for female groans of exquisite sexual torment; but they did their best. Sven leaned forward and pulled Roger's plug a second or two before the letching mechanoid idiot self destructed. At times the plastic palooka was a mental midget. Roger sagged visible as he was mentally released from the onslaught of seething sexual input. For the first time in his long mechanical life, his electronic and plasti-steel form had been outclassed by mere mortals. Mere mortals maybe, but then he still had a lot to learn about the female variety. The input from the straining captive girls would have destroyed him for ever had Sven not disconnected his probing mind. Yet these incredible Earth women were capable of sustaining these same emotions for months. It stunned the great mechanoid electronic brain into the equivalent of shock.

Thursk only initially survived because of its forethought in installing a limiting fuse link to protect its massive brain, but even then, it had been reduced virtually to a short circuit condition before the capsule ejection broke the connection. In his present damaged and somewhat crudely resurrected form, many of the higher functions that could evaluate and simulate such erotic eruptions were gone or nonfunctional. That fact alone prevented a brain meltdown over the preceding eight months.

"So what do we do now boss?" Roger leaning forward to peer intently at a particularly spectacular pussy spasm in the folded woman called Tracy. Sven joined him and watched as the twitching sex mouth spewed forth another volcanic stream of lust lava.

"I was thinking about that, and it occurs to me that if we just grab the goodies and leg it back into space, we'll be scuppered for selling anything on this planet." He paused as the other gaseously immersed female exploded into cinch bulging activity, and then produced her own lava flow as she strove in vain to reach that electronically blocked pinnacle of orgasmic relief. Both of them were silent for a while, eyes drinking in the rippling rubber sheaths and flexing pubic displays as they considered the options. Neither felt the inclination to forego ownership of these two specimens. It was a dilemma that left them torn between the pulsing pair of glass encased marvels, or loss of accrued earnings for their newly formed slave business. Sven was the first to speak.

"Let's just leave the girls to simmer for a bit while we look at all the angles. I mean, they've been in there for eight months, I doubt a couple more days will make the difference." Roger nodded agreement with little thought to what two extra days at maximum sexual denial could mean.

"OK boss, but I'll just plug back in and let them know the Cavalry is here whilst they wait." Sven shook his head in disbelief.

"You sadistic lecherous bastard. You mean you would really raise their hopes like that, and then calmly tell them to hang around erupting fit to bust for another two days?" Roger managed to keep the smug smile of sadistically lecherous thoughts off his face as he plugged back in. It took but a few seconds of connection time for the fettered tormented girls to absorb the information, their realisation was instantly visible in the form of titanic efforts within their inescapable bonds. The energy expenditure translated into an increased incandescence in the surrounding gaseous envelope. In vain they sought to influence their rescuers and earn an early release, but merely served to convince Sven that perhaps Roger had been right. They certainly looked awesomely attractive when they strained and fought like that. Roger disconnected and his smile was even wider.

"Just thought I'd tune old Thursk up a bit whilst I was connected," he remarked in an off hand dismissive sort of way. Sven looked back to the many connections suckered onto the pulsing pussies and taut, rounded, madly flexing buttocks. It was hard to visualise the horrendous torment being poured through those innocuous wires. The glass encased Terran women had maintained the titanic writhing convolutions for eight long months, but now without choice, they were being accelerated to impossible levels of performance. Irresistible excruciatingly potent signals were arousing all their sexual nerve endings to a hitherto unprecedented level of activity.

"Nice one Roger." At least they won't get bored whilst we check out the local scene." He slapped the mechanoid on the back and chuckled heartily as they moved out of the anteroom and left the glowing modulator valves to the re-adjusted Thursk.

✠	✠	✠

Chapter Fourteen

Slaves Galore

Dawn was but a half hour away, and having already relieved a washing line of suitable clothing, the two clandestine interlopers prepared to mingle with the awakening population. As with their instant sleep pattern, these people seemed to awake and become active with roughly the same alacrity. No sooner had the Sun peeked over the horizon, than the streets were bustling with activity as if midday.

Stalls and various stands sprang up with almost magical speed, and it quickly became obvious that this town was the slave trading center for the whole area. Miraculously, fettered merchandise was appearing, literally out of the ground. The two nocturnal Space Corps visitors had unknowingly spent the night tramping over a veritable forest of tightly bound lovelies, all planted and neatly stored beneath their unsuspecting feet in the cool earth.

Given the short working days, traders had developed a unique system for closing down stalls without the hassle of moving all their goods after each trading day. They simply rented the stall plot, and then installed underground silos to store goods overnight.

All around them, superb nubile specimens were silently sliding out of cylindrical subterranean night safes as hidden hydraulics put them out on show. Some were single items, usually those with exceptional features and attributes. Others were mounted in larger circular frames, arranged in groups, and facing outward like living carousels. The cylindrical silo frames of various traders began to turn slowly, guaranteeing that any potential buyers saw the produce from all angles. Unable to tear their eyes away, the intrepid space travellers drank in the glorious spectacle of yet another display of helpless female forms.

Obviously these slavers were almost as experienced as their distant Thyros counterparts in the arts of displaying multiple exhibits, and with more than a little interest, Sven and Roger studied a nearby carousel of heavenly bodies.

They were matched for height and figure, a procedure that seemed essential given the mode of restraints. The whole group were encircled by a series of shining chromed hoola-hoop type rings that were not particularly tight. However, that made little difference to the effectiveness of the arrangement. The most prominent ring ran round the outer circumference of the thrusting tits on show, and only when they got closer was the mode of suspension apparent. The ring must been hinged at some point, and obviously had a hidden joint. There could be no other explanation because it ran through the nipple rings of every infibulated nipple. A smaller yet identical ring encircled the faces, hovering on top lips and running through nose rings. Similarly all the stretched clitties shared a ring like halo, although this one had holes bored through the entire circumference, and clitties were threaded through and then secured by slipping a split pin through each pierced and tormented nodule. The ankles sported a smaller diameter ring that ran behind the heels. Dimly within the circle they could see a smaller spoked version that served as a common collector for the wrist fetters and held them firmly affixed on the central column. The only tight ring was the thinner version that was sized to pass between the teeth in each gaping mouth and pull back painfully into the corners of the lips. It differed in another even more diabolical way, in that it was slotted all the way round, and the tongues of each naked maiden were threaded through the slot positioned over her mouth and then padlocked on the outside of the ring by means of an eyelet in the tongue. That thin ring was highly efficient at keeping captives silent and with heads pulled tightly back into the half circle recesses of a disk at the top of the pole. It was impossible for any of the offered sale items to move her head in any way.

Image 20

They wore no high heels, but that was of no account. With the hair of each drawn into a vertical pony tail, they were effectively hoisted onto tiptoe and their flowing locks firmly clamped to the pole top spread of hat stand hooks.

It was a marvellously novel way of securing the women without recourse to complex tight banding or steel cages. They were perfectly displayed and yet unable to move a muscle without earning the wrath of the other girls on the carousel. As they watched, enthralled by the spectacle, the nearest trader animated his display for greater effect. All the slowly rotating women began to jerk and writhe in unison, and it was only after a few seconds of mouth gaping amazement that the penny dropped. The rings were electrified with stinging shocks. It was a glorious device to be sure. Later Roger, who was translating the language, informed him that these carousels were for sale as matching slave sets; six for the price of three was the sale offer. Sven wondered how the women felt about being displayed as 'knock down job lots'.

A single crotch searing display finally drew their attention away, and still flushed with the excitement generated by the carousels, they were hardly prepared for the cock raising dilemma of this lovely.

Rings were once again the main feature of the display; .. this time two huge rings arranged to form a multi direction gimballed mount. The superb female chosen to grace this prize exhibit was stringently affixed within the inner ring. Wrist and ankle clamps were the only means of restraint other than the seemingly obligatory Pony tail connection. It was the patently simple yet excruciatingly strained format that instantly captured attention. With wrists joined in a common pyramid of fettered helplessness fixed above the head to the inner ring, the tension was achieved by straining the girl's legs horizontally outward in a perfect straight line on either side of her contorted hips and clamping them to the same inner ring. It was immediately obvious that the girl could ease the spread of her legs to a lessor angle of splits by pulling up on her arms and hoisting her torso. Unfortunately for her, that was an extremely painful option. Her infibulated clitty was stretched tautly to the inner ring, diametrically opposite to her wrist connections. A fully wound bottle screw type adjuster revealed that her clit was already enduring excruciating levels of tension without her adding to it. The gimballed array rotated slowly slewing and pivoting in all directions; resulting in the slight straining movements of the stretched and displayed female being sufficient to affect the movement radically as smooth friction free bearings reacted to different angles of repose.

Image 21

Heavily weighted nipple rings added more trauma for the delighted onlookers to enjoy as her randomly orbiting form swung the diabolical additions in every conceivable direction. As was the norm for this market, restraints and gagging was kept to the minimum; a point instantly reinforced when considering the single delicate slotted ring that encircled her mouth and provided the same slotted tongue lock arrangement as all the others.

"Jeez! Boss," Roger unwittingly used his boss' favourite exclamation. This place is a gold mine of top quality merchandise. We'll be up against some stiff opposition here." Sven said nothing at first, then thoughtfully turned to his plastic pal.

"My thoughts exactly. So why try? Why don't we just take our two pulsing museum exhibits and go. Better still grab the girls and help ourselves to some extras before we leave?" Roger was all ears and hung on every word. Someone had mentioned extra female bodies to play with, and in his book there was no such thing as having to much of a good thing.

"Look at the at those night safe contraptions. None of them have any form of lock or security arrangement other than for securing the women. They're simply placed on top of buried rams and the top closes the hole as it drops. The whole shebang can be lifted straight out as it is." Roger scanned the market and saw that every display stand was the same. His boss was right. No-one ever nicked anything on this planet, so why bother with security. The only security required was to prevent merchandise walking off of its own accord. Sven gave him a dig in the ribs and urged him on

"Let's move on pal. That store holder is getting set to come over and try his sales spiel. If we whip out our translators to answer him he'd have to be pretty thick if he didn't figure out that were not exactly locals." Roger sauntered away with Sven close behind, neither of them stopping long enough at any display to attract the attentions of a vendor.

Roger, unbeknown to Sven, was totting up the entire market sales offerings, and as they came to the end of the stalls, he quietly whispered in Sven's ear. One hundred and eighteen boss. That's how many we collect if we strip the place." Sven grinned widely.

"Great minds think alike Roger old boy,.. actually I made it one hundred and fifteen.

Roger countered smugly as his count was questioned.

"You didn't count the three in the closed silos over there who have been sold and packed boss. Don't know what they've done to them but I picked up some interesting sounds with my ultra hearing." Sven glanced towards the unimpressive flat circular steel covers of the closed storage pits. Ah well, that would be a pleasant surprise for them to reveal later. 

Their casual walk took them through an industrial area, and suddenly Roger pulled them up short.

"Boss! Look! Look over there." Sven followed his gaze his eyes widening as he took in row after row of domed cylindrical glass jars and masses of equipment that had so recently been a focus of their attention. 

"The buggers are copying that Thursk arrangement. The idea must have caught on and some greedy bugger is all set to make a fortune producing that lot. Somebody must have figured it all out." Sven's wide eyes suddenly narrowed and his brow furrowed in thought.

"OK Roger, let's get back, we've got work to do." Roger didn't even bother to ask what was going on. Whenever his boss suffered a brainstorm, or 'rush of shit to the brain' as he called it, things got really interesting. Roger was happy just to go along for the ride.

Almost running back to the shuttle, they ran a quick check for any locals wandering around the area, then risking a sighting, lifted off at maximum thrust. Sven gunned the ion drive to full bore and headed skyward with uncommon haste. They had a couple or three hours to the next nightfall, and there was a whole lot to arrange.

Arriving back at the Starburst, he quickly checked on the Thyros coffle, but seeing that Dhelia was still enjoying herself, he left them to look after themselves. They weren't going anywhere, other than destinations they were marched to, and that limited them to Starburst. He caught a quick glimpse of Dhelia swinging from her improvised transporter and inwardly cringed for the two sausage titted figureheads on that twin column of high-stepping helpless trauma. But no time for luxuriating in pleasurable images right now. He had things to do.

Roger was already busy preparing the cargo shuttle, a craft much bigger than their previous transport and equipped with many materials handling devices they would need for the next visit to the surface of Distress-1. Whilst his mechanoid looked after that chore, he had bays to clear ready for receiving the haul. A hover-fork made short work of the Starburst's huge cargo reception bay, and Distress-1 gained a whole range of weird new satellites as somewhere in the region of 400 tons of mining gear was dumped through the airlock. There was no chance of them ever delivering it to P.L.O.N-K.E.R. 280, so what was the point of lugging it around the universe?

Roger reappeared about the same time as the last chunk of drilling equipment floated clear of the hull.

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Chapter Fifteen

The Marines Have Landed

"All set to go boss, how are you doing?"

"Finished here Roger my boy, let's get the show on the road."

Darkness was upon them as they approached the town for the second time that day, and skirting the main bulk of habitats, they quickly moved into the research building and confronted the pulsing jars of encapsulated womanhood. It was amazing. They were still at it, writhing and contorting just as frenziedly as they had been when they left. Sven expressed concern for their safety when the jars were disconnected from the Thursk life support, but Roger quickly calculated that they would be safe from harm for at least six hours without the gaseous life support being rejuvenated. By then they would have both of them safely aboard the Starburst.

With something akin to regret, Sven watched as the wriggling helpless beauties were disconnected from the erotic influence of the crash battered Thursk, and noted how the cinched forms gratefully came to rest in their containers. At least now the girls would know they were on their way to freedom... Well, at least they were being removed from the research facility. Freedom was a relative term on Starburst-One. With the risks of a micro chip meltdown, courtesy of the disconnected females gone, Roger plugged in and began a download from the Thursk memory banks. Everything that lusting computer gleaned from its experiments with the women was now his to possess, and ultimately to use for the benefit of all mankind. As for benefiting womankind; .. that was probably going to be another story. Roger continued to absorb Terrabytes of info, whilst, Sven wrestled the sealed jars off the dais and began to roll them outside. That in itself was a trouser busting exercise. Both women were fully conscious of their surroundings, and therefore aware of the image their jackknifed rolling forms was supplying to any lusting male onlookers. Roger joined him outside as he was concealing the jars in some bushes. Carrying them back to the cargo shuttle was out of the question. It would be simpler to hover over the bottled women and just haul them up.

That was exactly what they did. With levitating thrusters whispering at minimum setting, the huge cargo shuttle nosed over the town and reached down with three pronged grabbers to the co-ordinates that were already programmed in. Seconds later, two, four hundred year old females, neatly installed in preserve jars, were stood in the cargo bay and being connected to temporary gas regenerators. No matter how long the rest of the planned operation took, they were now safely stored until someone decided to release them from the inescapable glass prisons.

Using the magnetic grab this time, Roger skilfully manoeuvred the shuttle over the market place and then switched on the invisible Infra-red night scope floodlights. Immediately the whole area was bathed in an eerie rose tinted glare that only the vid scanners would see. The metal tops of the storage silos stood out starkly against the surrounding surface due to the body heat generated by the females below. Easy pickings even for two novice snatch artists. The grab clanged down onto the first silo, and a hissed warning from Sven urged Roger not to be so ham handed. The last thing they needed now was to wake the neighbourhood up when they were so close to success. Roger activated lift, and the powerful hoist lifted the priceless cargo of carouselled females silently out of their night storage. Both men felt a surge of heat to their loins as the stiffly constrained cylindrical prize swung back and forth as it was hoisted into the open bay doors. One down, dozens to go.

Working smoothly, and rapidly becoming an expert at poaching captive beauties, Roger continued to keep his human partner busy as carousel after carousel swung in through the doors to be moved away and secured for flight back to the Starburst. There was no time to stop and explain to the secured prizes, they were left to stare bug eyed and watch helplessly as their fate unfolded. To be secured so helplessly and silenced, and to be abducted by what were obviously space travellers must have been a terrifying experience for the women. But there was little they could do given the expertise of their vendors at binding produce for sale. As far as these galactic shoplifters were concerned, they may as well have been candy bars for all the resistance they could offer. They were tightly bound, banded, strapped, and gagged; .. unable to move or make a sound. It was simply a matter of moving merchandise.

The last carousel was hauled in, and then they started on the smaller storage silos with single occupants.

But finally the market square was a sea of empty pits. Empty save for the three sold and packaged consignments that Roger spotted earlier, due to be shipped to new owners the next day.

The magnet snicked down onto the first cover and the surprise lift began. Frustratingly, neither could see the arrangement of the incumbent from above as a result of the concealing cover. But even as the swinging cylinder neared the hull, the muffled sounds of trauma were wafting upward. Both human and mechanised cocks stood to attention as the sounds of male bliss permeated the huge cargo bay. The cylinder hove into view and stopped so that it swung a foot above the deck.

Roger turned from the controls to join his boggle eyed mate who was standing riveted to the spot by the apparition they'd just hoisted from the storage silo. It was staggering sight, and both onlookers took their hats off to whoever ordered the fully activated transport mode for this consignment. Obviously the new owner was a stickler for discipline and total obedience, a trait that was demonstrated by the fact that his new purchases was installed in a diabolical punishment format so as to give them an early taste of what awaited them if they disobeyed.

Inverted and hog-tied with an arrangement of crushing metal bands and integral limb fetters. The nubile maiden was secured with her front towards a central pole by a sliding preformed runner that sprouted from the middle of a waist cinching steel belt. Her upward thrusting knees were held hugely apart by a matching steel spreader, and the wrist cuffs were assembled centrally so as to be a part of the bar. It was a back breaking bow to be forced to endure, even in an upright or face down mode. Inverted it must have been sheer hell. The ankle fetters; also part of a horizontal bar, were connected by a single rod to the amorphous ball that encased her head. Huge, featureless and black; .. the size of a bowling ball; that head encasement was obviously of a high density material designed to absorb all sounds of distress. It almost did; but not quite. So intense were the girl's gagged and muffled pleas for mercy that even this purpose designed sphere could not contain them all.

It wasn't the hog-tie or the inversion that produced the racket. That was a combination of other features, none of which would be even remotely pleasurable to the most masochistic female.

Vicious toothed clamps held the presented pussy lips in a painful embrace, and snaking lightweight chains stretched upward to hold her delicate sex mouth widely stretched. A motorised dildo of huge dimensions was taking full advantage of the offered opening. Mounted on the underside of the silo cover, the steel juggernaut was pulverising her deep labial tube with bludgeoning strokes as it rotated and vibrated simultaneously. Then there was the encapsulated head itself. That gave insight into her other problems. Although drawn back rigidly and secured to the bar descending from the ankles, its designed torment was far more sinister. The ball of her head encasement was steel coated, and below was a similar smaller ball that was emitting a stream of high voltage low energy electricity. The quivering female was in effect a living conductor for currents that were non lethal but extremely punitive in effect. It didn't end there. The luscious half moons of her shapely bottom were clenched tight despite the spreading effect of having her thighs hugely splayed. She had good reason for making the effort. Rising from the clenching lobes was her main means of support; .. another chain that bore her full weight and suspended her from the ring in the silo cover. A quick examination by Roger unveiled the other end as he prised her straining tensed buttock cheeks gently apart. She was gripping a massive anal dildo with the powerful muscles of her bottom. One lapse in concentration or a slight relaxation of her dogged anal grip and her sliding waist fixing would allow her to descend with a disastrous dual result. One would be the surrendering of the task of suspension to the painful clamps on her pussy lips, the other would be a meeting of the two metal balls as the high resistance air gap was narrowed to zero and the full body stiffening current surged through her.

Stunned by the level of her training, both stood for a few seconds as they tried to cope with the enormity of it all, then Sven suddenly galvanised into action and threw a switch on the base. The dancing sparks ceased immediately. A quivering female relaxed slightly as the burn of electron flow was removed, and stroking her clenched bottom, Sven felt something akin to a slight twitch of thanks.

"That's better, I think we can leave her to manage that whilst we get the last two up. He gave the jutting unprotected melons of her breasts a friendly squeeze and was amazed at the powerful resilience of this race's female breast tissue. It was more like a high density flexible foam rubber than the soft pliable texture of a Terran female. That promised some new and interesting developments.

Quickly they winched up the second pre-packed silo, fully expecting to find a repeat of the first. But it would seem the new owner was, (assuming it was the same for buyer for all) a highly inventive person. The silo seemed to contain a steel encased female formed into a wasp waisted, tiptoeing ballerina of exquisite proportions. Only the eyes were visible, the rest of her was sheathed in burnished steel that could have been painted on, so perfect was the fit. Despite a detailed inspection they could find no clues as to anything else the ensconced maiden was enduring, other than to remark on the fact that she appeared to be a tad uncomfortable with her head arched back at a severe angle and her eyes staring at the underside of the silo cap. There was no way for them to know that this superb specimen was undergoing enforced training for the ability to take a male member fully into her throat, and not make a sound in protest. Inside her steel prison, the suffering female had a full twelve inches of inch and a half diameter steel passing straight down her gullet. The elegant slender neck was also no accident. A sound sensor in the oral intruder converted the slightest sound into electronic commands. These in turn reduced an internal neck encircling clamp by a millimetre for every infraction of the rules. She would learn to be silent very quickly or stifle herself in a most salutary manner. She had in fact already discovered that silence was a virtue, but not before the neck clamp reduced to frightening levels threatening suffocation.

Then there were the unseen lower intrusions. Both bodily orifices were stuffed to capacity with reactive dildos that emitted powerful electric shocks if she eased her muscle tensing grip on either. The shocks in turn generated involuntary sounds as she reacted. It was a vicious circle of cause and event that could only be broken by complete obedience. She had already mastered the art of tightly gripping anything that was shoved into her. She wasn't making a sound, and they could see nothing tremendously traumatic, so the perspiring duo stood the silver statue to one side whilst they recovered the final treasure. Treasure it soon proved
to be!

The first inkling that this was something special came as the silo frame left the guiding confines of the pit. Immediately it began to jiggle and sway without any apparent reason; .. at least none that could be seen from above.

The silo frame cleared deck level some seconds later and both of the kidnappers broke into wide grins of appreciation. Now this was more their style. Evidently, this sold item had been chosen for her flexibility. It was a characteristic that her new owner seemed intent on utilising to the utmost in his choice of delivery mode. With shapely legs pulled up beside her ears and ankles secured in a common yoke type collar that encircled her neck, the young nubile specimen was offered in a most provocative manner that left her pussy fully revealed and breasts totally available for any amount of pawing. Her arms were back prayered in a foreshortened arm sheath of extraordinary severity, wrists encircled by a dual oval steel clamp that connect to the back of the yoke. Any flapping of the folded elbows was precluded by a connection from the base of the sheath to a ring jutting from the dildo deeply implanted in her doubled and tautly stretched butt hole. However, it seemed that the unknown purchaser had a yen for animated deliveries. The whole delightful assembly was rigidly connected, her back towards a shining steel column that ran from base to silo cover, which it seemed, incorporated some kind of hidden hydraulic or linear drive system.

The beautifully displayed woman was pogoing rapidly on the main support shaft; and rather unfortunately for her, the motion was ensuring that she experienced continual pussy impalement on a huge base mounted dildo of diabolical design. The monster pussy pulveriser sported a deeply indented spiral flute configuration that guaranteed some interesting internal contortions as her invaded pussy passage attempted to follow the demands of the fluting. Had the thing been rotating, it would probably have aided her being efficiently screwed, so to speak. But his static monolithic coach bolt would first twist her delicate channel to the extremes of elasticity, before the exhausted resilient stretching whipped her distorted inner sanctum back into line, in effect dragging her most sensitive membranes against the hills and valleys of the prodigious thread. 

An external vision of unseen events could be gleaned by studying the heavily gagged face. It was a picture of conflicting emotions. Swooning ecstatic sensation, mixed with horrified acceptance of what would surely follow seconds later as her internals rearranged the tormented twisting passage of her labial shaft.

Entranced, the partners in lust watched avidly as her pussy entrance was repeatedly bludgeoned aside and the spongy mounds of her mons twisted delightfully before snapping back their original vertical alignment. Minutes dragged into a quarter of an hour as they stood agog with awe at the hapless maiden's plight. Already a pool of dribbling love juice dripped from her platform and was spreading across the pristine steel floor of the bay. Sven was mesmerised by the reciprocal effect on her unsupported generously bouncing tits. Then he remembered other essential items of their itinerary.

"Come on Roger, we must get those glass containers." Roger broke out of his sexually intoxicated trance and returned to the task in hand.

It took another hour to reposition the cargo shuttle over the factory, then carefully reach down with the grab hoist and winch in the multitude of modulator containers. The whole operation was overseen by the last pogoing maiden they had hauled up, who supplied the workers with a powerful incentive to get the job done. The sooner it was completed, the sooner they could get back to thinking up new things to do with her captive form.

With the cargo shuttle snugged down into its cradle, and all the new acquisitions secured, Sven and his cohort returned to the flight deck. It was time to make a hasty retreat before the rising number two Sun revealed the empty silos to some very angry traders. Although there appeared to be no military capability on this planet, Sven felt it wise to make haste in case they had the odd ground to air missile stashed somewhere. It was unlikely that any such device would be capable of reaching Starburst at her orbital distance, but it wasn't worth the risk. Starburst One swung ponderously under the effects of the manoeuvring retro thrusters, and then as the sub-light drive was engaged, began to edge away from Distress-1 at an ever increasing velocity. An hour later they were ambling along at a steady 100,000 kilometers per hour, and it was time to take stock as the receding planet shrank away into the distance.

First there were the two jam jars full of impatient Terran females. Neither of the frolicking space burglars wanted to waste a minute before taking their first real look at two living legends. So Tracy and Fiona were unsealed and divested of the rubber and steel restraints. The gaseous support mixture and continual electro massage supplied by Thursk seemed to have worked well. Both women straightened from their long ordeal with barely a twinge. There was a pregnant silence as the two diametrically opposed factions sized each other up. On the one hand were two women who were grateful for being rescued, but in no mood to play any more games. On the other were two obviously aroused males with mayhem in mind.

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Chapter Sixteen

Frying Pan to Fire in One

"Who the hell are you?" It was Tracy who broke the impasse and glowered at Roger's faceted plasti-metal face with some trepidation. She'd never seen a fully styled humanoid replicant before, and was not quite sure what to make of him. The massive neon flashing chopper that had swung out ready for action left her in no doubt that whatever he was, his intentions were certainly not honourable. "Now just you hold on a minute, just because you-!"

She broke off as Sven put out a restraining arm to Rampant Roger. 

"Hang on Roger, no point in going off half cocked; .. if you'll excuse the pun," he added grinning down at the monolithic plasti-metal prick. 

"Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Sven Olafsun, Captain of the Starburst One," He waved a hand around to encompass the ship surrounding them. "And this plastic palooka is my friend and companion Roger... Rampant Roger to be exact, as I am sure you will appreciate. He's a humanoid droid, a mechanoid, or replicant as they're sometimes known. In just about all respects he is as human as you or I." He paused as the girls eyebrows shot up, and then realised why.

"Oh! Yes ladies; we originated from planet Earth the same as you. Also, like yourselves, we have very little chance of ever seeing it again." The puzzlement in the women's eyes grew. Sven suddenly realised that they probably never had time to figure out what happened in the space warp, or much of the events after, seeing as they were rather incapacitated throughout the whole saga of events. He appraised them of the events leading up to their present status. Which then left the question as to what was to be done with them now. It was a question that the two women were just as curious to have an answer to as he was.

"What do you think we should do with them Roger?" Poooing! The neon monolith reappeared like a rabbit from a hat. There was no need for any verbal clap trap; Roger's intent was pretty obvious. The girls eyed the waving penile beast with some concern and unconsciously they attempted to cover their naked bodies with shielding hands.

"Come come ladies, no need to be modest. After all, we have been looking at everything you have to offer all the time you were in the glass containers; and very nice it was too." he added as a murmur that neither of them quite caught. Slowly the arms dropped, and the two superb females stood defiantly as the men looked them over.

The legend hadn't done them justice. Sven had never seen such incredibly perfect specimens without the aid of powerful shaping garments. These two, unadorned, were almost of a cartoon perfection when it came to shape and looks.

Sven sat down on a handy crate as he drank in the view. He had a mind to simply order Roger into action, but something stayed his command. They had all the unwilling help they needed in their bondage games. But what would be the outcome of coercing these two into a sort of willing participation. Perhaps the rewards could be even greater. After all, according to the stolen data Roger's connection to Thursk already revealed, they had in fact been in cahoots with Thursk on more than one occasion. On impulse he took a chance. There was of course the consideration that they had the power to reverse his decision at any time. Nothing ventured nothing gained was the phrase of the moment.

"Roger, be good enough to show these ladies to some suitable accommodation, and make sure there is a good selection of clothes for them." The monolith wavered and then slowly drooped as a look of total disbelief spread across his previously leering features.

"Do what boss?"

"You heard me, now get on with it will you, we have the rest of the new cargo to attend to before we finish today." Roger was about to protest when his incredulous gaze caught the slight twitch in Sven's eye. Aha! Now he understood. The boss had a plan hatching.

Roger suddenly became the perfect gentleman and ushered the suspicious females towards the door.

"We'll talk at dinner ladies. Roger is an excellent chef, quite apart from his other fields of expertise." He didn't elaborate on these other fields; they would find out soon enough.

Sven turned back to the task in hand; pausing momentarily as a tramping sound echoed from the far end of the cargo bay. Dhelia's stomping yoked columns hove into view, and for the first time in many hours were put at rest as she brought the motivator drives to a halt. Leaving the chest heaving assembly in park mode, Dhelia lifted from the comfort of her maglev'd titty support and whined her way over to the ship's Captain. Both sausage titted leading ladies seemed extremely relieved to have the fifty pound burden finally removed from their jutting cinched boobs. 

Give me hand with these glass containment jars Dhelia, arrange them in a line down both sides of the bay, and then lay out the control cables and gas lines behind them. I'll attend to the connections.

Dhelia's ion lifters whined briefly as she swerved away, and Sven turned back to the other equipment as the drone carried out instructions. As he worked, Sven's brain quickly worked out numbers, and he called across to Dhelia.

"We'll need a round four hundred Dhelia. Put two hundred each side." An afterthought suddenly invaded his thoughts. Make that four hundred and two total; .. put the two specials dead-centre of the bay." Dhelia acknowledged with a small blink of the hazard light on top of her spherical shape, but otherwise continued to lift the containment jars into place. 

Roger returned some twenty minutes later, and after ascertaining that the two time travelling women were enjoying some relaxation in microwave body toner cubicle, he put the mechanoid to work in the packing department.

It took the three of them four hours to complete the task, but as the replenished females returned, attired in some foxy gear borrowed from a clothing container, the final touches were being added to the new cargo bay layout.

Stunned into inactivity, the two women stared boggled eyed at the converging columns of jars that vanished into the far distant end of the bay. The whole bay was decorated by female rear ends, all ensconced in the same style Modulator valve jars that had so recently been their own downfall. Virtually the entire compliment of captive females aboard Starburst had been released from restraint of one form or another, and were now standardised into the same awesome containment. Sven was just in the process of switching the whole lot to low level energisation, and with an intimate knowledge of the effects on those folded forms, the girls watched as both walls of the cargo bay became animated with the sight of writhing bottoms and pulsing pussies.

Despite their own precarious predicament, they were both drawn to walking down between the rows and studying the visual display from another perspective. Both were troubled by exactly the same thoughts. No wonder they had been kept in those Modulators so long. No red blooded male, and most sexually active women, would be unable to resist the crotch searing spectacle of the images being transmitted at such horrendously frustrating costs to the incumbents. Even they felt a heat rising in their crotches as they watched the pouting pussies of other women desperately craving fulfilment. There was something so fiendishly satisfying about seeing such a diabolical torment; ... especially when one had a first hand knowledge of what the captives were experiencing. Both women found themselves massaging their own salivating pussies as they watched.

Two empty waiting containers suddenly confronted them, and stopping abruptly they cast fearful eyes towards the leering males and an obviously excited Dhelia. Sven reassured them partly.

"Just a warning ladies. Just a warning!" He left the threat unspoken, but it didn't take an idiot to figure out the obvious inference. Do as you are told, or spend the rest of your time on Starburst One with your glass covered fannies stuck up in the air and pulsing like the crater of Vesuvius. 

"Time for dinner I think. All this work has made me hungry." He took a last look around at the gently glowing Modulators, and then they left them to the tender mercies of the 884/Howick, now endowed with all the Thursk knowledge, downloaded into its memory by Roger. As they left, Sven ordered a slow build up to full power. By the time they all returned from their wining and dining, the cargo hold would be a powerhouse of dynamic muscle straining females wound to maximum arousal; .. but with no hope of orgasmic relief. Sven mentally patted himself on the back at his brainstorm. It was a master stroke to have all the stasis females re-animated and added to the conscious flock of females collected from other bound and gagged escapades. Now they had all their surplus stock in one bay, and all beautifully animated to aid selection when considering future fun and games. It had the other advantage that any female chosen for a new game would be only too pleased to offer her services. In addition to gaining a short respite from the Modulator capsules, there might even be a chance that they could get rid of the boiling sexual arousal stored in their hopelessly incapacitated forms. 

Tracy and Fiona looked stunning in the form fitting syntho-rubber sheath gowns. Although seeing females around who had full use of arms legs and oral facilities was something of a novelty. The hosts, all three of them, had no doubt that arrangement was a very temporary thing. Sneaky grins from both males and an excited chattering feedback from Dhelia gave the guest ladies a feeling that there was something they should know. Subconsciously the women were reappraising their clothing as they took the offered seats. There was something they seemed to be missing here. The sheath dresses were the only thing available that offered full body covering, and yet despite the fact that their shapely forms were fully covered, both women felt almost nude due to the clinging figure hugging nature of the apparel.

The doubts and trepidation's began to ease into the background as the meal was served. Wine, although supplied by synthesizers, was excellent, and that was having a nerve calming effect.

Soon the whole group were engaged in conversation as stories were swapped; and more wine flowed, generally in the direction of the two new passengers. The first course came and went, and Dhelia, doing her best to be an unwilling French maid, was skittering around moving dishes and bringing in the second course when the atmosphere took a turn for the worst. Sven was talking, and after a veiled question from Fiona, he was finally getting around to the new role in life expected of the rescued couple.

"Well of course, we can hardly treat you like the other passengers can we? But I'm sure you won't mind sharing the obvious delights of your bodies with us in repayment, and perhaps playing a few of our weird games; just to keep Roger happy of course." He cast a warning glance at his mechanoid sidekick who was about to protest at being labelled the only bondage freak on board. A stony silence descended as the full import of his words sank in with the listening guests. Tracy was the first to recover.

"Now just a minute here. You don't seriously believe that we intend to be used as the local whores do you? Why us? Why can't you be happy with that cargo bay full of women?" Sven carefully folded his napkin and laid it down before answering.

"Simple dear lady. Because we can have them anytime we want. But you two are the guests; .. you're the legends, the original Earth sex objects talked about for years in every Space Corps establishment in the known galaxy. The ultimate fantasy screw if you want me to put it crudely." Tracy threw her napkin down.

"Not a chance you-! You, sex maniac. You lay one finger on us and we'll report you to the Corps or whatever they have these days." Sven smiled.

"The Corps or whatever, doesn't exist for us any more. Nor does any form of interstellar body who could enforce any laws. Or had you forgotten?" Tracy stared at him, lost for words as the awful truth of his words struck home. Both women trembled slightly as they searched for some sort of threat they could use to fend off the intended attentions of their hosts. Fiona suddenly let out a shriek and began to paw at her throat, closely followed by Tracy, who catching sight of Sven's unconcerned and smirking look, realised that whatever was happening was all part of the plan.

The sheath dress was coming to life. It was creeping up her throat like a sea of black slime, flowing up and around her chin in a slithering tide. The shouts of alarm from Fiona were suddenly stifled, and turning she saw that her partner's dress had flowed up and completely covered her mouth. The whole lower section of her friend's face was a skin tight area of syntho rubber that had ceased its advance at a point just below the nose. Within seconds her own mouth was similarly sealed and she could feel the covering thickening and contracting to ensure her silence. But of far more devastating potential was the realisation that the whole dress was shrinking down and crushing her legs into a single unit. The sheath drew taut behind her shoulder blades, and before either knew what was happening, the massive tension behind their shoulders was forcing them both to thrust their ample boobs forward as the shoulders drew back. The long sleeves thickened and became difficult to bend, and in a very short time it was impossible for them to raise their arms of flex them in any way. The two women fought valiantly, but to no avail. 

"Silence is golden I believe is the term Roger." The girls ceased their struggles to stare around the table. Sven and Roger were sitting opposite watching developments, whilst Dhelia was bobbing and dancing on erratic thrusters. Roger seemed somewhat puzzled. He obviously knew that something was afoot, but apparently hadn't been fully briefed.

Sven chuckled at his plasti-metal friend.

"Hinlons Roger. Remember those slippery little blighters? I read a bit further in the instructions and it appears that they can inhabit any biological tissue, living or dead. Latex is raw tree sap, and those dresses are real latex, not syntho rubber. I put them in a box with a couple of Hinlon organisms and hey presto, two reactive dresses with great potential."

He tapped his ear, and staring intently, Roger could now see a small cerebral transmitter implant that until now had gone unnoticed. So that was how he was controlling the Hinlons.

"But boss, how could you be sure they would pick those dresses?" Sven smirked as he aired his self awarded superior intellect.

"Easy Roger, I made sure they were the only items in that container without either the bum or tit covering missing, and I also made sure that all the other items were pretty awful designs as far as two women were concerned. It was a 99.9% probability." He turned back to the two seething silenced women with a self satisfied smile.

"Perhaps we should carry on with the afters now. Dhelia bring in the rest of the tackle I asked you to put ready, our guests are ready for pudding. Dhelia scuttled away, reappearing with two strange oddly shaped tubular steel stands clutched in her work claws. Twin massive dildos arranged on each needed no explanation, and given their proximity to each other, and the positioning on the tube, it was not hard to figure out the rest of the plot. Tracy and Fiona fought against the restraining sheaths, but were powerless to avoid the unfolding drama of their reintroduction to the world of enforced inactivity as first Tracy and then her partner were lofted by the immensely strong Roger and mounted on the tubular atrocities.

One at a time, Roger cradled them in his arms, almost in a sitting posture and carried them over to the tube stands, now arranged at the table head. As he lowered them towards the tubes Sven gave a mental message to the sheathing dresses, and obligingly the Hinlon opened neat portals in the taut rubber directly in line with their lower body openings. Without ceremony they were dumped down on the prodding dildos, their bodies swiftly absorbing the huge shafts, buttocks and thighs coming to rest with the tube section nestling tightly into the underside groove of bottoms and thighs as a result of their own weight Sven gave the Hinton another message, and instantly the reactive sheath dresses flowed around the tube and welded lower limbs and tube into a single sleek stiffened mass. The mechanoid pulled the women back so that the upper section of the stand dug into the arching spines, and again the Hinton homogenised rubber and tube. The two wriggling girls looked so cute;.. like a pair of secretaries perched straight backed on their office typing stools. But Sven was a lover of females totally immobilised, and the rubber sheathing allowed a little too much squirming for his taste. He directed Roger to bend the stiff rubberised arms up into a back prayer, and watched as the sheath flowed and moulded them into position. Sven inspected the result then motioned the eager Dhelia forward with a collection of stainless steel cinching bands. The drone was in seventh heaven as she fitted and ratcheted the helpless women from head to foot, finally finishing after applying twelve gleaming bands of inescapable steel to each form.

Sven nodded his approval and moved around the motionless forcibly inarticulated women, ignoring the daggering glares and muted angry protests. He savoured the cruelly cinched, re-contoured forms with appreciative eyes. They'd looked good before, but now they were superb in their inescapable body moulding restraints. Bands fitted above and below the generous boobs of both women framed and enhanced the bursting chest mounds into hard desirable egg plants. As for the rest of their bodies;.. not a single twitch to mar the perfect format of restraint. As a bonus, the stringently tight steel thigh hoops pulled them down even further onto the horizontal seat tube, forcing the dildos even deeper, extruding the superb bottom cheeks past either side of the support, and reducing the firm smooth thigh line to a series of interesting bisected bulges of female filled rubber. He considered the thrusting boob filled cones of rubber at length, then called Dhelia forward.

"An extra band each I think Dhelia. Across the nipples here and ratcheted extra tight." Two motionless cinched figures did their level best to voice angry disapproval, but were powerless to intervene as a gleeful drone positioned the bands and cinched them up tight. The rubber sheathed females gasped and groaned as the steel cinched inwards, neatly bisecting their prominent tits and crushing blood engorged nipples deeply into the already taut tissue of their own breasts. Now they had four tits each, if the bursting bulbous rubber cones of traumatised female could be believed.

Reaching down Sven ran his hands over the quadruple bulges, then stooped so as to availed himself of the taut squirming asses, squeezing, petting, savouring the impotent muscle contractions that both women were producing in order to escape his blatant abuse of their defenceless bottoms. Their efforts to escape escalated dramatically as his marauding hands wandered across the undulations of tightly banded thighs then ventured northward to maul and mash the jutting absurdities of their breasts. The futile efforts suddenly ceased. Both Tracy and Fiona had more important things on their minds all of a sudden. Roger was carrying in even more tackle, and it was a certain fact it was destined for use on themselves.

The machine the droid thumped onto the table was a emergency hull repair kit. Its design function was to force quick setting plastic-cement into the double skin of the ship in the event that it sustained micro meteor damage. Two of the output manifold's multi ports had ominous one inch diameter convoluted hoses connected, and as Roger approached Tracy with the end of the first, Sven mentally commanded the Hinlon to provide a neat hole over her mouth. Instinctively Tracy opened her mouth to protest as soon the rubber retreated from her lips, and Roger seized on the chance to insert the hose deep into her oral cavity. The rubber instantly flowed around the tube and welded it into her mouth. Fiona soon found herself sucking the other pipe.

Wide eyed, the well secured women watched as Roger reappeared with the sweet;.. huge steaming treacle sponge pudding that would have easily served ten people. Sven declined when offered a helping and then smirked at the mortified bound lovelies as he called Dhelia over.

"Be a good girl Dhelia and attend to our guests will you. I'm sure they'll love Roger's treacle pudding, and don't take no for an answer, they are sure to want second helpings. Dhelia positively glowed as gleeful electrons of sadistic pleasure surged through her circuits. The two securely bound women were going berserk with frantic yet fully contained muscle effort, and it pleased her to be able to zoom down and start up the hull injector without them being able to move a muscle in defence.

The machine hummed smoothly, and scooping up a spoon from the table, Dhelia levered a huge chunk of the pudding from the mound and dropped into the intake funnel of the machine. The hum changed note for a second or two, as did the sounds from the two captives. Their desperate keening was suddenly interrupted as cheeks pulsed outward and eyes bulged with choking disapproval.

"EEEEEEEErrrrrrMMMMMMMPHHHHHHPPPP!.. UMMPH! UMMPH!.. UMMPH!.. UMMPH!.. UMMPH!" Enforced swallowing sounds tended to negate any other efforts to convey their discontent. Dhelia continued her shovelling, and the firmly cinched females on the other end of the machine became a mass of ineffectual straining attempts to escape as they were systematically stuffed with pudding.

"Knew you'd like it ladies, Roger makes a superb pudding." He grinned wickedly at the pudding bloated cheeks and scarlet hued faces as Dhelia kept heaping it into the hopper. "Well I'm sorry ladies but you will have to excuse Roger and myself, we have your future accommodation to prepare. In the meantime Dhelia will look after you. Make sure they eat it all Dhelia, and then perhaps you can entertain them after dinner." 

He paused momentarily to savour the rippling exertion and frenzied flexing of the two powerfully cinched up women. It was so pleasant to enjoy the sight of their tightly bound forms, struggling and straining, yet unable to influence their plight in any way as they sat stiffly erect and completely helpless whilst a merciless sadistic female drone stuffed them like a pair of Christmas chickens. To think that only a short while ago, these two women were free. Now they were his to do with as he wished. He turned and left them to the gleeful drone who was piling the pudding in to the hopper like a labourer filling a cement mixer. The humming machine took on a deeper and altogether more purposeful note as it began the task of stuffing the securely trussed women to bursting point. 

Both women had yet to discover that the dildos, albeit not Hinlon controlled, were also of a reactive type. The more their tight pussies and squirming butt hole worked on them, the bigger they would get. Sven figured that stuffing the recalcitrant females with five or six times more pudding than they would normally eat, should produce enough butt wriggling to stretch those hot orifices nicely. That should teach the ungrateful brats to deny him the use of them.

He was right. Bellies filled to bursting, asses and pussies quivering with over stressed expansion, the well filled women at the table watched with sinking hearts as a paddle wielding Drone vanished behind them. Seconds later the mounted females were jerking spasmodically as the flat splatting sounds of a well applied paddle permeated the room. Bottoms jostled and jerking, limbs strained against the unyielding constraints of steel; .. in addition, an automatically adjusting Hinlon motivated sheath seemingly hell bent squeezing them down to nothing, the two Terran women began to rue the day they had been rescued from their fate worse than death. Return to the modulator valves as erupting volcanoes of unfulfilled sexual arousal seemed a good option at this precise moment. As it happened they were shortly to get their wish. But then they hadn't been appraised of the upgrades in design that had been hatched by the two very inventive crew members of the Starburst. Dhelia zoomed back into view and they both strained mightily at their bonds as she began filling the hopper yet again. The machine hummed and two bug eyed, cheek bulging women waffled and expanded yet more.

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Chapter Seventeen

Bio Feedback

"Run a final check on that circuit Roger and I think we are ready" Sven eyed the masses of cables leading to the isolated pair of empty glass modulator valves, his mind mentally checking out the various complex cable runs that his plan required. Everything seemed OK, and at a signal from Roger that all was in order, he wound the entire cargo bay of fettered females to full power. The oscilloscope connected to test points in the two empty jars went berserk. At the same time, the entire bay was suffused with the soft light of ionised gas as each glass container became highly charged with the output from the erupting female Alpha wave generators. Sven shook his head as the readings from the scope showed an input level that would be lethal.

"We'll have to drop off at least fifty modulators Roger, the output is far too high. Take fifty of the new intake off line, and let's try again." Roger quickly unplugged a whole row of nubile cavorting glass encased women, and Sven looked back to the readout. That did it. As far as he could tell, the input was about as much as anyone would be able to take without experiencing a meltdown, which in this case would be interpreted as turning the two planned occupants into vegetables.

"Great! All ready to get Tracy and Fiona installed." They returned to the dining room and were greeted by two desperately pleading sets of eyes as Dhelia finished off her second five hundred stroke quota of paddle strokes. There was no doubt that two very tender bottoms were positively glowing beneath the rubber sheath containment. Sven had little doubt that the recalcitrant females would be a little more receptive to any suggestions now. He ordered Dhelia to remove the banding and watched as the sulking drone snapped the steel bands open. She had obviously been hoping to have a lot longer with these new toys and she resented the boss taking them away from her. But orders were orders.

Sven allowed the sheathed women a little longer to plead with their eyes, and then flashed a thought to the Hinlon. The sheath dresses melted away to a waist cinching waspie and the girls slumped from the strained arch of their back breaking posture. Gingerly, with the men watching, they eased their sore orifices off the fully expanded dildos, and groaned with relief as the normally tight personal orifices shrank gratefully back to a more normal size. Rising stiffly they looked towards their captors, not knowing what was going to be demanded of them.

"You'd better go and take a bath, shower or whatever, then have a few hours off to let that full stomach digest." Sven nodded to the painfully taut pot bellies decorating the normally perfect abdominal shape of the women. They both looked down ruefully, then with a half smile of thanks, stumbled out to the return to their quarters. The Hinlon sheath dress, now residing as a wide belt around their waists was mentally ordered to resist removal. It served admirably as a reminder that they could be incapacitated at any time. At least for now they could try to relax and try to prepare themselves for whatever the scheming pair had planned for them. To be honest, both were experiencing mixed feelings of trepidation and excitement at the thought of being rendered so completely helpless again. There was something lustfully arousing about the inevitability of their impending incarceration.

Sven and Roger returned to the cargo bay and left Dhelia to keep a watchful eye over the relaxing women. They had fifty redundant modulator chicks to re-employ, but the sadistic drone Dhelia was sure to be able to keep that little chore under control.

But after some discussion, it was decided to re-equip the empty carousels they'd acquired on Distress-1. Five chicks to each, that would be ten beautiful roundabouts of lustful female flesh for them to eye whilst they savoured the delights of the planned event.. A nice backdrop for any etchers convention.

Dhelia was a mite miffed at losing fifty potential additions to her marching classes, but was somewhat placated by Sven granting permission to choose other playmates from stock whilst they played with the modulators. The drone returned from the dining room and ushered the rested girls back in some three hours later; .. refreshed and with flat tummies once more. Both of the women stared at the gently rotating carousels and wondered if that was to be their fate. It didn't seem so bad. A little strained, and certainly very vulnerable, but nothing compared to the ordeal they recently endured. They swung their eyes towards the silent rows of occupied glass containers and were amazed to see them all at rest. There was the odd squirming ripple of movement as one of the unfortunates tried to ease the strained format of her body, but none of the powerfully orchestrated paroxysms of sexual overload normally associated with a female installed in a modulator valve. Besides, it was interesting to see what they themselves looked like only a short time ago. The vision did little to quell the mixed feelings that were still plaguing their thoughts. Dhelia goaded them towards the men, and seeing them standing by the empty glass containers, both women baulked. The drone gave them a quick jab with the goad, and both were reluctantly moving again. Sven grinned hugely at them, and selecting Fiona first this time, he motioned her towards the waiting 'T' bar mounting.

"On you get... I think you know how by now." Fiona hesitated and collected another stinging prod to her already tenderised butt. She was about to resist despite the burn of the goad, but then the tight Hinlon waist band pulsed and squeezed to remind her that it would be pointless. She climbed the small dais, and with a last despairing look at Sven, draped herself over the bar and assumed the position required. Sven gave the Hinlon a mental direction, and the sheath flowed downward, separating to take in legs before forming into a single sheath that encompassed torso and lower limbs in a single column of rubber. Telepathic instructions demanded a tightening up, and Fiona became a compressed column of folded womanhood as she was crushed onto the central support. Already her skyward facing pussy was twitching with dread, but it was too late now. Sven motioned with his head at the watching Tracy, and within two minutes both 'T' bars were re-adorned with helpless legends.

The dais revealed new innovations, lifting and pivoting so that both folded females were held horizontally. That was only the first modification, and already both folded women were having second thoughts about the more pleasurable aspect of their mixed feelings. Tightly folded taut skinned rumps and exposed crotch clefts twitched spasmodically as the multitude of titillating sensors were painstakingly attached, affixed in rows that framed their vulnerable labial lips and forming an ominous ring around the tight puckering rosebud of their rear channels.

Sven and Roger checked suckered connections carefully, then lifting the jars, they prepared to enclose the fully prepared women in the glass prisons. Immediately the second deviation from a standard modulator became obvious. The glass containers were foreshortened and smaller in diameter, and the outer end was flared like the business end of a trumpet. The thrusting bottoms located easily in the flare, but it required a mighty shove to get the lustfully offered rear ends to compress sufficiently and slide the full length of the tube. Grunting with effort Sven pushed and shoved as the tough glass squeezed the bulbous clefted butts down and reshaped them to a perfect circular mass. Once past the flare it became easier, and the folded women slid purposefully into their new glass containers. The modified foreshortened container then presented another problem as each woman 'bottomed out' before fully becoming inserted.

A further supreme effort was needed to force the glass tubes all the way down thus ensuring that the taut thrusting bottoms were touching the domed end of the glass. By the time the seals clicked and locked the compressed bottoms were tightly pressed against the glass and basically moulded to the hemispherical shape of the container. They looked so appealing with pussy lips squashed and spreading like blossoming flowers. Modification number three was now clearly visible. Unlike the normal modulators, these short versions had a neat round two inch diameter hole at the end. The gas tight integrity was ensured only by the hermetic seal of two sets of compressed pussies. Had it not been for that hole, the fit achieved by the resculpted rear ends would have compressed the trapped air in the tubes, and prevented full insertion. Two females so tightly compressed and fitted made excellent pistons. 

With the addition of secondary flange clamps at the base, the security of those glass containers was guaranteed. Then came the final connections as the input sensors were systematically connected to the many input leads from the main loom. Sven finally stood back, his arousal made obvious by the jutting bulge in his flight suit as he surveyed the resultant assembly.

"OK Roger, wind up the power pack and let's see how this pair performs on high octane pussy input." He eased his finger into Tracy's well lubricated mons and wormed into her hot slippery channel; .. a slight shock reaction manifesting itself as a spasmodic contraction informed him that this was her first awareness of an easy access facility to her sex portal. Even the security of the container was being denied her now. The finger wriggled inside her body, but despite almost manic effort, she could do no more than squeeze the plundering digit with her sex tube. Meanwhile Roger began to feed the stimulating signals to all the other modulators. Instantly Sven felt the gripping love channel begin a demonic frenzied pulsing compression on his appreciative finger as a hot gush of labial fluid drenched his palm. Tracy was literally jetting the stuff. Hardly surprising really! The new arrangement didn't feed her titillating sensors and input connections with electronic computer generated feelings; .. the new wiring looms were feeding the real McCoy; genuine erogenous sensations from all three hundred and fifty hard working pussies, straight into the super animated love tubes of both women. Tracy and Fiona were in effect the common receptors for every pussy searing, tit tingling, sensation in that huge cargo bay. But there was another modification that was staggering to even contemplate, let alone experience as the two captives were. Unlike the others who were running at full arousal, yet unable to reach climax due to brain wave control, Tracy and Fiona had no such inhibitors. Both instantly orgasmed as the tidal wave of feeling smashed into their bodies. They were destined remain in permanent orgasm until the other modulator females were disconnected and allowed to come to rest.

Image 22

Like a prick in a test tube, the folded female dildo look-a-likes pulsed and smeared against the tight confines of their custom designed containers. Only now would they understand the full magnitude of their endless ordeal; .. now that it was to late to do a thing about it.

Sven could wait no longer, and tearing down his lower flight suit he rammed into the hot pulsing cavity offered by the conveniently placed container porting. It was an almost magical experience. Tracy's self destructing pussy was literally imploding around his thrusting pole. He could feel each and every body shattering paroxysm of explosive energy as the poor woman absorbed the sexual output of hundreds of desperately denied love nests. Roger quickly plugged into his own pulsing tube of pleasure, and between them they clutched at the smooth glass casings and sagged on wobbling legs as the volcanic pussies milked and pulverised their pride and joy.

Sven hugged the glass entombed Tracy as he fought to hold himself up. Glowing with incandescent life, the glass container was a mass of swirling constantly pulsing highly ionised gas. In addition, the container was acting rather like a wine glass, enhancing and transmitting the already titanic vibrations from the straining female. This only served to feed more powerful erotic messages to Sven's out of control pistoning shaft. Even through the thick glass and the rubber mouth sealing membrane the screams for mercy were clearly discernible. The woman was literally crackling with sexual energy; like a high voltage generator her body was transmitting colossal waves of erotic power. Unable to resist a second longer, Sven exploded into the woman's depths, time, .. after time, ... after time. His rod just continued to recoil like a repeating gun, so great was the demand from the masticating steaming hole that was devouring his manhood in a never ending explosive response. It was a diabolical fate for the women; but Oh! So sweet for any males who had the good fortune to use them in such a way. Roger eased the multi pussied input up, and as the standard Modulators helplessly responded to increased levels of computer titillation, they both felt the immense muscular activity in the spasming labial tunnels; .. each contained woman reaching new heights of agonisingly exquisite convulsion. Despite the horrendously effective bondage, both the incarcerated females were thrashing insanely as they tried to escape the increased demands; their bodies squirming and writhing within the confining rubber, yet firmly centralised over the access hole by the tight fit of their own hips. Sven eased back a little and watched with awe as the pulverised pussy lips rewarded him with a sight that resembled a giant leech. The slippery rubber-like spongy masses of her labia mounds suckled voraciously around his spearing shaft, flattening and smearing against the glass, the pink and scarlet interior extruding outward so as to squeeze and squirm against the transparent container. It was like watching a giant pink leech adding vibrant colour to the convulsive display of unbridled, uncontrollable female lust.

Sven hardly had a chance to wane before the new onslaught generated by increased input inflated his pulverised penis to even harder levels. Now with the first surges gone, he was able to control the time of firing. He telepathically connected with the Hinlon and demanded full expansion of the rubber sheath dress, then watched with undisguised glee as the glass vessel filled to bursting. Tracy was totally enclosed; compressed into the center of a tight fitting rubber bung, her only visible human attributes being the pink rounded end to the dome that was formed by her compressed buttocks. She made a perfect phallic symbol in her present format, and closely resembled a giant circumcised penis.

Lubricated by a mixture of sweat and copious love juices, the divinely impotent efforts of those powerfully working buttock muscles performed a constant slithering dance against the glass, beautifully enhanced by fluid motions of oiled flesh. They had become a clefted hemispherical extravagance of pure perfectly controlled and lustfully sculpted female, offered for his personal voyeuristic pleasure. Like a hard blood engorged knob-end,.. Tracy was the epitome of a gigantic living dildo.

The expansion of her surrounding rubber sheath meant that the poor woman was now denied even the slightest modicum of movement to bleed off the horrendous devastating power of perpetual orgasm. Leaning into the suckling maelstrom of that squirming pink mass, Sven felt his massively amplified erection forcible stretching the delicate interior of that bottled super active female. She was the perfect sex toy; .. a woman who was incapable of any form of defence against the wanton usage of her offered pussy, and doomed to endure incredible levels of erotic input without hope of escape. Roger showed no mercy for Fiona either, and wound the squirming moderators to emergency power with little regard for their personal trauma, or the effect their carnal output would have on the recipients.

Sven allowed his eyes to travel over his new domain as the pulsing contained woman accelerated to new heights of orgasming eruption, milking his erection with a ferocity that defied description. All around were delectably decorated carousels with wide eyed maidens, helplessly watching the downfall of two of their own, and no doubt wondering how long it would be before they replaced the spent shells of womanhood in those awesome dildo shaped capsules. Vaguely The pussy plundering males heard the tramp of feet, and raising their eyes they perceived Dhelia marching a new coffle of Thyros yoked lovelies, the same two luckless ladies chosen to spearhead the column with their daggering sausage shaped boobs. It was a scene of total bliss as all around them women spasmed, writhed, strained, and were tormented beyond any normal levels of endurance. And as the helpless women suffered the indignity of total control, Starburst One continued its ambling passage through the uncharted wastes towards new and possibly even greater adventures for both captors and captives alike. Meanwhile, Sven was mulling the term 'bottled female' in his mind. It had a nice ring to it, and he made a mental note to inform his helpers that from now on all women not in use were to be bottled for storage. No more comfy stasis cubicles for his ladies in waiting. From now on they would journey to the stars as living preserves in his larder of sexual gourmet delights. And as for the fabulous phallic pair, they would be spending a lot of time as Yantock wheeled maidens in-between bouts as giant female filled penises.

Sven couldn't know it then, but the term 'bottled female' was destined to take on a much more sinister meaning in the near future, on a distant world called Trylon-31. A sudden thought occurred to him as his mind focused on the fabulous pair.

"Roger, I know you said we might have trouble getting back through the warp to the exact place of origin; ..as you say, its been it's been tried before; .. but I got to thinking, can't we use the warp to go to other destinations?"

Roger gasped as he thumped into the orgasmically erupting female filled tube for the umpteenth time.

"Yes boss, but we'll need something from the destination to use as a frequency fix for the computer;.. to calculate the injection angle into the warp, or else we could end up in another dimension and even further away from Earth."

"Wouldn't a Thyros Slave Yoke suffice?" His eyes wandered down to the pulsing female tube servicing his bloated dick as he waited for an answer.

"Yep! That would do it. I figure that would bring us out pretty close to Thyros. But why Thyros;.. why not use something from Starburst; that will take us back closer to Earth if we're going to take the risk.? What yer got in mind boss?"

Sven chuckled to himself and then turned to his partner in crime.

"I reckon we should visit Thyros and enrol our two Earth women in a slave training course, don't you?"

✠	✠	✠

To be continued:
