Cyborg Nation

by Kaitlyn O’Connor

  Was Buster her pleasure bot then, he wondered?

  Contempt curled his lips. The superior models like himself had evolved. Anything she might have would be little more than a bumping, grinding toy!

  She had said that just to insult him, he decided.

  What he did not understand was why she had wanted to insult him. He had pleasured her, thoroughly. He might not have utilized that particular programming before, but he had only to access his internal CPU to know that it was functioning correctly. His cock had certainly performed correctly.

  Frowning, he tried replay. That was not functioning, however, because the growing, biological brain cells within his skull were beginning to interfere with some of the functions of his CPU. Giving up after a moment, he tried to access the memory cells and discovered that they produced only random recorded images. He remembered everything fairly clearly up until the moment he had begun to finesse her nipple, per protocol, with his mouth and tongue, and then he remembered what she had tasted like, the way the tight little bud had felt against his tongue, the way she had moved against him, and the little sounds of pleasure she had made in her throat. Beyond that, he discovered he could not recall a single thing except the way he had felt.

  Prod his malfunctioning memory though he would, he could not recall that he had carefully sought out and located each nerve bundle and properly stimulated it. He could not recall her shaking with need as the pleasure built inside of her, although he could recall that he had been. He could not recall her begging him either, which made him wonder what had prompted him to proceed with penetration. Per protocol, he was not to invade her body until he either readily identified the signs that the female body was nearing its peak, or until the female identified imminent crisis by demanding he penetrate so that she could achieve orgasm.

  The only thing clear in his mind at the point of penetration was the sense that he was about to explode and a sense of desperation in him to feel her body close around his flesh and pump inside of her. His balls had felt as if they were on fire and at the same time as if they were lodged in his throat, choking him.

  His cock hardened and stood up as that memory washed over him, and with it the memory of the convulsions that had gripped him as his cock expelled the fiery fluids from his body into hers. He had felt totally drained afterward, weak as he could never recall feeling in his memory.

  Trying to ignore the fresh ache in his cock and painful tightening of his balls, he groaned and rolled onto his belly, grinding his teeth and reaching down to adjust himself when the movement brought him excruciating pain.

  It did have the desired effect, however, of making the swelling in his cock go down.

  His programming, he realized, had blitzed, short circuited, malfunctioned …. Something had happened, for he had failed to perform … somehow. Otherwise, she would not have given him that look of loathing when he had made sexual overtures the second time.

  She would not have insulted him!

  She would not have stalked from the room.

  She would have welcomed him to fuck her again!

  “Damn it to hell!” he ground out as it dawned on him that her notable lack of enthusiasm at his performance meant she would not welcome him the next time he tried either.

  Sleep eluded him for the first time in his memory. Ordinarily all he had to do was to compose himself comfortably and he dropped instantly from awareness into rest mode. Either because he could not seem to dismiss the thoughts rambling about in his mind, or because his ego was still stinging, or because his body—undisciplined confusion of biology and mechanics that it was—wanted more of what it had already had, he could not achieve the composure he needed to sleep. Stubbornly refusing to acknowledge defeat, he continued to struggle for rest until about three quarters of the way through his rest period, when he finally slipped under.

  Everything else might have been malfunctioning, but his internal clock worked fine. When his time was up, his eyes popped open. Feeling as if he had been run over by a tank, he got up to shower and change.

  Bronte was seated in the dining area he discovered as he emerged from the cabin. Deciding to ignore her when she did not even look up, he strode past her, cutting a glance in her direction when he neared her.

  It was as well his resolve failed him, he decided angrily. Otherwise he would have missed the evil glare she focused on him as he strode past.

  Gabriel took one look at his face and bolted out of the command chair. Dropping heavily into his seat, Gideon glared at the panel before him without really registering the read out, most of his attention on the woman behind him, burning holes in the back of his head with her eyes as if she had laser sight, and on his companions, who he knew were looking at him questioningly.

  “Jerico,” he growled finally. “Go rest!”

  Frowning, Jerico left.

  After glancing at him several times, Gabriel finally leaned on the arm of his chair nearest Gideon’s. “Problem?” he asked in a low voice.

  Gideon slid him a fulminating glare. “Why would you think that?” he snarled.

  Gabriel shrugged. “It sounded like everything was going well, but then there was death in her eyes when she came out. I would not have believed she could manage such a look.”

  Gideon dismissed everything but the first part. “Sounded?” he prodded in hopeful interest.

  Gabriel shrugged. “A good deal of gasping and moaning and groaning. We could not hear her very well over you, but....”

  Gideon felt his face heat. “You are developing a sense of humor,” he growled, unconsciously adjusting his aching balls.

  Gabriel’s brows rose in surprise, but he didn’t miss the movement. “Am I?” He sounded surprised but pleased, but then frowned. “You did not achieve …?”

  Gideon slid him a warning glare. “I did,” he said coldly.

  “Why is that still bothering you then?”

  “Because …!” Gideon bellowed before he thought better of it and then broke off. “I do not know,” he finished finally, his voice a low growl.

  A sudden thought struck him, the culmination of the hours he had spent pondering his situation instead of sleeping as he had intended. “I achieved orgasm,” he added slowly, trying to wrap his mind around the realization.

  Gabriel sent him a disbelieving look. “Simulation....”

  “It was no simulation,” Gideon said sharply. Abruptly his lips curled in a pleased grin. “I spilled my seed inside of her.” The smile vanished as another thought hit him and he frowned. “I think.” He cupped his balls in his hand, studying them with a good deal of admiration, even though they were still aching like a son-of-a-bitch. Finally! His body had evolved as the others had. He had begun to suspect that they were either lying or that some essential element was missing from his own make up and he would never evolve entirely and become ‘real’ as they were, a new life form capable of reproduction of his species.

  Gabriel eyed him resentfully and somewhat enviously for several moments. “Well, you did not do something right,” he said finally. “Else she would not have been looking as if she wished she had a weapon when she came out of the cabin.”

  * * * *

  Strain though she might, Bronte could not hear the low voiced conversation between Gabriel and Gideon. Their voices were little more than a low drone and unless she got up and moved closer, which they would notice, she could only guess what they were discussing.

  A product of paranoia or not, her first thought was that they were sharing the lurid details of what had happened between her and Gideon. She fumed over it for a while, certain that must be it. As angry as she’d been when she left the cabin, she didn’t believe she’d misinterpreted the expressions of Jerico’s and Gabriel’s faces. Either they’d known when he went into the cabin what he had in mind, or they’d been able to hear just enough to figure out what was going on.

  Considering Gabriel had just tried and left with his cock in his hand, she finally decided he wouldn’t have been
Gideon’s cheering section. It seemed to her, though, that he would have been angry about failing where Gideon had succeeded, but she supposed he thought once one of them had ‘tapped’ it the rest would get the chance.

  He shouldn’t hold his breath!

  It irritated her almost as much that they didn’t seem to resent her having had sex with Gideon as it had that Gideon hadn’t even attempted to cuddle afterward.

  Not that she’d been in any doubt about the way they felt about her!

  But she would’ve thought pleasure bots would have been programmed to please a woman in every way, and what woman wanted a man to just fuck them and then go to sleep! God! If a woman wanted that she could just stick with a real man!

  Four out of five of her lovers had behaved like that anyway and one out of four had been downright nasty about not wanting to be touched afterward. When they were done they were hot and sweaty and out of breath and just wanted to be left alone to sleep it off, the hell with whether or not she needed a little reassurance or wanted to feel appreciated. One had actually rolled over and told her to lock the door on the way out. If some woman hadn’t bashed the bastard over the head by now, she would be surprised.

  So much for thinking she could avoid being used if she could avoid them! She couldn’t avoid them any more than she could escape. The tiny ship was crawling with horny cyborgs!

  Contrary to logic, instead of cooling her temper and her resentment, the fact that all three men gave her a wide berth over the following week did nothing but make her more resentful. By the end of their second week in space, all three had begun to watch her broodingly any time she moved, Gideon most of all.

  She had never considered herself a vengeful sort of person, but the hurt and anger she felt about their behavior toward her finally drove her to do something that would have appalled her if she’d even considered it before. She decided to get even with Gideon by allowing one of the others to seduce her.

  It wasn’t as if he actually cared, or would be hurt by it, after all. None of them had any inkling what caring was.

  In any case, they had made it clear that they considered her their enemy. It wasn’t as if she could wage war on them in any other way, and if fucking them resulted in the three of them trying to kill each other … well, she didn’t have a pilot’s license, but she was fairly certain she knew enough about computers to turn the ship around and retrace its path.

  If she could get the chance to get to the controls, which she couldn’t as things stood because there was always one, and usually two, on the bridge, carefully monitoring the ship’s progress.

  In any case, they were closing in on her like stalking predators. Sooner or later, she knew one of the three was going to catch her with her guard down and pounce. The air fairly crackled with sexual desire. It was more a matter of allowing it to happen than making it happen.

  She gave it a little push anyway. What they didn’t seem to realize as they were watching her was that she was also watching them. It didn’t take long at all to learn their routines. Just like their human counterparts, these males rarely varied.

  They prepared meals six times per thirty hour period, which constituted a ‘day’ cycle. When one disappeared from the main area of the ship into the sleeping quarters, he was gone precisely eight hours. They bathed and changed before they returned, however, which meant it was impossible for her to sleep in the bed alone unless she wanted to try to sleep in two or three hour intervals. She tried at first, but she discovered very quickly that her internal clock was still set on earth time. And if she fell asleep any where besides the bed, one or another would scoop her up and take her to bed.

  She could either be passive and not move away the next time she felt a hand stray over her while she was trying to sleep, or she could be more blatant about it and time her bath so that she was in the right place at the right time.

  She opted for the bath. Subtlety was not one of their strong suits. If she wanted to really piss Gideon off, and she did, she had to make sure he knew she hadn’t been caught in a sneak attack like the one he’d sprung on her. It was still hard to decide which one, besides Gideon, she most wanted to get even with.

  Gabriel panted after her as much as the others, or maybe more, and he had been the most outspoken among them with his bigotry over humans.

  Jerico, on the other hand, was the one who’d looked at her that first day as if he wanted to devour her and then told her it was a shame she was human and not cyborg! He was just as big a bigot as Gabriel was—and probably Gideon, too.

  Finally, she decided to just leave it to fate. Whoever fell into her net was fair game. They were all assholes and if she couldn’t beat them senseless herself, she could at least try to play them against each other and watch the fireworks!

  It turned out to be Jerico’s day—which meant it was and it wasn’t—she hoped.

  She didn’t know that it would even bother Gideon. After all, it had been Jerico that had started the fight with Gabriel. Gabriel and Jerico were more volatile. Gideon actually seemed fairly laid back—most of the time, anyway.

  It wasn’t actually a matter of choice when it came right down to it. She placed herself in ‘harm’s’ way, and control over the situation went right out of her hands.

  She had just stepped beneath the shower spray when Jerico came in to bathe. He froze when he saw her, and even though she was at great pains to pretend she had no idea he was there, she felt suddenly weak with fear about what she’d plotted, instantly regretted it, and yet couldn’t think of any way at all to get herself out of the mess of her own creation.

  Panicking, she was still trying to decide if she pretended to suddenly notice him and covered herself if he would take that as a rejection and leave when he swarmed into the shower and pinned her to the wall. Her breath left her in a rush as he compressed her body between his and the chilled surface. Before she could catch it back into her lungs, his mouth settled with such savage hunger over hers that she felt as if she was falling into a deep, dark, fiery hot pit. She hadn’t counted on her reaction to him, hadn’t considered that she even could fall as deeply under his spell as she had Gideon’s.

  She shouldn’t do this, not for any of the reasons that had seemed perfectly sound before, she thought dimly, grasping at the panic that was rapidly vanishing beneath the flames as the last stronghold.

  It winked out as Jerico filled his need to explore her mouth and moved on to fresh territory, scouring her flesh with the heat of his mouth and the rough caress of his tongue. She was already aching with need before he reached her breasts. The moment he sucked one turgid tip into his mouth, she inhaled a harsh gasp and nearly passed out at the heated, weakening pleasure that engulfed her.

  She was shameless, she thought a little wildly, groaning at the fire that collected in her belly as he traced a path from the breast he’d been tormenting with his tongue and plucked at its twin, because she realized in that moment that she wouldn’t have felt anything she was feeling if she hadn’t wanted Jerico as much as she had Gideon.

  She didn’t feel shameless, even though she thought she should.

  She felt … desperate with need, feverish with it, burning up with it as he traced a path from her breasts downward across her belly. Her flesh quivered beneath his open mouthed kisses. The muscles along her channel contracted, as well. Moist heat flooded her nether regions. Pushing her legs apart as he knelt before her, he parted her nether lips with his thumb and forefinger and sucked her clit into his mouth as he had her nipples.

  “Jerico!” she gasped, catching his head, trying to thrust him away. He caught her wrists, holding them while he continued to lap and suck at her until she felt as if her knees would give out and she was gasping hoarsely with every breath as if she was dying.

  She was going to come if he didn’t stop. She wanted to. It beckoned her seductively, tempting her to yield to the quivers radiating through her sex. She resisted, fought it with every ounce of willpower she could muster.


  Clamping her hands on his shoulders, she pulled at him. “Now!” she demanded breathlessly. “Jerico!”

  He straightened abruptly, covering her mouth again as he caught her buttocks and shifted her up the wall. She looped her legs around his waist as he lifted her, locking her ankles together. Guiding his cock into the mouth of her sex, he allowed her to slip downward, engulfing him. She groaned with a mixture of frustration and pleasure as her body fought his girth. He pressed her more tightly against the wall and thrust again, sheathing his member more deeply, driving her wild with the need to feel him fully inside of her. With his third thrust, he sank home, burying himself so deeply inside of her she cried out, biting down on his shoulder as she fought to keep from coming instantly.

  It was a losing battle. As soon as he shifted her and began driving into her, she came with screaming intensity, gasping and shuddering at the hard quakes that went through her. He uttered a long, low growl as her body fisted around his sex, milking him.

  Gasping, still shuddering with his own release, he leaned heavily against her for several moments and finally pulled his cock from her, allowing her to slide down the wall until her feet touched the floor. They sagged weakly against one another while they struggled to catch their breath.

  He settled a hand along her cheek. Hooking his thumb beneath her chin and tipping her face up to his, he searched her eyes worriedly. “I did not hurt you?” he asked gruffly.

  Bronte felt her throat close. His emerald gaze was earnest. She didn’t know why it seemed to matter to him, if he was more concerned that he might have hurt her because he had been ordered not to, or if he was genuinely concerned about her. It didn’t matter at the moment. The only thing that did matter was he seemed to care.

  She shook head, unable to find her voice, drowning in guilt.

  He’d defended her before, tried to knock Gabriel’s head off because he thought Gabriel had made her cry.

  Why hadn’t she thought about that when she had been so busy working herself up to hate them back because she knew they hated what she was?