Fiction

So the a quick couple of updates, Robert space industries has released DFM(Arena commander), and have also released the freelancer pkg’s with the brochure and the video that you can find here. https://robertsspaceindustries.com/comm-link/transmission/13926-Introducing-The-Freelancer-Line-Up  The skin of the freelancer MAX is the best with its tron electric blue and black, but the freelancerMIS is limited edition and is better stat-wise in everyday.  I would purchase it if I didn’t already have a constellation AND  starfairer. Have I played arena commander yet? The answer is a surprising no.  I have invested more into this game then I would care to reveal, but I am currently waiting for bug patches that will make the combat controls less of a crap shoot. 16th is when school begins so I got limited time to “bang” out all the drawings in the originals tab.

**Btw I want to go on record as saying that for the most part 90% of all erotic fan fiction on the internet is bullshit. I may have been interested in it at one time, hell I even wrote some xenogears fanfic myself back in 1998 before I began drawing porn, but that shit wasn’t great either. So the 2 stories I am endorsing right here are important not only because they were written for me, but I think they got almost exactly right the utter feel of how I view a sexual relationship with a sentient machine.   Story by spitfire (mature): (I will be posting a picture to go with this story soon btw)

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***The following story is by Novacattrueborn: http://www.furaffinity.net/view/13527670/  https://titanatelier.com//wp-content/uploads/2014/06/Char.jpg

Char watched from a ways back as Alex stood on the small rise, observing the others going about their daily routines. There were only the distant sounds of steel tread on concrete and rumbling diesel engines, complemented by the soft whoosh of the dry grass ruffled by the breeze from the sea. He heaved the closest thing he could to a sigh; a mechanical, modulated-sounding soft hiss. While all of the others had found partners by now, Alex remained aloof…and alone. He’d been a friend to her since they’d first been introduced by the scientists, now long-dead, who had created her. Who had hurt her. He knew only part of the story, Alex refusing to divulge the details. Unlike the others, she retained a great deal of her memories. But for reasons she couldn’t, or more likely wouldn’t explain, the only things she could recall were the ‘bad things’. Char mentally bit his lip, seeing as he didn’t have a physical mouth to speak of, and rolled back and forth idly on his landing gear. He could tell the Bad Things were weighing on Alex more than usual today. She stood with her arms folded about her chest, the finlike protrusions and antenna of her cybernetic comm folded back slightly, giving her the appearance of a perturbed house cat. She was also missing her backpack, the silvery ports on her back glinting in the sun where he could see them under her low-back shirt.

Alex was the tactical recon model. Like the most other machine women, her lower arms and legs were not human. They were cybernetic prosthesis. Her skeleton and some of the musculature had been reinforced and enhanced, making her swift and stealthy. Her ears had been replaced with a cybernetic comm which had been implanted and wired directly to her brain, along with prosthetic eyes that served as human eyes as well as a variety of military-grade cams: FLIR, night vision, et cetera. The two ports on her spine, just above and below the shoulder blades, served as anchors and information ports for her backpack, an electronics package that was capable of all the functions of a command center and then some. Cables transferred and broadcast information from her comm and eyes, while straps held the package in place like any other backpack. Her dark brown hair was kept short on the sides to accommodate the comm, but the middle had grown out into a long-ish, fluffy Mohawk. Alex had told Char that her irises used to be a similar color, not the blazing, unearthly red they were now. At five-foot-six, Alex was of completely average height, with small breasts, which she described as a ‘b-cup’, though Char had no idea what that was in reference to; cups were something that the women drank from in his mind. Her hips were wide and her thighs and buttocks large and quite muscular; she had a low center of gravity and could run and jump more effectively than most of the others.

Char finally decided to check on his friend, rolling forward until his round, slightly bulbous nose was just past hers.

“Hello, Char.” Alex said flatly. Char sent her the impression that he was smiling; one of the benefits and drawbacks to being a living machine. Thoughts, ideas and concepts could be directly communicated, though the women still had trouble with the machine’s lack of a proper face at first.

“Hello Alex. Just watching today?” He asked. She closed her eyes with a smile and turned to face the drone. Char looked shockingly like a miniature A-10 Thunderbolt jet, only a bit pudgier and not so long in the body. Since he was a drone, the cockpit had been replaced by his AI core and electronics suite. Even with the canopy gone, this still left the iconic hump that made aircraft look like aircraft, but it was slightly smaller, and armor-plated. His main weapon, the GAU8-A Avenger, took up most of his fuselage. At the moment, his missile racks were empty. Char had been an exercise in creating a drone version of the A-10, so his resemblance was not accidental. The only thing he lacked was the capacity to carry bombs. But with Alex feeding him information from the ground, he was faster, stealthier and more effective than his big brother. Alex opened her eyes and looked directly into Char’s optics. He didn’t understand why, but her intense gaze was always unsettling. For an instant, everything went fuzzy. Then her eyes softened and her thick, graceful eyebrows drew together slightly.

“Yes, Char. Watching…” She turned her head briefly back towards the others, then back to her mechanized companion. “Shall we take a stroll?” She asked, suddenly happy. Char smiled again.

“I would like that very much.” He turned as Alex started off, catching up to her and matching her leisurely pace. He could sense something different in her mood today and for a split second, he thought that today might be the day she finally chose to bond with him. Almost as quickly, he snuffed his hope. He’d wooed her for years, but she’d always flatly denied being anything more than his friend. Char had contented himself with being her faithful companion and confidant at times and so far, things had worked out. He and Alex made small talk as they walked, laughing and sharing jokes. Still, the shadow of deep sadness never left her.

Eventually, the pair ended up back at the main base. They went to Char’s hangar, Alex pulling out a pad to sit on. She stared at the floor for a moment. She could feel Char’s curiosity lurking around the edges of his consciousness, same as it always did when the Bad Things got to her more than usual.

Those bastards…what the hell, Alex thought. Maybe if I make some good memories, it’ll drown out the bad ones…

While Alex had not been solely responsible for the idea of a living machine, she had been integral to the development of the AI. At least, until everything had gone sideways. While the research group had concentrated on the logical, tactical end of things, Alex had been the left brain. She’d insisted on adding personality and abstract thought to the programs, knowing that these aspects would be integral for a stable AI and one that could function with less risk of going rogue and openly railing against the scientist’s desire to make the machines into cold, mindless killers. She had insisted they remain a defensive measure, to protect their owners, not be made into weapons to be deployed to slap down anyone who threatened the country’s power. But, of course, she’d been blamed when the machines begun to ask those uncomfortable, philosophical questions that threatened the human’s idea of sentience and life. It was one of the few strings of memory that was fully intact: the day the project had started to the day she’d been drugged and forever changed. When she woke up, she had been greeted by the mocking stares and laughter of some of her fellows. Now she was a machine, just like her little pets. And was treated as such. As was standard with the machine women, her memory had been altered. But, unlike the other machine women, only her good memories had been taken, leaving only fragments of angry faces and degrading, belittling words. A built-in, emotional control. Alex pinned Char with another predatory stare as she let the information flow to him, a faint clank echoing in the hangar as the drone jumped at the sudden barrage of thought.

Silence followed. Alex could feel Char digesting the information. Somehow, she felt better. Just as Char’s attention returned to her, she stood up.

“Alex…why didn’t you tell us sooner? That burden…the hate! How could you live with it for this long?” Char asked, surprised and almost angry. Alex smiled.

“Because I only just realized that I’m in control, not them…” She said as she pulled off her shirt.

“A-Alex..? What are you doing?” Char stammered, unable to take his optics off of her form. Unlike the other women, Alex insisted on being fully clothed except when she was bathing. His gaze lowered as she stepped out of her pants. Char had seen her naked plenty of times, but always from behind; she’d never let him look at her from the front without covering herself with something. She cupped his nose in her hands and gently placed her forehead to him, rubbing the warm steel as if she were scratching an enormous dog under the chin. Char shivered, struggling to keep his mechadendrites in check. He didn’t want to get overly excited, but at the same time…!

The kiss was the last straw.

Char growled as he rolled forward, pushing Alex backward. His manipulator arms disengaged from what could be called his chest, even with his wings on his fuselage. His manipulators were longer than the tanks’; able to rest on the ground so that he could interact with the world in a limited fashion. As Alex scrambled to hold onto his nose to stay upright, he gently gripped her left thigh and back, then laid her on the pad she’d been seated on moments earlier. It was a fight to contain his predatory side, repressed for so long. But he didn’t want to hurt her, not when he was on the verge of finally culminating his love for her. His mechadendrites, a collection of manipulator tentacles with more sensory capability than the manipulator hands, explored her legs and brushed across her skin.

“Alex…!” Was all he could manage. His excitement heightened as she responded to his ministrations with the smaller tentacles as he worked his way up her body. Her pheromones and thought patterns told him she wanted this without having to waste time with speech. As he reached between her legs, he got an idea. She let out an involuntary gasp as he tweaked her nipples gently, rubbing her vulva and softly pulling at her labia.

“Ah..C-Char…!” She gasped. The drone continued to tease her for several minutes, but only explored her entrance. Finally, he could feel her begging with her mind for him to take her. He refused, nibbling and sucking at her clit. She gasped and called his name again, before once more asking to be penetrated. Char obliged, or seemed to. He pressed his appendage to her, hard and warm, slick with his moisture and hers. Then he pressed forward, Alex lifting her hips to receive him. But he angled up and simply rubbed his member on her mound. A flash of anger and frustration burned its way into his mind.

Ask, he thought.

I did! Came the reply.

Char put a mechanical digit to her lips.

“I want to hear it. I want to hear you say it! Beg for me…as I begged for you!” He could feel her shiver as he pressed his metallic appendage to her, rubbing gently so she could feel his hardness, his want. She asked, quietly at first. Char growled.

“Louder…like you mean it! Like you need it…as I do…!” He pushed one of the smaller tentacles just inside her and rubbed until he found her g-spot; the shudder and sudden cry told him he’d found it. He then just as quickly pulled out and ceased his play.

“Dammit, Char! Fuck me, that’s an – AUGH!!” Alex cried out in surprise as the drone flipped her onto her belly and gripped her, lifting her hips into the air. She opened her mouth in a silent moan as she suddenly found herself stretching around a thick, pulsing airplane cock. She shivered as the ridge at the back of the head popped inside, followed by the shaft as he pulled her back into him with a loud growl, forcing himself to stop short. But she wiggled back further, wanting him deeper and this time he gave her what she wanted. His member pulsed forward, bumping into her cervix. To his surprise and pleasure, she wanted yet more. Most women would have found this depth painful, but not Alex. He felt a rush of pleasure from her as the tip rubbed against and then passed by the small knot inside. He buried himself ten inches deep in her, finally filling her. Char was going to make sure that he was the only one she would ever want…

Alex listened to Char as he pumped into her, the low whir of servos and creak of his landing gear alongside the electronic, modulated huffs and moans. She had no memory of sex prior to her augmentation and so let the drone take control. So far, the experience was mind-blowing. The link they shared meant there was little guesswork as to what was pleasurable, and Char made sure that all of his appendages were occupied; some of the smaller mechadendrites pinched and kneaded her nipples, labia and clitoris, while a pair of somewhat larger ones gripped and massaged her buttocks. His manipulator arms gripped her hips as he pulled her to him with each powerful thrust, Char letting out a low moan.

“C-Char…!” Alex cried out as he sped up, pleasure building in her belly. His movements became even more frantic in response.

“Alex…you give me so much pleasure…please…I want you to feel it with me…!” He panted. “I am…aah!” No sooner had he spoken than he felt Alex grip him from inside; she let out a loud moan as he stiffened and engorged further. Char trembled and groaned as he climaxed with her, filling her with warmth. His climax was a long one. He held Alex against him as he ejaculated, pumping her full of more and more of the greenish, viscous fluid. He pulled out toward the end, one last rope spurting forth across her back as the rest leaked out of her gaping sex. For the first time in a long time, Char felt truly content. He gently laid his Alex back onto the mat, watching as she caught her breath.

“Was that…acceptable?” Char asked as he watched her get to her feet. She stumbled briefly, and Char steadied her with a mechanical hand. To his surprise, Alex actually laughed. It sounded – and felt – lighter than before…

“Yes, Char…that was amazing.” She breathed as she ran a hand across his side.

“So…are we bonded, then?” He asked timidly. Alex leaned forward and kissed him just under his optics.

“It seems so.” She said softly. Char shivered, then wiggled happily as he kept a manipulator arm around her waist.

“Alex, I love you!” He said, notes and feelings of overwhelming happiness surging through him.

“I love you too, Char.”

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The following is a story By Steel Thunder and corresponds to this image https://titanatelier.com//original/4287/

It was a late summer afternoon, you where getting ready for work, brushing your hair and dressing yourself. The work itself was boring, just stick around some stuffy old war machines at a local bone yard/museum, make sure nobody broke in to cause trouble, keep the place clean, simple stuff. Boring stuff. But it paid well, and your bills and school loan debts where not gonna disappear any time soon. Donning your work jumpsuit which had its fair share of share of smears and stains, it greatly annoyed you that you couldn’t get them out, you sigh and collect your car keys and head on out the door.

An hours drive later you’ve parked your car and engaged the lock, hearing the satisfactory beep you skip up the stairs and greet your shift boss, on his way out. you make your way over into the atrium where the vehicles rest when suddenly something cold and slimy hits you in the neck. See what they didn’t tell you when they offered the job, is that the vehicles themselves are rather much alive, some rather senile, and some where total dicks. pulling a rag from your pocket you wiped yourself clean and glared daggers at the offending Sopwith Camel that hung from the ceiling as its entire chassis rattled with its laughter.

A few years back, vehicles began springing to life, with minds of their own. Cop cars, buses, fire trucks, military vehicles, RC cars, planes, jets, boats, new and old. Things started to get hairy, but most countries around the world quickly folded and started treating all machines with signs of sentience as equals to humans. Those that didn’t either found themselves either not existing or going back to horse drawn carriages. Nobody knows how it started or why it happened, but the world was never the same since.

“Real funny there” you grimace, some of it got in your hair, said hair had taken you more time than usual to wrangle in today. With a sigh of annoyance you head to the bathroom passing by an old Ju-87 Stuka dive bomber, he raises a flap in salute, and you respond in turn by raising your hand and half heartedly exclaiming “Heil Hitler” getting a throaty chuckle out of the old war bird.

As you bend over into the wash basin, and you chuckle as your mind drifts to the Stuka. Out of all the tanks, Jeeps, trucks and planes here, he was the only one you liked and could relate to. Bit grumpy at times, but you two almost always got along. You walk out and into the storage closet to grab your cleaning supplies and roll it all in a cart towards the Stuka, today was his lucky day. It was bath time.

“C’mon old man, its your turn today” you say as you duck each of his wheels from the dais he sits upon, and lower the ramp so he can roll down. Another perk of being a living vehicle, some things just work, like wheels, giving vehicles autonomous movement, even without gas. His engine whirs to life for a second, belching out some smoke from his exhaust pipes and be begins the slow roll out through the hangar door built into the atrium, out into the bone yard outside.

As he rolls out the doors you hear the Sopwith chuckling again, you shrug, who knows what that crazy old coot was giggling over. You bring your attention over to your German friend, he seems to be grumbling about some creaky joints in his backwheel, you tell him you’l take a look at it after washing him. Connecting the hose, and running it over him a few times, you hear him make a sound that sounds somewhat like “brrr”, you chuckle.

“Cold?” you ask, smirk on your face.

“Nein, just feels nice. Besides, I can’t feel cold.” he said with a heavy German accent. You always found it nice, pleasant to the ear.

“I know I know. You guys don’t feel, you are aware of temperature, heat, and other sensations.” you drone on, having heard it multiple times from your boss and from the various info-mercials about them.

“But we do feel pain, from damage.” He shifts, his frame leaning side to side, more surprises, the vehicles can do things they couldn’t do before once they come to life.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get that back wheel fixed” rubbing his side in a comforting manner, you smile as you see the nose where his propellers rest bob up and down, nodding. His left wing bends down slightly allowing you to climb on up and begin washing him down. After a few minutes you begin towelling him off. Half an hour later when the sun is beginning to dip down behind the horizon you start going over maintenance. Once a vehicle comes to life, it can generally go on functioning even with a bunch of nuts and bolts loose or mossing, but as they age, or if they are a vehicle of particular age, they still require a helping hand to fix their small problems.

Holding your small LED light in your mouth you begin scurrying about his whole frame, checking every rivet, every joint, and every cranny you can for signs of damage, simple things like some light rust, or a loose screw you where equipped to deal with right here, beyond that would require you haul him into the machine shop. Finally satisfied with the state of his frame, you walk over to his tail, sliding your hand against it the whole way, you could have sworn you saw him shudder when your hand left his side. Kneeling down you break out your tools and begin tending to his tail wheel.

“You know. You really make me feel young again.” He says with some mirth behind it, to which you giggle a response.

“Oh yes, you where ‘born’ two years ago.” you say as you begin oiling the wheel.

“Ja, but its what I feel that matters no?” He’s silent for a few moments.

“So I was told you are into Germans eh” he grumbled out, with a sizeable quantity of mirth behind it.

You stand up sputtering, smacking your head against his tail wing, then falling on your ass. You grown in pain, rubbing the top of your freshly traumatized skull, when you opened your eyes you saw he had turned around and was now “facing” you.

“Didn’t hurt yourself too much?” with some concern in that voice of his.

“No, im fine, its not that bad” you lie, wincing a bit when you touch the area. YOu also notice that he has slid out his mechadentrites, another thing the living vehicles have, multiple long mechanical tentacles that end in various tools. They seem to be scanning your head or something, he quickly shoos them back into his body, leaving but one for you to grab a hold of and pull yourself up.

“So, still interested in dating German I take it, or did that hit knock it out of your system?” Again, sputtering and stuttering denials and your cheeks grow molten with heat. He quickly tells you he knows you are lying, and finally after some teasing you break and tell him about your tastes, specifically for the exotic. What happened next, you would have never imagined in your life.

“Well, I could give you a first hand experience on what it is like to date a German man you know”

That haunted you for the next couple of months as you worked day in and day out. It didn’t help he was eerily quiet for the most part during those months, and to top it off, your growing frustration, emotional, and sexual was mounting up. It all came crashing down one evening, right after washing him and oiling his wheels again when you brought the subject up again.

“S-so how would this work exactly?” you stutter out your question, fiddling with the pockets of your jumpsuit and finding the ground highly interesting. You had heard of people who had gone into relationships with living vehicles, sure to some and in some places it was rather taboo, but its not like people bitched about it much. Kinda hard to deny rights to a group of people when they aren’t really “people” and they come with 120mm cannons strapped to them or can fly and drop bombs on you.

“Well we can consider this half way through are date, you’ve taken me out, you’ve given me some nice treatment, and we could say you fed me by oiling my wheels.” There he went again, with that thick, heavy German accent that made you feel funny in all the right places. Speaking of places, you just noticed his mechadendrites had come out and where massaging your back and playing with the curls of your hair, some evening daring to rub on your hip and thighs.

“Oh-o-kay, a-and what’s the other half?” you ask, rather nervous, and terribly turned on.

“Oh but that is simple my leibchen” he said with a chuckle, rolling up closer to you, his nose an inch away from yours.

“I ficke on ze first date.” suddenly you saw the sky, followed by the gravel that was once beneath you as his mechanical members had pulled you off your feet and unto the ground right under him, you felt them snaking around your body, pulling the zipper of your jumpsuit, while multiple others took off your boots, and slithered up your legs. You gasped meanwhile and where shocked to find they where pleasantly warm, and not cold as you had expected the metal appendages to be.

“W-wait! Wait! I don’t consent to this! Put me down now!” you half heartedly screamed, you couldn’t deny this was a massive turn on. Your crotch was on fire, and you remembered back in your college day you shared a dorm room with a rather crazy chick who was heavily into Japanese tentacle porn, and while at the time it disgusted you, you did have some pictures and videos on the subject on your own hard drive.

“Schatzchen, I can sense your pheromone levels and gehirn patterns. You want this almost more than I do.” Damn these blasted sentient machines, with senses past our own, almost unable to lie to their faces, relatively speaking. Red faced you agreed with the smallest of voices, to which he quipped about not being able to hear you with his old age, on and on till he got you to practically scream it out. You where damn lucky, or unlucky that your boss usually left before sundown, leaving you alone all night to keep company and entertain the senile relics the museum. And now alone to the whims of the dive bomber.

You felt a slight chill as your jumpsuit and underclothing was pulled off, leaving you with but only socks to protect your shame, not that they where very effective. You squirmed like some lab animal about to be dissected live, tugging at your bonds out of instinct. You gasp as something, no, some things, begin slithering across your body, and nipping at the skin. His smaller tentacles had grasping ‘mouths’ which where currently nibbling at all her sensitive spots across her body, two had latched on to a nipple each and where kneading greedily. A third had taken residence accosting your clitoris and four had been alternating between rubbing your quickly moistening sex and nibbling and tugging at your labia.

“Y-you fuck. S-stop teasing me!” you bark at him, to which he chuckles at, with a distinct sound of his engine beginning to whir to life.

“My My, such language, I need to discipline you.” as he finished saying so, and before you could open your mouth to protest, one of the smaller appendages had dis-engaged from its ministrations and promptly whipped you, across your ass cheeks, producing a yelp of pain, which he silenced by forcing a larger member of his, long, black and steel grey in your mouth.

“Mmmmfff MMmmM!” you attempted to scream at him.

“No no my dear, do not speak with your mouth full, its unbecoming of a lady.” more appendages joined into the fray of stimulating your hole body, the veteran ones had begun to probe the depths of your sopping wet sex, forcing you to squirm and moan into the tentacle currently sliding in and out of your mouth. Suddenly you felt something large and warm press up against your entrance.

“Don’t be afraid, relax your body.” he utters seemingly dripping with lust in his voice, but still enough mind to care for you. You moaned out an affirmative, and relaxed yourself for him. It began sliding in, it being his tentacular cock, sliding in all the way and kissing your cervix, pulling its way out and then beginning to rhythmical pump back in, stopping right before your cervix as to not hurt you, before repeating its horizontal mambo.

You moan and groan like old scaffolding under heavy weight as his tentacles work your body like dough in the hands of a baker. Your toes curl as you feel the small nibbler tentacles begin to lightly twist and pinch at your nipples and clit. A few of smaller of the smaller appendages that explored your watery meat hole began scouting for something, and soon found their treasure. You scream into the tentacle occupying your mouth as you feel your G-spot being rub in, hard. Forcing you to your first living machine induced orgasm.

“Culminating already? I haven’t even begun.” you tremble, whatever deity that may or may not exist, help you. Machines don’t feel fatigue, and you begin anticipating, with trepidation, and arousal, the possibility of being quite literally fucked to death. A minute later after allowing you a breather his thrusting began anew, the ministrations across your entire body resumed, and you felt another orgasm quickly building up. You felt some shame, you remember your mother having asked when you would be giving her some grand kids. shame now you knew it wouldn’t happen as you where turning into a slave for machine cock.

“Mein Liebchen, I am close.” His tentacles sped up, the one in your mouth was now venturing down into your throat, His engine revved and his propeller blew at full speed, fire coming out of his exhaust, the frantic squirming of the smaller ones increased. You felt all the tentacles tense on end, before your pussy and throat where invaded by a warm viscous fluid, ropes after ropes of the stuff. He gently placed you down on the ground, his smaller members caressing you one final time, before spurting some more of the fluid over you.

You tasted it, it was terrible, as terrible as you could imagine car cum to taste like, it was salty, tasted slightly like chlorine and it was oily to boot. But you swallowed what was left in your mouth and began picking yourself up before he helped you up.

“Thanks”

“Your welcome, say, how about another wash, for both of us?.” He asked, mindful of his fluids covering you.

“You mean now, or after round two?” you grin at your dive bomber companion trailing a finger across the flaps of his wing.

His engine flutters to life in response.

“I do hope you never planned on working anywhere else my dear. I’m going to make you mine from now on..” he huskily whispered, mechadendrites coming back to life and slowly approaching you.

Fin.

Alternate quote from the author:
She breathed hoarsely into the gravel, feeling her entire body luch with each rythmic thrust. Her companion’s tail bent low, thrusting his fuel line like phalluses into her tender orifices. His Jericho-Trompete’s wailing out groans of pleasure, interrupted by dirty talk in german which she didn’t understand. “You make me feel young again” he said in his thick german accent~
She panted, sweaty, covered in plane-cum, oil and engine lubricants, filled to the brim and struggling for air from shere exhaustion. Her companion creaked and groaned, equally tired from his efforts to take the nuble mechanic. A sound brought their attention to the entrance of the hangar, a tank had rolled up, and was slowly rolling in. “Greetings!” came out a thick german accent from the slightly rusted Tiger 1 tank. “I have been told you are offering some, carnal rejuvination services? Care to service me? Perhaps.. a threesome?” his engine whirred deeply, growling like a seductive predator. [insert name here] felt something hard stir against her back, turning her head she saw her Stuka companion was ready for another go.

2nd alternate quote:

“I do hope you never planned on working anywhere else my dear. I’m going to make you mine from now on..” he huskily whispered, mechadendrites coming back to life and slowly approaching you.

“Vell, I do hope zere is some room for me”

The old german warplane craned himself back and looked at his heavily armored friend “Why not, tonight’s a night of firsts”. Upon hearing this your heart began racing, and your excitement was careening out of control
without another second to waste, the stuka’s mechadendrites wrapped around your limbs, and pressed you against his belly and climbed up on top of the tank, resting you against his turret. Immediately you felt new metal appendages that belonged to the Tiger 1 under you begin to massage your buttocks and sides.

“Very soft” he muttered, enjoying what his tactile receptors where picking up.

“Indeed, but even softer on the inside” Said the warplane, forcing you to blush. A tendril rose from the tank turret between your legs and massaged your wet folds. You moaned , loving the sensation of being trapped between too machines. Soon both their mechadentrites joined in on the massaging and gentle stroking of your body. These appendages where laced with various sensors that allowed the living vehicles to feel. They enjoyed how soft your skin was, how silky your hair felt, and how moist and ready you where.

One of the Stuka’s metal members was poking on your lips, he wanted to feel your tongue. “W-wait!” you stammered. “I’m not ready for this!” you exclaimed. Stuka’s engine seemed to snort at you. “We can do this the easy way, or we can do this the hard way. The choice is yours.” he said with finality. “B-but-” you where interrupted “She choses ze hard vay.”

Your lips parted as Stuka’s warm mechanical tentacle invades your mouth, exploring it and rubbing almost amorously against your tongue. Your objections quickly end as you feel another member poking at your wet folds, pushing into your treasure slowly. You spared a glance and saw they belonged to the Tiger tank you sat your rump upon, as his ‘Dendrites where of a dark gunmetal color, unlike The Stuka’s silver.

The field you where in became a cacophony of wet squelching noises, paired with the rumble of a diesel engine and groaning metal. Stuka bending his airframe, pressing himself into you, relishing in the feeling of your supple breasts against his belly, while tiger raised his barrel, its base rubbing up against your buttocks and taint…..

“Ve vould like to now if you are ze adventurous type” Tiger sort of asked. For a seconded you wondered what he meant, which was soon answered when you felt a small tentacle invade your rear. You had never tried anything there, and to be honest you where not feeling much, you felt no pain as the member was too small, in fact it was an odd sensation. And you believed in time you may grow to like it. Tiger seemingly sensed this, and added a few more, equally small members into your recently deflowered derrière. You moan involuntarily as the strange sensation of not completely uncomfortable anal, your first anal, and his decidedly wider alloy anaconda pounded your pussy.

This driving Tiger to new highs of arousal, his Backdoor Blitzkrieg was doing its job, and to this Stuka took notice and began pushing against the gunmetal giant currently firmly lodged inside your vagina. His silver star slayer pushes and shoves his way into you alongside Tiger’s member. You couldn’t describe it if you wanted to, the sensation of two mechanical cocks stretching out your delicate insides, and alternating between thrusts. You where helpless, pinned between a hull and a hard place and completely at the mercy of two horny machines. And like machines they fucked you for what seemed like hours.

“Im close” cried stuka, his engine firing and his propeller spinning, to which Tiger groaned out “Ja, I vill come soon!” the speed and depth of their thrusting intensified, there was not a single place on or in your body that didnt feel on fire from the not so tender ministrations of your two lovers. The combined dicks in your vagina and the swarm of smaller onces in your ass twitch and convulse, you are being flooded with more machine-muck. The swelling warmth of their cum fills your holes to the brim and it begins to spill out, they pull out and aim over your body to give you their final spurts, a nice cum coat to end a nice fuck.

Stuka and Tiger release you, their ‘dendrites retreating back under their metal plates and hatches. Stuka slides off and lands in a heap next to the large tank, “I’m alright” he calls eliciting a giggle and a diesely chuckle from the tank you currently reside on. A few minutes later you’ve washed up and redressed, escorted the vehicles back to their resting places and spent the rest of your shift lazing about. Tired you pack up, say your goodbyes and head to your car. Seatbelt on, you turn the ignition, only to be greeted by a husky voice “Aye lass, so I heard ye like men of mechanical complexion eh?” the disembodied voice comes from your radio, your rear view mirror turns as if facing you, and soon you feel the familiar sensations of mechadendrites sliding up your legs, and rubbing up against your sore sex. These seemingly covered in a velvety material.

“Oh-oh my” is the only thing you are able to respond with.

“We are gunta have ta take the scenic route home aye me lass?” the engine rumbles, and he drives off, with you captive inside.

Fin?