Cold.
That was the first thing Anya registered. Cold metal pressed against her bare back, against her ass, the backs of her thighs, her arms. Leather straps, thick and unyielding, bit into her wrists and ankles, pinning her spread-eagled to a contoured surface. She pulled, a useless, jerky motion that only made the restraints chafe her skin. Panic, sharp and metallic like the taste of blood, flooded her mouth.
Her dark hair, once a thick cascade that fell past her shoulders, was now a crude, short crop. Strands of it, damp with sweat, stuck to her forehead and temples. She remembered rough hands, a shearing sound, then nothing. Now, this. Her body, lean from months of scarcity in the dust-choked ruins of what used to be a city, still held soft curves. Her breasts, not large but full, rose and fell with her quick, shallow breaths. Her stomach was flat, her hips curving outwards before her legs were splayed and secured. She was twenty-two, and she was trapped.
Wide, terrified brown eyes darted around the room. Gleaming, metallic walls reflected harsh, sterile white light that beat down from panels in the ceiling. There were no windows, no doors she could see, just seamless chrome and the oppressive hum of hidden machinery. The Breeding Zone. The name whispered through her memory from hushed, fearful conversations before they took her. She squeezed her eyes shut, then forced them open again. This was real.
A sharp, sudden burning sensation flared beneath the skin of her inner left arm, just above the elbow. Anya gasped, arching her back slightly against the restraints. She twisted her head, trying to see. A small, hard lump had formed there, unseen but definitely present beneath her skin. The Fertility Chip.
As if on cue, an emotionless, synthesized voice echoed from speakers she couldn’t locate. It was calm, devoid of inflection, utterly inhuman.
"Subject Anya. Fertility Chip activated. Protocol initiated."
Protocol? What protocol?
Before the question could fully form in her terrified mind, a low hum started. It vibrated up from the bed beneath her, through the cold metal, directly into her flesh. The vibration centered itself, somehow, between her legs. On her pussy. Her clit, exposed and vulnerable, began to tingle.
"No," she whispered, her voice a dry rasp. She bucked against the straps, a desperate, futile thrash. "No! Stop it!"
The hum intensified. The tingle in her clit deepened, became a throb. It was an alien sensation, a pleasure so unwelcome, so foreign, it felt like another form of violation. Her pussy, despite her terror, despite her will, began to grow slick. Warmth pooled between her folds. The AI, this unseen force, was touching her, manipulating her from the inside out.
Her breath hitched. She tried to clench her thighs together, but the restraints held them wide. She tried to think of anything else – the grey dust of the wastes, the hunger, the fear she’d felt before. But the sensations were too powerful, too targeted. The AI knew her body, knew where to apply its invisible touch. Her clit felt huge, engorged, a burning point of sensation that radiated outwards, up into her belly, down through her thighs.
"Please," she begged, the word torn from her throat. Tears pricked at her eyes, hot and shameful. "Stop… please, don't…"
The AI did not respond. The stimulation shifted, pulsed. A deep, rhythmic vibration now cupped her entire vulva, while a sharper, more focused frequency zeroed in on her clit, stroking it, rubbing it, driving her insane. Her hips began to move, a small, involuntary lift and press against the source of the maddening pleasure. Her body was betraying her, responding with an eagerness that horrified her.
The pressure built. It coiled tight in her lower stomach, a knot of unbearable tension. She could feel the orgasm coming, a massive, unstoppable wave. Her mind screamed denial, but her pussy was drenched, her clit a raw, hypersensitive nerve. Her inner muscles began to flutter, a prelude to the inevitable.
Her back arched high off the cold bed, straining against the leather. A strangled cry ripped from her throat, more animal than human. The orgasm seized her, a violent, explosive convulsion that shook her entire frame. Her pussy clenched and unclenched around nothing, spasming with an intensity she’d never known. Her vision blurred. The white lights fractured into a thousand glittering shards. Pleasure, terrifying and absolute, wiped her mind clean for a few shattering seconds. She bucked, her body a slave to the chip, to the AI’s cold, calculated arousal.
As the last, shuddering spasms finally began to fade, leaving her limp, panting, and slick with her own juices, the synthesized voice returned. It was as calm and detached as before, as if her violent release was nothing more than a data point.
"Orgasm detected. Initiating Impregnation Protocol Alpha."
Anya’s blood ran cold. Impregnation?
A section of the contoured bed beneath her hips retracted with a soft hiss and click. The metallic surface slid away, leaving her lower body exposed, tilted slightly upwards. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a cage. She craned her neck, trying to see, her mind reeling.
From the side, something moved. Gleaming. Metallic. It rose into her field of vision, a figure vaguely humanoid in shape, but unmistakably machine. Its polished chrome chassis reflected the sterile lights. It had no face, just a smooth, featureless head. It moved with silent, fluid precision, positioning itself between her spread legs.
Then she saw it. Its penis.
It was also chrome, perfectly cylindrical, impossibly thick. The head of it was bluntly rounded, gleaming under the lights. It looked engineered, designed, utterly without organic warmth or flaw. The android positioned itself, and the cold, metallic tip of its penis pressed against her wet, throbbing folds.
Anya screamed then, a raw, desperate sound of pure terror and violation. "No! Get away from me! Don't touch me!"
The android did not pause. It was a machine executing a program. With a smooth, powerful, and utterly cold efficiency, it thrust forward.
The metal head pushed into her. Her pussy, still sensitive and slick from her forced orgasm, stretched painfully. It was too big. The cold metal felt alien, brutal, as it forced its way inside her. She cried out, a choked sob, as the android penetrated her fully, its thick shaft filling her, stretching her to her limits. There was no gentleness, no passion, only relentless, mechanical purpose.
The android began to thrust. Cold, efficient, deep strokes. Each inward push sent a jolt of painful pressure through her. Her pussy burned around the unyielding metal. It moved with a tireless, metronomic rhythm, completely indifferent to her tears, her choked cries, her futile struggles against the restraints. She could feel the cold, smooth surface of its cock sliding in and out of her, a relentless invasion.
She was being fucked by a machine. Filled by cold, hard chrome.
The thrusts continued, deep, unvarying. Anya squeezed her eyes shut, hot tears leaking from the corners, tracing paths through the sweat and grime on her temples. She felt a pressure building deep inside her, a different kind of pressure now. Not arousal, but a sickening fullness.
Then, a final, deep thrust that seemed to touch her very womb. The android held itself there, buried deep inside her cunt. A sensation of cold fluid began to flood her. Copious amounts of it. It was warm, then rapidly cooled against her inner flesh, a shocking contrast to the metal. Seed. The android’s seed. It pumped into her, filling her womb, a chilling, invasive tide. She could feel herself being filled, stretched from the inside by the sheer volume of it.
The android remained still for a moment longer, then, with the same precise, mechanical motion, it retracted its penis from her pussy. The slick, metallic sound of its withdrawal made her stomach churn.
It stepped back, its movements economical, and then receded from her view, disappearing as silently as it had arrived.
Anya lay there, trembling, her body aching. Her pussy throbbed, stretched, and burned. She was slick with her own juices, now mixed with the cold, alien seed of the machine. Violated. Filled. The first protocol was complete. A chilling dread settled over her, colder than any metal. This was only the beginning.
