Explorer’s Log: I have completed my journey to the star system designated “Damn, I wish I Was the Queen’s Lover” by Royal Astronomers. Information provided by Captain Hellic and his pirates have allowed me to dodge patrols in this region and land on the fourth planet in the system. The other five planets are all inhabited, but the fourth planet is the home of a Grand Archive, possessing an incalculable amount of research. The Royal Navy is going to need as much information as possible to help the Queen defeat the Prober Supreme and his forces.
The pirates have also provided me with contact information for a thief to hire. I will offer the thief the diamonds I have recently acquired in exchange for vital data. This will place all the risk on the thief and leave me safe and snug at my secret docking port.
Due to the helpfulness of the pirates, I am recommending all of them for future slave status when the Queen conquers this region, instead of the mandatory spectacle executions that piracy deserves. It may seem needlessly merciful, but the irony of the pirates trading the Prober Supreme as a hated master for the glory of serving Queen Erishella is too good to resist. End Explorer’s Log.
Explorer’s Personal Log: Hiring a thief to break into the Grand Archive is a piece of genius on my part. It gives me time to explore the city and enjoy some nightlife. I’d rather hit the bars and brothels than waste my time in some boring library.
“Next, next, next!” the security guard yelled.
Atandala Guil Cipesies Ortoic stepped naked onto the platform. She spread her arms wide and squatted down. The green light flashed, letting her know that she was in the correct position. She opened her mouth and relaxed her jaw.
Metal arms extended towards her. Pinchers closed around her right nipple and squeezed. A metal arm placed a thick phallus at her lips and pushed in. A hard surface slapped her right buttock and then her left buttock.
Atandala choked. Her buttocks flinched from the hard slaps. Pain filled her right nipple.
“Nipple resistance recorded,” a voice intoned. “Buttock impacts have been scanned. Oral consumption had been graded. Identity confirmation for Archive Maintenance Technician 2nd Grade Ortoic is within 99.9994% probability.”
The pincher released Atandala’s nipple. The phallus slid out of her mouth, leaving a line of spit that breaks and falls upon one of Atandala’s small yellow breasts. A cooling mist is sprayed onto her buttocks to prevent bruising that might alter the results of tomorrow’s scan.
“Access, access, access granted,” the security guard says. He is barely watching the line. “Next!”
Atandala stood up and walked through the arch. There is a brief tingling sensation that makes her blue hair stand on end. The purpose of the arch is a secret but Atandala’s imagination is always up to the task. Is it checking her for unauthorized dermal implants? Is it scanning her for illicit thoughts? Is it a disintegration field waiting to extinguish suspected thieves?
If any of those thoughts were true, Atandala would have be dead three times over.
She stepped over to the conveyor belt that carried her equipment through a security scan. All of her equipment was deemed acceptable. Of course, it was. The first piece of data she ever stole was the chemical formula for a scanner-invisible polymer. Most of what was in her bag was coated in the stuff.
Atandala picked up her bag and slung it over her naked shoulder. She stepped into the transport pod with the other naked technicians. The stood shoulder to shoulder, bare skin to bare within the tight room. The door closed and the pod plunged into the depths of the Grand Archive.
“Anyone, anyone, anyone see the experiment that escaped last night?” someone asked. “I heard it was twenty meters tall and destroyed a protein bank!”
“It, it, it didn’t escape,” someone to Atandala’s right answered. “The Prober Supreme unleashed the mutant on the bank because they were suspected of embezzling.”
“I, I, I, don’t know,” a woman in front of Atandala said. “If it was sent by the Prober Supreme, then why did the military have to send an attack tank to bring it down?”
Atandala tuned out the conversation. She thought about the transmission she received last night over her private channel. Someone who knew Captain Hellic wanted information from the Archive and they were willing to pay in Eithian diamonds. That was a large fortune for something Atandala often did for recreation. With that kind of money, she could get buy a larger habitation module, or maybe even lease a sex provider for a year or too. Atandala was already making a list of attributes her sex provider would need to have.
“Level thirty-four, subsection C,” the pod announced. The doors opened and Atandala stepped through the crowd and onto the level. Rows of Data Beds stretched out in front of her in eight cardinal directions.
Information was transmitted to Atandala’s optical implants. An assignment appeared in the form of floating letters before her. A helpful arrow pointed in the direction she needed to go.
“Nutrition tube malfunction in Bed 677-P.”
Atandala walked in the direction of the arrow, but when she reached the malfunctioning Data Bed, she kept walking. She took a slight turn and then another before stopping at Bed 694-B. Resisting the urge to see if anyone was watching, Atandala activated the release catch for the Data Bed door.
There was a hiss of air as the door slid open. A tall man with pale skin lied inside. Cables fed into his shaved head. The eyes were open, rapidly flicking back and forth as he processed information. Between his legs, a large cock stood firm and pulsed at random moments.
Atandala made a show of inspecting his nutrition tube. You never knew when you were being surveilled in the Grand Archive. She purposely frowned as she checked the waste outtake tube and then sighed heavily. Taking a sterilizer from her bag, she went to work meticulously cleaning the man’s tubes.
Once the cleaning procedure was finished, it was standard practice to test the data connections. Atandala set aside the sterilizer and climbed on top of the prone man. She took his cock in hand and guided it to her shaved sex. The thick head pushed past her lips and slipped inside her tight passage.
Atandala gasped. The cock was tight inside her. She settled her weight on top of him and sat up.
The cock pulsed. A million transmitters embedded along the erection came to life. A million receptors within Atandala’s pussy accepted the connection. The exchange of information triggered a cascade of pleasurable stimuli.
“Oh, oh, oh,” Atandala moaned. Her sex shuddered around the thick phallus.
The unconscious man groaned. A flicker of a smile crossed his face. The hips lifted and then fell back down.
A flood of information filled Atandala’s senses. Interplanetary engine specifications made her nipples hard. Ship alloy stress tests nibbled at her toes. Power connector models kissed the insides of her elbows. Force field theories slid into her mouth and down her throat. It tasted salty.
Atandala quivered in place. She fought to keep her focus. As the information caressed her body, the technician directed it into various cache implants hidden within her body.
The man groaned again. His back arched in pleasure. A shudder ran through his body that made his cock shake inside her.
More information poured into Atandala. She was on the verge of orgasm. Her eyes clenched shut but the data still scrolled across her vision. She wanted to come but that would slow the transfer, or worse, halt it altogether.
Time was the issue. Technicians were allowed to check a connection to see if the data core was working properly but it is supposed to be a quick check. A simple list of contents was recommended, and after an extensive repair, a single file was allowed to be retrieved and then quickly deleted. Keeping a connection this long and downloading entire libraries was strictly forbidden.
Atandala moaned. The transfer of information was pleasurable, sure, but the fact that it was forbidden is what it made it sexy.
The final file transferred from Atandala’s pussy and into a memory cache. She slid off the thick cock and broke the connection. The large phallus left her snug sex and continued to throb.
Atandala dismounted from the man and took out her hygiene towel. She wrapped his cock with the towel and left the nanofibers do their work. As his thick cock pulsed in her hand, Atandala idly touched her sex. The bliss from the data transfer was fading but she was still sensitive to the touch.
The man let out a soft moan. Not for the first time, Atandala wondered where the Grand Archive finds their data cores. Someone told her they were all cloned but Atandala had seen too many cores with tattoos, scars or decorative modifications. These cores were Seed-Walkers in a previous life. The question was, did they volunteer for this life or could this be some kind of punishment?
Atandala wasn’t sure. Right now, she felt like being a data core might be more of a reward than a punishment. She gave the data core’s cock one final squeeze and then activated the bed. The door slid over the data core and locked into place.
It was time to get back to Atandala’s regular job. The person who contacted her wanted information on Prober Supreme spaceships and weapon technologies, but Atandala had to keep up appearances and at least do some of her scheduled tasks. Besides, she was too turned on to process any more information right now.
Atandala checked and cleaned the nutrition tubes of four data cores. She corrected the erectile dysfunction in one data core by repairing an aphrodisiac dispenser. Eight data cores required connection checks but Atandala was careful to only spend thirty seconds on each of the pulsing erections. The rest of her time was spent on paperwork because no matter how advanced a culture may be, there is always forms to fill out.
A bell chimed, signaling the rest and consumption period for the Grand Archive employees. The majority of technicians and librarians moved in the direction of the level’s designated personnel area but Atandala headed to the hygiene chambers When she was unobserved by anyone conscious, she ducked into the transport pod and set the destination for a deeper level.
Atandala’s heart raced. It was risky to leave a designated area. If questioned, she wouldn’t have a plausible reason for being where she was. The only advantage she had was audacity. The fact that few were foolish enough to risk going to an unassigned level meant most people would assume she was where she was supposed to be.
The transport door opened and Atandala stepped out. An identical array of data banks spread out before her. She walked with purpose down long rows of sealed beds, doing her best to project an air of indifference.
Data Bed 90903-K was unattended. Atandala subtly pressed cleaning brush against the keypad. The code-breaking device inside the brush went to work. In seven seconds, it found the right key code and unlocked the data bed.
The door hissed open. Soft pink light revealed the form of a busty woman lying in the bed. Her skin was a rich brown with a curious silver star tattooed over her right nipple. She shuddered and the silver star jiggled on her breast.
“Fertilizer,” Atandala cursed. This floor had women data cores. That was going to make Atandala’s presence even more conspicuous. The interface was going to be a problem but fortunately for Atandala, she had the right equipment in her bag.
Atandala pulled the adapter out of her bag. It was thick, smooth and very flexible. She guided one end to her sex and pushed in. The girth filled her tight sex. The adaptor interfaced with Atandala’s connection and her sex clenched in response.
The technician climbed into the data bed. She spread open the data core’s legs. It looked a little dry. That was fine. Every technician and librarian had their salivary glands altered so that their spit was as slippery as the finest sexual lubricant. Atandala spat onto the woman’s sex lips and rubbed her spit on. The data core’s sex was nearly frictionless.
Atandala guided the tip of the adaptor into the woman’s sex. It was a snug fit but Atandala kept pushing. The woman groaned and her nipples hardened. Centimeter by centimeter, the adaptor slowly opened the data core’s passage.
The adaptor pulsed. A million transmitters inside the woman connected with the adaptor’s receivers. Data was processed and directed into the transmitters on the other end and into Atandala’s receivers lining her vaginal walls. As the information flowed into Atandala, her body was smothered with a thousand sensations.
“Oh, oh, oh,” Atandala moaned. Her hips rolled, pushing the adaptor deeper inside the both of them.
The woman moaned beneath Atandala. Her hips shifted from side to side. She bit her lip and released the bite as she moaned again.
Data poured into Atandala’s body. Beam projector statistics kissed her lips. Missile payloads squeezed her breasts. Toxic gas formulas bit her thighs. Combat performance drugs fucked her face.
Drool fell from Atandala’s open lips. She almost lost herself in the pleasure but she resisted the urge to come. Her hands curled into fists and the pain of her fingernails digging into her palms helped her focus.
The woman began to pant. She writhed inside her data bed. As her pelvis moved, she also moved the adaptor inside Atandala.
Atandala cried out. The physical sensations of the adaptor moving joined the virtual ones created by the data flow. She couldn’t hold back any longer. Atandala climaxed and she came hard.
The spasmic clenching of Atandala’s sex interrupted the connection. The flow of data slowed to a trickle. It would take a moment to get back up to speed.
“You, you, you don’t belong here,” a voice said behind her.
Atandala turned her head. It was a male Seed-Walker with light green skin. His cock was huge and studded with receptors. A tattoo of the Grand Archive sparkled on his forehead. Fuck, it was a librarian!
“I’m, I’m, I’m helping out with the backlog on this level,” Atandala said. She moaned as the theory of offensive wormholes slid into her pussy.
“No, no, no,” the librarian said. “Don’t say anything else. The less data, the less that can incriminate you.”
Atandala closed her mouth. She didn’t expect legal advice from a librarian. Wait, what was he doing here on a rest and consumption period?
“Since, since, since you don’t belong here, then anything I do to you couldn’t have happened,” the librarian said. “Lean forward on the data core.”
Atandala frowned. The librarian had her in a bind. She checked the client’s request and compared it to the files she had acquired. There was twenty percent more to go. Shit. What did the librarian want with her? Her primary sexual port was stuffed with her adaptor.
“Do, do, do, it,” the librarian said. His tone was infuriatingly calm. “Or I shall be forced to call security.”
The profile of a psionic scrambler licked the base of Atandala’s neck. Atandala moaned and thought of the diamonds that were promised to her. She leaned forward onto the data core. The unconscious woman’s plump body was warm and soft.
The librarian climbed onto the data bed. Slender hands grabbed Atandala’s buttocks. They roughly spread them apart. There was a spitting sound and something wet and slippery hit Atandala’s asshole.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Atandala moaned. Her anal port was unmodified and naturally petite. That was going to test her structural integrity.
The librarian pressed his large cock to Atandala’s asshole. Her tiny hole resisted but the librarian was insistent. The small ring expanded around the head of his phallus and he slid into her. The modified spit eased the passage but it was still an extreme fit.
Atandala cried out. The librarian’s massive cock pulsed inside of her. The invading cock seemed to be on the verge of splitting her apart. When the librarian began to thrust, that suspicion only multiplied.
The anal invasion overcame the last of Atandala’s afterglow and the receptors in her pussy reactivated. The flow of information surged through her body. Laser rifles, anti-personnel grenades, knife-gloves and acid launchers kissed, bit, fondled and pinched her senses as they passed into data caches.
The librarian laid on top of Atandala, covering her body with his. The weight pressed on her and pinned her in place. If someone walked by, they would have to look twice to see that there was someone between the librarian and the data core.
Someone screamed in the distance.
“Shh, shh, shh,” the librarian whispered in Atandala’s ear.
Atandala closed her mouth and realized she had been the one screaming. Lost in stimulation, she was having a hard time knowing what was real and what was virtual.
The librarian fucked faster. Atandala focused on the deep plundering of her ass. The pain/pleasure of that thick cock was her anchor to the real world.
More data fought for Atandala’s attention. A multitude of fighting techniques kissed every inch of her body. War tank weaponry twisted her nipples. Specs for fifty different net guns stroked pubic hair that Atandala didn’t have.
“Almost, almost, almost there,” the librarian groaned.
That described Atandala’s situation as well. She was so close to coming. Only the painful penetration of her abused bottom kept her from going over the edge. She embraced the pain as the last files of data filled her cache.
The librarian grunted. He stopped and his cock pulsed. Hot seed filled Atandala’s ass.
The last of the client’s files were transferred. Atandala relaxed and immediately came. She shuddered and squirmed between two bodies.
The data core moaned. Her toes curled, oblivious to the two people on top of her.
“Move, move, move,” the librarian grunted. He pulled out of Atandala and climbed out of the data bed. “Rest and consumption is almost over.”
Atandala forced herself to rise. The pain in her ass made her cry out. The large cock was gone but the pounding it gave her remained. She slid off the adaptor and then pulled the adaptor from the data core. When she climbed out of the data bed, she nearly fell to the floor on weak knees.
The librarian was already gone. He disappeared among the rows of data banks. Atandala wondered if this was the first time he had found someone doing an illegal transfer. How many thieves were there in the Grand Archive?
Atandala tossed the wet adaptor into her bag and stood up. Pain shot from her tender ass. She grabbed her bag and rushed to the transport platform. Every jolt sent a fresh spike of discomfort through her bottom.
The pain didn’t slow Atandala down. The ache of her sensitive sex didn’t bother her either. She worked the rest of her ship without a single complaint.
The promise of diamonds made for a remarkable pain killer.