In hindsight, she was the most normal one of the bunch going into the procedure. But R&D kept cutting and cutting and what we were left with was, well. It looked like a person, mostly. It moved like a person, except when it didn’t. It talked like a person, almost. It didn’t act like a person. But it could drive the machine better than any of us, better than the unmodified test pilots, and, when it came down to it, better than the enemy’s pilots in their machines. But we had a different concern: You couldn’t tell that thing to pretend to be a human being and stand it in front of a camera long enough to give a solid press conference.
Dr. Quejana said she had a plan, and for a few days the rest of us had to stay out of the lab, but after that… After that it just worked. If you called it by its designation you’d get the project, but if you called it by the name it had before, it would smile and sit up straight and pose as pretty as you please and talk at length on camera about the miracle that we were building with it. And I don’t know what’s given me more nightmares: Seeing her call it by its name and watching it look up, bloody-mouthed, from eating its latest enrichment pet, or looking into the cold emptiness behind those eyes while it acted its old self and told an audience of millions how excited it was to get back in the cockpit.
Combat doll? Yeah, technically, I guess. She's actually a training dummy-type that we reset then told she was a high spec killing machine. 'cause it's funny to watch her flail around like she's dangerous.
the thought of getting edged a couple of times before a date night and made to go out all dripping and unsatisfied and unable to do anything about it is... v hot to say the least
Some blogs say "my sexual posts are not an invitation to flirt with me" which is 100% valid
Not for me. I'm a whore. Message me. Anon me. Say the filthiest things you can think of. I love the attention and I wanna be sub human with anyone I can
(in an effort to flirt with you) I get hard when you talk down to me and hit me a lot and I whimper if you treat me like a dog . I also have an earnest demeanor and a beautiful soul
Head of engineering: “Look I understand your concerns but I promise you even if Unit-19H was at an uncomfortable temperature we don’t have enough blankets!”
Pilot that hasn’t slept in 52 hours, between sobs while spreading three blankets on top of their mech: “But she’s cold!”
I stagger into the hangar bay. I'm off shift. I'm hungover (possibly still a little drunk). I've slept maybe 30 hours this week.
I'm also cursed with the burden of being really good at my job.
The pager on my wrist sqwawks again like I'm not already in the room and approaching the gaggle of hapless techs.
"Oh thank God you're here," the shift head of engineering says. "She's been at-"
I shut them up with a raised hand and a grunt.
"I need an emergency blanket, a space heater compatible with the mech's cockpit interface, and one of the cushions from the couch in the breakroom."
The engineer blinks at me. I think technically they outrank me, but one of the perks of my job is I don't give a shit.
"Now?" I prompt, sending them into motion. "And get me some fucking ibuprofen."
I drag myself up the gantry to where the pilot is frantically trying and failing to rearrange the blankets on the top of her mech.
Poor thing is sobbing.
I crouch down and help her with her current effort.
"She's cold," the pilot sobs in frustration.
"Yeah, I know," I reply gently. "She told me."
The pilot pauses and stares at me. Her hands are quivering from lack of sleep and whatever chemical high she's on.
I make a mental note to sit down with the shift coordinator and tear him a new one.
"Do you know why she's cold?" I ask.
"She... I..." the pilot says, struggling to form a sentence not consisting of 'she's cold'.
"If you're cold, she's cold," I explain.
A tech shows up behind me with another blanket, but this one's not for the mech. I tear off the wrapper and hand it back to the tech.
I rise and unfold the blanket.
The pilot struggles feebly as I wrap the blanket around her shoulders and wrap her into a tight burrito.
"N-no! She's cold! She can't be alone!"
"Shhhhh..." I whisper to her, "we're not going anywhere."
She weighs almost nothing in my arms. Her frantic squirming dies as I carry back inside her mech. Actually, her whole entire body relaxes.
Cameras whir as 19H tracks our movement. It... (no, the pilot had referred to 19H as 'she') ...she is on dock override, but I know with a high degree of certainty that she's in just as much distress as the pilot.
"I've got your..." a tech says from behind us. He hefts the cushion and the heater.
"Stow the cradle," I say softly. "Stick the cushion up close to the aux ports and get the heater set up after we get settled."
He complies without question. I like that in a tech.
(I think the dumbass head of engineering forgot my painkillers)
With the cradle stowed, there's just enough room for two on the floor of the cockpit. I settle onto the floor with the pilot in my lap.
"Are we going back out?" the pilot mumbles in confusion.
"No, new orders came in," I tell her. "Commandant wants you and 19H to get some sleep."
She makes a confused noise, but falls silent as I slide an aux connector into the jack on her rig. No biochem feedback lines, that'd probably fuck both of them up even more then they already are right now. But there's so much neural bleed that linking them up is the only way to bring them down from this.
(The psychs probably disagree with me on that point, but they can fuck off if they can't be bothered to deal with an emergency like this)
(That's not fair, the psych department here is understaffed and underfunded. And this is hardly a real emergency... yet)
The space heater whirs to life, bathing us in its warmth. The pilot relaxes, really relaxes this time, in my arms. And it's probably mostly my imagination, but 19H relaxes too.
I hug her close to my chest and settle both of us gently so that our heads rest on the cushion.
My body is going to fucking ache tomorrow. I make a mental note to schedule a massage.
"Do you need anything else?" the tech murmers softly.
He's watching us, all curious-like, like he's seeing some kind of magic. He wants to know how I do what I do, but he's too nervous to ask.
That's good, I could use an assistant. I make a mental note to follow up on that.
"No we're good, just-"
But he's already dimming the cockpit lights. Yeah, I definitely gotta follow up with him.
But that's a task for tomorrow.
Right now, with the pilot snuggled up tight in my arms, my task is to start humming some lullabies... Okay, I don't actually know any lullabies, my repetoir is mostly media theme music, and I'm almost certainly way out of tune, but you know what? It gets the job done.
Soon the pilot is snoring softly, and dreaming of whatever it is that linked pilots and mechs dream of.
at a friends house with my girlfriend and my friend who i could not stop flirting with to save ny life, and we remembered we needed to take our prog
as context, we'd stayed the night together a couple of times, and we would always take our prog in the same room as some sort of bonding experience betwen gals
well, that night, she was feeling tired (so she claimed) and didnt want to boof her prog, as was our custom, saying she would just swallow it, not that big a deal
however, i am very invested in her tits getting fatter, so i said fuck that
i suggested i could just do it for her, itd be quick and whatevs, i didnt mind doing this for a friend. she blushed and ahrugged her shoulders, "sure, why not"
i flipped her on her stomach and pulled down her underwear, and fuck, she has such a cute little ass
i took the prog, slathered some lube on it, and put it against her's tight little hole, and she made such a cute little whimper, i assume the lube was a bit cold
with one hand on her hip, i took my finger and pushed gently on the pill until i heard a low moan from the pillow she buried her face in, and then kept pushing
have to make sure that the prog goes far enough in, of course
by the 2nd knuckle, i felt her hips starting to raise up against me, so of course i made sure to finish helping her out by hooking down against her g spot as i withdrew, and her yelp was delicious
needless to say, all three of us fucked like rabbits until the sun came up
to her and everyone else who has read this smut, PLEASE BOOF YOUR PROG
its extremely important for the welfare of your titties, and its also a very useful tool in a top's arsenal to be able to start fingering a tgirl by giving her her meds, THINK OF THE TOPS FOLKS
