Imagine you're a scientist. You work for, probably, not the most ethical of organizations. The work you do was supposed to involve research demonic power and it uses to better the world. But, instead, you've found yourself observing and dispensing of gallons of demon cum.
The idea started simple. Demons generate energy through their impulsive and sinful natures. So, if one can find a way to "milk" out that energy, then it could be used a potential limitless source to power anything one can dream of.
The drawback is that, between the seven deadly sins, Lust has been the only nature that's consistently drawn the most power over time.
Thus, you - standing in front of the observation bay windows - watching a demon pound away into a milking machine. He was large and muscular, thick horns jutting outwards and sharp enough to kill a man with the smallest of gestures. He had a name - supposedly - but demon language meant nothing but gibberish to human ears. You just called him "Dee".
The job wouldn't be so bad, The cum wasn't very useful and you had the job of disposing of it, if it weren't for the fact that the more "higher up" scientists had noticed this particular demons energy output rose exponentially when you watched them.
It wasn't being in the same room, whether it be through camera or window, the thing somehow knew when you were watching him. In recordings, he would fuck into the machine, for lack of a better word, "vanilla". Rhythmically fucking in and out almost bored by its predicament. But when you entered the room... When you watched the live feed...
Dee's breath hitched and he picked up the speed. His hips pulled out in long and swaying thrusts, becoming more targeted to the phantom mares inner collection chamber. As if he were fucking a real body. His body hunched forward and he breathed against the metal frame and spoke in demon tongue. And his claws, they dragged into the ground, being careful not "hurt" the fake body it was presented with.
It was showing off. Everyone knew that it was thinking of you when it thrust inside. That it wanted you to replace that the unfeeling, robotic hole that it fucked day in and day out.
And, what started out as disgust, was slowly turning warmth and arousal. You were growing jealous of the mechanical contraction it bred.
It should be you.
End part 1
You shake your head of these thoughts. This isn't you. You're a scientist, dammit! You do not find the sight in front of you arousing.
You stare through the window at Dee continuing his fucking. His hips are slowly edging out of the machine before drawing back in. You can see the way the tight O around its silicone rim tries to suck Dee back in. Like it want to keep him there.
You feel your fingers touch your lips. Without realizing it, you had started dragging the palm of your hand over your groin, eliciting a small moan. You push your fingers inside your wet mouth and begin to coat them in saliva.
Dee pauses and lifts his head up, sniffing the air. Then pulls out completely. He spreads his cloven hoofs into a position that gives him more leverage and drags clawed hands over the phantom mare like one would on a lover.
You groan and pull your slicked fingers from your mouth and them downwards towards their goal.
You're naked now. How did that happen? The question floats in your mind but its quickly dashed by wetness rubbing against your entrance.
In the room in front of you, you see Dee circle his hips over the sucking entrance of the machine. You mimic the movement with your fingers, dragging them in uncommitted circles. Not satisfying at all. You whine. Alone in the room, no one can hear you debase yourself like this. Dee can't even hear you.
Shouldn't be able to hear you.
But his claws tighten into the metal plating and his cock spurts out cum over its entrance. He can feel how badly you want this too.
He thrusts inside, and sets the pace for rough-hard fucking. You try to match his tempo, thrusting fingers inside without thought. You're entranced by the sight of Dee fucking the mare like an animal. His breathing matches your own, ragged and desperate. You can't stop fucking yourself on your hand and you whine at how shallow they bury inside.
You want something deeper. Harder. Thicker.
But then Dee stops his thrusts and pulls out. You cry, "Why'd you stop? Oh..." You beg almost deliriously, but look to see a flood of cum pour out of the machine.
It's full.
You need to go inside and clean it
You’re panting, still naked in the observation room, thinking about what had just happened.
You had been watching Dee fuck the milking machine, just as you always do, and all the sudden you were overcome with the urge to shove your hand inside yourself as deep as it would go. That had never happened before. You should probably go report this.
But then you look up and see the machine beeping uncontrollably, - indicating that it’s full – and Dee standing off to the side, waiting to be ushered into confinement while the lab techs (usually you) to come in and clean up. His cock is still hard, leaking onto the floor. It always is. You need to go report what just happened.
You should grab someone else to clean up the machine. You should not be alone with Dee right now.
