Metal Harvest Beta: Earth Defense Force
Chapter 4: The Spawning
Lt Tregellian landed his VT-158 on the training asteroid and walked toward the patch of disturbed ice.
One of the advantages of deep space was that no atmosphere interfered with any tread marks. Under normal circumstances he would be training the new twinks on how to track each other on a surface.
He leaned down touching a footprint. The cadets had definitely landed here and judging by the disturbed area a bit further on had either wrestled or succumbed to Interface Narcosis and performed some sex act.
Clearly they’d not cracked open their cockpits in order to get passionate...their dead bodies would be here if they had. It was odd, normally if the cadets got far enough into the sexual delusions to be missing for three days their bodies should logically have been at the scene of the sex act.
“Shirtlifter to base, I’ve got signs of a fuck-fest, no bodies. I’m guessing its another case of I.N. I’ll take another pass from orbit. Over” thought Tregellian He was about to launch when he noticed something out of the corner of his Lidar scanner. Swiveling his sensor head he zoomed in on the oddity.
A human footprint. A naked human foot? What the fuck!?
Proximity alarms suddenly shrilled. He turned, glimpsing a VT dropping toward him. He had just enough time to read the tag -011 before the two craft connected, slamming them both to the powdery ground.
Hands grabbed his wrists pinning him down. For a brief instant the blow disconnected him from his VT and he found himself sitting in his cockpit. Instead of seeing the other pilot through the transplast canopy, he could see only what appeared to be an altered canopy with six-pack like bulges rendered opaque with swirling mercury-like liquid behind it.
Then he was back in his mecha-body, looking at the other VT’s mutated sensor head. Instead of the standard three lenses the eyepieces had morphed becoming more human-like.
Examining those eyes was a mistake, lasers linked into him, not only through his communication eye but through all three lenses. Shhhh... Lie still little one Tregellian went limp, detaching his consciousness from VT-158 and relaxing into his cockpit chair. He understood everything now.
He could hear the drilling vibration as the alien mecha’s cock bored its way through his VT’s armour. Eagerly he unzipped his lycra skinsuit as far as it would go, flipping his cock out and exposing as much of his chest as he could without disconnecting anything critical.
The drilling stopped and he could see the mecha-cock push up between his feet, its tunneling heads retracting into a remarkably human looking glans. The first squirt of mercury cum shlopped a string of liquid metal from crotch to chin. Eagerly he rubbed it in covering his pectorals with its gunmetal stain.
Fascinated he watched the metallic cum increase in quantity as if it were replicating. Dribbles of cum ran down the grooves of his six pack where he’d not yet rubbed it in. On the smear that he had rubbed in, new dewdrops of cum formed and began to flow slowly in the minor gravity. A second thrust of the metal cock slammed energetically into his VT bouncing him around in his harness. This time the squirt of cum missed him, fountaining upward only to hang suspended like a string of tiny silver planets before slowly drifting downward at an almost imperceptible rate.
A cum ‘planet’ about the size of his fist floated into range of his mouth and he sucked it in eager for a taste. He’d been expecting it to have an iron taste like blood but it tasted exactly like his wingman’s cum with a slight dash of olive oil.
The cum ‘planet’ began to expand, replicating to a size where he couldn’t swallow it all. Gouts of silver oozed out of his nose and yet more surged into his lungs making him choke and gasp.
He was only vaguely aware of the third and fourth jolts and their contributions to his cockpit, he was too desperate in his battle for air. For a few blissful gasps the situation stabilized and he had time to concentrate on the state of his cockpit again. The damp/not-damp liquid had filled the cockpit up to the cushion of his ejection seat and was now forming the beginnings of a puddle between his thighs. If the delicious glob he’d swallowed had been a ‘planet’ the ones still in orbit were Jupiter sized.
Dipping a hand in the quicksilver he used it to lubricate his cock. The reaction was instant, whatever the stuff was it had a definite affinity for cock. The veins that wrapped around his erection turned silvery grey and then began to expand each vein pumped up to two or three times its normal size.....his cock stretched with a pain that soon shifted to pleasure, jolting three inches longer in one surge....and again...and again. By the time it was 12″ long his body could no longer maintain its vertical position, slowly like a great ship sinking beneath the waves his weighty cock fell back dragged down toward his feet.
A final massive thrust sent a copious quantity of cum into the cockpit, merging the ever swelling globs of cum and the lake of cum in the cockpit’s lower half.
For a brief instant he felt panic, realizing that he wouldn’t be able to breath.
The cum already in his stomach and lungs ended his fears by entering their own growth spurt filling all of his internal spaces with their silky caress. Shirtlifter stopped breathing, realizing that he now had only three minutes before oxygen starvation finished him. Once again his interface intervened telling him that breathing was no longer required. The desperate need vanished and he was able to concentrate his full attention on his transformation.
Carefully he raised his hand to his chest and ran it over the surface, his skin was bumpy, like coral.
‘My nervous system growing bigger’, he thought with semi-detached euphoria.
He drifted, waiting patiently, enjoying each individual sensation, like an unborn child with only a womb to explore.
His cock found a hole and pushed down into it....the drilled hole made by the mecha who’d fucked him?
A feeling of expectation surge through him...soon....very soon. His cock surged through the hole emerging into cold empty space, bonding with his armoured casing. Simultaneously his nervous system connected him to his body.
Awareness flooded outward, stars filled a beautiful black sky and he found that he was looking up at the most beautifully handsome creature he’d ever seen Daddy he couldn’t help thinking it out loud
Welcome to your new life son came the reply
Shirtlifter recognized the voice, it was one of the missing cadets..or had been. His mind flip flopped as it tried to reconcile his contempt for a green cadet with his new instinctive worship of his father....love of father was stronger...no contest.
Can we fuck he thought
His father smiled and stroked his head.
hour so that you can complete adolescence, then we’ll go hunt some more VT’s. How’s that sound Ok replied Shirtlifter...it sounded immature and sulky even to his ears. Shall we see how my mate is getting on with your wingman Suggested his father
Yeah replied Shirtlifter eagerly rubbing his cock between armoured fingers. “Base to Shirtlifter. Report. Over” said a frantic voice over the radio. Shirtlifter ignored it, they were prey and he had nothing to say to prey until he was fucking it.
The laser beam intersected the communications array that formed a pyramid of masts on the Achilles aft of its flight deck. As the data the beam link contained was classified as personal mail, the automated security scanner had no reason to analyze it and no reason to report that it was from one of the six VT-pilots classified as missing presumed lost.
MT-011 sat on the edge of the flight deck, his feet dangling over the infinite void. Unlike his beloved Mecha he had to wear a skinsuit to be out here in the cold vacuum. It would be a fine thing to be able to sit here without any protective gear, feeling the burning hot sun and the freezing cold of ultimate shadow. But it was not to be, exposure to vacuum would impair his functions.
He knew that if it were ever confirmed that VT-011 had been lost, his overwhelming need to be functional would cease and he’d take the long dive....but despite what the EDF commanders and Psycho-analysts had said he still ‘knew’ that his VT was still functional somewhere out there.
Eventually VT-011 would need repair or re-calibration, and he fully intended to be the one servicing it and its pilot unit.
The DataStream reached its destination freezing MT-011 in place, reconfigured his interface to begin its new task.
The nano-technological fibres that wrapped his brain allowing the interface access to his mind began replicating at an exponential rate. First replicating a map of his nervous system and then penetrating his body cavities filling them with the mercury like micro-robots.
Food intake and oxygen exchange cavities were soon reconfigured allowing maintenance of his organic components without need for further re-supply. Metallic nerves pierced his human skin like hundreds of thousands of needles, their tips opening like flowers and folding back, covering him in a glistenening silver coating.
Once the encasement was complete its improved functionality became available to him. Automatically he instructed his skin to mimic the colour and texture of the organic version it had just replaced.
Looking around to be sure that no human was outside, he twisted his helmet through 90° and unlatched it. Oxygen hissed past his face in a blizzard of flash-frozen crystals. Turning his face away from the Earth and toward the precise astrographical location that the DataStream had indicated.
Activating the new lasers that had constructed themselves behind his eyes he sent his love and obedience beaming outward at light speed. 10.114 minutes later the reply arrived and he understood fully his role in the great spawning that was about to occur.
Picking up his helmet he carefully replaced it. There was no need to give the humans cause for suspicion.
Moving inside the airlock he was surprised to see MT-012 and MT-158 waiting for him. MT-012’s skin flickered briefly with metallic color like the ever-shifting patterns of a cuttlefish. Understanding, MT-011 flickered his own face in recognition.
“We are just going outside. We need to communicate with them” explained MT-012
“Yes, you must. They have needs and it is our function to service them” replied MT-011
The other two nodded in agreement. Before stepping into the airlock, not even bothering to attach their helmets.
Two weeks later
Tightass shifted his weight feeling uncomfortable, he really hated being pregnant.
His wing-mounted missiles bulged, their warheads so full of nano-cum that they made his stanchions ache with the weight. The bloated magazine on his autocannon felt no better, repeatedly giving him signals that he needed a piss.
He glanced down, his rather fine six-packed cockpit was the worst, bulging with un-used nano-cum and hiding his rather fine drill-tipped cock from view.
Absentmindedly he picked up a piece of asteroid enjoying the candy-like taste of the nickle-iron pebble.
Hopefully they wouldn’t have to wait too much longer for the EDF to get its act together and send the Achilles and its squadrons of prey into their grasp.
In the last two weeks the EDF had sent three patrols, with the last patrol they’d agreed to deliberately let the VTs get off a warning signal before fucking them. Even then they’d proved to be disappointingly cautious. The antenna on the back of his neck extended, feeling as if someone had run a cold hand down his spine.
“They come” he whispered to his fellow mecha
“Red Five to Red Leader picking up a heat-sig, on ‘roid SM-2003 485/a, it looks like its one of our missing mechs. Over” said Lt Devlin checking his sensors
“Red Three. I have it to. Over”
“Red Leader. Red Five destroy that bogey. We only carry enough air for 72 hours, If he’s active then that isn’t one of ours. Over”
“Red Five. Commencing attack run. Fox-3. Over” replied Devlin, flipping the safety off his missile release and giving the button beneath a firm and definite press.
VT-423 jolted slightly as the tactical nuke detached and sped toward the mecha standing on the asteroid below.
Briefly three lines of red laser energy connected the mecha’s head to the missile...and then the three segments of missile tumbled away, the motor section, devoid of guidance, accelerated away in an unbalanced random course.
“Red Five. Red Leader, it’s definitely a bogey. Its armed with some sort of beam weapons.” Informed Devlin flipping the safety’s off his two remaining right-wing nukes.
He glanced back up and found that the bogey was moving, transforming to hybrid-mode and screaming along the ‘roid’s surface kicking up a cloud of ice crystals that partially obscured it from view.
The exclamation on the radio, sounded like someone in the act of Cumming. Devlin immediately felt like jacking off himself, but firmly suppressed the rogue emotion, now was not the time to get lost in Interface Narcosis.
“Vampire! Oh shit its on me!” gasped a voice he recognized as Red Three. “Red Five. I’m on my way. Over”
Breaking off his attack he dived his VT toward the his fleeing wingman, transforming to Battloid mode and sending auto-cannon rounds slamming silently into the course of the enemy missile.
The missile shuddered, twitching as round after round of depleted uranium punched into it.
Surprisingly the missile didn’t explode, instead it simply lost engine power, leaking some sort of liquid from the gaping holes.
“Vampire!” came a new warning, this time, he was the target, lock-on warnings screaming in his ears
Devlin dived to the right, engaging his afterburners sweeping down between a pair of ‘roids. In the background he could hear more calls of ‘Vampire’ and ‘Fox’ as the EDF Arcing around behind the ‘roid his radar flared in warning, the enemy mech hadn’t stayed put and was waiting for him, autocannon raised. In the silence of space he saw the repeated muzzle flashes and imagines the machinegun sound the weapon would have made in atmosphere.
By the time the thought was finished the hardened uranium bullets were already impacting his torso. Shocked; he reverted to his human cockpit encased form, time seeming to slow down.
It was like watching that old movie The Matrix, with the bullets looking like spearpoints penetrating his canopy and inching toward his fragile body...death was close.
Bizarrely the bullets seemed to morph turning into three gunmetal coloured cocks. Devlin felt annoyed, this was an extremely bad time to get Interface Narcosis.
Annoyed he moved his hand to brush the hallucinations away only to find that he’d been wrong, the cocks were real and time was running at full speed.
The cock his hand had brushed against stretched and wrapped itself around his arm like a metal skinned python, the other two darting forward, one toward his other arm, one toward his crotch.
In his ears he could hear alarmed calls from his flight as they noticed his immobile mecha.
He struggled but the alien cocks were as strong as steel cables. The one wrapped around his left arm lunged upward merging with his interface. 0.05 minutes later he relaxed his sphincter and opened his mouth in order to allow better integration.
“Red Sixteen. Red Five just bought the farm. Over.”
“Red Twelve. Red Three’s gone too, those missiles aren’t nukes they’re someth.....”
Red Leader cursed, silently, his lovely boys were having a bad day and the alien mechs were popping his nukes before they had a chance to detonate. Taking careful aim with his autocannon he let rip emptying his magazine, clipping the wing of his target causing it to stagger and clutch the crumpled strut as if in pain.
“Take that you alien filth!” he muttered ejecting the magazine But the wounded mecha was far from finished, transforming to hybrid mode it launched three missiles from its undamaged wing.
Cursing; Red Leader slammed a new magazine into place and laid down a hail of suppression fire that took out two the missiles popping them like eggs.
The third jinked up above the spray of armour piercing death and detonated spraying VT-01 in a coating of what looked like silver paint.
“They got Red One!” someone yelled
“Red Leader. All units calm down, I’m still active. Over”
Even as he said it, he knew that it wasn’t quite true, he could feel a tickling all over his outer skin. Whatever was in the stuff was having some impact on his systems. The tickling changed becoming similar to that glowing feeling that tells you that tomorrow you will have sunburn.
He looked at his arm and noticed that the actuators looked less hard edged and more organic, tiny veins pulsing and growing on the surface.
“Crap” he muttered to himself
The veins pulsed larger and the first indication of musculature began to bulge.
He opened his mouth to give his squadron a warning but suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of peace and relaxation pulsing inward from his skin. Slowly he curled up into fetal position and waited as the silver coating expanded. The muscle-like bulges continued to grow, expanding until they merged with one another forming a featureless silver sphere, a thin adamantium layer forming a near impenetrable shield to protect the redesign going on within.
Slowly the organic component began to flow fitting itself to the contours of his new body. In three weeks the process would be complete and he would be ready to hatch, as would approximately 200 other spheres that floated peacefully around the battlefield.
MT-011 waited patiently within his alcove as did the rest of the MTs. The EDF Achilles had launched every last fighter. Consequently, now that every single VT had been run down and sexed, every last MT unit was now fully integrated and understood its new role.
The Command Staff, had they thought to look would have been surprised to find that the Life support tubes that penetrated each MT Unit’s ass had grown branching and re-branching within each unit. It was fortunate that no one needed an active MT not one of them was capable of stepping clear of his alcove without severe damage to delicate organs both new and old. Finally the signal MT-011 had longed for was given. The Command Staff had made their final error.
Achilles, like its fighters had the ability to transform into a secondary configuration, a half mile long humanoid form that allowed the deployment and firing of The Main Gun, a particle accelerator that generated a naked singularity string. To the civilian it would be like a black hole stretched into an atom wide beam. It was a sign of desperation that the command staff should consider using it with the solar system.
Slowly, majestically entire modules eased themselves loose rotated and reconnected in new configurations. The port and starboard flight decks separating and moving up the ship’s spine so that they rested upon the new configuration’s shoulders like vast rectangular bazookas.
With a stylish kung-fu ‘on-guard’ move the Achilles completed its transformation to Battloid mode pointing toward The Great Abductor with one hand, the other hand formed into a fist drawn back ready to strike. Between the two halves of The Main Gun Assembly black lightning flickered, only made visible by an outer UV-glow.
The signal passed through the entire Battloid. To prevent a quantum implosion leaking out of the accelerator and destroying Achilles, variable geometry shield were required. To control the shape of the shield the Battloid required vast amounts of computational power, capacity that it immediately diverted from every available source. Every single CPU, Interface and linked mind was required…It was this brief instant of total integration
The Command Staff felt a brief instant of surprise followed by a heady rush of peace, eagerness and orgasmic ecstasy. Slowly their bodies began to sink into their acceleration couches. Silver veins penetrating the skin, red arteries weaving across the control surfaces to return the flow of a new hybridized blood.
The component that had been MT-011 metastasized, its nano-cum infested flesh instantly changing function from simulated humanoid to a nerve nexus that instantly flowed from its housing in a cross between liquid and ivy-like rootlets. Connecting with tractors, generators and other loose equipment the component flowed into them assimilating useful components and converting the redundant casings into new nerve tissue. 3 seconds later the outermost tendrils brushed against those expanding from MT-012’s alcove. Sensing improved connectivity the two tendrils merged expanding to form a conduit as wide as a human arm.
Other connections followed and slowly small areas of self-awareness merged becoming lager until finally all that remained were a few numb spots where there had been no organic material.
Slowly Achilles unfolded his raised fist and moved his hand toward his crotch, wrapping finger and thumb around his growing cock and sent one finger questing in search of his anterior shuttle-port.
Earth Orbit, 15 Days Later
Julian stood on The Brothel’s exterior landing deck and looked down at the beautiful blue green planet stuffed full of potential customers.
After the defeat of the EDF individual nation states had tried their own missile strike, the new species had had fun chasing down and eating the MIRVs. For two days the inhabitants of Earth had cowered, knowing that they had nothing left. It had taken another two days of sustained subliminal bombardment to get everyone back to normal tension levels and one more for spontaneous Victory of Earth (VE Day) celebrations to start breaking out.
The next ten days had been spent invisibly tweaking the potential customers attitudes toward sex, implanting a growing need for gay sex with added fantasies about metallic skinned aliens.
It was essential that Customer units understood their function and the tweaking ensured that their needs fitted almost exactly the range of services he had available.
He Sensed that the final quadrant had received its last subliminal dose and telepathically activated the 3D broadcast cameras