His Sex Machines Ch. 01

Hiya! It's Kim and welcome to another series, called "His Sex Machines". Like my other series, I'm writing more and more of it but because I got to work on other stories plus college work...uploading chapters won't be consistent. But I do hope you enjoy my story and again check out my profile for other series! Leave a comment, and any feedback is appreciated! Cya!

*****

It's time.

Elena stood in the warm darkness, breathing deep breaths. Her bare soles stung on the cold ground as if it was made of ice. She was dressed in a black underwear, chosen carefully for the occasion but she felt vulnerable, knowing they would serve little use to her soon. Just beyond the doors before her awaited the Judges, men that would decide her future for her. She had trained all her life for this moment. The test would determine if she would become a common worker or a privileged and respected Cupid. She was adorned with the most expensive cosmetics that accentuated her beauty yet the task ahead was raw and primitive. Elena could not reject the foreboding sense of irony, yet could not show it under the calculating eyes of her Queen.

"Pleasure comes first," Helen said quietly. "You know that, Elena, don't you?"

Elena closed her eyes and nodded. Pleasure comes first. That's what they all say, the Cupids. Her Queen said it the most, when she taught them her crafts. Pleasure comes first, Elena repeated silently, mouthing the words with care. It was like a solemn promise. A precious consolation.

"After tonight," her master whispered, "you will have all you ever wanted. All we ever wanted. True pleasure." The Master of the Cupids stroked Elena's black hair lovingly, like a mother. "Something rare and only a few women can have. You do know that, don't you, dear?"

Elena nodded. Of course she did. She would get a man. A man, not a Judic male suffering from all sorts of mutations. No, she would get a chosen man, the best of their kind. The women in the world above would glare at her jealously, eyeing her mate like food, knowing they could never get, never feel, never have what she would have. She would have a real man...all to herself.

It's good, but is it what I want?

Elena frowned, blocking away that train of thought, hit by a pang of guilt. Helen had brought her up, taken her away from the war, free from starvation, free from all the chaos of the outside. She lived a life of royalties, a life that very few could enjoy in the world. She owed everything to her.

"Are you ready?" her master asked. Elena knew Helen had very high hopes for her and she wasn't going to disappoint.

She nodded firmly once more. "I'm ready," she replied.

Helen smiled, showing her perfect white teeth. "Then go get them," she said and opened the double doors, flooding Elena's world with light.

****

It had been raining for days. The ground became a cold slush, and the puddles became ponds. The wind seem to come from underneath them, sliding off the water in a breeze that was both humid and chilling to the bone. The trees drooped towards the ground, bent and exhausted. Their green leaves had faded to a sickening colour of tea dregs. It would have been the sight of an unsettling patch of wild forest if it wasn't for the corpses scattered everywhere and the blood that stained the moss on the stones to the colour of dark red. It was the aftermath of a battle, a battle that the Resistance had lost.

Two young rebel soldiers lay in the leaking earth, unmoving. Their eyes were large and wide with attention as if they were glowing on their dark faces, drenched with mud and soot. Their uniforms were ripped and ragged, although the golden Rebellion stars still shined bright on their shoulders. One of them was bleeding. The youth winced as the rain beat down on his wound mercilessly yet he could not move into a better position. Death, they knew, was hovering just overhead. Raising their heads for an instant could mean a bullet in the forehead. They did not want to die here. In the distant the air screeched and rumbled with the Machines as they prowled the area, as if they were monsters and beasts. The enemy was still very close.

"You alright?" Ash asked his friend. He tried to keep his voice steady. Although he was the youngest leader in the Resistance, he had seen his fair share of losing battles. This one, however, was the closest he ever got. He could still hear the ringing in his ears from the enemy shelling. The Judic Army had come from all sides, circling them. They fought back valiantly but the enemy artillery was just too much and too overwhelming. The Machines, two legged combat robots, made great use of their rockets and machine guns, making short work of them. Ash's throat was still hoarse from all of the shouting. He was not hurt but felt close to death. He felt as if his entire body was hanging by a thread.

There was a silence. "Hey," he said again.

His wounded friend Dean grunted in response. He was hurting and quickly slipping away from consciousness. They had been lying stomach-fist in the puddles for hours. All the others were dead, as far as Ash knew. He did not know what went wrong and he had no idea how the Judic army knew where they were. Now their robots were scrounging everywhere, finding and executing survivors. More importantly, they wanted to find Ash and make sure that the young rebel leader was wiped from the face of the earth. The only merciful thing for Ash was that his death would be swift.

A distant gunshot sounded which made them both jolt a little. Then there was a pause of silence then the rumbling, the piercing twisting of robotic gears continued.

Ears prickling, Ash was listening intently for a gap when the machines would stop. There was no clear plan in mind, but he wanted to make it back to the hill. From there, maybe to the river. Then there was a chance, a very slim chance, that they could make it back into Resistance territory. That is, if it wasn't taken over already by the Judic counterattack.

The ground shook again. The footsteps grew louder.

Then softer and softer again. Then silence, except for the beating of the rain.

Ten seconds past where Ash listened and heard nothing. For the next minute he lay there, pressing one ear hard into the dirt, feeling for any sign of movement. There was none.

"Come on," he whispered in the dark. "We've got to move."

His friend groaned, rising up a little then fell back down. "I don't think I can," he said.

"I'll carry you," he said firmly. But first he had to get up himself. With difficulty he went to his knees and crawled over. The position Dean was in did not look comfortable. Ash's heart sank as he saw pool of blood expanding at Dean's back. He was shot. It looked very bad.

"I think you've got to leave me." It was an honourable statement but Dean could not conceal the fear in it. His voice was shaking all over the place. Leaving behind would mean certain death. Or worse.

Ash shook his head. "No, you're coming with me." He pulled at his right arm and rolled Dean onto his side. The dark-skinned youth let out a cry of pain and quickly put a hand over his own mouth, supressing it. Ash listened again for the Machines but heard nothing.

"Come on," he said. "Can you sit up? Take off your bag."

Dean nodded. Slowly he removed his army bag from his shoulders, wincing, blinking rapidly in the pain. He reached back for his gun but Ash stopped him.

"Leave that," he said. He squatted down next to him and Dean slid his arms weakly around his neck. Ash began to rise and immediately felt the blood rush to his head. His knees threatened to buckle but he gritted his teeth and forced them straight.

"Thanks," said Dean. "I owe you one."

"Sure you do," Ash agreed, panting loudly. For a moment he revolved slowly on the spot, trying to find the hill. The trees all looked the same around him. "Any chance you know where to go?"

"Don't think we turned when we were running," grunted Dean. "Maybe go the opposite direction." He pointed to his gun on the ground.

Ash nodded. "A good plan as any," he muttered. He took a few ginger steps forward, his forehead throbbing painfully, but managed to break into a small run. He hadn't ate anything in ages and Dean's weight didn't help. Quite a few times he had to stop in order to restrain from falling over. His head was beginning to feel very light.

"You think anyone's still left?"

Ash kept his eyes straight forward grimly, avoiding the deep puddles of water. It was getting dark now and the forest began to look increasingly like a swamp. "I don't know," he finally whispered back.

"Jody? Mac? Red? All of them?"

"Didn't see much in all the commotion," Ash said. Then he added with consolation, "If we're still alive then there's a good chance they still are." He felt Dean let out a sigh a relief. "Hey, I'm sorry," he added.

"Sorry for what?"

"This is my fault."

Ash felt Dean shake his head. "You couldn't have known," Dean said. "We were only the squadron coming through this part of the forest. Why would they ambush us and leave their main battalion undefended? We were only scouting. Doesn't make sense."

Ash didn't want to stick around to find out. "Well," he said. "If we get caught, I'll make sure to ask them."

"If they don't kill you first," Dean snorted. He wasn't being pessimistic. The Judic Army was never known to take prisoners. Whichever Judic Hold or City that was liberated, the Resistance found no prisons or war camps. Those that went missing in the Rebellion was never seen again. There were rumours of endless torture, leading to a violent death in Kyrosa, the Judic Capital.

Ash stopped suddenly. He thought he heard a groan from nearby. A rebel soldier was lying face down at the trunk of a tree a few feet away, the lower half of his body submerged in a pool of mud. The soldier's hand was moving.

Ash rushed over to him as quickly as he could. He rolled the soldier over. A thick muck of dirt covered his face completely.

"Who is it?" Dean asked, straining his neck to see. Ash wiped the dirt off of the soldier's face quickly and leaned back.

"It's Mac," he said.

"God, is he still alive?"

Mac let out a long groan, and gasped, as if finally catching his breath. He spat out a mouthful of water. "Captain?" he gargled weakly.

"Don't talk," Ash said. "You're going to be fine." Just as he said this, the ground shook, nearly toppling him over. It came from a distance that was alarming close.

"Ash," Dean said warningly. His captain was bent over Mac, trying to pull him from the pool of thick mud but he would not budge. The grumbling of the Machines grew louder.

"Ash! We gotta leave him!"

"We can't -"

WHAM.

The earth suddenly exploded a few yards away from them. The force knocked Ash in the stomach, sending him flying-back first, crashing his body on top of Dean. The latter let out a yell of pain: they must have landed on his wound. The scream was prominent in the otherwise silent night: the ground began to shake violently. The Machines had come alive. Huge beams of light flew through the trees and focused on them, putting them in a white spotlight. The indigo sky was suddenly bright.

"RUN!" Ash yelled, frantically trying to get back on his feet. The sky was sudden ablaze with gunfire. He grabbed Dean's arms and wrapped it around his neck but another explosion burst directly behind them, sending him face-first into the earth. He reeled, his ears ringing shrilly. He tasted the ground underneath in his mouth and felt the heartbeat of his friend in his back.

The sound came back slowly. First he heard his own breathing then the grinding of metal. He heard the sound of a cockpit opening with a hiss. Black boots appeared before him. Looking up weakly, Ash saw heads of long blonde hair. The Judic officers, he thought in daze. They exchanged a few inaudible words and the boots turned in unison towards someone outside his vision, stomping the earth in salute.

"Good work, ladies," came a sweet, sweet voice. "We got him."

Then his vision faded once more and Ash was gone.

****

Elena took some time adjusting in the sudden light. She found herself in a large square room with perfectly white floors and walls. It seemed to be some sort of ornate chamber that had been completely emptied save for a couch in the middle of the room, where the Judges sat. The doubles door swung shut behind her and she looked back at it. Helen had followed her inside, squinting as well. She took out a remote from her pocket and held down a button. The room immediately darkened to a greyish hue. Elena was glad for this. She was more comfortable this way.

"Look at us," came a commanding voice.

Elena did as she was told, raising her gaze to match the pairs of eyes that poured over her body. She expected nothing less from unpleasant, but still, the sight of the two Judges revolted her. They sat on a long couch, side by side, grinning lewdly at her as if she was piece of meat. Elena wished they weren't stark naked - their pale, overweight bodies glistened in the dark chamber like lumps of lard. They both had small black eyes and little to no hair. One was slimmer than the other, but still considerably meaty. The other had chests fleshy enough to be breasts of feeding mothers and his fat stomach loomed over the lower half of his body, making his limbs and head seem smaller than normal. Despite the ugly appearance of her spectators, she could not supress a twitch in her pelvis region at the sight of their manhood. Elena had never seen a real penis until now. They were thick, dark, monstrous things that hung between their legs, flaccid but no doubt growing in her presence, scary but admittedly impressive. She looked on them with a mixture of curiosity and fear - she was somewhat relieved that she wasn't going to be penetrated by them tonight.

She wasn't ready. Not quite.

The Judges were making noises Elena couldn't quite describe, but by the way they were smiling and glancing at each other she could guess that it was some sort of jeering appreciation and awe. Whatever it was, she could only receive it as unsettling. Their bodies squirmed and panted restlessly in their seats. Their hands were moving, fondling at the sensitive parts of their bodies. You like what you see, don't you? Elena thought in a mixture of pride and disgust.

"Tell us your name," said one of them. The other laughed, which annoyed Elena. They knew fully well what her name was, no doubt having hordes of papers and pictures of her. Elena wouldn't be surprised if they poured over them every night, using the intimate shots of her as masturbation material. Perverts. Her master sensed the cause of her hesitation and frowned impatiently at her direction. Elena only glanced at her for a moment before quickly looking back at the Judges.

"My name is Elena, Your Sires," she responded as politely as she could. The inquirer exhaled, which sounded like a satisfied moan from his dry mouth.

"Age?" one of the Judges asked.

"Eighteen, Sire."

"Excellent. Your height? Measurements?"

Helen laughed this time, before Elena could respond. "Sires," she chortled. "I'm sure you have already memorised those numbers."

The larger Judge waved a hand of dismissal. "I'd like to know...the most recent data," he added with a leer. Elena resisted a shiver.

"Well, we measured her yesterday night," said her master, looking down at her own folder. "Height, five feet, eight inches. Measurements...thirty four inches, twenty two inches and thirty five inches."

The Judges whistled. Elena hated that noise. She had heard it plenty of times, when she was walking in the streets. She could feel the eyes on her body, and she knew the men wanted her desperately. Back on ground level she had bodyguards that were paid to ensure she wasn't harassed and she enjoyed the attention, being that unreachable fruit. Now, a few dozen meters underground, she was a lone woman in a chamber, wearing little more than nothing.

The Judges smiled over at her, eyes shining lewdly. "All seems to be in order, then," one observed.

"We can begin."

The fat one grinned. "Take your bra off," he said to Elena, his voice low with feverish anticipation. No doubt he had waited for this moment for too long.

Elena flushed. Her underwear was already exposing enough and now they were asking her to take it off? She had no choice, but being the shy girl she was, she fingered her straps hesitantly, feeling the texture rub against her fleshy nipples as she did so. The Judges grinned, knowing she had no other option, enjoying her looks of utter embarrassment. Finally, Elena bit her bottom lip and removed her bra with a tug, throwing it to the floor. The Judges let out gasps, raspy exclamations of awe, leaning forwards in unison. Elena had hoped her shapely breasts to seem as modest as possible but to her dismay, she had removed her bra too quickly, causing her heavenly tits to be released hastily from their previous confinements. They bounced against each other, nipples arcing proudly in the air. For a few moments, the Judges seemed completely thunderstruck as they stared at her pair of glistening, milky tits, gyrating erotically before them. Elena balled her fingers into loosely clenched fists, her hands raised to her shoulders as she watched anxiously at her own breasts, waiting for them to fall still, too shy to hold them. When they finally settled, her nipples were pointing directly at the Judges, one for each. Elena was teary with embarrassment, wishing that she hadn't made such a demonstration of her womanly assets. The expression of the Judges were now hopelessly dreamy - they sure as hell wasn't going to let her go easily now.

Elena's bosom were so incredibly generous that they seemed to be clinging on to her body like petals of water on a slender blade of grass. They were perfectly smooth and perky, void of any wrinkle or spot. Her nipples were the colour of darkish pink, considerably large and spongey, set upon a brown circular shade of areolas, the size of penny coins. Elena's hands unconsciously moved in front of her pink nipples, hiding them from the Judges. It was an instinctive thing for a woman to do but she would soon learn that instincts were redundant here in the Examination Room. It was all about display and performance. Nothing but bare, lewd assessment.

"Shake them," one of them said finally, his voice no more than a shaky breath. Them was a loose term but Elena knew what they meant, turning even redder, if that was even possible. But she knew she better did as she was told. She shifted her weight onto her toes so that her heels were lifted slightly off the ground and began turning her torso gently from side to side so that her voluptuous breasts jiggled before the Judges, left and right, back and forth like swaying balloons after a passing breeze. Their eyes were as wide as saucers now, both leaning forward so much that they were in danger of falling off the couch. Elena noticed that their cocks were semi-erect, and they began stroking them, their eyes fixed on the premium Cupid before them, breathing heavily.

"Tug your tits by the nipple," the fat one ordered, his voice hoarse with lust. Again, Elena followed his instruction obediently. She clasped her nipples gently between her thumb and index finger and pulled. The sensitive tips of her jugs began to hurt as they lifted up the entire mass of her breasts. Elena winced and blushed, but pull she did, like the good girl she was, tugging her tits high up into the air so that her hands were at either sides of her cheek, showing the Judges a spectacular view of her cleavage and the pinkish pale undersides of her boobs. Skilfully, she began lowering and raising her tits, in opposite motion to one another, giving the Judges a full display of their elasticity. A strand of spit escaped from the mouth of the slimmer Judge and Elena watched it drip onto his naked, hairy leg. The fat one was so close that Elena could smell his breath of stinking liquor.