Erika escaping twitter

there are handlers that went to officer school and supposedly know what the fuck they're doing, all swagger with the authority of the Service behind them, uniforms like slices of space, voices like knives, their lethal charges trailing docile behind them.

they're the ones that show up in the porn sketches and the short clips of grainy video that circulate in the Fleet network. they're the ones that have pages and pages of fan fiction written about them.

then there's you. you didn't go to officer school. your entire signup process was this:

"hey, Cooper, you were in its old unit, weren't you? before it went to the lab? remember anything that'd distract it from biting at its own link sockets and screaming at techs?"

"uh, shit, sir, i can try…"

"great, it wandered into the rec room. go nuts."

you called your last conversation to mind. there'd been two major rec time activities in your last squad, and the alert that kicked off Paloma 17 had interrupted something.

you sat down next to the thing that had once been your squadmate, not meeting its weird red eyes. you already knew it didn't like that; looking it in the face was how Muñoz got their arm broken yesterday.

the augment whiffed of human sweat, the fake citrus of type-2 interface gel, something musty and unpleasant. its fatigues probably hadn't been washed ever.

"hey, asshole," you said, "you still owe me a Kinetic Princess match. best of five, remember? we were two and one when the hammer came down for P-17."

you put a gamepad on the floor next to it.

"ch. ch. ch."

was it laughing?

it swatted the gamepad away.

and then player 2's character select screen came up. without moving a muscle, it picked Valkyrie, switched her outfit to red, and handed you your ass, twice in a row, with no apparent exertion.

"ch. ch. ch."

yeah, it was laughing.

it kept laughing as it used its onboard hardware to disconnect your gamepad, choose the princess you'd just been playing, and win three matches against itself, beating Valkyrie with Marjoram.

again.

three-one.

three-zero.

three-one.

"well," someone said behind you, "that's kinda freaky. but better than tearing up the couch. guess you're on augment duty."

it was going all out. maybe trying to prove some sort of point. to itself? to you?

you got up.

it immediately paused the game.

"hey," you told it, "i gotta piss."

it followed you down the hall into the restroom. it tried to follow you into the stall.

"hah, you find a friend, Acey?" someone laughed.

"shut the fuck up, Lima." you tried to finish your business as best you could. it wasn't easy. the thing really did reek and it was not giving you a lot of space.

fuck it. you rose, didn't bother to wipe. you grabbed the augment and hauled it into the shower, spun the dial to hot, drenched the both of you, fatigues and all.

"wooooo! take it off!"

always a fucking audience in this place.

you found the zippers to strip the thing, flung wet clothing out of the shower at a spectator, pumped all-purpose soap into your hands.

"if you're gonna follow me around," you told the augment, "you gotta smell better."

this had to get done. you soaped it. all over. the generic floral smell of all-purpose soap was definitely an improvement already. felt human enough under your hands, except where it wasn't, the occasional beveled edge of a link socket. between its legs… human standard.

more hooting and hollering from the onlookers.

you remembered too late not to meet its eyes, but it just stared back at you, tilting its head a bit. no sign of aggression. was it smiling?

you never got around to the second major rec time activity with your old squadmate. you had no idea if she was ever interested. you also had no idea if sexual preferences survived augmentation.

fuck it. audentes fortuna iuvat, right? said so on your shoulder patch.

you slid a finger in.

shut the audience right up.

the thing kept staring at you.

you slipped a second finger in and stared back right up until you finished it off. it shivered visibly, made a sort of low whine.

nobody said shit after that. when you finally shut off the water, silence like a library.

you walked out. it trailed behind you. you grabbed a towel off the stack by the shower exit, wrapped the thing in it. it didn't protest. wearing nothing but your own towel, you stalked back to your bunk, hoping you still had a few clean uniforms, your expression daring anyone to mention that a single thing was out of the ordinary.

"heyyyyyy Acey, you get lu—"

someone always dared. this fucking unit.

the augment hissed. an unmodified human throat wouldn't have been able to make that noise; it sounded like a fire extinguisher. there was reverb in that hiss. there were teeth.

"oh, gods, just don't," you said wearily, looking back over your shoulder. it let Chroma, who had a tiny bit of sense in her head, back away slowly, in one piece.

anyway, that's how you became a handler. the pay bump is nice, your CO says you've been fast-tracked for officer school someday, and more to the point, the augment has already saved your whole squad at least three times.

We're going to be doing a LOT of voice work over the next month or two, so any help with funding would be greatly appreciated!

expectations: intimidating dark vestal who took a vow of silence

A short excerpt from the fic I’m working on.

Mutual masturbation, Biting with intent to scar

Dramatis Personae

Hunter, a trans woman, she/her, 6′3″

Nico, a cis woman, she/her, 5′4″ 

Blistering hot water. Warm bodies. Soap that smells of lavender and bergamot. Hunter kneels before Nico, hands running over her soap slicked body, completely entranced. Even kneeling Hunter still comes nearly to Nico’s shoulder. She feels so soft, so delicate. Nico moans gently as Hunter’s hand runs over her breast.

“…Nico…”

“Hunter?”

“…I want…” Hunter’s hand glides up the inside of Nico’s thigh, thumb spreading her lips as Hunter kisses her way across Nico’s soapy chest.

“I can tell…”

“More… this, more… I want to bite you…” Nico’s breathing speeds up as Hunter caresses her pussy and nips at her breast.

“How… hard?”

“…scars…”

“…where?”

“…shoulder… neck… marked… mine…” This time Nico’s moan is lower, deeper, joined by a fresh bloom of desire.

“I… yes, but maybe not right now? Bandages will…”

“Magic… I can leave the scars…” Hunter takes Nico’s nipple in her mouth, the bitterness of the soap almost overwhelmed by the scent of lavender and blending with the citrus notes of the bergamot, tongue caressing as she sucks, tracing the crinkles as Nico’s areola hardens. Nico stumbles as her knees go weak for a moment, but Hunter is ready, a forearm under her butt, hand locked on her hip, supporting her.

“ooooooooooooh Huuuuuuuuunterrrrrr… Yes!” Hunter’s fingers slide inside Nico, feeling almost cool after the heat of the water pouring down their bodies.

“Now or soon?”

“SOON!” Hunter sucks and licks and thrusts, Nico’s body responding to her attentions. Nico’s hands grip Hunter’s horns tight as she grinds against Hunter’s hand. She cums quickly, moaning and shuddering as she pulls Hunter hard into her breast. Hunter withdraws her hand slowly, still supporting Nico with the other as she catches her breath. When Nico releases her horns, Hunter takes that as her cue to stand, sliding her hands up Nico’s legs, enjoying the feel of the soap and the gently prickle of legs shaved a few days ago, settling around her waist. Hunter bends down, leaning in to bite when she feels Nico’s hand wrap around her hard cock.

“Now or soon?”

“Soon Hunter.” Hunter kisses Nico, eyes shut against the the spray of the shower, flowers and citrus blending with the savory warmth of Nico’s mouth. Hunter cums quickly, pent up and craving release after yesterday, pulsing in Nico’s hand.

“Now Hunter” Hunter lunges, fangs sinking into Nico’s trapezius. She gnaws and worries at Nico’s flesh, earning a gasp and a ‘FUCK HUNTER!’ before she releases and licks at Nico’s wounds, Light settling into her flesh, speeding the healing process. In a moment of inspiration Hunter seats a seething bead of Dark at the center of each puncture, filling with the idea of scars, changing the nature of the new flesh to scar more.

“Ok, that was worse than getting pierced.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s ok Hunter, it was worth it.”

For context you can go read the whole thing here 

 https://archiveofourown.org/works/46239865/chapters/116411845

When the call to protect the Earth went out, they said only the most dysphoric trans girls could survive the mental and emotional strain of being remade as the perfect, adorable, death dealing waifus needed to protect and unite the planet. The process was agony, so much  had to be taken away and replaced with metal and polymer. But what’s left of you is TOO CUUUUTE! The perfect pinup spokes model for the Cause. From your fashionable haircut, to your cherubic face, to your perky breasts, to your smooth tummy, down to the demure coin slot pussy your navy blue one piece swimsuit/ flight suit just hints at, you’re finally the petite and playful girl you always wanted to be. The metal rings of the interface sockets where your old limbs used to be weren’t part of the plan, but it was a small price to pay. The chaos and fear and death of fighting in near Earth  space… that was a bigger price. You survived your first sortie, but you just can’t stop crying. You hang in the darkened de-arming cradle, cold unfeeling robot arms holding you up as more remove your flight armor and your engagement limbs, packed with rocket pods, flight jets, and laser  arrays. The lights come on, blinding you. You can hear the crisp tap of heels on the deck, a blurry figure approaching. As your vision returns you make out an exaggerated hourglass figure looming over you. “Hello, I’m your permanent handler and government issue girlfriend” What?  They issued you a gf? What the hell? No one told you about this! You’ve almost gathered yourself to protest when a huge hand cups your cheek. It feels so warm after the cold of space. You let go of your protest as you melt into the hand. You look up at her as your vision finally  clears. She’s huge, easily 8 feet, broad in the shoulders and just as broad in the hips. Her bosom is barely contained by a military grade brassiere and a crisp, button up shirt. She must have a canine gene-mod, with floppy ears and a prominent nose. Her expression shifts from coldly professional to a knowing smirk as your eyes linger on her body. “My name is Garnet… But you can call me mommy when my cock is inside you.” WAAAAAAAHHHHH!?!? Your brain turns off as your body turns on, nipples hardening and your pussy, the best 22nd century medical  science could provide, blooms with heat and wetness that rapidly soaks your flight suit. That wonderful hand pats you gently on the head. “Good girl, you’re exactly what your psych profile said you would be.” GOOD GIRL!? HEAD PATS!? MOMMY COCK!? “That’s right, you're  humanity’s last, best hope. You get all the head pats and mommy cock a good girl can handle for what you’re doing.” Did… did you say that out loud? You did, you said that out loud, she heard it… You blush hot enough to feel through the flush of lust and praise. If you had limbs you’d cover your face and run away. But all you can do is close your eyes and pretend to be dead. Your composure almost breaks when she strips off your flight suit, but no, nope, you’ve died of embarrassment. But when something massive and hot is shoved deep into your pussy, the  moan you let out goes on forever. Whatever self control you had left is lost as you cum from that single, unexpected thrust. Your body clenches around the molten, throbbing heat inside as you moan and scream and cry, letting out everything you’ve held back as you endured torture  to become something you could be happy as. Arms wrap around you and press your face into starchy shirt over soft breasts. You’re lifted away from lifeless robot arms, still impaled, a warm hand cupping your ass for support. “There, there baby girl, let to all out for mommy” And you do… you let it all out for mommy… 

It felt so good to finally cut loose and scream and wail. It felt so good to do all that while impaled on the enormous cock of an equally enormous woman who is holding you to her bosom. It felt so good to be called ‘baby girl’… When you’re finally all cried out from the horror of war and death and gender you look up from the wet and snotty mess you’ve made of Garnet's… of Mommy’s shirt. At some point she carried you away from the cramped confines of your de-arming hanger and now you’re in a surprisingly luxurious bathroom. You had no idea there was  anything like this on the carrier. You’d always showered with the other girls back ground side. “You seem surprised sweetie. You’re a very important war asset now. No more maybes, no more training. You fought, you killed, and you didn’t die or have your psyche collapse completely.  Now you get everything you could possibly need to keep your head on straight and keep doing your job.” The thought of putting your flight kit on and going back out there hits you like a brick. You’re stunned, disoriented, about to start crying again when suddenly you’re lifted off Mommy’s cock and set down into a warm and soft cradle. The sudden emptiness and all over warmth breaks your train of thought. Garnet leans in, looming over you, her huge hands cupping your face. “Hey… It’s ok. I’m here to make it ok. I’m here to make all this worth it.” The  kiss she gives you is a slow, exploratory thing. She takes her time, exploring you, learning you, tasting you. The whine you make when she draws away is deeply embarrassing despite, or maybe because of, the intimacy you’re sharing. “I can’t kiss you and get undressed at the same  time silly. Or did you want me to get in the bath fully clothed?” She swings the cradle around so you can watch her undress. She starts with her pleated knee length skirt, shimmying to get it down past her phenomenal hips and butt. Her shirt-tails are barely sufficient to tuck in, they do nothing to hide her ass or her sheath and bright red cock. Canine gene-mod confirmed. She meets your gaze as she unbuttons her formerly crisp military shirt, posing like an old fashioned pin-up, winking and blowing kisses, making you blush and squirm. A groan of relief  accompanies the removal of her dour, functional, military issue bra. The thump it makes in the floor is almost as loud as the crack of her back and your gasp of horny delight at the bounty of jiggling titty pointed at you. Finally she steps out of her sensible heels.  Garnet, nude and glorious, turns and places a hand on your tummy, rubbing and groping your nubile body with shocking casualness. “What a cute thing you are. Cute and helpless and all mine…” A pair of fingers slide into your pussy, nothing compared to the monster girlcock shoved  into your earlier, but still shocking, invasive, thrilling. “I saw you staring at my tits baby girl. Be a good little weapon and I’ll let you have arms so you can play with them. But you haven’t earned arms yet. Today you’ve earned being my living onahole and a hot bath.” You're  not sure how to feel about the way Garnet’s talking at you, but that concern takes a back seat to asdkgjlkrbnfonvoawsdklfwpriojg!!! as she starts eating you out. Normally you might call the perfectly crafted pussy they gave you… neat, demure. Perfect for just hinting at a more  intimate sexuality from behind a contrived panty shot. But under the heat and moisture and skill of Garnet’s lips and tongue and TEETH you can feel things blooming… engorging. It’s amazing but an ache is starting inside you, an acute sense of emptiness ready to be filled by  Garnet’s glorious knot. You finally find your voice after so many wordless cries. “Garnet…” Your voice is so whiny and needy… oh gosh you hope Garnet finds it sex that you’re unraveling under her attention. “Garnet, please… I… I want to be your onahole. I need to be filled.  I… I… oooooooooo…” Oh god you’re cumming, you’re cumming while Garnet’s long canine tongue schlorp schlorp schlorps your brain right out of your head. It all comes out in a rush “Ineedtobeused! FUCKMEPLEASE!” You can’t believe you said that!  But you really, really did and you could swear you feel Garnet grinning as she coaxes your orgasm to another peak. After that all you can do is moan and gasp and try to writhe as waves of pleasure crash through you.

 Sweating, panting, disoriented… Whaaaaa? Oh, Garnet stopped eating your pussy like the goddamned world champion of cunnilingus and you have enough spare neurotransmitters for your higher functions to work again… neat… but also boooooooooo… Huh? Oh, speech, Garnet is talking.  “Are you listening? Oops, there we go, I can see the lights are back on upstairs from your cute little pout. I said, I’m gonna show you something neat, accept my share request.” You double blink, bringing your HUD up to full opacity. There’s a share request for a video feed  labeled: Garnet Live Feed. You accept with a thought and your field of vision fills with Garnet’s eyecam stream. Aaaaaand she’s looking at your pussy. Your shining, sopping, engorged pussy. Your labia have bloomed into something from Georgia O'Keefe’s fever dreams, meaty petals  surrounding a fleshy passage that looks… almost… hungry… as it pulses and winks at Garnet, topped by an erect clit the size of your thumb. Waah? What? What delirious mind designed a pussy that went from dainty coinslot to cockhungering maw? “One who’s studied your porn history with the focus of a sculptor researching a block of marble baby girl” Oh fuck your said that out loud again… you’ve been spending too much time alone… again… “MY PORN HISTORY!?” you blurt out. “Baby girl… Our program has developed the most complete and effective predictive  psych profile in human history. You have no secrets left. And your profile said you wanted a "cute” pussy that would be able to “take monster girldick”. The euphoria designers aren’t miracle workers, but they come damn close.“ She runs a finger around your vagina, caressing your  labia and tracing your ready hole, sending shivers through you. "So when you get stimulated by a monstergirl like me with the right activation enzymes in my spit… you get ready for her monstergirl dick. So… do you feel ready?” Yes? Yes! YES!!! You nod your head with enough  vigor to bounce slightly in your cradle. “Say it, use your words bottom.” Oh nooooo… Meme attack, critical hit to the extremely online trans girl. Fuckfuckfuck… You just have to tell her that you want her fat cock filling your pussy, fucking your brains out. You can do this!  “Garnet… um… I guess… I mean, if you want to… You could stuff my slu…” No, not today. You aren’t down in the barracks dirtside anymore, trying to out slut the other cyborg babes to get fucked by one of the girls able to top in the Pre-Op bunk next door. Today you’re a hero, or, at  the very least, an essential asset. An asset that had EARNED a reward. “Mommy, I want you to fill my essential to the defense of Earth pussy with your huge knotted monster girldick. You said I earned being your onahole, so… so please give me what I’ve earned.” Garnet bites her  lip as she slides her hands under you. “Good girl… very good girl… that’s the kind of attitude I like in a fuck toy…” A series of warnings flash across your HUD as she lifts you, hands around your neck and waist. 

ONAHOLE PROTOCOLS: ON 

ACCELERATION DAMPERS: ACTIVE 

NECK ARTICULATION: LOCKED 

INTERNAL OXYGEN SUPPLY: ACTIVE 

SPEECH FUNCTION: LOCKED 

WOMB PROTOCOL: ACTIVE 

WOMB!?!?! You think this at Garnet as hard as you can. “Baby girl, I told you the euphoria designers aren’t miracle workers.  All this has to go somewhere if you’re gonna get knotted like you’ve been wanting for so long. It just opens your "cervix” which leads right into your state of the art robot tummy-tum, which is being told to not start digesting me while I’m in there" Bored with talking instead of  fucking Garnet roughly shoves you down onto her cock. OOOOOOH FUUUUUCK this is so much more than before. You can feel your guts rearranging to make room for her. Yeah sure, physically you are ready for this. Emotionally, you were not ready for how being an immobile limbless  fucktoy being mercilessly manhandled would feel so right. Your eyes roll back and your tongue lols out of your mouth as you surrender to being used. When Garnet penetrates your “cervix” there’s a moment of heavy pressure and a deep 'pop’ as she enters your guts. Oh god she’s so  deep and you’re not even on her knot yet. The wet sound of pussy getting wrecked is joined by primal glurks as her cock quests ever deeper, forcing air out of your locked down throat. Finally Garnet hilts in you for the first time, her grunts becoming a feral snarl. She sets you  back in the cradle even as her grip tightens. She humps you in a frenzy of short, fast strokes building to a final triumphant thrust as she cums with a howl. Finally you get to feel a knot inflating inside you and it sets off what would be a back breaker of an orgasm if you could  move. In this hypersensitive womb mode you can feel her pumping into you, thick and hot, filling you and overfilling you. You don’t see the kiss coming, fierce, slobbery, possessive. Garnet moans into you as the both of you shudder through orgasms together.

basically when you want to get your advanced scuba certification (allowing you to go more than 60 feet deep) you have to undergo a very specific test: your instructor takes you down past the 60+ foot threshold, and she brings a little underwater white board with her.

she writes a very basic math problem on that board. 6 + 15. she shows it to you, and you have to solve it.

if you can solve it, you're good. that is the hardest part of the test.

because here's what happens: there is a subset of people, and we have no real idea why this happens only to them, who lose their minds at depth. they're not dying, they're not running out of oxygen, they just completely lose their sense of identity when deep in the sea.

a woman on a dive my instructor led once vanished during the course of the excursion. they were diving near this dropoff point, beyond which the depth exceeded 60 feet and he'd told them not to go down that way. the instructor made his way over to look for her and found a guy sitting at the edge of the dropoff (an underwater cliff situation) just staring down into the dark. the guy is okay, but he's at the threshold, spacing out, and mentally difficult to reach. they try to communicate, and finally the guy just points down into the dark, knowing he can't go down there, but he saw the woman go.

instructor is deep water certified and he goes down. he shines his light into the dark, down onto the seafloor which is at 90 feet below the surface. he sees the woman, her arms locked to her sides, moving like a fish, swimming furiously in circles in the pitch black.

she is hard to catch but he stops her and checks her remaining oxygen: she is almost out, on account of swimming a marathon for absolutely no reason. he is able to drag her back up, get her to a stable depth to decompress, and bring her to the surface safely.