#stexual

You search endlessly throughout the yard for your missing coworkers. They had promised that they’d take with you with them to the local diner for lunch break today and they haven’t showed up yet. You only have an hour lunch, and it’s been fifteen minutes now. Surely,they would show up by this time. You begin to wonder if they’re pulling a prank on you, but you know them well enough to acknowledge the fact they’re always on time and never late. You begin to wonder if something came up or if they forgot? Surely, they would contact you by now if something happened. Deep down, you feel as if something is wrong. They wouldn’t just leave you here out of the blue.

You ask around, asking your other human coworkers if they’ve seen any signs of your work friends and every single one has the same answer. They haven’t seen them since the start of lunch break. You feel a knot form in your stomach, worry, fear. You are well aware of the dangers of working at the railyard. The rolling stock are not exactly machines. They are powerful predators and you along with your coworkers are easy prey to them if you’re not careful. However, the pay makes the risks well worth it.

Your search continues into the freight yard. You know a lot of the employees here like to eat their lunches here and watch the trains go by. You round the corner and you freeze dead in your tracks as you feel an overwhelming sense of dread.

Off to the side, lounging on his side and purring with his eyes half shut like a well fed cat basking in the sun is CB. His hand rests against the side of his swollen abdomen and he gives it a smug little pat, prompting the poor unfortunate souls trapped inside, your friends, to cry out and squirm deep within the belly of the beast. He gives a small smirk as he stifles a burp behind his hand and sighs as his main tank ruthlessly churns around his meal, reducing your friends to nothing more than fuel for the caboose. He’s blissfully unaware of your presence, too focused on the ecstasy of having such a large and lively meal.

His nose twitches as he catches your scent and his pale blue eyes immediately open and he smiles a wolfish grin as his stomach growls, clearly more than ready for dessert. He licks his sharp teeth as he stands up and chuckles softly. The muffled pleas of your coworkers nearly drowned out from the sound of merciless digestion, a warning to you. You take a step back and he advances, but before he can give chase, you immediately turn and run as fast as your legs can carry you, horrified at what you just witnessed.

“Scrap me. Please.”

It took a few mind-numbing moments of waiting, with Electra growing aggressively more bored with every moment, before a reply came through the datastream. It was Wrench, her electronic voice amused. “You can’t pay our salary if you’re scrapped.”

Then came Joule, whose datastream voice somehow defied science and managed to come in even louder than her normal voice. “Nooo, what’s wrong??”

Instead of explaining with words, Electra opened his end of the server, letting his Components through. Electra had marched with his entourage into the Apollo Victoria yard that morning with the sole intention of locating Greaseball and having a, er, tasteful conversation over tea and scones, and somehow ended up trapped between the entire freight crew, the old steamer (Poppy? Dada? Had they even been introduced?), the insufferable little steamer, Rusty, who thought himself a champion, and three coaches. The smoking car had promised to tell him where Greaseball was if only he stayed to listen to the old steamer’s rambling story of something or another, because it was “polite”.  

It was almost not worth the potential wild sex with Greaseball.  

Almost.  

Were they spike-blocking him for a reason? They had to be. Maybe he’d done something wrong in a previous life. His only refuge from boredom was chatting with his Components over the datastream, but they were no help.  

“Bet you’re sorry you didn’t bring us along this time, hm?” Volta airily said.  

“What did you say again, master?” Purse tutted. “You wanted to keep yourself pure for Greaseball today?”  

Now it was Krupp’s turn. He delivered a perfect, sassy snort through the datastream. “’Pure’. I think that ship sailed a long time ago.”

Electra’s deadpan expression darkened. He was pretty sure the dining car was giving him a strange look, since no one else could hear the ongoing digital conversation. “I’m cutting your salaries.”

Volta again. “I’m sobbing.”

“Now children. Let’s be helpful. Electra needs to be kept occupied.”

The last words came from Wrench, and immediately made Electra suspicious. His suspicion intensified as he felt her fiddling with the datastream server’s functions, locking Electra out and force-keeping the server open. Only Wrench knew how to crack the server like that and normally she used her powers for good. What was going on here? And then the chattering old steamer pulled out a harmonica, and Electra’s boredom threatened to escalate to full-blown existential ennui.  

Electra’s boredom was soon replaced by… wait, was it getting warmer out here? He had the distinct impression of a phantom touch on his chest plating, and spared a quick glance around to make sure no one had suddenly decided to get handsy. Not that he would have blamed them if they did, but…

“Mmm…” A loud, deliberate moan came through the datastream, startling Electra until he realized it was Joule’s voice. It was followed by more ghosting touches, including the faintest hint of lips kissing their way up his neck and jaw, until he heard Purse’s voice in his head. “Is this helping you pass the time, Master?”

“What in Starlight are you lot doing?” Electra huffed, inhaling sharply as the link allowed more of the sensations through, until the touches felt less like ghostly caresses and more like very real fingers working their way up and down his leg, teasing the inside of his thigh. The teasing fingers then scratched him up and down and Electra recognized the touch as being Volta’s.  

“Like I said, helping you pass the time,” Purse said, the voice concentrated around his ear. A warm tongue licked at his cheek and kissed it softly, the sensation so real Electra had to raise a trembling hand to feel his face and make sure this was all happening over packets of data being interpreted by his sensory receptors, and not right there in front of a bunch of oblivious trucks, engines and coaches. Not that it made it any less real by any means, not when his body was reacting exactly the way it would if the hands and lips were physically with him.  

Which meant Electra now stood, slightly shaky on his wheels, breathing hard, eyes wide, and doing his damnest to hide the fact that he was getting hot and very bothered.

“This isn’t helping!” Electra said with alarm. He barely managed to clamp his mouth shut to stifle a gasp as someone—it felt like either Volta or Joule—squeezed his thighs and nuzzled his spike. Oooh, that felt good, not to mention strange. Strange, because no one in the real physical world had removed his codpiece, even though the datastream was fooling his body into feeling as though it had.  

Good thing no one was removing his codpiece in the real world. He was barely able to mask his arousal as it was, wobbling on his wheels and grabbing the guardrail behind him for support, breathing long and deep through his nose to try and quell the heat and the racing pulse flashing across his chest display—

“Electra, are you all right?” One of the coaches. The pink one. Squirrel or something. Electra was no good at thinking of names right now, since the server data was now delivering the sensation of fingers pressing all around his chest display, and two pairs of lips kissing his jaw.  

He really hoped it was a secure connection. He wouldn’t live it down if his enemies hacked his network and gawked at his Components fondling him wirelessly.  

“Fiiine,” Electra ground out, fingers tightening on the guardrail. It was a miracle the word hadn’t come out as an incoherent scream, because someone (felt like Krupp, the asshole) chose that exact moment to give his ass a quick hard slap. He could swear the sound was about to explode right out of the datastream.

“He doesn’t seem bored anymore, does he?” Wrench’s voice, husky and breathless. Electra figured the Components were having their own fun at the same time as they were transmitting such naughty sensations through the datastream. Oh Starlight, he was so wound up he’d give anything to be with them right now.  

“He seems very busy,” Purse purred. A phantom hand wrapped around Electra’s spike. Electra nearly skidded right off his wheels and onto his arse, shaking from head to foot.  

“You, er, you look like you’re about to pop a seam,” Rusty said. Electra’s vision blurred but Rusty looked either concerned for Electra’s health, or worried about Electra going supernova. Which wasn’t such a stretch at this point.  Someone pulled his hair. A tongue tickled his ear, teeth nibbled his shoulder blade, a mouth surrounded his spike, moans and gasps filled his audiospace, someone’s fingers teased his valve—

“You know!” Electra squeaked, stiffening all over as though he’d misfired a bolt of electricity. “I do feel pretty broken! I’m going to see, uh…” He inhaled sharply, trying to remember his repair truck’s name through the fog of pent-up lust, and giving up. “Tell Greasebell I said hello.”

Electra quickly rolled away on unsteady wheels, barely hearing Rusty’s confused parting words. “Did he say Greasebell…?”

It took ten minutes longer than usual for Electra to reach the guest shed he shared with his Components, slipping and skidding and pausing to moan the whole way. His damned Components didn’t relent until Electra practically kicked the front door down, panting and nearly drooling in lust as he was met with five innocent, grinning, half-nude Components in various stages of foreplay with each other.

“Electra!” Volta purred, the very picture of innocence as she idly groped Wrench’s butt.  

Joule grinned, sitting on Krupp’s lap. “We missed you!”

“How did your meeting with Greaseball go?” Purse innocently asked.  

“It must have been brief,” Krupp said.

“Since you look so bored,” Wrench airily said.

Panting, Electra barely dignified them with a glare. He sped past them, shedding his plating as he went. “Bedroom. Now. You’re all fired, by the way.”

“Scrap me. Please.”

It took a few mind-numbing moments of waiting, with Electra growing aggressively more bored with every moment, before a reply came through the datastream. It was Wrench, her electronic voice amused. “You can’t pay our salary if you’re scrapped.”

Then came Joule, whose datastream voice somehow defied science and managed to come in even louder than her normal voice. “Nooo, what’s wrong??”

Instead of explaining with words, Electra opened his end of the server, letting his Components through. Electra had marched with his entourage into the Apollo Victoria yard that morning with the sole intention of locating Greaseball and having a, er, tasteful conversation over tea and scones, and somehow ended up trapped between the entire freight crew, the old steamer (Poppy? Dada? Had they even been introduced?), the insufferable little steamer, Rusty, who thought himself a champion, and three coaches. The smoking car had promised to tell him where Greaseball was if only he stayed to listen to the old steamer’s rambling story of something or another, because it was “polite”.  

It was almost not worth the potential wild sex with Greaseball. 

Almost. 

Were they spike-blocking him for a reason? They had to be. Maybe he’d done something wrong in a previous life. His only refuge from boredom was chatting with his Components over the datastream, but they were no help. 

“Bet you’re sorry you didn’t bring us along this time, hm?” Volta airily said. 

“What did you say again, master?” Purse tutted. “You wanted to keep yourself pure for Greaseball today?” 

Now it was Krupp’s turn. He delivered a perfect, sassy snort through the datastream. “’Pure’. I think that ship sailed a long time ago.”

Electra’s deadpan expression darkened. He was pretty sure the dining car was giving him a strange look, since no one else could hear the ongoing digital conversation. “I’m cutting your salaries.”

Volta again. “I’m sobbing.”

“Now children. Let’s be helpful. Electra needs to be kept occupied.”

The last words came from Wrench, and immediately made Electra suspicious. His suspicion intensified as he felt her fiddling with the datastream server’s functions, locking Electra out and force-keeping the server open. Only Wrench knew how to crack the server like that and normally she used her powers for good. What was going on here? And then the chattering old steamer pulled out a harmonica, and Electra’s boredom threatened to escalate to full-blown existential ennui. 

Electra’s boredom was soon replaced by… wait, was it getting warmer out here? He had the distinct impression of a phantom touch on his chest plating, and spared a quick glance around to make sure no one had suddenly decided to get handsy. Not that he would have blamed them if they did, but…

“Mmm…” A loud, deliberate moan came through the datastream, startling Electra until he realized it was Joule’s voice. It was followed by more ghosting touches, including the faintest hint of lips kissing their way up his neck and jaw, until he heard Purse’s voice in his head. “Is this helping you pass the time, Master?”

“What in Starlight are you lot doing?” Electra huffed, inhaling sharply as the link allowed more of the sensations through, until the touches felt less like ghostly caresses and more like very real fingers working their way up and down his leg, teasing the inside of his thigh. The teasing fingers then scratched him up and down and Electra recognized the touch as being Volta’s. 

“Like I said, helping you pass the time,” Purse said, the voice concentrated around his ear. A warm tongue licked at his cheek and kissed it softly, the sensation so real Electra had to raise a trembling hand to feel his face and make sure this was all happening over packets of data being interpreted by his sensory receptors, and not right there in front of a bunch of oblivious trucks, engines and coaches. Not that it made it any less real by any means, not when his body was reacting exactly the way it would if the hands and lips were physically with him. 

Which meant Electra now stood, slightly shaky on his wheels, breathing hard, eyes wide, and doing his damnest to hide the fact that he was getting hot and very bothered.

“This isn’t helping!” Electra said with alarm. He barely managed to clamp his mouth shut to stifle a gasp as someone—it felt like either Volta or Joule—squeezed his thighs and nuzzled his spike. Oooh, that felt good, not to mention strange. Strange, because no one in the real physical world had removed his codpiece, even though the datastream was fooling his body into feeling as though it had. 

Good thing no one was removing his codpiece in the real world. He was barely able to mask his arousal as it was, wobbling on his wheels and grabbing the guardrail behind him for support, breathing long and deep through his nose to try and quell the heat and the racing pulse flashing across his chest display—

“Electra, are you all right?” One of the coaches. The pink one. Squirrel or something. Electra was no good at thinking of names right now, since the server data was now delivering the sensation of fingers pressing all around his chest display, and two pairs of lips kissing his jaw. 

He really hoped it was a secure connection. He wouldn’t live it down if his enemies hacked his network and gawked at his Components fondling him wirelessly. 

“Fiiine,” Electra ground out, fingers tightening on the guardrail. It was a miracle the word hadn’t come out as an incoherent scream, because someone (felt like Krupp, the asshole) chose that exact moment to give his ass a quick hard slap. He could swear the sound was about to explode right out of the datastream.

“He doesn’t seem bored anymore, does he?” Wrench’s voice, husky and breathless. Electra figured the Components were having their own fun at the same time as they were transmitting such naughty sensations through the datastream. Oh Starlight, he was so wound up he’d give anything to be with them right now. 

“He seems very busy,” Purse purred. A phantom hand wrapped around Electra’s spike. Electra nearly skidded right off his wheels and onto his arse, shaking from head to foot. 

“You, er, you look like you’re about to pop a seam,” Rusty said. Electra’s vision blurred but Rusty looked either concerned for Electra’s health, or worried about Electra going supernova. Which wasn’t such a stretch at this point.  Someone pulled his hair. A tongue tickled his ear, teeth nibbled his shoulder blade, a mouth surrounded his spike, moans and gasps filled his audiospace, someone’s fingers teased his valve—

“You know!” Electra squeaked, stiffening all over as though he’d misfired a bolt of electricity. “I do feel pretty broken! I’m going to see, uh…” He inhaled sharply, trying to remember his repair truck’s name through the fog of pent-up lust, and giving up. “Tell Greasebell I said hello.”

Electra quickly rolled away on unsteady wheels, barely hearing Rusty’s confused parting words. “Did he say Greasebell…?”

It took ten minutes longer than usual for Electra to reach the guest shed he shared with his Components, slipping and skidding and pausing to moan the whole way. His damned Components didn’t relent until Electra practically kicked the front door down, panting and nearly drooling in lust as he was met with five innocent, grinning, half-nude Components in various stages of foreplay with each other.

“Electra!” Volta purred, the very picture of innocence as she idly groped Wrench’s butt. 

Joule grinned, sitting on Krupp’s lap. “We missed you!”

“How did your meeting with Greaseball go?” Purse innocently asked. 

“It must have been brief,” Krupp said.

“Since you look so bored,” Wrench airily said.

Panting, Electra barely dignified them with a glare. He sped past them, shedding his plating as he went. “Bedroom. Now. You’re all fired, by the way.”