Inspired by the Starship Troopers and Helldivers universe, this is my take on sci-fi smut. Hope you enjoy it!

\*

“Anders! Look alive… She’s back…”

I lift my head from where I’m hunched at my terminal, blinking to try and banish the lines of green-on-black code that swim in front of my eyes during most of my waking hours aboard the York.

“Thought you said you’d got rid of her…” My Fleet Operations med lab partner sighs with frustration from where she’s cleaning out the healing tank behind me. I turn slowly to see her frowning at the deck monitor cams.

Davies struggles with this kind of thing. Best wingwoman in the fleet for when you’re dodging bug fire, or carpet bombing some nest with atomics from high atmosphere – but presented with a bit of face-to-face conflict she gets pretty anxious…

“Thought I had…” I answer, scrubbing my face, wincing at the 5 o’clock shadow that’ll land me a reprimand if the Officer-on-Watch sees me like this.

Captain Beck certainly gives our skunk works operation a lot of leeway, happy to turn a blind eye to our secret suite of med deck ‘treatment rooms’. But only if we keep our shit together and don’t draw attention to ourselves.

My unkempt appearance I can hide, but the presence of a highly-decorated Mobile Infantry veteran on such an obscure deck of an Athena-class transport is unlikely to go unnoticed, especially two days in a row.

A deep clanging rings out through our lab as the soldier outside starts banging on the shuttered access doors. Davies looks at me anxiously.

“The fuck is it with Mobile Infantry and banging on shit – they never heard of using a comms panel?” She asks with exasperation in her tone.

“Bugs don’t exactly ‘answer the door’, I guess…” I answer with a shrug and a groan as I will my body out of my chair. “From what I’ve heard about this one, we should be grateful she’s knocking at all – I think this is her on best behavior… For now, at least.”

I push the ‘connect’ activation icon on the door comms panel and wait for a monochrome image from the camera outside to appear, green dot in the top right indicating the audio channel is open.

“Lieutenant Venatrix, what a lovely surprise – what can we do for you?” I ask, Davies rolling her eyes at my saccharine tone.

“Open up, Crewman – that’s an order.” Comes the barked reply, loud enough to be heard through the steel plates of the door to our lab.

 “Lieutenant, I’m sure one of my colleagues could assist if you require medical atten-”

“Open the FUCKING DOOR, ANDERS!” Venatrix bellows, comms display suddenly filled with her snarling face, sculpted cheekbones at odds with her curled lip and bared teeth…

Davies activates the door release before I get myself into more trouble, shaking her head. She knows my smart mouth will get me in over my head if I’m not careful. And she’s the one who’ll be scraping bits of my brain off the healing tank if the hero of Klendathu-Secondus decides to redecorate our lab with the contents of my skull.

Plus, I think Davies kind of likes me.

Or at least I like to think so. There’s always been some chemistry bubbling between us in our little corner of the ship – collaborating on this dirty side project, stitched together from pieces of Marauder-interface tech and the brain bug research available to us…

Suddenly our lab space seems much smaller, a large portion of the entrance to the medical suite now filled with the imposing Lieutenant shouldering through the open doors, her Amazonian proportions making me blink in disbelief when I look her up and down.

Lt. Arabella Venatrix; Tigress of Klendathu; The Unyielding… [Would you like to know more?]… I’d read her bio on my data slate as soon as I saw her among the ranks of grey-shirted MI troops board the ship at the last refueling station.

Her real life exploits were legendary, but so to was how her story had been fetishized by a growing number of the Federation’s armed forces.

I’d always thought the AI renders were exaggerated – tweaked for the male gaze. Her ‘muscle-mommy’ proportions depicted in those images; huge breasts and slab-like thighs - they couldn’t be real, could they?

The six foot, battle-honed beauty in front of me begs to differ. In regulation grey combat slacks and a white sleeveless tank top, she looks every bit the muscle-bound, pneumatic fantasy I’ve been ‘researching’. Right down to her trademark shock of short purple hair, shaved at the sides and worn long at the front to cover her bionic eye from gawking onlookers. Both eyes are glaring at me now though, the chrome-set laser red and organic, piercing blue… she’s not happy I fobbed her off at the door yesterday.

“Anders, you slippery fuck - ” She growls, voice hoarse and deep. “You lied to me… And no one lies to me…” The dark chuckle that follows is almost guttural. Like many in the Mobile Infantry’s officer corps, her vocalizations are harsh – throat and lungs ravished by a service career spent inhaling the vapors found in bug holes and trenches.

I open my mouth to argue, only to find no air remaining in my lungs as she lifts me by the throat and pins me to the wall. Leaving me gasping for air while her cybernetics whir and chatter under my jaw, the arm she lost in the defense of Mars holding me in place effortlessly.

“But now I know the truth about what you’re doing here,” Venatrix mutters menacingly as she watches me squirm. “Had to finger-bang it out of that muff-diving cutie staffing the officer’s mess…” She smirks. “But I think she had fun trying to hold out – pretty little slut squirted all up my forearm when I finally let her cum…” The towering warrior laughs at the memory, relaxing her grip enough to let me snatch a breath. “You two are running a cock shop in here, aren’t you? And guess what? Momma needs her vitamin ‘D’, and plenty of it…”

My vision closing in, I notice Davies approach, concern painted on her delicate features, slender gamine bearing a sharp contrast to Venatrix’s taught, towering curves and anatomical exaggeration. Even drawn up to her full height, my partner barely reaches the Amazonian beauty’s shoulder. Davies’ rests a small hand on the flesh-join with Venatrix’s cybernetics, finally drawing the Lieutenant’s attention away from my flushed face.

“We can help you… But you need to put Anders down, OK?” Davies’ calming tone seems to switch something off in Venatrix, the soldier blinking rapidly before easing me down the wall. Cool metal fingers finally lifting from my throat.

“Fine…” She sighs. “How does this work then?” Venatrix nods in the direction of the freshly cleaned healing tank in the middle of our lab. “The guys fuck me in that? Looks a bit small for what I’m after – the chick I ‘pumped’ for information said you do gangbangs, DPs, the works…”

Davies gently leads Venatrix over to our modified tank, eyes flicking over at me in concern before I give her a quick thumbs, still rubbing my throat.

“It’s a simulation,” Davies begins, holding hands up to soothe a glare from the horny mass of muscle in our midst… “Not like those shitty VR brain hacks they sell below decks, don’t worry… This is much more sophisticated, trust me.” Venatrix narrows her eyes and nods for Davies to continue.

My partner shuts the tank while she explains, seals hissing as it pressurizes, a shrill squeak indicating it’s ready for filling. Thick fluid seeps in from the grates at the base, a process that has the Lieutenant transfixed.

“It’s a nano-bot filled vitreous fluid I developed after reading about the mucus the brain bug uses to create hallucinations. The bots inside can swarm to create masses and fibers in the liquid. The fluid smooths the shapes and allows our subject to experience temperature, texture and pressure. It provides the subject with psycho-active hallucinations that we control - allowed to develop through Anders’ programming model. There are practically no limits to what we can model – multiple partners, appendages, you name it…” Davies pauses to let her words sink in, eyes tracking Ventarix as she stalks around the filling tank, looking it up and down.

“Just let me know if I’m going too quickly for you Lieutenant…” My slender lab partner sighs, interpreting silence for confusion.

“No, I think I’ve got it…” Comes the response, deep and assured. “You built a trippy goo tank filled with all the dicks, fingers and tongues a girl could want…” She stops strafing and fixes Davies in her sights. “Impressive… What does Captain Beck make of this?”

“She turns a blind eye.” I croak. “Crew morale’s improved 320% since we commenced trials. There was some concern about using bug tech, but the results have silenced even our harshest critics.”

“The problem seems to be keeping the crew quiet about it.” Davies chimes in, stopping the flow of fluid as the tank reaches it’s fill line. “You’re not the first Mobile Infantry visitor we’ve had, Lieutenant – though you’re most certainly the most persistent.”

Venatrix shoots her a look – a feline smile with bared teeth. “I don’t give up… kind of my brand.” She murmurs with a shrug. “So, Anders – we doing this or what? Do I just tell you what I want, or…” She trails off.

Back at my workstation I beckon her over. “You need to choose from a group of prompts I’ve created – you can edit them if you want something really specific. My AI model’s heuristics will take over as soon as there’s enough feedback from your body’s, ahem, ‘secretions’ mixing with the bot fluid. We get a loop established that refines the simulation to deliver maximal endorphin release.”

“Nice… Scoot over.” The towering beauty instructs as she nudges me over with her muscular ass, nearly sending me flying. “I’ve got something I’ve been looking to recreate since Basic Training – just can’t find enough real men in this army to give it to me…” I watch her at the terminal, calloused fingers moving swiftly over the keypad.   

“Four of them? You sure?” I ask, eyes widening at what I read typed into the prompt selection boxes. “Ethically, I can’t allow anything non-consensual – even in simulation.”

“Look at me Anders… You think they could have done even half that shit to me if I hadn’t wanted it?”

I look at Venatrix where she’s leant over the terminal, eyeing the swell of her bicep and huge shoulders before letting my gaze rest just briefly on her stunning tits. I quietly shake my head – a reaction that seems to please her, weighty hand (the human one, this time…) clapping my back when she stands up.

“Right then, lab rats – let’s do this, shall we?” She barks out a laugh as she strips off her vest and catches my stunned expression. “Yes, Anders, they’re real… pretty much the only bit of me that is nowadays…”

*

Davies stands at my side as we watch Venatrix lower herself into the tank, her stunning physique partially obscured by the opacity of the fluid, but the outline still enough to make my jumpsuit feel much tighter around my crotch.

“Fuck… She’s incredible…” Davies’ breathy sigh of lust makes me look over at my gently panting lab partner.

“Didn’t think you were into girls?” I tease, earning me a withering look.

“Shut up… Don’t tell me your not thinking about what it’d be like to get pinned down and ruined by that.” Davies eyes my swelling bulge. “Might need you to write me some muscle-mommy prompts when she’s finished, Anders, looks like you’ve got some thoughts on this…”

As long as I get to watch.

Our focus is drawn to the woman suspended in the tank in front of us - the first whispy shadows starting to coalesce in the fluid. Tendril-like clusters of bots that caress the scarred flesh on Venatrix’s thighs while others apply pressure to her breasts and throat. We watch as the Lieutenant’s face takes on a rapturous look, her head sat just proud of the fill-line, human eye glazed over and unfocused. Her groan of pleasure echoes through the lab.

Davies’ attention shifts between Venatrix’s stunning anatomy and the green text read-outs spooling up my workstation monitors.

“Fuck, Anders, look – she’s so fucking wet…” My slender partner points at the fluid density data, subject-arousal ratio ticking up relentlessly as we hear more throaty moans from the tank. Davies looks at the heuristic program starting to churn out generative adaptations to the prompts, her eyes going wide as she takes in what she’s seeing in the green-on-black lines of rolling up the screens.

“Oh my God, that’s hot…” She breathes, squirming slightly where she’s stood at my side – rocking back and forth on her heels. “Is this the new code? Are you testing your updated model?”

“Uh-huh… Figured if there was anyone who could stress test it, it’s her.” I nod at the woman in the tank, watching as cord-like strings of bots ring her wrists and ankles to simulate restraint before two long, girthy masses start to form between her spread thighs.

I flinch when I feel Davies’ hand on my leg, looking up to see her staring at me, a fevered, animal need in her eyes.

“Mind if I make use of that?” She bites her lip and looks longingly at my hard-on, straining impressively down the thigh of my jump suit.

“Be my guest.” I answer hoarsely, throat tight – though nothing to do with Venatrix’s iron grip this time.

I watch in stunned silence as Davies unzips her jumpsuit and shrugs shoulders out of the heavy material, my mouth open when she pushes dark-blue fabric and a damp tangle of underwear over her thighs to pool by her feet – so she does like me…

“Shut up…” She murmurs in reaction to my silent look of astonishment. I obey, staring at her pert little ass as she stands between my thighs, still looking at the screens and their coded filthy outputs. I groan when she unzips my suit and frees my cock, turning her back to me and holding the tip against her wet little hole, before sitting back and taking me inside...

I’m torn now, faced with the choice of whether to watch my slim, pretty partner bouncing on my cock, or the magnificent specimen in the middle of the room – Venatrix groaning through a deep stretch as the first of many simulated cocks inches into her pussy.

In the end, Davies makes the decision for me, interpreting the data onscreen as if narrating some dirty script for a horny listener… My cock buried in her hot, tight walls, she narrates what I can see developing in the tank. The prompts I’ve crafted just the start, an algorithmic orgy of feedback and sensation now playing out between four simulated partners and Venatrix’s bound flesh.

“DVDA… Fucking hell, this bitch is tough”, Davies breathes, pussy clenching as she voices the awe we both feel watching four thick cocks plunge in and out of Venatrix’s abused holes. “Anders, her endorphin response is off the chart…” She gasps, rolling her hips - my dick deep in her dripping sex.

I can barely hold on, throbbing for release – physical stimulation blending with the visceral visuals unfolding within the tank. The noises coming from the Lieutenant are inhuman, hoarse exclamations of lust… Begging for more as the dicks stretching her ass and pussy slide over each other, thrusting in and out.

Suddenly it goes quiet, and I look over in panic, worried our horny simulation may have finally proved too much for the Tigress of Klendathu. Davies’ interprets scrolling lines of code just as my eyes work out what's silenced The Unyielding.

“She going to cum so fucking hard… Fuck, that’s one of the hottest things I’ve ever… Mmmmm, fuck....” Davies trails off just as I feel her tighten round my shaft, dainty hand between her legs rubbing her clit with fevered need. Over in the tank, I watch Venatrix swallow air and shake as she holds her breath, purple flush up her neck highlighting the ridges of tendons and veins, straining from jaw to collarbones…

A visceral roar echoes through the lab, alert chimes ringing out in accompaniment. Flashing red med monitor alarms blinking as Venatarix cums brutally hard over the masses splitting her open - barked, panting grunts of pleasure reaching my ears as I feel Davies start to climax on my cock.

My partner’s orgasm is more hushed, but just as intense… At least that’s how it feels to me, my cock squeezed tight in Davies’ vice-like, pretty cunt. A gushing pressure acting with her clenching muscles to force me out of her convulsing little hole. It’s too much -  I can’t hold back, cumming up Davies’ slender back as she slumps forward against the terminal.

I somehow muster the strength to reach around her trembling frame to activate a ‘recovery’ prompt. Allow Venatrix a gradual come down from the intense fucking she’s endured. Potential organ damage avoided for one of the Federation’s most decorated heroes, I turn my attentions to Davies, stroking her arms and kissing her shoulders until her breathing starts to slow.

“Did… Did you pull out, Anders?” She asks over the sound of ragged breaths from over in the tank.

“Uh-huh…” I gasp and swallow hard. “Well… yeah… Sorry for making a mess.”

“No it’s… huh… It‘s fine, don’t worry – I squirted on your desk chair, so I guess that makes us even.” Davies turns to look over her shoulder at me.

“But I think she made the biggest mess…” Davies smiles and tilts her head in the direction of the muscle-mommy panting at our side. “And it’s your turn to clean the tank…”