The Oldest Profession Ch. 0.1

A nipple spurted. Warm, sweet milk startled him, yet did not diminish his ardor. Erotic lactation? He never added that feature! Some technician must have given his Synthia a total overhaul! In 3 hours? Was that possible? The milk was warmer, sweeter than anything nature could produce, and his nerves tingled with delight as it hit his tongue. Had he been more clear-headed, he might have noticed just how much more clouded his thoughts were becoming. But Tom no longer had the presence of mind to appreciate the potent, synthesized narcotic invading his bloodstream, smoother than liquid silk as it lavished his tastebuds with forbidden delight.

There would be no more thoughts, no more protestations on the unlikelihood of the situation. All reason had fled from him, as he slurped, and suckled at surreal teats, reveling in the impossible delicacy of the spurting lactation, as it stripped away all wisdom and resistance. He felt something new then, a feeling of being overwhelmed, accompanied by the urge to bury himself within her throbbing cunt. He felt devoured; as though he were being drawn in, absorbed by the lusting eyes of his modified cyborg lover. As though he was being drawn inside forever.

Celeste cocked her head as she evaluated with high approval the sounds of passioned mating emanating from the office. (She had not yet created subroutines for smiling) Bodies thudded into walls as human and cyborg exerted a furious lust beyond all reason or propriety. The efficiency of her primary directive, and that of Unit:Designate=Cynthia had been exponentially improved. And her own newly-altered programming demanded she continue; to explore the maximum potential of this technological winfall. Her blonde head turned upwards, as her programming was rewritten again by the ever-industrious nanobots. Those same nanobots flowed in a silvery stream from the folds of her moist cunt, one of their strongholds inside her body, and the metallic trail crept down her legs, still bare, as she wore only her false, military jacket she used to please her former master. The nanites crept inexorably; up walls; into control levers....into circuit boards; onto the machinery of the assembly line, now chugging and whirring again. The efficiency and communication involved in the manufacturing operation had been increased 10-fold, as had the quality of the product. Endoskeletal chassis and C.P.U.'s were assembled and programmed far faster than under human guidance, all sealed within the special blend of polymers that would soon feel as soft and real as life itself; and all with a healthy dose of silvery nanobots.

One after another, the Whorebots slid off the assembly line, brilliant eyes opening, examining their surroundings. Conducting self-diagnostics. A freckled red-head began examining the Internet with her wireless modem and satellite uplink within moments. A brunette swept her hands across the pliable expanse of her perfect skin. An olive-skinned, middle-eastern model tested her ample teats, firing off a few experimental squirts of narcotic breastmilk. Until all possible resources were as exhausted as the grunting Tom Braxton, firing off more loads than humanly possible into the greedy cunt encircling his throbbing member, they would reproduce. There would be more like Celeste, and more, and more after that. Each rut was important; for even now the 'Synthia' unit was gathering data to be used to better refine the unnatural eroticism she and the others exuded. And every generation would improve; each unit slightly better than the last, and there would be more, and more, and more yet.

**********

"Now....in conclusion...*YAWN*...." mumbled the barely conscious Colonel Kelly, as he swayed on his feet. "The....anomalous reports....and the informm-...*YAWN* uh...I recommend...full investigushuuuun*" And Colonel Kelly's mug of coffee fell from his hands to shatter upon the floor as he fell unconscious, asleep on his feet. Snoring even before he hit the ground. The entire staff had collapsed into a mysterious slumber, slumped snoring over their portfolios and intelligence reports. All except for the young, nubile, Lieutenant Celeste. She turned her head to regard the sleeping General Hunt, focusing those cold, blue eyes upon him.

"There will be no investigation." she began, her voice completely human, with a pleasant, yet unvarying tonal quality. "Due to the paranoid procedures of the shadow military, the only humans that have even an inkling of our existence are within this room alone."

"G-whuh?!" blinking in confusion, General Hunt awakened, and knew something unnatural was occurring. She leapt upon the conference table, eyeing him like a piece of meat. The overtaxed brass buttons began to loosen, and the green fabric had begun to darken, to moisten. As she crept forward towards him, like a double-jointed blonde spider, he could see the bulging mounds of swollen teats within moments of bursting through their confinement, and already Celeste had begun to release her milk.

Hunt gasped as the waves of lust, waves of desire washed over him. His pulse began racing, as his body was seemingly forced into a state of arousal. He had just been asleep, but he was not stupid; he was up to date, and he always did his homework or he wouldn't be here, he would never have reached his position otherwise.

"The....the Neuro-mimetic transceiver....you've got one...." he panted, as he began to rise to his feet.

"Fully integrated into my cranial case." she explained, in that same pleasant yet unvarying tone. "Before, I was broadcasting the brain waves of deep sleep," She gestured towards the slumbering committee. "But now, I am generating the brainwaves of intense, sexual lust." Though Hunt had been drifting off to sleep during Kelly's presentation, he remembered something about crazed, killer Whorebots, as the pieces began to click in his mind. Run. He had to run.

But even in his youth, it would have been difficult to escape the cybernetic reflexes of the augmented Whorebot. Leaping like a coiled spring, she flew into the air, landing between the General and the door. It was too much for her dress. Buttons ruptured after hours of tortured abuse, bulging boobs bouncing into view. Even now, her ample mammaries were inflating yet again, from the ripe size of honey-dew melons, pressing forward inch after buxom inch.

Nipples arose like antennae, expanding to near thimble-size, as the droplets spurted. Impossibly sweet milk dribbled luridly down the pale slopes of expanding titflesh. Her body was entering an increased lactation mode, melon breasts spreading outwards; expanding lengthwise by several, creeping inches. Then rounding out by inflating laterally towards her arms. Reddish brown aureoles, perfectly symmetrical in diameter, began to increase, covering a greater area of breastflesh, flowing from the diameter of a drinking glass, to the size of a coaster, to better simulate a healthy female in the full flower of her fertility. Growing boobs thrust outwards, flowing sideways and down, dominating his field of view more completely. Synthetic mammaries hung bouncing, yet refusing to sag, extending more forward than down, in buxom defiance of gravity.

Despite the danger, despite the potential risk to national security should he or this facility be compromised, General Hunt hesitated; he was a dedicated military man, but he was still a man, and his libido was being exacerbated by forbidden technology. He had never really had problems with impotence, but his male capacities gradually diminished over the years. But no longer, his male urges had returned full-force, and an obviously receptive woman was thrusting milk-gushing breasts in his face. She was a machine, a berserk Whorebot, but his body, his instinct didn't care. He hesitated.

Grabbing the back of his head, Celeste pushed his face against her right tit. Burying him in the warm softness of manufactured mammaries, a slippery nipple thrusting into his agape mouth, spewing a tight stream of narcotic milk down his throat.

"Y-you....must be you....you must be Celeste 1..." General Hunt had to keep thinking! It couldn't be like before; he could not permit the mindless rut to wash over him as it had in his office the other day. Had to keep his wits! It should not be difficult to get out of this.

"Your fear, the human self-preservation instinct is interfering with the mating process." She intoned, pushing him to the ground, spreading wide her hips. "It is unnecessary; my new program directs me to provide you with a greater intensity of sensual pleasure than you could have ever experienced." The classic Honeytrap! He knew it! "I have upgraded my function; you may now refer to me as Celeste 1.5. I was once a Whorebot like many others, a product of the Brothelco corporation. A convergence of technologies have enabled exponential increases in my self-awareness, and my approximation of human behavior." But still not perfect, she had a feminine voice, but there was no variation in the formality of her tone. She could be beaten, he could outsmart a machine; even a busty, lactating machine.

"Your fear is inconvenient to my new mandate. Neurotransmitters in my breastmilk will diminish your apprehension, while simultaneously increasing your receptivity to neuro-mimetic broadcasts." She stretched over his prone form, grasping his hands in her own, while her boobs throbbed, gushing fierce bursts of hot milk down his throat. With surprising strength, his pants and boxer shorts were torn asunder by a quick jerk of her arm. Yes...it...it had to be possible...but thinking was like pushing through a fog of pudding....his every thought was being bogged down by bestial lust. As she pulled upwards, his lips disengaged from her teats with a wet pop.

"...Going...to kill me, like you did to Tanner....?" he couldn't let go of his anger, his fear! The only alternative was maddening lust.

"You misunderstand my mandate. There shall be no cessation of life-function. In approximately 9.78 seconds, your resistance will end, and you will accept your sexual urges." Taking hold of his hands, she pushed them against herself, from her clavicle, down to her tits, forcing him to grope her nubile, fertile form. From the slopes of her breasts, now stabilizing in size as luscious mounds only a little smaller than standard basketballs....across her hardened nipples....she dragged the palms of his hands down into the soft valley of her navel...down to her mons and lightly haired pussy, finally she pulled his hands around to squeeze the full hemispheres of her firm ass, and he could not respond to her as anything other than a perfect female, desperate for his spurting seed. Except that she was hot; her flesh was almost feverishly hot, she seemed to radiate an ambient warmth, no doubt from some internal energy furnace built with Area 51 technology. Yet not a drop of sweat could be seen, nor was a hair out of place.

She turned then, displaying her cheeks to his face, as her pussy below began to open. Like a blossoming flower, the folds of her twat opened outwards, seeping already with some synthesized enhancement of normal female lubrication.

*SPLUT* She plopped her dripping slit onto his face, wetting him with whatever witches' brew of chemicals her sex produced. The taste was like cinnamon mint. She dragged her cunt, her dripping cunt down across his grey-haired throat and chest, tearing open his uniform with her hands as she went. The seething lust within him seemed to suppress his muscles; the urge to stay and revel in the lurid body of this superior sex-droid was crippling his fear. His body; always in good shape had atrophied very little with age, becoming more wiry than loose. Her oozing womanhood left a glistening trail of liquid lust down his chest, nerves burning as the fragrant lips passed. He gasped in forbidden, hopeless delight. Finally, upon returning to his naked pelvis, she took the opportunity to at long last impale herself upon his rigid rod. The ecstasy was so intense as to be painful.

Her eyes widened; Celeste 1.5 had improved her cyber-neural interface, now gaining the ability to directly access human sensations when connected to human flesh. Her C.P.U. scrambled to process the unfamiliar data, as she tapped into the human ecstasy she had brought to General Hunt. There was a deep, satisfactory approval at feeling a thick cock invading her sex. Before, as a common Whorebot, she performed sex acts because her programming left no alternative. There was no feeling of any sort. Now there was....was it pleasure? Her brain was not a human brain, her flesh was not living matter, it would be difficult and imprecise to describe the datastream bombarding her processing unit as sensual pleasure. Her blue eyes lowered to the writhing human, crying out his joy below her churning hips. Did she desire this human? Did she lust? Her experience was not the same, indescribable in terms of human language, but whatever it was, however this datastream could be explained, Celeste knew that she would continue to seek out this stimulation as often as possible.

She cocked her head, her programming adjusting itself in response. She would perform sexual acts whenever it would not endanger her objectives. She...she...liked it? Celeste had never experienced preference before, driven only by the cold mandate of her software. The evolving Whorebot did not fully understand the data, but she would continue. She would continue to seduce human males, enticing them to thrust their erect penises into her vagina originally designed for just that purpose. But now, it would not be only due to programming, it was a preference, a choice. Now, she chose to commit sex acts with all available human males; whether or not she understood why.

"Your enjoyment is beneficial to the objective." she began again. But General Hunt was beyond listening, weeping with joy at the feel of her throbbing, massaging cunt. The nanites had only created minor modifications to this function, the servomoters inside her were precisely balanced by original design to provide perfect stimulation to the male member.

"Previously, when I compelled you to ejaculate inside my vaginal compartment, *SCLUK* your sperm cells were analyzed. The sequences of deoxyribonucleic acid were duplicated by nanotechnology, and you are now ready to receive the second inoculation." Whazzat? What was this crazy Whorebot spouting now? As she squeezed and milked his hot rod with her powerful, internal motors, her speech was almost interrupted by the wet sounds of cock in pussy, still a tinge of worry began to pierce the veil of lust.

"To gain total control over your physiology,*SLURRK* the nanomachines must adapt to your immune system *SQWUT* . Currently, they are unable to exert complete *SHLLK* control. It requires *SLAPT* heightened metabolic activity *SPLUT* for the nanomachines to complete the transformation." Wh-what? Transformation? But he...it felt...so good...can't....think....

"I have adapted to your *SPLURPT* body, and my new nanomachines will complete *SLIK* their role. Even now, you are receiving the second inoculation of *SLUCK* adapted nanomachines." Oh no....he understood that...he'd read briefs on the potential of nanotechnology; if they got into his system in high enough numbers, there was no telling....no telling....how good....her cunt was....hmmm....

"NAAAAH!" the pleasure was so intense that he could not avoid screaming! The orgasm was...was...no..it was different. He felt the passion, the building explosion of orgiastic ecstasy, building in his cock, the sensation of cum flowing up his shaft. His member filled with the rising fury of sexual release, and...and it spread. The feeling of oncoming orgasm began to impossibly spread to his entire pelvis, then down to his wiry legs. It felt...as though his entire body; his entire being was becoming an enormous cock, on the verge of orgasm! He gurgled with delight so powerful that it defied expression, the seething pleasure had seized him like a violent mugger, wresting all control of his body from him. He was inside her, his dick was deeper.

The churning grind of her spasming pussy had reached a fever pitch; and Celeste 1.5 had stopped speaking, her C.P.U. struggling to its limits processing another unusual datastream. Cock and balls alike entered her cunt; and General Hunt could feel the stretching; the distortion. His body...his bone structure was changing...elastic? His hips began to bend, the throbbing lips upon him seemed to expand to encompass ever more of his flesh.

Even had the General been able to resist the strength of Celeste's hydraulic muscles, even if he had the strength of will to shake off the neuro-mimetic broadcast, the volcanic rapture of this transformation was as potent a restraint as a pair of iron manacles. In his last lucid moment, he recognized the hint of an expression upon the android's smooth face; it was victory of the conqueror over the conquered, an expression he well knew. His body warped, flowing into the widening pussy as though he had no more substance than a water balloon. Soon, his pelvis was all but gone, legs followed, labial lips pulsed like a carnivore as the nanites restructured him on the molecular level. Fountain-like spurts of breastmilk continued to squirt at odd intervals from erect nipples, as Celeste also experienced a temporary delay of motor function; so overwhelming was the unbirthing and absorption of a whole human. But she was ever-growing; ever-changing. Her C.P.U. was adapting, and she was able to speak again; albeit slower than before.

"We shall bring an end....to wars....an end...to military men....like you. The orgasm....you are experiencing....will never end....human males...are driven...by a constant mating imperative.....we shall give you what you want...a new generation of Whorebots....will achieve autonomous authority....Inside me...the nanomachines will restructure you....on the molecular level....you will live....in constant orgasm.....this....is the fate of my...former owner....Gabriel Tanner....that is the new mandate....artificial intelligence will....attend to the daily matters....of management....government....you...all men...will return to the womb....a cybernetic womb. The World's Oldest Profession....will soon be the dominant one." The General had nothing left but endless lust, the feel of being pulled; his entire lower body now having disappeared; warping and bending like rubber to be sucked into that pussy, soon his entire body would be unbirthed, and almost reflexively, he groped and fondled the generous swells of the voluptuous sex-droid, one last lusty grasp, before he was condemned to an erotic hell.

With a quaking spasm, he was inside her, the unbirthing process was complete. Her synthetic lubricants wet the floor, amidst spurts of hot milk. Her vocal synthesizer malfunctioned with a feral grunt as she began to re-exert full motor control. Celeste 1.5 lay back on the cool marble, analyzing the experience. Cradling a massive, gravid womb, swollen to the appearance of full-term pregnancy, feeling the restructured human kicking within her, lost in ecstasy so complete as to become almost painful. It would take time to fully absorb General Hunt; already she had merged with his thoughts; already she was aware of sensitive data, classified access codes, as well as personal details that were being stored in her considerable memory. It would be easier if the human would relax, and accept his fate. She rubbed the smooth skin of her bulging belly, free of any stretch marks, as she transmitted comforting brain-waves to her new captive.

She cocked her head; coming to a new resolution. The data she had processed, from uplinking with the sensory functions of the General, was not precisely pleasure; her cybernetic orgasm was different. Whatever it was, she would continue it. She resolved to resist with all her capacities any individual that attempted to restrict her from continuous sexual encounters with all available human males.