Planet of the Dominated Mind

As he turned a corner, Lukas stopped dead in his tracks. There was a fork in the hallway, leading to three different paths. He stood frozen, his mind racing, trying to remember which way he had come. None of it looked familiar. How far down into this steel cave had he fallen?

"Hey! You guys out there? Can you hear me?" Lukas shouted down each path.

Nothing. Lukas took a deep breath and chose the path on his left, his muscles tensed and ready for any threat. He knew he had to be fast—Blue was almost certainly in pursuit.

"Wait, what's that smell?"

Lukas turned his head to the right and sniffed. There was a faint, earthy, sweet odor that he couldn't place, but it was definitely familiar. Lukas crept down the corridor, his hand on the wall for support amidst the darkness. The texture on the wall changed, eventually: he happened upon a glass window, and peeked in.

As he approached, the smell grew stronger. He couldn't quite figure out where it was coming from, but as he looked through the window, he saw a sight that made his jaw drop.

On the other side of the glass, there was the pan-taran starbark dealer. He was on his knees, his head bobbing up and down on the rubber dick of a robot. His palm-tree-patterned button up shirt had been ripped open to expose his sweaty, heaving pecs, which bounced with each sloppy slurp he took. They were covered in the glaze of countless synthetic orgasms, which glittered in the black-light of the room. His green eyes looked nowhere in particular. He was high, and horny, and clearly wanted nothing more than a dick in his mouth and cum on his chest.

Lukas didn't need to see much to know it was the dealer: pan-tarans—even the smallest among them—have uniquely hardy builds. Bulky and burly, the species' large and gray complexion made them look like, to some extent, humanoid rhinoceroses. The perception of the species across the galaxy was that of bruisers and bullies, so to see one so subservient and submissive between the legs of another species would've been quite the shocking sight to most people.

Except, Lukas had seen such a thing before.

The android lounging above the pan-taran was dressed up in a skintight black bodysuit, with a rubber face mask and gloves. It sat on a steel throne. Its eyes glowed a soft, neon green, and the synthetic lips of the mask had a faint smile. Vents sat at the end of its smile, and puffed out clouds of glittery, purple starbark smoke. The room was slightly hazy from the consistent production.

The pan-taran's head was between the robot's thighs, and the robot's legs were wrapped around the dealer's head. Occasionally, the robot would say something in pan-taran, then unhook one of its long, slender legs from around the dealer's head and bring dainty rubber toes down to his subordinates twitching cock, expertly teasing the cock-head between digits. The dealer's eyes were watery, and his cheeks were wet with tears. It was tough to differentiate the sound of his sobs from the slobbery slurps of his tired jaw.

The droid turned his head to Lukas.

"Don't worry," it's synthesizer voice sang, "he won't be caught selling anything again, Officer."

Lukas realized, then, that his hand had drifted slowly towards his jockstrap. He pulled back, and lied to himself: he thought that if he tried to fight through the starbark smoke, he'd probably succumb to the same fate. Better to leave the dealer and focus on saving his friends.

He ran back to the fork and scratched a light indention into the wall so that he knew he had already been down that path.

He settled on the center path. Surely, one of his friends was there. He had to find them, and save them. He was Captain, after all: they were his responsibility.

The long hallway begged to differ. He ran and ran, and the hallway just seemed to stretch on with no windows, no rooms, nothing but steel and distance. It wasn't until he finally came to the hallway's exit that he heard a distant thud. He stopped running. He placed his hand against the wall and realized that the thud was rhythmic, and approaching from around the corner. There was a mechanical whirl between each thump, which was so heavy and loud that it shook through the walls and floors. Lukas backed up.

As Granddaddy rounded the corner, the robot's wide, plushy body appeared first. It wobbled and bounced with each step. The belly was so rounded and pronounced that Lukas couldn't help but stare: it was like an overweight, well-endowed robotic Santa Claus had wandered into the hallway.

Granddaddy's eyes lit up, and his head tilted in a curious way.

"Hey there, little fella! What's your name?"

Lukas stumbled backwards.

In hindsight, Lukas isn't sure how he didn't notice this first. Perhaps it was the near darkness, perhaps it was the information overload. Granddaddy had a harness made of thick, leather straps that criss-crossed the robot's massive, round, and smooth body. The straps went around the android's shoulders, over his head, and behind his back. The complicated straps connected to leather straps which held the wrists of a particular poltron prisoner around Granddaddy's neck, and his legs pulled crudely around the fat frame of the robot by leather straps around the ankles.

Lukas knew instantly it was Pat.

Pat was dressed in a skimpy wedding gown—a lacey, white number that accentuated his delicate frame and pale skin. The gown had a sheer, billowy skirt, and Pat wore a veil. But his face was hidden, not by the veil, but by the fact it was smooshed between Granddaddy's enormous, bouncing moobs. Lukas could just make out the poltron's ass, punctuated by a slowly drooping and swaying poltron tail, peeking out under the frilly bows of his skirt and panties.

Pat's hips were humping desperately into Granddaddy's fat belly, making ripples in the ocean of fat. His arms, wrapped tightly around the robot's neck by the harness, twitched with each thrust. His hands were clenched in fists, and his nails dug into his palms. Pat was not making a sound. Or, if he was, they were lost between the mounds of fat moobs that pressed into either side of his head.

Granddaddy, on the other hand, was quite vocal.

"Me and my wife-boy were just going out for a little walk!" Granddaddy chuckled.

His hands were on Pat's thighs, kneading and gripping. Occasionally, one would creep up the frilly skirt of the dress and slap Pat's bare ass. Pat was not in a position to speak. He couldn't, anyway, not with his face firmly pressed into the robot's tits, his tongue lolling and drooling into the suffocating softness.

"You know, there's plenty of room on this big ol' belly of mine for another passenger, little fella," Granddaddy said to Lukas. "You wanna climb on up and join in the fun?"

Granddaddy's eyes lit up, and as if to emphasize this point, he slipped his fingers under the bottom of his huge gut, lifted it up, then let it drop. It rippled and wobbled, and the bounce seemed to have done something quite profound to the poltron strapped to it. Creamy juice dribbled from between his wide splayed legs and down the curve of the belly.

"Ahh, looks like my wife-boy's all tuckered out. Well, there's plenty more where that came from! A short jog and I'm sure my tubby belly will get his little girly-dick hard again."

Granddaddy slapped his belly a few times while Pat rode out his orgasm. The robots eyes dimmed, and he took on a more serious tone:

"However, I'm not going to dress you up. Only my perfect princess gets special treatment like that. You hear me, boy?"

Lukas's cock, which had not gone soft at all, twitched in his jockstrap.

"I'm just gonna go," Lukas said, and ran back down the hall faster than he first arrived.

There was no way he could take on a giant like that on his own. Maybe if he freed Jordan, they could work together to free Pat. It was definitely a two person job, no matter how Lukas looked at it. Hell, maybe even freeing the pan-taran would've been easier.

He made it back to the fork and scratched an indention near the center hallway entrance. Then, he ran down the right path, his heart racing, his mind spinning, and his cock still sore and leaking into his jockstrap.

Jordan was the youngest and strongest of the three, Lukas thought. There was a big dark muscle stud hiding underneath the precinct uniform—he often wondered how much of Jordan's life outside of accounting was in the gym. Surely, if any of the three were capable of fighting their way out of this steel hell, it was him, not Lukas.

As he ran, he heard the sharp, air-slicing sound of strikes, and of Jordan's unrestrained cries. It was a fight, surely. Lukas thought if Jordan was locked in a 1-on-1 struggle, he could dash in to help him, to save him. This was the start of their escape, finally.

Once he came upon the wide open entrance of Jordan's room, however, that hope quickly faded.

Jordan was bent ass-up over the lap of a leather-clad robot. Its legs were spread wide, and its gloved hand was pumping Jordan's nether regions out of Lukas's view. Jordan steadied himself on the robot's thigh, his head tilted down, his cheeks wet and flushed. His lips were trembling, and his body shook with each pump.

That was not what caused him to cry out, though.

Lukas realized, then, that the robot was holding Jordan's cock with one hand, and leather paddle in the other.

The robot smacked his ass again.

Jordan let out a scream, but didn't try to get away. He sobbed and panted, but the most protest his body could muster was the slight wiggle of his hips, which was only enough to push his cock deeper into the robot's grip.

Lukas couldn't believe what he was seeing. Jordan could clearly, more so than any of the captives he found, free himself if he wanted to. Jordan was physically strong, and with the robot's arms around his groin, it would be difficult for him to strike back, but not impossible.

And yet, he didn't. He couldn't. Lukas could see the muscles in Jordan's thighs tensing and relaxing as he humped desperately into the leather-gloved hand. That body did not want salvation; it wanted sensation.

As Lukas's remaining possibilities leaked away, he was transfixed at Jordan's quivering ass. The paddle must've had some sort of indention—in motion, he couldn't tell, but the evidence was there on the surface. The word "SLUT" found residence in raised, stinging flesh across each cheek. And Lukas wondered, if maybe he had done something like this to Jordan, or if he had done whatever Pat needed to Pat, if anyone had had done anything about the depths they all hid away, if they wouldn't be trapped in the jaws of this machine cave.

While he thought that, two leather hands gripped firmly onto Lukas's shoulders. Tense, then relaxed.

"You reported your engagement with the pan-taran to your superior later," Blue said. "How long was your encounter?"

"It was... it was only a few minutes."

"The whole thing?" Blue pulled a dazed Lukas down to the ground without much resistance and wrapped his strong, rubbery legs around his waist. He said: "Your time perception is still inaccurate, Captain."

"Wha—"

Before Lukas could speak, Blue's hips jerked forward. Lukas was surprised by the sudden impact, but soon realized that the grapple-bot's thick, smooth thighs were squeezing him tightly between his legs, and that his cock was rubbing firmly against the grapple-bot's groin. It was like humping a wrestling mat. Blue's hips bucked back, and the pressure of his legs scissors around Lukas's body like a vice.

"I—" Lukas grunted, trying to ignore the stimulation, "I don't remember anything about him. He was just an enemy soldier."

Blue pulsed his legs. "You're lying. I can feel your heart beating. Did you disarm him?"

"Yes, I—"

"How? And what happened after that?"

Lukas was still in a fog. His head throbbed, and his eyes couldn't focus.

"I-I can't..."

The humping grew faster, and Lukas's vision began to blur. He was trapped, helpless, staring up into a vision long suppressed.

"Yes, I did," Lukas stuttered, "I disarmed him, and he disarmed me at the same time, It... it was the darndest thing. We both stumbled into an abandoned farmhouse. I shot first, hit the gun somehow instead of his hand. His gun went off and the bullet struck the banister above me. A piece of wood fell and hit my arm and my gun went spiraling into god knows where."

"So, we looked at each other for a second, realized what happened, and charged. I was able to pin him down and straddle him. He was a tough guy, but I had him. I had him! And yet, he kept on struggling..."

Blue's arms and body shifted.

It was a simple adjustment, really, given how weakened in both mind and body Lukas had become. Blue wrapped his arms around Lukas's torso, and with his hands cupped around the captain's body, it was a natural and comfortable transition to slide his hands up to the front of Lukas. Lukas found his throat cinched between bicep and forearm, his air supply open only at the whim of Blue's grip. Blue wrapped his legs around Lukas's hips to prevent him from struggling.

"There, there, Captain. You're almost there," Blue whispered.

"We wrestled for a long time..." Lukas whimpered once air was allowed in, "...neither one of us was willing to give up. It was the greatest wrestling match of my life. Eventually, the struggle must've worn us both out. I couldn't fight back when he threw me over and mounted me. He pulled his pants down, and that's when I realized I was hard, too."

Blue's grip was relentless, and the robot's strength was far superior to Lukas's own. He struggled, his arms flailing, his hands scrambling for any purchase on the smooth rubbery skin. His mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for breath, but nothing came in. His vision was growing dark, and the sounds of his own heartbeat echoed in his ears.

"He never hit me. I never hit him. It was just... wrestling. Play-fighting. Trying to lock the other in a hold that they couldn't escape from. That was the thrill."

Blue allowed him just enough air to let out the truth.

"I eventually got his head between my legs. Head-scissors. He... stopped struggling."

Lukas shuddered.

"We just sat there for a minute, maybe two, panting and sweating, and I realized that his lips... his lips were... against my groin and..."

"Did you know," Blue choked Lukas's story to silence, "that pan-tarans avoid hand to hand combat at almost all costs?"

"Uhh..." Lukas gasped for air. When Blue let him breathe, he coughed and said, "How could I have? We were at war with them, and we knew nothing about them..."

Blue covered Lukas's mouth. "How long did you wrestle him, Captain? Your sense of time. You claimed your interaction with this soldier was brief. And yet..."

He freed Lukas's mouth. "He was an enemy soldier..."

Blue muted his windpipe again. "The pan-taran avoid hand-to-hand combat in war because wrestling is a common mating ritual among their species. So... how long did you wrestle him before you realized you weren't in danger, Captain?"

Lukas could only blink. Tears welled up in his eyes.

"I don't know, I..."

"Captain, when your opponent looked up at you with those big green eyes, and his lips roamed your bulge in sweet submission, did you think that was still 'a fight?'"

Blue rolled Lukas side to side, keeping expert control on the Captain's oxygen to keep him just barely on edge. Lukas's eyes were wet with tears, and his cock was leaking into his jockstrap. He couldn't believe it: his body had betrayed him, and his mind was following. He wasn't sure if he was going to make it out of this one alive, or even sane.

"No, that's not true. It wasn't like that. He didn't..."

Blue's voice was calm. "You wrestled him for almost an hour, Lukas. You briefly thought you were in love, didn't you?"

"It was just a moment. A stupid moment. I had to focus on the war."

"Was it the war you were thinking about, or were you afraid to confess your feelings to an alien?"

Lukas's cock throbbed. "No, I..."

The grapple-bot brought the heels of his smooth canvas feet to Lukas's groin, and ground the tent between the artificial pads. Lukas's jockstrap was slick and sticky with his own seed, and the rough fabric ground into his soft, wet cockhead. Lukas whimpered, his eyes glued shut. His face was wet with sweat and tears, and his mouth hung open, saliva dribbling down his chin.

"You were afraid," Blue whispered. "Afraid to admit your own desires. Afraid of rejection, and of failure."

Blue's voice was soothing. It was as if Lukas was choked in a warm, rubber blanket, and his entire body was buzzing with an electric hum. He was too exhausted to move, and yet, the gentle rubbing of Blue's feet was enough to keep his cock at attention, to keep his mind on the edge of awareness.

"Lukas," Blue nuzzled the captain's ear, "What did you break first? His neck, or his heart?"

Lukas felt his vision start to fade, and his limbs grew numb. He couldn't focus his eyes on the room, or even Blue. It was like he was floating outside his own body, and all he could feel was the throbbing of his own heartbeat. He couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything but watch as his own body struggled, uselessly, against Blue's iron grip.

The captain's face went red, and his body spasmed and twitched. His eyes were bloodshot and watery, his mouth open and gasping. As he came, he jerked his head to the side, and a small trickle of spit dribbled from his lips.

Blue's feet coaxed the captain's spasming cock and spurting seed slowly, but firmly. Up and down, up and down the robot milked him between firm arches. The grapple-bot released his arms from around Lukas's neck and let the captain fall to the floor, limp and unconscious. He was not dead: Blue was not programmed to kill, nor to cause permanent damage. He just gave the captain enough to wear down and submit—a mercy the Captain, himself, had been unable to afford others.

Blue bent over, his body perfectly balanced, and his feet hovered over the captain's limp, wet-with-sweat face. He gently brought his cum-covered foot down onto Lukas's forehead, then slowly pressed the sole of his rubbery heel into the man's nose and lips. Lukas twitched, too gone to be aware of the fact Blue was smearing his own seed all over his face, or of the fact that the robot gingerly dipped his cum-covered toes in and out of his mouth, gently coaxing more saliva out with each dip, until not a drop of his submission remained on Blue's feet.

"There," the robot said, "Isn't that better?"

Blue knelt down.

"We'll do this every day, Captain. Your reprogramming into a merciful creature will be thorough, and exhausting and, I do hope, educational... for us both."

The grapple-bot scooped Lukas's limp, sweaty, and unconscious body, his cock still leaking cum through the abused jockstrap, and lifted him like a sack-of-nothing over his shoulders. The sharp sound of leather-on-flesh could still be heard from Commander's room, and with it, Jordan's cries of painful ecstasy. If you put your hand on the wall, you could still feel the vibrations caused by Granddaddy stomping around, and could easily imagine Pat's panty-trapped cock bursting yet another load onto the bouncing fat. You could smell the starbark long before you reached those depths, and know that someone had been so smoked out of their mind that they would need many days and an attentive caretaker to return to safe sobriety.

On the planet ER-14, the steel and self-aware planet, the caretakers know exactly how to treat their guests, even if the guests themselves don't know what they want.