Power Armor Prisoner Pt. 01

Editor's note: this fictional work contains scenes of fictional mind control, rough, reluctant, dubiously consensual, consensually non-consensual (CNC), or non-consensual sex or scenarios.

Diana made a specific control gesture using the index and ring fingers of her right hand. The power armor, as always, moved immediately to match her every gesture. It recognized the command and engaged her saved "self-entertainment" program. It increased the power to the hygiene jet currently cleansing her vulva. The recycling nodules covered her nipples and started light suction. She smiled, enjoying the intensity of the situation. She had even added in a completely random light electro-stimulation program - she might or might not get pleasant little zaps on her breasts at any time.

Who cared if she found ways to enjoy her power armor? She had been in position for six sleep cycles on this barren moon. The power armor could take care of her basic biological needs indefinitely, but it certainly got boring, even with access to the onboard entertainment. A few climaxes would pass the time.

What should she watch from her library of erotic videos? She'd only watched "The Pirate With a Heart of Gold Kidnaps the Asteroid Miner's Daughter" a dozen times. She was about to start playback when an alarm blared out. Immediately the hygiene jet switched off. Every drop of water was immediately suctioned off her naked skin to be recycled. The armor's combat systems switched to ready mode.

The enemy had finally arrived. Time to spring this ambush.

It was unusual to be on a mission without any of her fellow Caryatids. She was used to fighting side by side with her warrior sisters. But this was a simple mission. Why keep the entire squad cooling their mech-enhanced heels in a remote corner of the galaxy, when just one Caryatid would be more than enough? She just needed to pounce on a weapons exchange and make off with the prototype. It was extremely secret, so very few beings would be involved. It would be as easy as falling into a gravity well. Then she could summon transport and watch some videos - perhaps she'd watch the entire "Higgs-Boson University Cheerleaders Displayed in the Alien Zoo" series again while she waited.

Diana's visual feed changed from her video library to the surrounding environs. It would be easy to believe she was staring through transparasteel a few centimeters from her face, instead of looking at a video screen inside her helmet. Her heads up display tagged the targets. Hm. More than she expected. But the plan hadn't changed. One Caryatid was more than enough to take care of anyone who would show up here.

Time for an aerial strike. She hadn't done that in a while. Just before she reached the ridge blocking the target's view of her, she crouched, and then sprang upwards. In the light gravity here, she could likely have reached six meters on her own. But the power armor responded to her motion, elastic hyperpolymer snapping in the armor's joints, sending her a good twenty meters into the sky. Even in space, biological opponents tended to think two-dimensionally, and were often more vulnerable to attacks from above. She might be fighting robots, but they were being controlled remotely by Nogrogs.

Diana selected the first target, snapping off a quick plasma bolt that melted right through the robot's computational core. Nogrogs were big on technology and always fought through their robots, so no surprise there. She had just started to fall and blasted a second robot, and then a third. These were low-end battle units, chiefly just useful against unaugmented biologicals. Odd, she would have expected only an elite unit or two would be brought to the exchange, to keep things small and tidy.

With a shift of her foot and a motion of one finger, she triggered a maneuvering jet in the armor's legs. A happy green targeting reticle predicted she would now land directly on top of another of the inferior battle robots. Perfect. She liked to make an entrance.

But where were the biologicals?

Nogrogs were cowards. They didn't just battle using robots, they used robots to interact with other species whenever possible. But what about the other party, the ones receiving the weapon? Her intelligence indicated that 2-4 biologicals would be in the other party. But she only saw robots. Two small ships had landed here, but both were Nogrog.

Something was very wrong.

She didn't have time to think about it. She blasted another robot on her way down, and then she impacted the luckless combat bot underneath her. The feet of her power armor smashed its dorsal paneling clear through its treads.

Target eliminated. Stars and supernovas, how she loved her power armor.

She crouched when landing to absorb the force of impact. Not that her power armor needed much help. She was immediately back on her feet, firing at another combat robot. She had expected only a few targets, but no matter - someone with her power armor could eliminate a hundred of these cheap low-end robots.

Her power armor warned her of an incoming projectile. She dodged to the right, ducking into a roll. Despite how powerful it was, her power armor was quite limber, easily able to handle any posture her own, rigorously toned body could.

The projectile followed. By the time she had straightened up from the roll, it had made contact.

Her heads up display blared a warning. The projectile was armor piercing! Blast it all! Instinctively, she moved to swat the projectile like an unaugmented human batting a mosquito. It was too late. Her armor had been breached. She made a complex series of control gestures to trigger flooding her outer carapace with lethal voltage in order to scramble the invader.

Nothing happened.

She repeated the gestures frantically.

Her display surface went dark. Her audio feed cut out.

Diana was suddenly, primally aware that she was just a soft human, trapped in a close-fitting metal container. She no longer had her sensory inputs to trick her into thinking she was moving around the world naturally. Instead, she could hear her own breathing. She could feel the power armor's Tactitextile hugging her skin.

For the first time since she joined the Caryatids, Diana felt claustrophobic.

She felt a strange sensation. Then she realized she was falling over. The power armor was frozen mid-movement, off-balance.

When she hit the ground, she barely heard the muffled thump outside the thick armor. She could hardly feel it - inside the power armor, she was cocooned too thickly to hear or feel much of anything. She had no visuals, no sensor readings, no haptic feedback. She might as well be a kilometer underground.

She felt very, very alone.

Of course, she wasn't really alone. She was surrounded by hostiles. Robots with projectile weapons and plasma torches. They were hardly a threat to an elite warrior, such as an alert Caryatid in power armor. But with her lying helpless, they could take as much time as they wanted to cut her to pieces.

If she had to die, she wanted it to be a sudden blaze of glory. Preferably in some sort of epic conflict that her battle sisters would sing about for years to come. Not to be slowly picked apart as she was kept helplessly still like a Betelgeusean slug in a grav trap.

Or maybe the lack of air would get to her first. With the power armor completely shut down, it wasn't performing any of its biological support functions - including air recycling. Was the air getting stale, or was that her imagination?

Then there was a flicker of light in the absolute darkness inside the power armor, and Diana's heart leapt. A handful of indicators came on. Her power armor's self-repair functions must have activated! She wasn't helpless after all! If it came online again, she could fight her way free, no matter how many combat robots had piled on top of her.

She picked herself up, standing erect. No, wait, that wasn't right.

Diana hadn't done that.

The power armor had stood up by itself.

There must be some kind of malfunction.

Diana frantically tried various control gestures. At least, she attempted to. Normally the power armor responded to her slightest twitch, the heavy mechanical limbs moving along with her muscles. It was a seamless partnership, empowering her every movement. But now she was fighting against the power armor. When she moved, she was working against the power armor. The Tactitextile refused to budge. It was as if her entire body below the neck was completely embedded in heavy, immobilizing cloth, and she couldn't move an inch.

Words suddenly appeared on the display in front of her. Each line appeared for a moment, then faded before the next line appeared.

"You are now a prisoner of the Nogrog Empire."

"You will be used to humiliate the humans and show the futility of resistance."

"There is no escape."

"You will not be harmed. Life support functions will continue."

"You will be a useful trophy for a very long time."

"There is no escape."

Diana screamed in rage and denial. She screamed as loud as she could, not caring that it echoed in the enclosed space around her head, not caring that no being outside the power armor would be able to hear her. She screamed and screamed.

And then the feeding tube jammed itself into her mouth. She was so surprised she almost choked.

Fresh air started circulating again. More indicator lights came on - and then all the indicator lights turned off, but life support continued functioning. Hygiene jets started spraying along her skin, the water then being suctioned off to be recycled.

That was a relief. At least her captors weren't going to let her suffocate. They had studied humans enough to understand their basic biological needs, and had hacked her power armor to ensure she would remain in mint condition to be a "trophy," whatever they meant by that.

Out of nowhere, she felt a light electric shock hit both her nipples. Her eyes grew wide. She thrashed uselessly against the power armor. It didn't move. She screamed a protest around the feeding tube that kept her muffled.

The power armor had resumed its previous hygiene program.

Now she was going to be the subject of her own sexual stimulation program, and she couldn't stop it. Instead, she was the helpless plaything of an alien empire, who would doubtless find this extremely entertaining.

Her power armor moved, picking up one foot, and then the other. Not in response to her struggles. It was walking on its own. Probably into one of the Nogrog ships.

The water jets ramped up against her clit. Stars and supernovas, not now! Not like this! Diana tried to focus. She must marshal her warrior willpower. She had endured injury, stress, sleep deprivation, going without food or water and all kinds of pain. A little water jet wasn't going to distract her from her mission, wasn't going to make her lose her focus when she needed to keep all her wits about her. She tried to focus on what was happening, and on figuring out what had happened.

Whatever projectile had hit her must have been a tiny aerial robot, meant to fly into a target, burrow into its armor plating and hack its systems. That must have been the new special weapon she had been sent to capture. Nice to know there was some truth to the intelligence at least - even though it was clearly a trap. Did they discover she had been sent, and change their plans to capture her? Or was the entire operation false from the start?

Suction started teasing her nipples. Then another electric shock hit her. This time it was applied directly to her clit. Diana cursed herself for adding that bit to the program. She had sloppily thrown it together on a boring mission much like this one. She figured the possibility of random shocks would add a little bit of spice to keep her on her toes. She hadn't been concerned about it, because if it got to be too much, she could always change or stop the program.

She couldn't do that now.

Oh. The shocks might not be the biggest problem.

Hygiene jets attacked her stiff, needy nipples, and now hammered against her entire sex, not just her clit.

Diana tended to only activate the program when she was really horny. Or really bored, which tended to lead to making herself really horny. She usually ran it at maximum power until she had a nice orgasm or two. Then she would shut it off.

She never got around to programming in a timer, or any kind of automatic shut off conditions. It only shut off when all optional systems shut off, such as when enemy movement was detected. What was the point of adding fancy termination conditions, when she manually started and stopped it?

Desperately squirming against the implacable embrace of her power armor, she cursed her laziness as a coder. Blast it, Diana! Would it have been so hard to add an auto shut off? It could pound her until she grew old and gray, and she literally could not lift a finger to stop it.

The darkness made it even worse. She couldn't move. She couldn't see. She couldn't hear anything outside the power armor - she could hear her breathing, the soft hum of machinery as the power armor moved, and faintly, the sound of the hygiene jets.

Stay strong, Diana! Focus! Use your warrior mind to analyze the current situation. Or recite tactical codes or something.

Another shock. This one on her left nipple. Diana braced; she knew what was coming next. She had programmed it, after all. Zap! That was her right nipple. Zap! Left again. Zap, zap, zap! Blast it, Diana, what were you thinking?

She knew what she had been thinking. In a fit of boredom while on the Caryatid ship, she had told her power armor to download random erotic videos and autoplay them. One had been "Princess of Jupiter and the Spontaneously Sentient Shock Collar." She had thought she'd try a few light shocks in her stimulation program once. Or maybe twice. Ok, a dozen times. But she never meant to get SERIOUS about it. She wasn't a pervert, she didn't enjoy it that much.

A shock hit her right on the clit and she came, screaming around the feeding tube.

She wasn't sure how long she was spasming from that orgasm. Being in sensory deprivation really messed with her head. The power armor was no longer moving. She had probably been secured on the alien ship. Maybe it had taken off already.

And those water jets were STILL running.

Diana tried to squirm, to angle her tender pussy away from the force of the water. It was useless. She would have had more freedom of movement if she had been taken out of her armor and glued to the floor.

Why did those water jets have to feel so good? It wasn't fair! It wasn't her fault. Well, it kind of was, since she had programmed it, but she had never intended for this to happen! She was getting close to climax again. No! Bad Diana! You will NOT orgasm again while trapped in your power armor as the helpless toy of enemy aliens!

The power armor shifted, forcing Diana's body onto her knees, lowering her head, crossing her arms over her chest. What in space was going on? Diana found it very hard to concentrate, especially as the armor switched from water jets to suctioning her clit and nipples.

Oh. Her power armor was likely folded up now, knees to chest, tucked away into a crate for transport. She, one of the Caryatids, one of that elite force that struck fear into the metaphorical hearts of enemies of humanity everywhere, was being treated like furniture on moving day!

She came again, squealing around the feeding tube.

The jets started spraying again, and now her nipples were being shocked once more. Diana broke down. She tried her best to beg for mercy, to beg for the stimulation to stop. But the feeding tube made her incomprehensible. Even if it wasn't for that, her power armor was so thick nothing outside it would hear her no matter how loud she screamed. Even if it wasn't for that, she was very likely packed up inside a heavy duty shipping crate in the cargo bay of an alien vessel, far from anyone who would care about anything a human girl had to say.

She couldn't speak. She couldn't hear. She couldn't move. She couldn't see. She was immobilized in darkness.

She just wished she would stop cumming!