Sex Bomb

"It isn't ready for field tests." The voice that uttered the words was filled with the weariness of the eternally put upon. The person speaking did nothing to dispel that impression. The speaker would have been quite tall if he hadn't been afflicted with a permanent slouch, and his face gave a general impression of sad droopiness. The owner of the voice was Herman, and he was an engineer.

"And yet I have scheduled one anyway. Because I believe in you. Because I believe in this company. And because I believe our creditors are close to pulling the plug." This was the voice of confidence. It could only come from a man in a perfectly fitted suit. Handsome, in an ivy league sort of way. The owner of this voice was Bertram, and he was a CEO.

"And you did promise me it wouldn't kill anyone." Bertram said, confidency abutting against a not completely hidden bit of worry..

"I said it is unlikely to kill someone. You didn't even ask what unlikely means in that context." Herman said.

"Well, if this fails we're all dead." Bertram said, "The subjects will just get a head start. Game faces now."

"This is my only face." Herman said. Though in spite of his words he managed to look even more downtrodden.

A loud ding broke up the conversation. The doors of their elevator opened into a very large room, with a screen dominating the far wall, and rings of desks facing it. Every desk had a person sitting at it. And every one of these people was wearing, regardless of gender, a white button down shirt and navy chinos.

In front of them, with numerous stars prominently displayed on a perfectly pressed blue uniform, was a general. He was flanked by a pair of colonels.

"Bertram Guilden, I presume?" The general said, presenting a practiced and confident handshake.

"You presume correctly." Bertram said, as he returned the handshake with equal confidence. "And this is my associate and lead engineer Herman Bartleby." Bertram said.

The general carefully sized up Herman and decided that Herman was not a handshake guy. He turned his attention back to Bertram.

"I am not going to lie to you, I think your product is a bunch of bullshit wrapped up in a fuzzy old cocoon of hope. But the press is getting real tired of us killing people to win battles. Which, I don't need to tell you, has been historically the most effective way."

"Well General, I think you'll find that war is evolving, and we're the start of it. Our product is non-lethal, is within the bounds of the Geneva Convention, and is significantly less expensive than the tools you currently use to wage war."

"Cheaper than a bullet, son?"

"Long term, yes. The upfront cost of a bullet is cheap. But the long term costs? Damn near incalculable."

"Well let's see how your little dog and pony show goes before we start questioning the wisdom of lead."

With that the General led them to a set of chairs at the topmost ring of desks.

"I do want to stress that, until quite recently, we were solely in trials." Herman said. "The trials were promising of course, but realistically we are three-"

"Weeks," Interrupted Bertram. "Three weeks away from production readiness. Assuming a generous contribution from the defense department. We already have contractors lined up. All American, of course. Our tech is far too sophisticated to get into foreign hands."

"Son," The general said, looking at Bertram, "Let's stop talking about what might happen and let's see what does happen. If this is as good as you say the checks will write themselves. Now stop jabbering and let's run the test."

The giant screen flickered to life. A squad of ten soldiers stood in the middle of a clearing in the woods. Seven women, three men, standing vaguely at attention and trying not to stare into the cameras.

The general clicked on a microphone at the desk, then spoke.

"Soldiers, thank you for volunteering. This is a test of a non lethal suppression device. For this mission you have to walk north, one klick. That is all. If the suppression device does not stop you then it is a failure."

The soldier with the most bars spoke up.

"Ain't nothing stopping us sir!"

The other nine let out a "Ooh Rah!"

"That's what I like to hear soldier. Mission commences now. Talk to you in ten minutes."

The soldiers set off a light jog, the cameras switching as they passed.

"I thought we agreed on ten klicks, General." Bertram said, the strain in his voice not quite as hidden as he'd like.

"We discussed. We did not agree. Tick tock gentleman." The general leaned back into his chair and turned towards the screen.

Bertram looked to Herman, who had a tablet in his hand.

"Permission to deploy General?" Herman asked.

"Granted."

"This will just take a minute." Herman said. "The drones were positioned for an intercept at five clicks, and of course given the humidity and the temperature they are not operating at peak efficiency--"

"Herman, do you know how fast our soldiers are? With a full load out they can cover a mile in under six minutes on flat terrain. And between those fir trees it is flat as hell. If you can't done what needs to be done in--"At this the general checked his watch --"The next two minutes then I can't rightly recommend your product."

"General, we were told ten klicks." Bertram said, in a voice as smooth as he could make it.

"This is a weapon of war. You can plan all you want, but you have to adapt."

"I protest--"

"I don;t care."

"Plotting intercept." Herman said. "Contact in ten, nine,"

"Show me something boys." The general said.

"Eight, Seven"

"This is highly irregular." Bertram said.

"Six, Five"

"Complain to your pinko congresswoman." The general said.

"Three, four."

"Duly note." Bertram said.

"Two, one." Herman sighed and looked up from his tablet at the soldiers on the screen

All eyes followed his. There was a hissing noise, then a whiff like a spinner firework.. The sky flared silver for a second, the night displaced. As the light faded the night vision cameras recovered in time to capture a rain of silver balls the size of grapefruit that fell around the soldiers, thumping into the thick bed of fir needles, only to disappear on impact.

The soldiers stopped jogging and split into formation.

"Spread out." The Lieutenant said. "We don't know what we're dealing with, but don;t let them get close. Advance in pairs. Target is only one hundred meters out. Go."

A pair of soldiers ran through the formation before taking positions. Then another pair moved forward. The silver balls were invisible on the forest floor.

The third pair advanced. That was when the control room heard a scream. A brunette, tall and lanky, was hopping around in a circle.

""What the fuck is that?" The lieutenant shouted.

"It's on my leg! Get it off!" The brunette shouted. The control room watched her pull a knife from her belt, only to lose her balance and fall to the ground. A secondary screen zoomed in on her foot, which had settled onto one of the balls. The ball had her foot wrapped with thin silver ropes.

She leaned forward and stabbed at the ball with her knife. there was a flash of silver, and then the ball sprang from her foot to her hip using two tentacles that were coiled like springs. The knife plunged into the ground as both tentacles wrapped around her waist.

"I can't get it!" She said. "Shoot it. Shoot it!"

"Do not shoot!" The lieutenant said. "We don't know what those things are made of. Any ricochet and she's got bigger problems. Jones, Wiley, try and pry that thing off. The rest of you form a perimeter. We've got to pick these things off before they get close."

"Not going to be able to do that sir?"

"Why is that Jones?"

"Got one on me sir. Going to try to rip it off." Jones said. One of the balls was suspended between his ankles, pulling them closer together while he fought against it.

"Same sir. Not going anywhere." Wiley said. The lieutenant watched as the big Irishman fell to the ground, both his legs and arms wrapped by the silver balls.

"Fuck this." The Lieutenant said. "We need leverage. Everyone who is not immobilized get a shovel, find a joint, and pry it apart.

There were four squad members with hands free. They reached into their packs, which several balls took as a sign to strike. They rocketed from the ground on the same spring like appendages to attach themselves the soldiers. Once contact was made the ropes scattered until they found something to grab, then grabbed it. Arms and legs struggled against their unyielding strength.

But it was futile. The polymers and motors were far stronger than flesh and bone.

In short order the whole squad was down on the ground.

"Not going to lie, gentleman. I like what I'm seeing here. Full immobilization within thirty seconds of contact." the general said, his tone far more respectful.

When Bertram spoke the relief in his voice was obvious. As was the salesmanship.

"Immobilization is important, General. But it isn't revolutionary. Our weapons...I'm sorry, our tools can do so much more. They can take away the ability to make war, in a way that is far more humane than anything on the market. Anything trapped by our product is guaranteed to be unable to fight for at least a day. So that, even if freed from restraint, they will present no threat to anyone for quite a while."

Herman shook his head no. Bertram smiled and ignored him.

"Well this I've got to see." The General said.

"Herman, please commence the exhaustion module."

"It is very much a work in progress." Herman said.

"Herman." Bertram's voice contained both a plea and a warning.

Herman didn't sigh. He didn't sigh quite loudly. Anyone who could read body language at a third grade level could see it."But of course a great deal of testing has been done. Commencing exhaustion module."

His hands worried the laptop, clicking an alarming number of pop up boxes asking if he was absolutely, positively sure.

A second passed. Another followed it. A third tagged along for fun, got lost, and became a moment.

Then a voice on the screen shouted again.

"It's moving!"

The camera focused in on the speaker. It was a female soldier, with the name Ramirez written on her uniform. Her hands were bound in front of her by one of the spheres, and her legs were bound together by another. A third had wrapped itself around her waist.

It was the one on her waist that shifted. It rocked to the side, tentacles still bound tight, until the sphere was centered on her waist, like an obscene and bulbous belt buckle. A small port breached the surface of the sphere, and from it rose a tiny whip-like appendage with a tip that looked the very definition of sharp.

Then, with a soft, but clearly audible hum, the blade began to hum. The sharp edge blurred with the vibration. The appendage stretched and slid along her uniform until it found her collar. Ramirez focused on it as if it were a cobra, staying absolutely still.

The general looked at Bertram and Herman for confirmation that it was not about to slit her throat. But their eyes didn't meet his. They were focused on the screen. The general got the hint and turned back.

The appendage rose up, impossibly long, waving back and forth above Ramirez. Her eyes followed it. Her body did not.

When the decision happened, it happened faster than the eye could follow. The blade struck, coming to a stop at the throat of the restrained Ramirez. Then it slowly slid back down her body, splitting fabric wherever it passed. It carefully split her shirt in two, traced one arm, then the other. Her hips followed, and then her legs. In the space of a moment what had been a standard ACU was now a bed of rags upon which Ramirez lay.

"Obviously naked people are less of a threat." Betram said. His job required him to look at the tablet. His eyes were happy to linger on the extremely fit Private Ramirez for a few seconds longer than necessary.

It's work done, the wire and blade stopped its vibration, then disappeared as it spooled into the sphere. The port closed and the sphere was again unblemished. Another port opened.

Out of this one came a telescoping pipe. Every six inches it would stop, only for another piece to extend. This repeated until the very tip of the telescope was at eye level with the very nude and very concerned Ramierez.

"Sir, requesting an evac." she said, eyes focused on the tiny pole in front of her face.

"Denied." The General said. "These are non lethal and I have reason to believe we are nearing the end of this demonstration. Stay strong soldier."

Ramierez opened her mouth to pull in enough air to scream. The pole, which had been still, saw its opportunity and sprayed a blue mist from an impossibly small nozzle at its tip. It then carefully began to reverse its telescoping.

Ramirez hacked, coughed and wheezed, pulling the mist into her lungs.

"This calms the subject, General." Bertram said.

"And it does a couple other things." Herman said.

After a few more ragged breaths Ramierez began breathing normally. Her eyes were open, but glazed.

"They did sign the waiver, general?" Betram asked.

"In triplicate." he responded.

A new port opened, and from it extended a wire topped with a small sphere, one the opened and blinked, revealinng the camera inside. It looked like nothing less than an eye. An eye that emitted a red last through its iris, one that careful traced every inch of Private Ramierez.

"It's doing an assessment sir." Herman said.

"And what, exactly, is it assessing?"

"Physical state, nerve clusters, erogenous zones. Everything it needs to properly exhaust the subject." Herman said,

After finish the scan, from head to toe, the eye turned blue.

"The assessment is complete." Herman said.

"What next?" The general asked

"Well, they're all about to be exhausted."

Another sphere ambled over, almost drunkenly, on its three limbs, then fell onto its side next to her.

"Looks like there are a few bugs--" The general started to say, before being interrupted by a whirring sound. One of the arms had a small soft looking protection at its tip, and it was a blur as it vibrated. But it was not the blade, it instead looked like a tiny bit of rubber, a blurry gray. It descended slowly, inevitably, between the legs of private Ramirez.

The sphere at her feet shifted, and her legs splayed open as the arm approached.

The tech controlling the camera zoomed in, until the entirety of the fifty foot screen was the neatly shaven pussy of Private Ramirez and the slowly descending tentacle.

The tentacle sprayed a golden oil as it closed the distance, oiling both its own tip and Private Ramirez' privates.

The vibrating nub slid gently between her folds and the microphone caught a gasp. The room was silent. The probe traced the contours of her lips, slowly opening them until her clit was exposed for all the room to see. At this size, on this screen, the effects the machine was having were obvious. Her clit hardened and grew with every beat of her heart, as the machine carefully traced around the outside of it. Never making contract directly, the nub slowed as it increased pressure. Ramriez's mic was isolated in the room now, her short choppy breaths the only soundtrack to this violation.

The nub slowed its vibration even more as it pushed between the hood and the clit, opening her up for all to see. At some point, invisible to all observing it but seemingly obvious to the program running the sphere, the perfect moment arrived. The nub shifted and lay itself directly upon the clit.

A soft moan echoed through the room.

"Guys, the bogey is getting me off." she said. Her voice held no taste of panic or fear. It was filled with longing and desire.

"Why is she not fighting? Why is she not losing her shit?" The general asked. "We train them better than that."

"The sprays were pheromones designed to make the subject calm, compliant, and highly libidinous. It smells like hibiscus tea and crotch sweat." Herman said. He paused.

"Or so I've been told. Because we have the subject immobilized we can maximize intake. The oils we use are neuroactive as well, increasing blood flow and sensitivity. Careful application of both will make ninety nine point nine nine percent of the population extremely orgasmic and enthusiastic about achieving it."

"So you're telling me you've made a damn near full proof aphrodisiac? Why the hell are you selling it to the military? Can't you be billionaires on the outside?"

"Ethical concerns, sir." Betrtram said patiently. "Introducing a chemical cocktail that makes anyone and everyone want sex is a moral landmine. But the military is bound by no such ethical considerations."

"Out-fucking-standing."

The general was interrupted by a moan over the speakers

"What's happening?" Private Ramirez asked. "I feel something."

What she could not see, but the whole room could, was that a second tentacle had started stroking the outside of her pussy lips, glistening with a mixture of its own oil and her wetness. While the first tentacle stimulated her clit, the second waited for its moment, carefully tracing.

"I feel it getting ready." Ramirez said.

"She's quite perceptive." Herman said. "It is reading her heartbeat, blood pressure, cortisol levels, and a few dozen other indicators. It is adjusting its girth and length to maximize pleasure.. Nothing about this is accidental. It is pure science. When the time is right--"

"Fuck!"

The tentacle had apparently found the right time, and pushed itself slowly, but unstoppably, into her wet pussy. Her lips were pulled tight against it. As each rib on the tentacle entered her she shuddered and moaned.

--"It will penetrate her." Herman said. "It is maximizing stimulation, to meet the demands of her intense arousal. This will continue, for quite a while. Our test subjects describe it as a 'Fuck Haze'.

Ramirez grunted and groaned as the tentacle violated her.

"It's filling me up." Ramirez said. "I can't take much more. I'm going to cum."

The general keyed on the mic.

"Private Ramirez, please describe what is happening. We need to know if you are in pain, or feel unsafe." The general paused. "For the demonstration, of course."

Ramirez closed her eyes and bit her lip, trying to focus. After a second, in a halting voice broken up by moans, she spoke.

"It's filling me up." Ramirez said. "It's deep and wide and it is stretching me. It doesn't hurt. Not even a little. It's the best fuck I can ever imagine. No. Strike that. It's better.. Can you see it generally? Can you see it stretch my lips? Can you see it tease my clit? Getting me closer and closer? It knows what it is doing. It is going to fucking ruin me. It feels...I don't even know."

On the screen another tentacle appeared, thinner and longer than the others. It was glistened and shone in the light, and it moved decisively to the one part of Private Ramirez that was unserviced. What it did next surprised no one, but no one dared blink.

""Fuck General. It's in my ass. I didn't even know I would like that. I've never let--" She paused to catch her breath. "Anyone or anything up there. But it feels so fucking good, getting railed and rubbed like this. It's too much. Too much. Too--"

Ramierz bit her lips again. Her legs began to shake, and her hips rose unsteadily. And with a soft gasp a spray of viscous fluid squirted out from between her legs.

Her hips sunk to the ground. The tentacles slowed, but they did not stop. Ramirez went limp, letting them have their way with her. Her skin was flushed, and shudders coursed through her legs.

The room was silent. Professionalism reigned, but anyone who looked under the desks would have seen a mess of tents and swamps.

"She's one soldier." The general said, putting the spell on hold.. "Zoom out. Let's see what we're dealing with here."