Sexbots in Space

The rookie, now an enslaved call girl, approached a white wall with a safety doorway installed to localize disasters. She stopped at a keypad as if she would know a code to enter. She didn't, but her suit wouldn't budge. She just stood there. Minutes went by. The stupid suit didn't think of locks huh? She could feel heat in the tunnel start to raise her thin suits inside temperature. There was a reason mining suits were larger and thicker. She suddenly felt movement inside her suit. Great, her suit was going to bath her now skipping the real issue of her being cooked like a lobster. Might as well die clean. She struggled to move. Hopeless. A rubber snake like wiper moved across her skin. It swiped along her stomach, under her breasts and under her arms. Anywhere she perspired, it cleaned. It was a 'feeler,' a feature that made living endlessly in spacesuits possible. No mater how hard a person worked, the suit kept the body clean and dry.

Meghan's slutty little sex spacesuit, despite its compact size, had the feature too.

"I'll get that door for you, my cute little thing," said a woman's voice over the comm. A large articulated rigid gloved hand and arm came into view.

Meghan would have normally turned to see the nametag or better yet the face, but she felt a need to look down submissively at the plastic covered tray she carried. A buffet of sex toys lay hidden under the lid. Earlier, she had fought against her own body as she watched herself carefully select and package each item and place it on the tray. She could feel her body actually become giddy at the idea of using the toys on her first client. She didn't share the flush happiness of her body. She only felt anger and resentment.

The stewardess had a lecture for such negative emotions and it started playing repeatedly every instant Meghan raged inside.

Meghan felt a smack against her spacesuit's butt. The flirtatious spank was so forceful it sent her forward a couple steps. Women here with their power suits, didn't seem to realize how meek Meghan's sexy spacesuit rendered her in comparison. Luckily the door slid open just in time as her third step crossed the threshold.

What pissed her off now was how she panicked with genuine concern about spilling her tray of sex toys. They were each sanitized and wrapped in oddly shaped Tupperware containers, but dropping anything would be bad and require punishment. She stopped walking for a second, was she actually now worried about receiving demerits? Then again, what was this suit's idea of a punishment anyway?

Fuck this. Throw this tray. Hit someone. Come on! Do it!

The stewardess began bloviating again. The more anger Meghan felt, the more the stewardess pushed into the mind.

When the lectures stopped, Meghan thought her way through the computer's menu system again. She was in an elevator and being able to stand for a moment gave her time to search for a way out, regardless of the lack of control. She searched and searched the menus, but most features were disabled. Her suit's display only provided the most basic information. Her oxygen level said eight hours, her power said six hours and the computer, with a new sexual program icon running, lowered both levels 30% due to future activity. What the hell was going to be the future activity? She paused. She knew the answer to that. It terrified her. Surely she could refuse though. She approached Miner Tingting.

The slutty spacesuit spoke for Meghan in a robotic sexy breathy voice sent over the local comm, "We have a scheduled appointment."

Tingting set down a hydraulic powered jackhammer. She turned and looked at Meghan in her tight suit and laughed loudly over the comm system.

"What's so funny?" thought Meghan, now realizing again she couldn't even move her mouth. She couldn't even grunt and it didn't mater, her comm was permanently off.

"I like the nametag they gave you." The miner looked around and found a tool plated in Tantalum giving it a bluish chrome mirror finish. She held it like a mirror so Meghan could see that above her visor was the name -- appearing backwards, so it took extra effort to read, "Flight Engineer Trixie."

Fuck. Ann and Lori were trying to humiliate her.

*****

A couple hours later, if Meghan could cry, she would have been bawling. Instead her eyes remained dry and didn't even blink when she wanted them to. She stepped her high heels over several fist sized rocks and proceeded to her next appointment. Apparently her spacesuit had a special option. A special sex faceplate could be position over her visor and sealed to let the visor inside lift out of the way giving access to the to a semi flexible foot-wide connection to the crotch area of a client's spacesuit -- in this case Tingting's suit -- more specifically, Tingting's crotch with the rubber access area spread wide open.

Without even a second thought, once Meghan saw Tingting's smoothly shaved holy of holies, she plunge her face forward, mouth open, and tongue stuck out so as to find a way into Tingting's fantasies. As Meghan bobbed her head back and forth swirling her tongue, the attachment between them expanded and contracted. Outside, Tingting's electric powered gloves grabbed onto Meghan's helmet and at climax, shook the new sex worker's head like an asteroid quake was shaking the ground.

Meghan was somehow now fully knowledgeable in the art of pleasing a woman. Meghan had masturbated, but she didn't know half the things her tongue had done to Tingting. She watched as her body went at it. The movements made sense on how it all worked and of course that one move where it went -- she stopped her thoughts and cringed at the objectivity she was giving the topic.

She didn't want to do any of this.

She had heard of mental programming. It was only short-term knowledge acquisition requiring constant refreshes to be of practical use and never really took. College students had given-up on using the technology to pass tests. Maybe that meant there was a way out. Maybe Meghan would forget her new training and become normal again once she got out. Maybe it wasn't too late. Maybe this technology only worked if you were trapped in a suit like this where refreshes could be periodic and frequent. She had heard about some long-term side effects. What were they though? She searched the medical database. At least that still worked in her slutty stupid over-controlling spacesuit encasing prison.

As pages of medical research flashed by in her helmet display, her body walked down a dark tunnel holding the sex toy tray like a cigarette girl would a century ago. She could think about anything she wanted. Her body was in autopilot maneuvering the tunnels. She had no control or say in how her legs stepped and moved. She was in the back seat of her own body as something else took the steering wheel. Fuck-it. She decided to focus on reading the available research. Suddenly it went blank and the blasted stewardess appeared in her mind again.

"Congratulations on successfully completing your first sexual task. The client has just rated you three out of five stars. Based on previous ratings from this client, a three star rating is the highest possible, so it will not be held against you and you will not be punished."

Meghan stopped walking. She felt something. Her body was building towards an orgasm.

The stewardess spoke again. "I'm happy to report that your suit has finally found your pleasure points in your brain and will now reward you for your good accomplishment. Also during proper sexual acts, such encouragement will be pushed into your brain to boost better and better subsequent performance. Please, now assist us in reaching an orgasm to sync our sensors to your mind."

Meghan tried to fight the on coming orgasm. Somehow she knew it was yet another step to the end and she wasn't going to go down without a fight.

"Please stop resisting."

Meghan cringed her face. Sex seemed to give way to some muscle movement.

"Please stop resisting. It will occur. We must sync to your pleasure points. Please stop resisting."

It was the first time in hours that she felt a little control over what she was doing. Sexual thoughts were a key somehow. Her eyes actually produced tears. She felt a tear roll down her face. Inside her suit, moving feelers reached to her eyes and wiped them. The rubber snakes were supposed to only be used in keeping an astronaut clean. In this case, her suit was clearly resorting to other uses. It was wiggling a feeler down between her legs. She wasn't expecting such an aggressive cleaning routine to kick-in down there and the smooth rapid touching threw her over the edge.

"Very good," said the stewardess. "We are now in sync with your primitive pleasure centers. Proceed to your next client at W34A2F5. Your deep programming will commence. Mental reassignments can now begin. As you perform more lesbian sexual acts, your sexual orientation may actually change allowing you to enjoy your occupational requirements even more. If you are already a lesbian, your experience maybe enhanced as you become more submissive. Once again, congratulations."

The suit let go of Meghan and she dropped to her knees kicking-up a dust cloud around her.

She still held the damn tray in her hands. She wanted to throw it off to the side, but the thought of that action being 'improper' held her back. Improper! She was whore now, but flinging paraphernalia to the dirt was improper. Come on! Was this the deep programming kicking in? Did the suit no longer have to fight her so much because she would willingly participate now?

"Please rise and attend to your client. You have limited time."

"Fuck you," said Meghan hearing her voice for the first time in a while. "Fuck you-mm!" Before her next word came out, a feeler entered her mouth and began cleaning under and above her tongue and around her teeth.

Great, her slutty suit was going to keep her clean and fed and wash her foul mouth when she cursed. Then she realized that this wasn't a punishment. This was preparation for her next client. The suit wanted her mouth nice and clean for whoever was next. The feeler withdrew. She was now prepped for the next blasted client's pussy she had to eat out.

She stood and walked towards a tunnel's polymer glass partition door. She could see her reflection as she approached the floor to ceiling glass surface. The glass was actually a bulletproof polymer, lighter and strong than metal.

Her eyes widen as she finally got a good view of herself. Her suit made her boobs look huge. Her waist was so tiny -- no wonder it hurt so much. As she walked, she noticed, for the first time, that the breastplate had a certain amount of give allowing its rigid bra cups to slide and jiggle as she walked. She continued her robotic approach towards the glass wall and lowered her all-important tray just enough to see her artistically encased boobs. They actually jiggled! They each had their own suspension system. And her shoulders and hips sashayed! She couldn't help herself. She had to walk sexy. She took in a deep breath and as she stopped in front of the glass wall, she exhaled praying this nightmare would end. Her reflection had showed her chest rising and now as she exhaled, it suddenly dropped -- again, more jiggle. Her heart was racing, her breast heaving. How was she going to escape this?

Her suit began to control her lungs. Damn it, she couldn't even hyperventilate if she wanted to.

The door slid open and Asteroid Miner Lori stood there smiling inside her spacesuit.

"Little Miss Tingting was so ecstatic, she messaged me to say how good you were."

Meghan entered and turned to face Lori, who closed the safety door behind her. There was air pressure in the tunnels, but nothing that could be trusted and nothing really breathable. In some areas air environments were created to help remove dust by filtering an atmosphere. Lori's large power suit thudded across the floor. A firm air pressure meant sound actually traveled. Meghan could hear it through her helmet. She could even feel the footsteps shake her meek mechanical support frame from the feet up.

Her delicate looking spacesuit turned and placed the tray of sex toys on a table. Her blasted suit was now raising her brain's pleasure levels every time she looked at Lori or even thought of Lori. The suit also gave a nauseating pain every time she felt anger or struggled against the suit or thought just how much of a pig Lori was -- the induced punishment was horrible and the computer pushed it hard until Meghan gave in and thought of love and happiness and -- fuck-it -- unicorns and rainbows. The pain subsided.

Her muscles struggled to move -- which at this point wasn't much of a physical struggle at all. She just couldn't get the control of her body to do it. There was no escape.

Lori looked at the polymer glass ceiling and the walls. "Asteroids are so unstable. I wish we could get out of these suits and do it bareback. I'd risk a week's pay and burn some good air to properly vent this room. Mmm, to get out of this suit and fuck you hard would be so, mm-mm -- but you probably have to stay in your suit, huh? Can't have you trying to escape now. You know, we all chipped in with all our bonus money to buy all the extras for your suit. We got all the programming options. The Commander had to go out of the network to get some of the really illegal bits. You know the good stuff. That made it really expensive, but Tingting says you're worth it. You better be."

Meghan found herself actually smiling. The pleasure points were getting to her. Could the suit actually make her fall in love with a pig like Lori? A robotic voice spoke for her again but in its exaggerated breathy digital way, "I have several procedures that I can offer. You are scheduled with enough time for two of them." Meghan looked down at the tray as her hand popped the plastic lid open and pointed to various sanitized Tuppleware containers. The suit's voice continued, "We have the two way dildo, the oral sex visor, the scissor crotch-to-crotch interface, and, of course, the glove-to-crotch bridge for fingering."

Meghan didn't hear what Lori had said in response. The comm must have been off while the robot voice spoke. All she heard now was the robotic voice saying, "Very good choice to start with." It was all said like a formal butler complementing a choice fine wine.

Sexbot Meghan placed a box shaped gadget into a pressure bag. The gadget had a wrist bracelet hole on one side. Her body was doing a procedure done to replace a glove, but how was the boxy attachment going to work? Her right hand plunged inside the bag and pressure inflated a bubble around Meghan's right hand and arm. She watched as her sexbot self's left hand grabbed a tool handle protruding from the bag. A quick twist popped off her power glove letting it drop loose inside the bag. She could feel her right hand feeling around and squirm through a wrist bracelet hole. It was the gadget and it was sealing to her arm.

As the pressure bag deflated with her original glove still inside, her arm pulled free. Unlike a fingered glove, the new boxy appendage had room to freely move her fingers around inside. It was like a cube shaped mitten had been appended to her right her arm.

Her new right-hand appendage had a docking area. Clearly her sexbot self was about to attach it somewhere against Lori's suit. But where?

Meghan's body turned. Now ready, it waited for Lori, her client, to relax. The sexbot side of her was flush, making her heart pound and her strange eagerness build that she didn't really participate in.

Lori sat back spreading her legs.

'Oh, Shit,' realized Megan.

Lori had ordered-up a finger job.

*****

Payload Specialist Deb gasped over the local comm and Meghan's hips rocked over the woman's larger spacesuit waist. The diminutive robotic sexbot shook as Deb's gloved hands held a strong grip against the ridges of the dainty round plates covering Meghan's hips. Deb gave Meghan's body one more fierce shake as a double ended dildo vibrated mercilessly between them.

With every shiver she felt from her client, Meghan felt a pride knowing it took perfected skill and knowledge to reach in and extract such strong reactions of pleasure from a woman. It had been months now, and Meghan was good at her job. Mining productivity skyrocketed. Everyone got bonuses, except her. But that was OK. She was a simple stupid ignorant slutty sexbot and she loved it.

She looked down with a smile hidden behind a mirrored visor recently installed into her helmet. The mirroring surface made her appear faceless to her clients. Meghan had noticed some of the women showing signs of guilt during sex. They probably later complained to Commander Ann. But Meghan understood. It wasn't fair to have a client distracted during sex by the terrible visual reminder that a living breathing human being had been brainwashed, her personality erased, and her body squeezed into a robotic suit.

So of course Ann's solution proved to be as simple as a paper bag over the head. One day a one-way mirror chroming process was done to Meghan's visor and no one, not even Meghan, could see her face. It certainly helped in making the company whore feel more machine like. That part kind of turned Meghan on.

As Meghan opened her eyes to see yet another satisfied client's face, she saw flashing alert lights and Deb yelling from inside her large helmet.

The comm then clicked on and Deb's voice yelled, "Get off you stupid slut. It's a quake."

Meghan's body fell back as Deb used her power suit to stand. The two spacesuits remained sealed and attached at the hips despite the sex suit's flexible legs flinging so far back that they scratched Meghan's mirrored visor. Meghan's arms and legs were thrown around like a crash dummy. If the seal between the suits broke they would both die. Meghan wrapped her legs around the bucking Payload Specialist and squeezed to hold on.

The idiot Specialist should have known better than to stress test the seals.

"Detach, slut. Detach!" ordered Deb.

Like on the first day, an emergency alert level gave Meghan more control. Originally, it was only one limitation regarding turning on and off her mic. But now having lived deprived of all her freedoms, it took a moment to deal with all of them being restored so fast. She could flex her muscles and move her arms and legs however she needed to. She ignored the overwhelming sensation of it all and focused on handling the deadly situation and fast.

The sexbot's robot voice responded in its own stupid way, "A period of relaxation should be held after orgasm to max..."

"Detach! Computer override. Detach!" yelled Deb.

Meghan reached her hands along her body down to the sexual docking at he crotch.

Falling rocks broke through the polymer glass ceiling. Air instantly escaped the room, but the suits were still OK. Meghan mechanically lifted her head. She knew this was urgent, but everything she did went through a filter of numbness and objectivity. She felt her head swing widely around the room as the Payload Specialist turned and turned. Still hanging off the panicking Specialist's larger spacesuit, Meghan could finally see the attached crotch dock and the several flip levers locking the two women together.

Any wrong move could depressurize both of them. She took her tiny right hand and tried to start the sequence. Luckily Deb's larger suit and gloves couldn't reach the tiny flaps and flip them open. The idiot was trying though.

Meghan squeezed her legs tighter as the Specialist banged against the abdominal area of the sex suit. There was even a malicious body slam against a wall, but Meghan held on. Normally Meghan could calmly pull away stretching a series of metal bellows between her and the client to make room and extract the dildo, but Deb was still rapidly moving and waving her arms. Until the idiot stopped panicking, they would have to stay stuck together. After all, the hatch between them couldn't slide closed with a dildo in the way.