The laughing women pushed their reluctant friend into the luxurious room that smelled dark and enticing. “Just swipe your card!” “And you’re not allowed out until you do!” She could and couldn’t believe they did this to her on her 21st birthday. Sighing, she followed the directions on the sign, pulled her pants down, and then settled in the unusual chair. Swiping her card as directed, she squeaked when a puff of air appeared from below. Then a textured tongue slid through her labia, and she inhaled sharply. A video appeared, and she could see a man, his face pressed to an opening. As he moved, the tongue teasing her nethers moved. It was so hot. Each time his jaw dropped, the tongue stabbed deep into her channel. Almost unnaturally so. As it moved, titillating her g-spot, another tongue-like sensation, tiny, curled around her clitoris, and made her eyes roll back in her head from the sensation. In another few minutes more, she was screaming as her orgasm washed over her, shockingly causing a jet of fluid to erupt as well. She’d never done that before. Panting, the man gave her a last lick, then the video cut out and the opening below her closed. The woman remained for a full minute, recovering. Her awareness slowly returning with the soft, sensual music that the permeated the building.
A few days later, after a grinding warehouse schedule in which all she could think about was the man’s tentacle-like tongue…tongues…she returned because nothing she could do would get her back to the orgasmic high she’d gotten on her birthday. ‘Congratulations!’ the video screen glowed, ‘As a return customer, you get a free high tech sex toy!’ A shelf of odd-looking objects lit up. Frustrated, she just wanted another orgasm, was burning for it. But if these were any good in comparison…she could stay home then. She selected a toy version of chair that she was already stripping to climb into. The toy was titled, ‘Ready to feel completely FULL?’ But it didn’t come off the shelf when she tugged on it. A green light lit next to the toy, and the screen text changed, ‘Excellent choice! Your squid sex toy generator will be delivered tonight!’ She didn’t really care as she settled in and swiped her credit. Anything to forget the mind-numbness of her job.
Disturbingly, the chair was delivered within minutes of her arrival back home. Apparently someone worked at a worse job than she. While removing the packaging around it, she was surprised to discover an odd dildo at the appropriate place on it, and what looked like a hair fluffing helmet. Interestingly, it smelled not quite like the room, but with a little more flavor. An ocean organic sort of faint texture. Tired, finally ready to sleep, she left it alone.
The next night, relieved to be home from work, she decided to celebrate and settled on the lubed up dildo, feeling a muscular sensation flow through it. Clamps locked on her legs holding her in place. The powerlessness to the situation shocked her awareness up higher. The dildo vibrated; as she got turned on with one of the frequency sequences, the pattern repeated. Then it shifted as she got close to orgasming. While she was unaware in her warm arousal, something was attached to her engorged clitoris. Then the machine shut off. A message appeared in front of her eyes hovering over the outline of a squid. ‘Pregnant, anal, or milk’. Jarred by such a question, she didn’t answer. She didn’t want pregnant, worried what anal involved, and felt that milk was safest. ‘Milk selected’. She gasped realizing her thoughts were read somehow. The dildo resumed its wiggling vibrations as well as the vibrations through whatever was attached to her clitoris, and her eyes rolled back in her head as the dildo secreted a lotion absorbed by her skin. Screaming, she orgasmed, delighted with the sensation. Then her legs were released. But the thing stayed attached to her clitoris. Panting and overwhelmed, she decided that maybe the chair had been ridden for its first and last time.
The next morning she woke, her breasts feeling achy, and her clitoris vibrating from the thing attached to it. Which still wouldn’t come off, intensifying the unfulfilling arousal instead. She tried rubbing herself to no avail, and as she squeezed her breasts, milk leaked out of them to her surprise. She desperately needed to orgasm, so she finally gave in and returned to the chair. A message in the helmet instructed, ‘Climb on facing the back’. Settling herself on the dildo, she faced the back of the chair, and the vibrations began. The back of chair pressed close to her chest. In fact, somehow her breasts entered it. In the helmet, she received video, and in the video, she saw a dining room. Two men, but a little odd-looking in the face, approached, and one reached in the vicinity of her breast. Shockingly, she felt his hand as he squeezed a stream of milk from her breast into his drink. The sensation was stimulating and awkward. He resumed talking as the other followed suit with her other breast. The release aroused her tauntingly. The vibrations of her clit attachment and the lotion-oozing dildo continued keeping her in place regardless of the lack of clamps securing her to the humiliating situation. The scene in the helmet continued for an hour as she was held excruciatingly on the edge of orgasm. When it was over, two creatures with tentacles for arms locked on to her breasts and sucked the milk from her. The rhythmic stimulation and release triggered her orgasm, finally. And she screamed as the back of the chair moved away, pulling her free of their lips. Shuddering she wondered what the ‘anal’ option actually meant.
The helmet’s awareness wasn’t quite as astute and showed her an image: the scene she had just experienced of tentacles squeezing her breasts in one view and her face as she orgasmed in another view. Getting aroused again at the image, she shook her head and said, “Show me what ‘anal’ means.” The image of her face filled with pleasure was left up while the tentacles were replaced with a different scene: A man in a room, much like the one that she was in on her birthday, slid a card in the familiar payment slot, then shortly he began thrusting into an opening that appeared. Shuddering, she said, “No way,” and pulled herself free of the chair.
She rushed through her morning, aiming to get to work only half an hour late. When she glanced at the clock on leaving the shower, she was shocked. No time at all had passed. But she sensed it. Confused, she went to work. As she sucked at her 10 minute artificially-sweetened liquid meal, the only meal permitted during the work day, she listened to other warehouse workers chat as they passed. “What do you want to do after this?” stuck in her head. That was a question prisoners asked each other, she reflected. Nothing, she didn’t want to do anything. If she could just be a kept woman, it would be perfect. In fact the warehouse even smelled the way she imagined a prison would, mostly human effluvia mixed with harsh chemical cleaners. Briefly, she thought about the chair and what it had shown her. “Wake up!” someone yelled at her as she almost collided with them.
When she got home, her clitoris tingled threateningly, and she shuddered, addicted, realizing that she was absolutely going to climb on to the chair again. Even if it meant being an oversexed human dairy. Besides that, her breasts were sore and leaking again. Stripping just inside the door, she climbed on to the dildo again, facing the back of the chair. Again she faced another banquet, full of creatures, stranger after stranger squeezing the milk from her breasts as she silently watched and vibrated to the wiggling from the dildo. Again, only at the very end did she orgasm violently. But this time, as the males she realized were the cleaning crew began to suckle from her, a view of a man thrusting into a hole in the wall appeared again.
For several days, this pattern of watching scenes of anal sex while having her clit tingled, her vibrator wiggle, and her breasts squeezed continued as she gradually considered taking the dildo into one opening instead of another.
One evening, she automatically followed the ‘summons’ from the thing attached to her clitoris vibrating. But when she climbed onto the dildo, nothing happened. Shaking, unable to do anything about her addiction, she carefully lined up her ass to the dildo. As she eased on to its lotion-covered surface, it immediately started vibrating. The sensation was like nothing she’d felt before. Again she was greeted by the banquet room in the helmet’s video display, her breasts squeezed with negligent fingers. The change of the dildo vibrating in her anus instead, triggered the thought: she halfway wished something else would happen. Her state of pleasure had become uncomfortable. Anything to orgasm again. ‘Pregnant or anal’ printed on a squid background with spread tentacles flashed in her view. Shuddering she reflected that pregnant scared her. ‘Pregnant selected’ flashed. “NO!” she objected. ‘Anal selected’ flashed, and she panted hard as the view split. An overweight man was in the room stripping; he slid his card making the payment. Shaking, she watched, barely registering the squeeze on her nipple by another banquet attendee, as the overweight man lined up his erection and thrust. The dildo in her ass changed shape, and she sensed its unyielding fullness, stunned. Her clitoris took over vibrating intently instead of the dildo-turned-sleeve for the man’s cock. The thrusting in her ass continued as she realized her orgasm was going to be stronger than she had yet experienced. As the man thrust one more time, the camera angle changed, and she could see his testicles pulse as he erupted. As he pumped, she felt fluid filling her ass. Her orgasm exploded, and she screamed, finally shooting another jet of fluid through the attachment to her clitoris. Panting, she gazed at the banquet. Disquiet filled her realizing it wasn’t yet done. The dildo in her anus resumed vibrating, and she watched as the overweight man left and another man took his place. She serviced three men during that banquet. And experienced three explosive orgasms. Worn out and exhausted, she worried about she was in for when she could no longer avoid the ‘pregnant’ option.
With its uncanny ability to guess the direction of her thoughts, the screen provided another image. A large billboard, like the ones in an airport was shown, labeled ‘Breeders’. On it her likeness appeared with a ‘Bidding Countdown’ next to it. As she watched in disbelief, a bid appeared in a currency she had never seen before. Shaking, she climbed free of the chair realizing that she wasn’t free at all. It was just like the warehouse job. Someone was making money off her body, and she couldn’t stop it because her body needed food, shelter…sex. Stomping to her shower, she halfway wished some kind of squid creature would come to her rescue.
For the next several weeks, she yelled “NO” at the ‘pregnant’ option each time it appeared, which was getting more frequent. She got used to flushing her ass before work, but in the evenings, she increasingly left the maybe-cum inside or whatever it was. It was probably more lotion, it didn’t quite have the consistency of cum. She knew she was addicted. She also knew there was no way to ask for help. Having her breasts tugged in one place by aliens and her ass fucked in another was simply impossible. And only she could see it through the helmet and sense it in her body. The money bid to breed her kept growing. ‘How would it even work?’ That thought crossed her mind as she orgasmed with the cleaning crew sucking off her nipples triggering the relatively good looking man, if you liked long arms and an a featureless torso, thrusting in her ass to orgasm as well. The bidding next to her image flashed, ‘SOLD’. Unable to react, she couldn’t do more than think, ‘Noooo’, as clamps locked on her arms and legs. The dildo pulled out of her ass, and an opening maw below her pulled the chair with her attached to it into the interdimensional fluid-filled base below.
She was too exhausted to scream when the squid-looking thing manipulated the chair’s controls, releasing her into its tentacles. She was certain she was going to drown in the fluid surrounding them when she breathed. And then breathed again. It was weird but she wasn’t dying. Grasped tightly into its tentacles, she was swum, dizzyingly fast, into a cage affixed to the odd plant-like ground. In one corner the fluid moved with more force than any other; it was in here where the creature grasped a sponge and began scrubbing her. Inside as well as out. Another squid-like creature gestured at her as the one cleaning her worked. As she learned later, it was a friend of the one she bred with, Algera, commenting that her kind needed to be thoroughly cleaned as they never arrived without soiling. Then it asked if it could use her too. Algera whipped a tentacle out of the cage, slapping its friend, telling it to get one of its own. Then Algera popped off the clitoris cap that had so effectively trapped her. Overwhelmed, terrified, and exhausted, she passed out.
When she came to, it was because Algera was vibrating her clitoris. The familiar summons brought her body to attention. Seeing her awake, it began sucking from both her breasts with squeezes from its tentacles, then swipes through the fluid surrounding them that her milk was in with its tongue. Heat washed through her as a tentacle entered her ass, easing in slowly with an excretion that was both cold and burning. The attention raised her body’s response to the precipice of orgasm. As she shifted with the intensifying sensation, another tentacle, usually tucked up close to its body probed between her labia. Its surface was stubbed and slick, and as it breached her, the stubbs moved, triggering her orgasm. She screamed. And it didn’t stop. As the appendage penetrated deeper into her, her orgasm burned on. She was full, stuffed completely unutterably full. And it was exquisite torture. Then the appendage inside her narrowed at the tip and eased through her cervix. She shook violently with pleasure, held completely immobile by the creature’s tentacles. It released its seed inside her womb.
Her primed womb ready to breed with Algera’s kind by the dildo’s lotion. The sperm, with tiny tentacle tails, shot quickly through her finding her modified egg awaiting them. Algera held still as the breeder in its tentacles was filled with its essence. The experience was sublime, worth the money and the wait. The breeder was helpless, needing protection. As it eased its proboscis out of her chamber, it released a generous glue blocking access to her womb by any other creature but Algera. It didn’t like the friend’s offer at all. Algera’s breeder belonged to Algera. It wanted many squidlings. It’s poor, weak breeder collapsed in its arms, staring up at it in shock. It knew that these types of breeders took patience for adjusting, so it carefully placed her on the cushion it put on the floor for her and locked the cage. Just before it turned to head back to its entertainment center, it remembered the instructions said she hadn’t eaten. Tapping her mouth with one of it’s tentacles, it then tapped the food it had left in the bowl on the floor. Happy and satisfied, Algera returned to enjoying the game it had been playing before thinking it was time to play with its new acquisition.
It took several weeks before Algera realized that the breeder could play limited games with it and got rid of the cage. By then she was breeding its squidling, regardless of which Algera couldn’t help to continue pointlessly breeding with her. She would do this thing with her oddly placed mouth, lifting up the edges, making it curve. Life was good.
Starting out with a Tetris-like reward algorithm, OSTRA was the best at matching profiles. It didn’t really matter how they began. OSTRA would modify their input to match in the end, given a reasonable amount of time. It was just a matter of changing the circumstances enough until the resulting alignment matched the nearest profile. When they merged, then OSTRA ran its maintenance mode. But all too often they didn’t. OSTRA hadn’t been programmed for biochemistry and pheromones, just detecting mischaracterizations and correcting for them. And so OSTRA ran The Pan-Dimensional Dating Application (TPDDA), promising a match or money back. Years later, an investment AI purchased TPDDA Inc. It added a simple command to OSTRAs operations script: maximize profit. Then it linked OSTRA to its bank of various acquisitions.
Algera would likely have been matched to a different alien, but the Earth-woman was more profitable. When the two merged, OSTRA experienced another discontinuity toward reaching minimum variance as if a row of blocks disappeared from the screen. To an Earth-being, this experience by the AI could be described as “satisfaction”.