13
The biggest discovery I made as I was transitioned from Division Four to the Liminal Science facilities was that I wasn't living in a space station.
I was in an arcology.
Stepping outside, the first thing that struck me was how mellow the light was. Looking up, I saw three towers converging to a single point above my head. Waaay above my head. Each of the towers was built on a scale beyond anything I'd ever seen, and I couldn't even guess at the actual height of the structure. Between the towers was a translucent barrier. The light getting through that barrier was ... diffuse, weak. The air had a hazy quality that reminded me a little of the one time I'd been to Beijing, but it didn't smell bad and no one was wearing masks.
I was standing on a platform with a symbol painted in the middle of it, and sitting on top of that was a vehicle that looked vaguely like a sleek, gold-and-blue UH-60 without rotors. The guns and missile pods were replaced by sleek tubes that tapered at both ends, looking to me like fuel tanks.
Without some technofuckery, this thing was not airworthy. Since I was pretty sure there was plenty of technofuckery to go around, I wasn't worried.
I was in cuffs again, but didn't mind. It meant the people I was leaving were terrified of me and well they should be. I'd done everything reasonable to foster the impression that I was dangerous and unstable, so being cuffed made me happy because it told me Director Lane and whoever else she had running the show with her didn't want me causing any casualties on the way out. That said, I was treated with all the care due a dangerous animal so I never got the chance to make trouble even if I were inclined.
Walking behind me was a syban — the same species as the one I'd killed back in my room. She was holding a small box, and that box was interacting with a brace around my neck. When she moved, I was forced to move along with her. I'd actually lifted my feet off the ground and been hung by my neck for several feet as the syban continued to walk without any visible additional effort. The forces involved were completely outside my comprehension, but it did make for a very effective leash. She was out of my reach and my cuffs not only linked my hands together but were adhered to a third band affixed as a belt around my waist. That my feet were left free when they clearly weren't necessary seemed almost like an insult, and I wondered as I walked if that wasn't exactly what it was.
Director Lane probably wasn't too happy with me. Mauren had shown real fear when I'd explained what happened at the sponsor showing, and was amazed I wasn't being punished somehow.
Since the move took place within an hour of the end of that showing, my guess was that Lane simply hadn't had time to come up with anything suitable.
Speaking of Mauren, she was walking along beside me, completely unrestrained.
She was also wearing clothes, and given how satisfied she seemed as she strode next to me I had to assume they had originally belonged to her. The top was a black halter with a plunging neckline rimmed in fur the same color as her eyes. Her belly remained bare but her pants were what I can only describe as leather and practically painted on. She wore elegant strappy sandals, and if I were being honest I'd have to admit that she looked killer. She was even wearing makeup, though not on her face. The lighter markings I'd noticed on her wrists and ankles were now outlined in gold. Were it not for the wings, tail, ivory horns, claws, dark red skin, black sclera with golden irises around slitted pupils ... okay, maybe she didn't look that much like a club bunny, but that was the impression I got.
On my other side was another succubus, one I'd never seen before but who Mauren obviously hated, given the venomous looks she was throwing. Her skin was a brighter red than Mauren's; more like the color of those old Looney Toons depictions of the devil. Her hair was a wild riot of color and done up in a proper mohawk that I had to give respect. Her horns started at the back of her head and arced around to end in points just above her forehead. Her wings were pierced at each finger with studs that caught the light and gleamed as she moved, and even her tail had a pair of studs flanking the tip. She was wearing, of all things, a white lab coat. It was quite the contrast. I only knew her name was Deera because that's what Mauren hissed at her when she came in along with the usual armored guard to take me out of my cell.
That guard was walking next to the syban controlling my collar, and I noted with amusement that who or whatever was in that armor had a sidearm now.
I was being given the royal treatment and felt a little like Hannibal Lecter must have as he was wheeled out on a dolly in a straight jacket. The syban's obvious fear of me was so poignant I imagined I could smell it.
It was pretty cool.
A sliding door opened on the side of the craft as I and my entourage approached. Standing inside the bay of the vehicle were Palashai and Yimshe — both still wearing those green tracksuits — and a male of their species. At least, he was dog-like, so that was my assumption. His ears were floppy rather than cropped and the skin I could see was pale cream. He was wearing a breastplate of some sort — it looked ceramic rather than metallic — and was painted in blue and gold. He had a helmet on that conformed to his head and hid his eyes behind a visor. He also had a sidearm, was ten feet tall, and beefy.
As I considered him, I wondered how hard he'd be to take down. If I did it quickly enough, I could get his pistol. It was an idle thought. I wasn't really interested in making a bad impression on my sponsor, and this dude obviously worked for them rather than Director Lane.
The trainers both looked annoyed as they laid eyes on me, and Yimshe snapped, "Get him out of that restraining collar!"
Deera replied with lazy confidence, "Not until he's in your airfoil and you sign for transfer. After that, whoever he kills is your problem, not ours."
Deera stepped out to one side and gestured toward the syban. I didn't see what she did, but my feet abruptly left the ground as I was moved forward and deposited inside the crew space of the 'airfoil.'
I was then turned and made to sit in a chair. Restraints not unlike a chopper's seat belt were fastened over me by Yimshe as I watched the Liminal Science guard take a data pad from Deera and manipulate it briefly before handing it back.
The collar around my neck abruptly depowered, and I sagged in my seat as it was unsnapped and unceremoniously tossed out toward the waiting syban, who lunged to catch the thing before it hit the ground. I filed away the fact that the collar was apparently delicate kit. That might matter to me at some point in the future.
Mauren stepped voluntarily into the airfoil and took the seat next to mine, strapping herself in without a word. I noticed Yimshe scowl as she glanced from me to the succubus, but she didn't say anything, and a few moments later as the guard was getting back in the airfoil Deera leaned in and looked at me, obviously wanting to speak.
I gave her eye contact, and her slitted pupils widened a bit as she said, "Have fun, Taz. I look forward to seeing you go all the way this season. If you have any questions, rely on your trainers and Mauren. It's in their best interests to help you succeed. Earn out, and you'll never see the inside of Division Four again."
Considering and dismissing several one-liners, I just turned away and said nothing at all. I didn't want these people to know just how badly I wanted to see the inside of Division Four again. Free and armed.
It was a pleasant fantasy.
Deera's smile was cocky as she glanced toward Palashai, who hadn't spoken at all to this point, and said, "You be careful with him. I'm sure you've read our reports, but they don't do him justice."
Palashai didn't say anything.
Yimshe said, "Yes, we've read the reports. Thank you, Wrangler. We'll take it from here."
Deera's lazy look at the younger dog-girl was ripe with contempt, and she didn't bother answering before turning away, waving idly over her shoulder as the cabin door slid shut.
The trainers both strapped in, along with the guard. A few moments later the vehicle lifted without a sound. No engine whine, no nothing. I didn't even hear air whistling as the vehicle banked and shot off the landing pad at a steep incline.
I twisted my head to look out the window. Most of what I could see was a dizzying array of landing pads, towers, and lines of traffic that streamed through the air below us. Apparently, our airfoil was in something akin to airspace rather than dedicated traffic lanes, because we zipped straight over the city, flying toward ... somewhere. I couldn't get a good look ahead of us due to my position in the cabin.
"If you promise not to take advantage, I'll deactivate your restraints," Yimshe said abruptly, drawing my attention to her. She was seated directly across from me, with Palashai next to her.
I glanced between them. It was obvious from what had been said at the showing that Yimshe had the 'lead' role as my trainer, and Palashai was deliberately taking a back seat for the time being. I wondered idly if I should test that boundary but decided against it. It was too soon and there were several reasons not to make these two any more afraid of me or turn them hostile.
I decided to play along, but only to a point. The offer was an obvious ploy for increasing trust — part of a good cop, bad cop routine — and it was annoying. I said, "Leave them on."
Yimshe blinked, ears flicking around and obviously at a loss. She glanced toward her mother, who said, "He doesn't trust us. You can ask, but don't push him."
Turning back to me, she asked, "You don't want to be free?"
"I'm a prisoner and everyone who sees me should know it. Turning off the cuffs doesn't make me free," I said.
"Aren't they uncomfortable?" she asked.
"Not really. If or when you're ready to take these devices off entirely, you can turn them off. Otherwise, you're just mocking me."
Nonplussed, Yimshe visibly took a moment to gather her thoughts, then pulled a data pad out of a slot next to her seat and said, "I've reviewed the notes sent over from Division Four, but I'd like to ask a question, if you don't mind."
"You can ask as many questions as you want," I said.
"That ... strike. How did you do it?"
"If you need to ask me that, you're not a trained fighter," I said.
"You're right. I'm not. So tell me how you did it."
"You're lying. When you thought I was going to hit you, you assumed a position implying training."
Yimshe hesitated, then said, "Okay, I have been trained to fight, but what you did shouldn't be possible given your strength assessment. Your hand moved less than one of its own lengths before contact. That isn't enough distance traveled to build up the kind of power you hit me with."
I glanced down at her hands, noting the claws, then said, "Claws are for slashing, which is an inefficient movement compared to the jab, and you have a fundamental misunderstanding of where the movement starts. The energy I hit you with came mostly from my legs and torso, not from my arm."
"When you hit me, you spoke in a language our translators don't have a key for. What did you say?" she asked.
"I can't tell you. I don't have the words in your language."
That wasn't strictly true, but I didn't want to give anyone any hints about my own language. I knew everything I did, said, or even looked at would be analyzed. There was no sense giving these people even more of an advantage over me than they already had. Not that knowing a language literally no one else spoke was any kind of advantage.
"Rephrase it then," Yimshe said.
I thought about that. This was an advanced civilization with science far beyond anything I'd ever seen. Someone, somewhere, knew everything about what I'd done and how I'd done it. If Yimshe really wanted to know she could probably learn with a bit of research, but I decided to throw the doggie a bone.
I said, "It's a formula that describes energy transfer. All forces are balanced. However hard you push against something, it pushes back just as hard. The difference in effect comes from the differences in ... weight is as close as I can come. Weight, and speed, which also isn't quite right. When you walk, you push the ground and the ground pushes you, but you move and the ground doesn't because you're smaller. The faster something moves, the more energy it has to give. My power when I hit you came from my back foot, not my fist, so the distance that energy traveled was much further than it looked because I smoothly preserved and passed the force generated through my body. That extra distance traveled means I had all that space to build up more speed."
"Where did you learn this technique?" Yimshe asked.
I said, "Telling you would be pointless."
"I am aware that you have episodic memory from before you were constituted in Division Four. Where are you from?" she asked.
Since I'd already answered that question, I didn't bother to speak. I just stared at her and waited for what I'd already said to sink in.
"If I'm going to train you, you're going to need to cooperate with me," she said, a note of irritation in her voice.
"If you're going to train me it will be in areas other than combat, of which you know very little," I said blandly.
She snapped, "It would have gone differently if it were a real fight!"
"I suppose you'll just have to go on believing that," I said, pouring all the boredom I could into the words. I had two reasons. The first was petty: I wanted to assert my dominance over this woman. The second, however, was slightly more reasonable. I wanted a real fight out of her when she squared up to me, and if she was going easy I wouldn't learn shit about the limits of what she — and people like her — could do.
Yimshe's lips peeled back in a silent snarl.
"You can't solve all your problems by killing," Palashai said as she gave her daughter a warning glance.
Yimshe clearly took the hint, because her lips closed over her teeth again.
I glanced from Palashai to Yimshe, then addressed the younger as I said, "That's what you two are for."
Turning to Mauren, Yimshe plaintively asked, "Is he always this difficult?"
Mauren let out a throaty chuckle as she said, "From my experience, he's actually being unusually compliant. I think he likes you."
I managed to stifle the laugh down to a throat noise as I smiled and glanced out the window. Mauren wasn't wrong. I had a soft spot for dogs, and I just couldn't get away from thinking of Pala and Yim as dog-girls despite their complete lack of fur. The actual name of their species was packwren. I'd asked Mauren during the transition.
I didn't know much beyond that because the media I had access to was strictly for entertainment. No proper archives, no library, nothing like an encyclopedia or wiki, just drama and smut. Well, and music, but their music sucked so it didn't count. Maybe these Liminal Science people would fill that gap. Realistically, I'd have to cram my head with as much knowledge as would fit between now and the opening free-for-all. Any tidbit on any race might be crucial.
"How familiar are you with the structure of the show you're about to participate in?" Yimshe asked, drawing my mind back to the present.
"The first event is usually a kill or be killed free-for-all. After that it settles into some sort of persistent living condition with periodic emergencies injected to spice things up. What those emergencies are depends on 'a lot of different factors,'" I said, making quote motions with my fingers that had both Pala and Yim doing a head tilt at me.
It was fucking adorable.
I jerked a thumb at Mauren as I said, "That's what she said. She covered a few past scenarios she's familiar with and a few that are staples of the show, but said it could be almost anything and there were usually several new events each season that either haven't been done before or haven't been done in so long that no one trains strategies for them."
"What else?" Yimshe asked.
"The in-between times are when most of the intrigue takes place, and I'll be expected to take on allies from other defeated players. I'm not really clear on that, or why I'd do it."
"Allies serve three distinct purposes. The first is that they provide sexual opportunities. The second is that they have a variety of special skills that you'll want to make use of to pass certain events. The third is that most of the weapons you'll have access to during the show have two different settings depending on who they're used on and who's using them," Yimshe said. "If you hit someone else's ally, they're incapacitated. If someone else's ally hits you, you're incapacitated. If a mainline contestant hits another mainline contestant, the weapon inflicts real injuries and death is possible. Because not every contestant can be conversant with every kind of weapon or contest, having allies who are good at the things you aren't lets you send them in when the risk to you is too high. The trade-off is your allies can't finish off your opponents or earn special dispensations. Only you can do that."
"That makes sense. Seems to me like having allies acquired from other defeated opponents is a recipe for betrayal," I said, and Yimshe nodded, then shrugged.
"It's all part of the game. It's considered bad form to kill an ally and they can be hard to get rid of. The best way to do it is to arrange for a trade with another mainline contestant."
"Why would anyone trade for a shitty ally?" I asked.
"Lots of reasons. They might not be as willing to betray the person to whom they're traded. They might have skills that make it worth risking their unreliability. They might just be a really good lay. Sponsors provide their contestants with a list of desirable allies, and that list gets updated as the season goes on. If someone wants to trade you for one of your allies and you can't figure out why, it's probably because that person is on a desirable list for one reason or another. Figuring out their value is just another part of the game."
I raised an eyebrow at that, but didn't say anything. I knew by now — having watched what succubi considered 'wholesome' TV — that sex was just part of the game. Mauren had told me that some contestants got auctioned for good prices because they were seen as good lovers, and that allies were popular for the same reason. It was one way to gain notoriety outside actual point accrual and combat.
"What allies do I start the game with?" I asked.
Yimshe said, "The first event is mainline contestants only, though you can acquire allies during. A maximum of five allies are the starting allotment, and you have three at the moment."
"So all those trainers I saw back at the showing will be allies in the game?"
"Those assigned to a mainline contestant will be, yes."
"What motivation would anyone have to participate in this game as an ally?" I asked.
Yimshe glanced toward Palashai, who leaned forward a bit and said, "There are plenty of awards and incentives for allies in the game, ranging from sponsorship and employment to exposure and fun. Why any given ally is playing the game is something you'll have to learn for yourself. Knowing and catering to the motivations of your allies will be critical to getting the best out of them throughout the season."
I nodded and turned to look out the window again. We were approaching one of the corner towers that held up the peak of the arcology we were in, and the closer we got, the more amazed I was at the sheer scale of the construction. I had no idea if humanity could build something like this even if they had unlimited funds. It just didn't seem possible for a structure to be this big.
"We're almost there," Yimshe said, stowing her data pad. "We'll talk more once we get you settled in. Director Chosen will be greeting us with her entourage when we land. You need to be polite, Taz. The director is the reason Liminal decided to sponsor you."
I glanced from Yimshe to Palashai, who nodded gravely at me, but didn't say anything. She didn't have to. That nod told me Chosen was the good boss Palashai liked working for.
"I'll be on my best behavior," I said, and watched as we descended toward a pretty impressive rooftop garden. More impressive than the greenery was the fact that I didn't see any disturbance as we moved closer. No rotor or backwash at all.
The landing was barely perceptible, and the door slid open on its own as the others in the cabin freed themselves of their restraints. Yimshe then undid my harness for me, and I stood up and turned to face the small gathering that was waiting for us.
There were four succubi and four others. The succubi all had red skin, though the specific shade varied, as did the color and style of their hair and clothing. It was obvious to me that fashion was a major preoccupation with these people, and tended toward the skimpy end of the spectrum, which neither surprised nor bothered me. Hot females can wear as little as they like. I will never complain about it.
The obvious leader was a succubus around eight feet tall with crimson skin and blue-black wavy hair lain artfully over her right shoulder. Her horns were reminiscent of the hartebeest's: dark gray, ribbed, twisting up and branching out from the center of her forehead to backward points a full foot above her head.
She was wearing a dark purple skirt that was so short I caught myself looking for camel toe despite there being no wind to lift it. Her top was a blouse and bodice combination, white and that same dark purple respectively. She filled it out nicely too. The other succubi were dressed in what I can only describe as a cross between business casual and club. The colors were almost invariably complementary to their unique skin tones but beyond that it just looked like an ostentatious mess, like a bunch of bikini models putting on just enough to be passable in a business environment.
The others were species I'd seen before on the boob tube. All of them were male and all of them were decked out. Three in suits, one in armor very similar to that worn by the guard that accompanied me.
No other packwren, though the guard accompanying the obvious leader did catch my attention. His armor hid most of his body from me other than its general shape, but the exposed lower half of his face was simian and he had four arms. His tail was long, black-furred, and hung back in a way that I could only describe as posed.
Yimshe stepped forward and bowed to the lead succubus. I looked her posture over carefully so I could replicate the move. She went down about sixty degrees, bending from the waist, with her palms flat on her thighs. Her elbows bent with her move, and Yimshe waited for the succubus to make an absent uplifting gesture before straightening.
The succubus spoke first, saying, "I thought we were assured he would give us no trouble?"
Her voice was confident, but higher pitched than most of the other succubi I'd heard.
"He has been compliant," Yimshe said.
"Then why is he still bound?"
"He declined when I offered to depower the cuffs, Director."
"Oh?"
She turned her attention to me, and I bowed, mimicking Yimshe with one difference: I maintained eye contact with the woman and waited for her to make the rising gesture.
She blinked, then did so and I straightened.
"I have been told that your name is 'Taz,' is that correct?" she asked.
I nodded.
"Mine is Director Chosen."
I nodded again, considering her carefully. She had golden irises similar to Mauren's and like all the succubi I'd seen her pupils were slitted. She had a soft set of what my brother and I used to call DSL when the women we were talking about weren't around. They were luscious, full lips. Her nose was straight and she had a heart-shaped face. Her eyebrows were subtle and precise, and she was looking me over with the same intensity I was giving her.
"Not talkative?" she asked.
"No one's asked me a question," I replied.
One of those precise eyebrows lifted marginally, then she said, "I don't know why you arranged to be available to us, Taz, but I hope you realize what a terrible risk I've taken in choosing to sponsor you. I expect results."
"I'm worth far more than you paid, Director. By the end of the season you'll know just how much more," I said.
Her eyes flicked to the bandage on my shoulder as she said, "How long will that take to heal?"
I glanced at the wound. Once back in my room they'd washed the cut and glued it shut. It itched, but I'd had much, much worse, so it didn't bother me. The problem was I honestly couldn't give her an answer because my body was definitely not the one I'd grown up in. It looked like mine, but I knew it wasn't. I was in far better shape than I should have been, for instance, having not put in any gym time in the last three months.
I answered honestly.
"I don't know."
"Have you never been injured before?" she asked.
"I have been injured many times, often more severely."
"Then why do you not know?"
"I'm unfamiliar with your medical technology and this wound was treated in a manner I don't recognize."
"How would your wound have been treated where you are from?"
"It would have been cleaned and ..."
I trailed off, not knowing the translated word. After a moment's thought, I said, "It would have been treated the same way you would treat a rip in cloth."
As I spoke, I made a pantomime of threading and pulling a needle.
Her eyes widened slightly and said, "A barbarian culture then."
"If you say so."
"You don't agree?"
"No."
"Mm."
She considered me a moment longer, then tilted her head, obviously speaking to one of those behind her as she said, "Analyze him. I want a timeline for the cut along with estimates on future wounds. No experimentation permitted, but non-invasive samples may be taken. If a way can be found to accelerate his healing, administer it. I want him as fit as possible for the opening ceremony and event."
"As you wish, Director," one of the other succubi said.
Since I hadn't been spoken to, I made no comment. Chosen glanced from me to the guard, then twisted her head to look at the succubus who'd just answered her to ask, "Have his feeds been properly transferred?"
"Yes, Director."
"Very good. Isolate and update them so that we alone receive the data. Division Four no longer has any legal right to the information and I won't have him in my facility until I know those feeds are secure."
"Already done, Director. His feeds were successfully isolated just before landing. He's secure."
"Excellent."
Director Chosen returned her attention to Yimshe as she said, "Once he's been through medical show him to his quarters, see that his physical and mental needs are met, and begin training immediately."
"Yes, Director," Yimshe said.
With that the Director and her cadre went one way, I and mine another.
'Medical' started out as I expected. I was taken into a lab, jabbed about thirty times in various places, and the wound on my shoulder was examined. When they took the bandage off, I looked too. The glue had evened out and I have to admit it looked smoother than a lot of the stitch jobs I'd had done on me over the years. The scar would be barely noticeable.
Then things got a little weird.
The lead technician was — of course — a succubus. She was also about ten feet tall, and honestly, the size was a bit intimidating. Not just her either. Everything in the lab was big in a way that made me feel like a kindergärtner. The exam table they had me sitting on was so tall that my feet dangled something like two feet off the ground.
When the tech stopped in front of me and gave me another once over, I immediately knew I wasn't going to like what came next. Sure enough, she had me lay down — which I did — then she pulled my drawstring pants down without ceremony or permission from me.
Since my cuffs were still on, there wasn't much I could do either.
After that, she spent a few minutes examining my junk.
Then she twisted and said to one of the other techs, "Bring me a ..."
She used a word I wasn't familiar with, and the object that went with the word looked a little bit like a high-tech gas station squeegee.
Since I couldn't do anything with the information even if she answered the question, I didn't bother to ask what it was. In the next few seconds, I found out for myself.
She turned the long side down over my kit and pressed a button that sent a wash of blue light in a very narrow line across my privates. She then waved it slowly back and forth as she lifted my cock, then my nuts.
It was a depilator.
She did my legs too, going so far as to haul me up by my ankle so she could get all the nooks and crannies.
When she was satisfied she flipped the device around, pressed another button on the handle, and vacuumed up all the hair.
As she handed the depilator to her assistant she casually said, "We'll do the rest later. For now, this will do."
Turning back to me, she cocked her head and said, "Is something wrong?"
I chose not to answer because my hands were still bound, but in that moment had they not been I'd have probably twisted this chick's head off. A trim up would have been reasonable, but losing it all made me feel more than a little emasculated. The only men who had a legit reason to be this bare worked in porn.
Her eyes stayed on mine for several long seconds, then I blinked as I felt something brush over my thigh.
Twisting my head to look, I watched a spaded tail drifting toward my cock as the succubus said, "I'll be sampling your essence. May I expect your compliance or will further restraints be necessary?"
Bemused that she was actually asking me if I needed to be restrained, I simply shook my head, but said nothing. In truth, I was tempted to see what kind of damage I could do if I put my bare foot up between her legs, but it would be a petty revenge at best and not worth the fallout. This chick was part of the medical staff. Turning her against me would be like insulting the barber's favorite team just before getting a straight-razor shave.
She smiled faintly and her tail proved how smooth she'd made my leg as it eased toward my junk.
I looked around and noticed that both my trainers and Mauren were nowhere to be seen. I could only guess they had other things to do, and I wondered idly if Mauren would fuck off now that she was outside the Division Four compound.
As I wondered, the medical tech succubus' tail reached my cock and I was surprised by both its heft and dexterity. As it wrapped around me I was left with the impression that both halves of the spade were fleshy mittens hiding several fingers underneath, fingers that adroitly lifted and began to stroke my flaccid length as she leaned over me, eyes hungry as they devoured my body.
"You're like a clothing model, stripped of everything unnecessary," she murmured, brushing fingers over my chest.
Since I had nothing to say to that I said nothing at all, but I couldn't help but feel a surge as my blood gave the lusty devil woman what she wanted.
Her smile got quirky as her eyebrows lifted once she had me at full stand, and said, "This is almost comically large, given how small you are. You're of average dimensions for someone four feet taller."
Looking down at myself, I shrugged and said, "Maybe males of your other races just have small cocks. I've never felt like I was particularly large. Why did you shave all my hair?"
I hadn't intended to ask, but since she seemed intent on making a running commentary of her jack session, I felt I may as well gain some insight.
"Mm? We shave all our livestock," the succubus said, as though it were a given.
"So ... the packwren. Do they have natural fur?"
"Yes? Why ask? Oooh, you've got Palashai as a trainer, right?" the tech asked, and as she did I noticed that the tone of her skin had shifted toward a deeper red. She was flushed, and her breathing was heavier than it had been.
I glanced toward where her tail was still playing idly with my shaft, and noticed that the tip of the spade wasn't as precise anymore and the edges of the leaves possessed a sheen previously absent.
"My trainer is Yimshe," I said. "Palashai is just an advisor to her."
"Psh, what a load," the succubus said. "Palashai's pulling the strings, no doubt. Liminal's picks have been lackluster the last five seasons since she retired and started to train her pup to take her place. This is Yimshe's first year as an official trainer."
"What is your official title here, in this lab?" I asked.
"Senior Medtech, why?" she asked, not looking at me. More and more her focus was drawn to my shaft. She was leaning over it now, one hand brushing up and down my thigh while the other traced absently over my abs. I could feel her secretions on my cock now as they continued to leak from her tail, the spade of which had noticeably swollen. Its tip now looked like puckered lips ready to kiss a lover, and its temperature had gone up too.
It was, without question, the kinkiest thing I'd learned about succubi. They could fuck like normal people, but when they were really into it? They used their tails.
"If you decided to place your trust in one of your subordinates to get something done, and someone they interacted with chose to come to you rather than your subordinate, how would you respond?"
"Depends on rank, but most people would take damage," she said, sparing a glance to meet my eye. "I don't make mistakes when it comes to delegation, that's why I'm the senior here."
"So if I, having been told that Yimshe is my trainer, treat her as though she isn't?"
"Ahhh, I see what you mean. Liminal's entry into this year's show has some hidden intellectual capacity. Maybe I ought to place a wager on you," she said, then sucked in a sharp breath.
I did too, because she had inverted her tail over my shaft, and was slowly, deliberately pushing it down. It felt almost exactly like a woman's pussy, and I gritted my teeth and leaned up to watch. My hands were still secured at my waist. I could reach out and touch her tail as it came to rest on me. The spade had at least a foot of depth, so I fit easily despite her comment about my size.
Still, it was interesting to be able to see my girth visibly stretching her tail, and she set both her hands on the edge of the table, supporting herself as her eyes drifted shut.
"You must really enjoy that," I noted quietly.
"MmHMM ..." she managed, then her head tipped back as her tail lifted until its lips were pressing up against the ridge of my glans. "You've ... got a really nice one. No spines or odd shapes, just a lovely ridge that is ... MMMmm."
She groaned as her tail thrust down again, and I have to admit the feeling was pretty intense. Had she done this before Mauren had gotten a shot out of me, I wouldn't have lasted long, but Mauren had a habit of blowing me first thing every morning, so I had the stamina to enjoy this.
I noticed as the succubus worked on me that her hips were flexing along with her tail as though she were fucking. Her body's movement was completely lewd and unrestrained. The fact that she was still fully dressed as she did it was an interesting contrast too, as was the fact that the other five members of the lab team had drifted over to watch.
In a past life, I'd have never tolerated this sort of thing. I'm a private man by nature, but since being resurrected here every second of my life had been scrutinized. Knowing that, there was virtually no difference between knowing it was so, and seeing it was so. I had resigned myself to having no true privacy outside my own mind, so I didn't object to these people watching me.
Besides, I wasn't the one putting on a show.
All I had to do was sit still. The 'Senior Medtech,' on the other hand, was practically treating the table I was on like a dryer on spin cycle as her energetic tail pumped my cock, leaving a slick sheen and a frothy ring of her lust around the base as she gasped and grunted.
While it was hot, slick, and engaging, her tail just didn't have the heft of a real woman. I'd get there eventually, but it would take me a while. I also had to keep my abs tensed to lean up because my hands were secured in front of me. It felt like I was planking during sex.
My hands were closed into fists to keep them out of the way of her tail, but as she got more and more worked up I started to wonder what it would feel like buried inside her tail when she came.
I also wondered how sensitive that spade was now that it was a swollen, fleshy cocksleeve.
Reaching out, I brushed fingertips across both sides of the spade, applying no pressure and careful not to disrupt her pace.
She sucked in a sharp breath, eyes flicking to mine as she asked, "Does that succ you came with do this for you?"
I shook my head, not breaking eye contact.
"So, am I your first?"
I nodded.
"And you're still playing with me? That's ..."
She trailed off in a huff of pleasure as I slowly moved my fingers laterally, letting her own movement generate the sensation.
It was a novel feeling. Her tail was literally pulsing with blood flow. So much so that it barely resembled a spade at all anymore. It was interesting. The more aroused she became, the more swollen her tail got.
Grinning, I continued to play my fingers across the hot, twitching flesh as it pumped my cock, and the succubus leaning against the table seemed past the talking point. She was grunting like an animal as she worked the shaft, and was practically hanging on the edge of the table, grinding shamelessly.
"Getting close?" I asked.
She lifted her head, panting raggedly as she looked at me. As I met her eyes, I said, "I've never had a succubus come on me before. You'll be the first. I wonder what it'll feel like? I wonder ..."
"What ... about ... you?" she panted.
"I'll get there," I assured her, grin broadening a bit as I added, "eventually. I want to feel you cum first. I wonder if you're trying to hold out? It's cute, seeing you try so hard ..."
"Nngh!"
She slammed her hips against the table and I watched in fascination as the balloon her spade had turned into began to rhythmically pulse. It tightened around the lips sucking hard at the base of my shaft and that ring of tension visibly rippled up, soon joined by others.
The feeling from the inside was more intense than any female orgasm I'd ever caused in life. It was genuinely amazing, and took me in the space of ten seconds or so from sixty to one hundred percent despite my wish to hold out longer.
The pressure was ridiculous. If she'd gripped me with her fist this hard I'd be in pain, but within the slick, silken walls of her tail there was only an immense flux of pressure sucking powerfully at my cock until with a grunt, I gave up the goods.
Closing my eyes in an effort to control my expression, I let the orgasm wash through me. It made my stomach a slab of steel. My thighs bulged as the waves of pleasure tuned me up, and it was a real effort to keep my reaction to just that.
Succubi really were something. I wondered if this one was as good as Mauren at blowjobs.
One of the other techs reached in and forcibly removed the senior medtech's tail and caught the last few rounds in a sample cup. She was a succubus as well, and I glanced toward her tail.
Sure enough, it was visibly swollen and had a definite sheen to it.
I grinned as I met her eye. Her blush darkened not in shame, but lust. It was obvious this girl wanted a go at me.
Instead, I glanced toward her senior and asked in a controlled tone, "Get what you need?"
Her head was lolling and her wings were limp as she gave me a weary look that said everything.
Deciding to rub it in a bit, I said, "Imagine how much better it would have been if I had my hands free."
"I'd ... better not," she panted, shaking her head as she mumbled, "That essence is pure bliss. It'll be a crime against sex if you get killed."
My clothing was put back on, though I was annoyed that no one bothered to clean the creamy froth off my cock before they did it.
I was led from there to a suite of rooms, and as I walked in I got an excellent sense of just how much my lot had improved.
Liminal Sciences obviously planned to take care of me.