1 . Name: Junkie @ 2013-02-26 17:47

The soldier’s lungs gave, causing a wheezy caterwaul to erupt from his mouth as his ribcage was crushed under the weight of a metallic foot. Blood began to spew up from his esophagus, gargled by the air escaping from his encumbered lungs. The Engineer observed from a distance, his legs made useless underneath the weight of a bulky, human shaped machine. It was dead—its eyes lacking the haunting cyan glow of the others, its small head gradually being sucked into the earth’s soupy mud. The back of the machine’s chassis was pried open, the engineer’s trembling hands fumbling with the inner workings as he counted the remaining seconds his team could buy him. The scout attempted to flee but he was pursued by the most nimble of the machines. For a good while it seemed that he was indeed more agile and dexterous than his robotic doppelgangers, but the muddy, rain soaked earth clamped to his foot like a suction cup, tumbling his spindly body down into the sludge. His pursuers surrounded him and began beating him senseless with their cold, metal bats. The boy’s shrieks pierced the air, tears began flowing from his face as his skull was smashed open like a pumpkin, his every last bone crushed and snapped by the machines lambasting him from every angle.

Several minutes earlier, the demoman made a noble sacrifice, luring the machines towards a nest of stickes near him, attemping to buy the others more time. Yet by some miracle, he survived the explosion, his lower half destroyed and his entrails smeared across the battlefield. His face was charred, a look of pure delirium across his countenance. Harsh cackles and desperate cries erupted from the drunken Scotsman’s disfigured mouth, his sticky launcher still tightly gripped in his hand. A hulking, corpulent machine trudged up to his charred body, turning the demo’s intestines into paste as his metal boots hammered down into them with each step. The demoman smiled warmly as the machine drew its shotgun, aiming it point blank at his head. The gun fired, and the engineer could see the man’s head explode in slow motion, like red fireworks lighting up the night sky, chunks of skull and brain matter flying in every direction trailed by streaks of crimson.

He was the last to remain, a realization that swept a cold shiver up the Engineer’s spine. The machines began trudging toward him, sending him frantic as he fumbled with a tangle of wires and cogs. Blood was draining from him at an alarming rate, his mind becoming laggard and claustrophobic, and his bald head profuse with sweat. But with a click, the machine atop him sprang to life, the internal cogs chugging away and its eyes illuminating to life with a deep red glow. It raised itself off the wounded man’s limp legs, and the Engineer inhaled the deepest breath he had taken since his very first. It stomped away through the muck, pushing through the mob of machines and receiving no resistance or aggression. The Engineer began to cackle, the machines were encroaching upon his position and the hazy glow of their eyes could be seen in every direction he could look. He smiled, whistling to himself quietly for his last remaining seconds before his body was torn limb from limb.

---

“Helen. You know exactly what I want.” Gray Mann spoke, his crossed legs resting on his desk, a phone to his ear and a cigarette between his fingers. He wore a dapper, grey suit, his grey hair slicked back and his piercing, grey eyes aimlessly trailing their gaze across his office. “Your mercenaries continue to dwindle while I find faster ways of assembling more machines every single day. I think it would be best for all parties involved that you stop with this futile resistance.”

The door opened and in stepped a large, hulking machine, its eyes glowing a deep red. Gray looked towards it and his smug grin vanished from his visage, his eyes growing wide in confusion. He motioned his hand to shoo the machine away, but it stood like a rock, motionless, staring at its creator.
“If you’ll, excuse me, Helen,” he began. “I seem to have an uninvited guest.” He placed the phone on the receiver, raising himself up from his desk and walking towards the machine.
“What are you doing in here, you imbecile? I thought I programmed you creatures with enough higher intelligence to know not to interrupt me in the middle of such an important exchange! And what is with that hideous red glow that your eyes have taken to? Uniformity is a requirement, not a choice, you special little snow flake. Your fashion sense will not be tolerated. Throw yourself into the central scrap heap and deactivate your vital systems.”
The machine remained silent and in place, its body rumbling up and down from the feedback of its inner mechanisms.
“You dare defy me? Or are you just too incapable of following the simplest of orders?” More silence passed. “Ugh.” Gray scoffed, contorting his pruney face and turning his back to the creature. “Guess the escort will have to take you out—piece by pie-“
He was interrupted before he could finish, his head turning in surprise at the sound of the machine finally speaking. In a crackled and distorted voice, low and metallic in pitch, it brokenly growled the words: “Activate. Sequence. 45b3.”

“W-what?” Gray Mann responded.
“Pleasure. Mechanisms. Arming. Prepare. To. Commence. Sexual. Pleasuring.”
“WHAT!” Grey Mann screamed.
“SEXUAL. PLEASURING. IS. IMMINANT. PREPARE. PROPER. PRE-LUBRICATION.”
Gray Mann tumbled back in shock, grabbing onto his desk for support. “I PROGRAMMED NO SUCH FUNCTION!” he cried.
The machine’s rumbling chassis began to separate and expand outward, revealing an array of phallic shaped instruments of varying sizes. They stretched outward from the machine on robotic limbs, thrusting at the air menacingly. Like a small rocket, one of the instruments fired off of the machine, missing Gray by a hair. It ricocheted off his desk, crashing out the window and far out of sight. The cowardly old man dodged out of the way as he screamed shrilly, assuming a fetal position at the foot of his desk.

The turncoat machine grabbed his creator by the lapels and threw him, stomach first, onto the desk. It pulled at his pants, tearing them away with ease and revealing his wrinkly lower body, his legs wrapped in a large web of bumpy, discolored varicose veins and the fur of his buttocks encrusted with his leaky rectum’s anal discharge. Gray started kicking backwards and thrashing around, but to no avail, as the machine above him grabbed hold of his crusty ass and spread it wide. Like fish to bait, several of the phalluses swooped in at the sight of his brown, puckered asshole, stuffing his rectum and causing him to shriek in agony. His ass began to bleed as the walls of his rectum hemorrhaged from such a sudden expansion. With one hand, the machine grabbed hold of Gray Mann’s testicles, stinging them in its icy cold grip. It began to twist them around, cutting off the circulation and causing them to redden and swell. With each additional thrust, the machine’s grip on them grew tighter and tighter, the scrotum growing a darker shade of purple with each passing second.

Gray began to piss himself, his urine spilling off his desk like a waterfall and splashing into a small puddle forming at his feet. He desperately clung to the desk, pulling himself downward towards its bottom drawer, just slightly out of his reach. With each inch he nudged forward, the harder the knot in his testicles was pulled. The scrotal sac became a dark, blackish shade of purple, the thin veins inside pulsing outward in deprivation. The wreathing pain in Gray’s lower abdomen was so intense he could barely afford enough oxygen to scream. Finally, he felt his finger tip touch the handle and pulled it outward, revealing a revolver. He stretched out for it, grabbing hold of the cold ivory and pulling himself up. In the blink of an eye, the machine wrapped it’s immense hand around Gray’s gun wielding arm and snapped the two forearm bones within its vice like grip. It yanked its scrotum-gripped hand backward with all its might, severing the blackened testicles from Gray’s body, and dragging along a sizeable length of the vas deferens with it. Gray was hoisted upward once more, and tossed towards the opposite end of the room, crashing into the wall and causing his body to slump over in agony, the wind knocked out of his lungs. The machine twisted and crushed the testicles into a long, phallic shape, like it were a malleable piece of clay. It trudged toward the downed old man, pressing the testicle-phallus up to its empty crotch.
“PROCEED. WITH. FELLATATION.” It growled, grabbing a clump of Gray’s hair.
The old man’s eyes widened at the sight of the mangled clump of flesh. It was riddled with veins and the thick coating of hair embedded in it was encrusted with blood . Beads of urine clung to its wrinkly mounds, dripping onto the hard wood in front of Gray. His lips were forced around the mass of flesh, his mouth and throat taking the entirety of the shaft. He began to shudder in disgust as he felt the sliminess of his testicular hairs sliding up and down his throat.
“EJACULATION. COMMENCING.” The machine growled. It began to stuff the scrotum down Gray’s throat, echoing a monotone orgasmic moan through the entirety of it. The phalluses attached to the machine began to secret a thick, pasty fluid, dousing Grey and the entirety of the room in its viscous glaze.
“Y-Y-Y-Y-YOUR-YOUR-YOUR P-PLEASURES H-H-HAVE B-BEEN M-MET-T-T-T” it barked, before deactivating and falling lifeless on the floor before Grey. The old man grabbed his throat in horror, struggling to breathe with a scrotum lodged in his wind pipe. He ran out of his office, searching frantically for a minion to save him. Gray turned into the main assembly line and his eyes widened in absolute horror. Hundreds of machines, their eyes all glowing a deep red, all engaged in a massive robotic orgy. Machines were barebacking machines, motor oil lathering their phallic appendages as they moaned distorted orgasmic cries and filled each others’ receptacles. More and more of them were being manufactured, better designed to suit their new pleasuring purposes. Upon noticing their master’s arrival, their heads synchronously turned toward him, all of them freezing in mid-copulation.

The old man fell to his knees, his face turning a light shade of purple. The machines approached him, their erections primed and lubricated. By the time they began copulating with his withered body, his mind was far gone. They mounted him from all directions, pounding into every hole until he was no more.