Collide Gamer

Another morning, another question of who he was currently feeling around his cock.

It was an easy one this morning. Plush lips and tight walls of a willing woman’s throat were no giveaway, but the hand that caressed his sack was. Smooth, warm fingers rolled his balls with a grace that even pianists would have found inspiring. The texture of each digit and the palm was clearly not human, even if the material had a softness to it that emulated human skin.

“Scarlett.”

The redhead acknowledged his correct guess with a muffled moan. The ring of her lips around the base of his manhood loosened. She preferred to drag her tongue up the underside over the pop that usually accompanied the parting of the mouth and head. Fingers wrapped around his manhood instead and began to pump. “How does this feel?”

John was still blind, his contact lenses located in his Inventory. Fully concentrated on the tactile sensations, he had a singular word to answer with, “Good.”

“Additional details would be pretty fucking useful,” she cooed and lapped up a thick drop of precum. A gasp escaped her. “No amount of R’n’D will ever get the taste right.”

“You mixed the robotics really well with the -ugh- emulation of a human hand.” As he described his experience, she continued to jerk him off tirelessly. “The texture of your ‘skin’ reminds me of porcelain, but there is warmth and softness there. It’s like a doll is giving me a handjob.” He thrust up into her hand. “Consistent… pressure and… speed, the range of the motion being always the same, it’s… pleasantly robotic.”

“Wonderfu-mghm!” Scarlett had her head grabbed by both of John’s hands and pulled down to his cock. Halfway inside her, John could not hold on any longer. His morning wood pulsed, blood swelling the already hard shaft to its utmost with each rope of seed that flooded the back of Scarlett’s mouth.

“Wonderful,” John sighed. Blessed was he whose morning pressure was immediately relieved. He was less than five minutes into consciousness and already had a quivering cumdump climax as she gulped down his seed.

It was nothing short of fantastic.

His own orgasm faded quicker than hers, giving him the opportunity to reverse their situation. “Morning service for me? How – Oh, yesssssss!” Her bratty declaration came to a hissing halt when his tongue pushed back the hood of her clit. The exposed button became the focal point of his attention. His arms wrapped around her thighs, lifting them onto his shoulders.

Those legs were marvels of engineering. Explored through touch alone, he could sense every detail she had finely adjusted to his preferences. The inner thighs were virtually indistinguishable from human flesh. From the layers of the false epidermis to the layered mesh of artificial muscle fibres, every bit of the padding on the bone-like metal rod was a perfect replica of how her long legs had used to feel like.

His right hand glided over the exceptionally smooth outside of her leg. There was a factor of porcelain there as well, but she had been in prime condition beforehand as well. Small grooves between segments were the tactile giveaway of her artificial legs. One surrounded the muscle group of her inner thigh. Another one circled around her kneecap. On her lower leg, a groove differentiated the hardness of her shin from the softness of her calf. Tracing the lines back up brought him to the more notable gap between false and true flesh.

A second later, he grabbed her glutes with both hands. Stretched index fingers brushed against the edge of her tail socket. The proof of her cybernetic adjustments only elevated the genuine softness of her round ass. His tongue greedily extended into her flower, tasting her sweet nectar.

“Yeah… you’re half-decent with that tonghhh…” Scarlett’s bratty comments meant little when her voice was loaded with lust and her feet were crossed on his back. “Wow, you… found the spot… yeah, that’s it… don’t stop… don’t you dare stop!”

John had no intention to. He continued to tongue-fuck her with all the expertise he had gained over the years. Thighs pressed against the sides of his head. Hands brushed through his hair. He accelerated his efforts, then her folds twitched around the invading muscle. Spasms rolled her hips, pressing her swollen mound against his mouth as he soothed his appetite for her with the overflowing love juices.

It was a quiet and gentle orgasm, reaching its peak early and then petering out gradually. He could imagine her flat midriff tensing and relaxing. The flat chest of his favourite technomancer must have been rising with each deep, trembling breath, only to deflate again.

“So, you do know how to treat a lady,” Scarlett said once she regained control over her voice.

John mockingly blew air out of his nose. He was of half a mind to engage in a good old session of brat breaking. The other half, however, pointed out to him a more pressing urge, the typical one that ruined sexy times. “I’ll go to the bathroom.”

“Alright.” Scarlett’s response reverberated with quiet disappointment. A logical emotion to feel. He was thankful that the feeling was where it stayed. More than a few stories and personal experience had taught him that it was not uncommon for some women to then act on that emotion. In one of her moodier moments, Eliana had grabbed him by the arm and almost kept him from the very necessary trip, declaring it a fake need to get away from her.

Most of his life was sunshine and rainbows, but even he suffered moments where his partners could be a tad irrational. Not that he was perfect, far from it.

John left a Possession on a cushion so he could follow the events in the bedroom as he stepped away. To his surprise, the opposite of the usual happened: Scarlett went back to sleep and no one else woke up.

‘I guess planning makes my women more drowsy than fighting.’ John blinked a couple of times, inhaled deeply, and let out the yawn that he had thus summoned. ‘I don’t feel tired enough to go back to sleep myself,’ he surmised at the end. ‘Rarely can, after blowing a load. Which is odd, because I find it very easy to sleep in the evening after the same act. Different expectations of the body, I suppose.’

Since he wasn’t going to go back to bed, he decided to brush his teeth and take the rare solo shower. It was a quick rinse. He didn’t even bother to soap up. Overuse of shampoo was bad anyhow.

For no other reason than intuition, John decided to walk out the front door. The landscape around them, the product of Lee’s game-addled mind, offered some interesting spots to explore. There would be no chests or other items though, making the exploration just something to occupy his mind while he enjoyed the true purpose of the walk: the walk itself.

Even in his lifestyle, it was rare that he got to take a fully naked night stroll. They had been in the Illusion Barrier for about 24 hours now, which translated to roughly 4 hours real time. Since it was the depths of December, they were still more than two hours away from twilight. It was as dark as it could be.

John was not bothered by it. He had put in the contact lenses by now. Even if he had only that vision to rely on, with his elemental senses and Dark Vision both disabled, he would have been fine. The air was warm on his skin. The inside of the barrier had taken on the climate of the Guild Hall.

It was not nearly as liberating a walk as the ones he had taken on his Oklahoma property. The lack of wind, the artificiality of the landscape, the knowledge that he was truly alone, they all diminished the reality of the experience. Although, as the point of a large rifle against his temple proved, he was not actually alone out there.

“I must request you’re more careful, Sir,” Fianna stated, keeping the rifle aimed squarely at his head.

“Aren’t you violating trigger discipline right now?” he asked with half a smile.

“Affirmative.” The white-haired woman lifted the heavy sniper rifle with one hand. Various cables, connecting the body of the weapon to her shoulder and spine, shifted along with the motion. One of her tiger ears flicked, while her green eyes took in his nudeness. “Discipline is important. It is also a set of guidelines for those of medium experience.”

“And you are very experienced with guns?” he asked flirtatiously. ᴛʜɪs ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪs ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ʙʏ 𝗻𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹~𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓮~𝚗𝚎𝚝

A pink blush spread over Fianna’s pale features at his tone. Her already straight posture became a little straighter still. “My primary experience is with large calibre. Handguns, I have decent expertise with.”

“I believe this qualifies as large calibre.” John basically willed his erection to life. It was as simple as drinking in Fianna’s body, clad in a skin tight bodysuit. She was an absolutely stunning specimen of Celtic genetics. Said genetics may have now been encoded in a magical matrix, but it had existed and did lay the foundation for the maid-worthy body.

Fianna’s blush deepened. “I am not used to you being so forthcoming, Sir,” she admitted.

“I’m in a forthcoming mood.” John gestured for her to follow him. Weapon braced against her shoulder, she did. “Then again, I should stop it there. It’s Lyndell’s time for now.”

“That suggests my time will come soon,” Fianna remarked.

“Practically out of my hands, isn’t it?” John stuck his head into one of the oddly shaped concrete ‘ruins’. He found some furniture inside, although the closet looked like it had only half-finished loading before the processor had abandoned the task. “I won’t pretend and say you aren’t attractive to me. I like you, physically and your personality. Lord knows I cannot resist attractive, dangerous women, especially those with enough drive to ask for what you did.”

“I owe you everything, Sir.”

“You are right, you do,” John stated bluntly. What he had given her had been worth infinitely more than limbs that he could have had easily replaced with technology. “That being said, what I want in return for that is your support, not your love.”

“My love, Sir, I was contemplating to offer you before I was in your debt,” Fianna said. “I wrestled with my emotions for a long time, ensuring that I want what I want for the right reasons. The conclusion I have come to is that I do, Sir.”

John did not comment on that for a bit. For no reason, he pulled himself up on an exposed rebar, then did the same again two more times to reach the roof of a building. “What kind of relationship do you imagine we would have?” he asked her. “I am deeply curious.”

“Frankly put, Sir, I want what we already have with the benefit of cuddles and sex,” Fianna responded.

‘Blessed be the military women and the tomboys,’ John thought. “I appreciate the directness, but I do need some more details on that. You want to be my henchwoman?”

“The preferred term around here is servant or maid,” Fiana said, her mild Irish accent shining through. “Sir, are you aware that you are a legendary figure to me?”

“I’m aware that I qualify for the moniker in the eyes of many.” He sat down at the edge of the roof. It was uncomfortable, the raw concrete had an abrasive texture that did not work well with a naked behind. “Obviously, I take pride in that, perhaps more pride than I should. I am still just a man though.”

“I am very aware of that. I wouldn’t attempt to lay with a concept.” The cables that connected Fianna’s weapon to her robotic body disengaged with a hiss. Metal clacked on the ground. The weapon placed on the floor, she sat down next to him. Her bubble butt squished beneath her, a portable cushion if John had ever seen one. “May I speak frankly, Sir?”

“Always.”

“You have what I do not, John: vision.” Now Fianna looked at one of her hands and the metal claws that were embedded in her fingertips. “I have been chosen by two greater powers – you and the White Tiger. My purpose, I have decided, is to follow your designs for me. My will is my own, this strength is now my own.” The claws retracted, to allow her to form a clenched fist. “It is my right to put my resources in the service of another. None are more deserving than you.”

“I consider those that I love my equals,” John told her.

“You may do so. I will gladly consider you my superior,” Fianna answered, too quickly for it to be a spur of the moment thing. “My loyalty is not unquestioning. If I thought that was what you wanted, I would not have chosen you.”

John had complicated feelings about this. Pride and dominance agreed that her feelings were a good thing. It was entirely natural that most people would sort themselves beneath someone like him in a hierarchy. If people like John hadn’t been rare, humanity would have had an even worse history of wars than it already had. Some led, many followed, that was the natural way of things.

To pretend he did not extend that logic to his love life would have been laughable. One could have defended his preference for submissives. The abundance of maids in his harem, however, painted a clear picture. Aclysia, Beatrice, Claire, those three absolutely defined themselves by their subordinance to him. Ehtra, Momo and Nahoa certainly found their comfort in acting in parallel to his goals, even if they had some ambitions. Only Delicia had life goals truly outside of his.

The elementals couldn’t really have ambitions beyond him, at least not on this plane.

The various human and human-adjacent members of his harem were a mixed bag, but even among them, many had their life’s goals hitched to his. This was how relationships were supposed to be. A romantic partner that did not strive to arrive at the same goal could never be a true soulmate, only a temporary companion on a shared segment of road.

What John was wary of was the seduction of the position he was in. To wield the power over so many lives – to drag them towards the future they did not agree to because he thought he knew better. He could justify that to a degree in politics, because politics was a viper’s den of liars and charlatans.

In love, he could not allow himself to become a dictator.

“Your trust flatters me,” he finally said. “To be entirely honest, had you come to me with this proposal twelve women ago, I would probably be trying to kiss you right now… but I am really trying to step off the gas when it comes to harem expansions.” He shook his head. “Which I am doing a mediocre job at.”

“Amusingly, you have internal and external pressures now – and you are only a man.” She put one leg over the other, giving John a really nice view of the shape of her thigh.

“I feel like you are exploiting that.”

“John, you must be familiar with the phrase: all is fair in love and war.”

“I do speak English, yes.”

Fianna gave him a wry smile. “As a sniper and a tiger, I lie in wait until it is time to strike.” She suddenly stood up. Two swinging steps brought her to her weapon. She bent at the hip, putting every bit of emphasis there could be on her round ass and the way the bodysuit dug between her cheeks. Weapon collected, she turned on her heels and saluted. “I will resume my seduction after Lyndell has joined your harem, Sir. Until then, I will continue my training.”

“…At ease and dismissed, Fianna.”

The tiger woman nodded militaristically, then leapt off the building, swiftly disappearing in the shadows. His eyes wandered towards a not so distant crater. He could only assume that Fianna trained by moving around unseen in the active warzone that was wherever Moira clashed with her own sparring partners. The Warden had not sat around idly while he was busy clearing Dungeons.

‘I am stuck in this with three capable, horny, gorgeous, dangerous women for another 17 days.’ He pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘At least two of them are into me… I love all of this, but I really need to start learning to signal that the proverbial pool is closed.’

With another sigh, he returned to the mansion.