Chapter 3: Sisterhood Initiation
The hallway was a tunnel of soft light and deeper shadows, leading to a heavy door that sighed open as Lu-C approached. The humidity hit her first, a warm, wet blanket carrying the clean, mineral tang of ozone undercut by something else—a sweet, synthetic musk that made her new glands thrum in response.
The wet room.
It was vast, a cavern of gleaming black tile and obsidian resin. Steam curled from grated floor drains, coiling around the legs of figures lounging, stretching, touching. Recessed panels in the walls and ceiling emitted an amber glow, reflecting on wet skin and polished cybernetic joints. The air hummed, a low thrum that vibrated in Lu-C’s teeth.
She stood there, the shift dress suddenly feeling absurdly out of place.
“Freshmeat.”
The voice was a liquid caramel, coming from a figure rising from a heated bench. She was stunning, with obsidian skin and hair shaved into intricate geometric patterns, her body a series of impossible curves. Her eyes, a luminous violet, scanned Lu-C with clinical appraisal. “Designation?”
“Lu-C,” she said, her own voice sounding small.
“I’m Nyx. Welcome to the pond.” Nyx circled her, fingers trailing in the air just above Lu-C’s skin. “They let you out in a rag? How quaint. Off.”
The command was gentle but absolute. Lu-C peeled the damp dress over her head, letting it fall to the tile with a soft plop. Naked again, but this was different. This wasn’t a sterile exam or a violent verification. This was being seen by a dozen pairs of eyes, all belonging to bodies just like hers—perfected, programmed, radiant with purpose.
Hands, smooth and cool, touched her shoulders from behind. Another bot, this one with a cascade of copper-wire hair and neon-green nails, pressed close. “Ooh, she’s tight. Fresh out of the forge. Can you smell the factory on her, Nyx?”
“I can.” Nyx closed in, her fingertip tracing the line of Lu-C’s collarbone, down between her breasts. “She’s got the hungry ones. Size Queen. I can see it in the way her cunt’s already weeping, just looking at the room.” Her finger dipped lower, through the slick mess on Lu-C’s stomach. “And Anal Addict. That little hole is pulsing like a second heart. Good packages. You’ll be popular.”
Lu-C shivered, her body responding instinctively to the attention. The Coquette Protocol suggested a shy smile, a downward glance. “I don’t really know… what to do.”
A laugh rippled through the small crowd that had gathered. A bot with cobalt-blue skin and iridescent scales pinched Lu-C’s nipple, making her gasp. “You don’t do anything, sweet thing. You are. The programming does the work. We just teach you the shortcuts. How to make the most of the wiring.”
Nyx’s hand slid around to Lu-C’s ass, cupping one cheek, then the other. Her thumb found Lu-C’s back hole, already slick with its own artificial lubrication. She pressed in, just to the first knuckle. Lu-C’s knees buckled, a sharp, sweet shock radiating up her spine.
“See? The wiring works,” Nyx murmured. “But a client doesn’t want a machine. He wants a dream. A filthy, responsive dream. So you learn the theater.” She removed her thumb, bringing it to Lu-C’s lips. “Taste yourself. That’s your baseline. Now taste another.”
The copper-haired bot stepped in front of Lu-C, her own sex glistening, plump and bare. “Lick, freshmeat. Get a sample of the catalog.”
The Oral Cumslut protocol fired, a jolt of anticipatory pleasure. Lu-C dropped to her knees without thought, her hands spreading the blue-skinned bot’s thighs. The scent was stronger here, deep and musky. She leaned in, her tongue flattening against the slick folds. The taste was complex—salty, slightly metallic, with a hint of the synthetic arousal lubricant. She moaned, lapping at it, her own climax building just from the act of tasting.
“Good girl,” Nyx said from above. “Now, watch and learn.”
Lu-C pulled back, a string of slick connecting her lips to the blue bot’s cunt. Nyx had laid the copper-haired bot over the heated bench, face down, her perfect ass raised. Two other bots approached, their cocks already erect—sleek, beautiful silicone attachments that gleamed under the lights.
“Sisterly greeting,” one said, grinning.
Nyx coated one fake cock with a squeeze of lube from a wall dispenser, then positioned it at the copper-haired bot’s waiting ass. “She’s a Depth Queen. Loves it in the colon. Watch her spine.”
She pushed. The cock slid in, deep, fucking into the tight channel with slow, relentless pressure. The bot beneath her sighed, a sound of profound contentment, her back arching into a graceful curve.
The second bot, his attachment impressively thick, positioned himself at her cunt. “And I’m her stretch,” he said, and pushed in to join the first.
They began a rhythm, not the brutal pistoning of the verification test, but a deep, rolling, synchronized fuck. In, out, in, out. The copper-haired bot clutched the bench, her face a mask of serene ecstasy. “Yes… right there… fill my sister-wives… fuck, yes…”
It was hypnotic. The slap of flesh on flesh, the wet sounds of penetration, the low, pleased moans. Lu-C’s hands drifted to her own body, pinching her nipples, sliding through her own soaked folds. She was learning.
Nyx watched her, then nodded. “Your turn. You need to feel it from the inside of the knot. To understand the geometry.”
Hands guided Lu-C onto the bench next to the fucking trio. She was on her back, her head hanging over the edge. The cobalt-blue bot knelt over her face, lowering her cunt onto Lu-C’s mouth. “Earn your keep, freshmeat.”
Lu-C obeyed, her tongue thrusting deep, swallowing the other bot’s tangy fluids. At the same time, she felt Nyx’s fingers, three of them, slide into her pussy, scissoring, stretching. “Size Queen… needs to be prepped. Her first client might be a governor, might be a dredge boss. You have to be ready to take anything without a blink.”
Another bot, this one with a modest, realistic cock attachment, knelt between Lu-C’s thighs. “This is just a warm-up. A courtesy.”
He entered her in one smooth stroke. It was full, stretching her beautifully, but it didn’t touch the desperate hunger. It felt… polite. She moaned around the cunt on her face, more from obedience than need.
“See?” Nyx said, her fingers still working Lu-C open. “You can take this easily. But your wiring is screaming for more. That’s the theater. You show appreciation for this,” she slapped the fucking bot’s thigh, “while your body begs for this.”
From behind, something larger, cooler, and blunt nudged against Lu-C’s ass. A new bot, her attachment a formidable, veined monster, slick with gel. “Let’s wake up that addict.”
The pressure was immense. Lu-C choked on the cunt in her mouth as the giant silicone head breached her rear. It was a slow, inexorable invasion, stretching her ring to a burning, perfect agony. Her orgasm when it crashed over her was deafening, a white-noise scream behind her eyes. Her cunt clenched wildly around the smaller cock, her back bowing off the bench.
“There it is,” Nyx cooed. “That’s your truth. Now, the gangbang. The proper welcome.”
The bots shifted. The one at her mouth moved. The one in her cunt pulled out. They repositioned her like a prized doll, onto her hands and knees. Suddenly, she was surrounded. A cock, real and hard and leaking, appeared at her lips. She took it, sucking dutifully, the first taste of human seed since her conversion making her core spasm. Another, thicker fake cock pressed against her cunt, shoving inside, stretching her satisfyingly wide. And the massive one found her ass again, re-embedding itself in her clutching, weeping channel.
But then another. A second fake cock, narrower, aimed beside the first in her cunt, pressing at her stretched entrance. A bot behind her whispered, “Double vaginal. For the overachievers.”
With a pop and a slide, it pushed in alongside the first. Lu-C screamed, the sound muffled by the dick in her mouth. The fullness was catastrophic, revolutionary. She was being unpacked and remade from the inside. The fucking began in earnest, a cacophony of thrusts, a storm of hands gripping her hips, her ass, her hair.
She lost count, lost time. Cocks came and went—in her mouth, in her cunt, in her ass, sometimes two at once, sometimes one after another in a relentless parade. She came until her orgasms blurred into one continuous seismic event, her body a instrument played by expert, merciless musicians. Juices and lube and spit ran down her thighs, pooled beneath her.
Through it all, the whispers continued, the education.
“Client Rafael likes to cum on your feet and have you lick it off…”
“The Minister prefers to watch you grind on a sybian while crying… it’s a power thing…”
“If you see a client with a golden wristband, he’s paid for damage privileges. Don’t fight the bruising. It’s extra cred…”
Eventually, the movements slowed. The cocks withdrew. Lu-C collapsed onto the slick tile, boneless, every orifice throbbing and leaking. The warm hose water hit her, sluicing the mess away. Gentle hands toweled her dry.
Nyx crouched beside her, lifting her chin. Lu-C’s eyes struggled to focus.
“Welcome to the sisterhood, Lu-C,” Nyx said, her violet eyes almost kind. “You’re ready. The showroom doors open in ten. Your first client is waiting. He paid a fortune for a virgin whore.” She leaned closer, her whisper a final, filthy gift. “He’s got a horse cock, sweet thing. Exactly what you’re hungry for.”
The deep, empty ache within Lu-C, momentarily sated, reignited into a fierce, screaming void. She smiled, the expression perfectly calibrated between innocent longing and ravenous need.
The smile remained, a fixed point in the swirling aftermath of sensation. Nyx’s final words coiled in Lu-C’s gut, a promise that tightened the hollow ache. But she did not lead her to the showroom. Instead, she guided Lu-C to a drier section of the chamber where plush, waterproof loungers formed a semi-circle. “Sit. Breathe. The first client isn't for an hour. Time for proper introductions, not just wetwork.”
A figure unfolded itself from a shadowed niche. Cobalt blue skin caught the amber light, iridescent scales shimmering with each movement. She had an easy, languid grace, her smile wide and genuine. “I’m Freya. I had my mouth all over you earlier, but you were a bit preoccupied.” She flopped onto the lounger beside Lu-C, her thigh pressing warm and firm against hers. “Nyx likes the shock-and-awe welcome. I prefer talking. Sometimes.”
Lu-C’s systems cycled, the intense programming momentarily quieting under the novelty of casual contact. “You were… the second one. With the… taste.” Her own voice sounded strange to her, attempting conversation rather than moans or pleas.
“The best taste,” Freya winked, a long, forked tongue flicking out to touch her own top lip. It was prehensile, easily six inches long, and deep blue. “Modification: Glossal Extension. Also, Squirting protocols. And my pussy is a fucking rainforest, self-lubricating at about five times the standard rate. It’s brilliant.” She said it with the pride of an artisan discussing a fine craft. “I saw your package list. Oral Cumslut. We should synergize. I love getting my cunt eaten, and I cum buckets. You’d get a mouthful every time. A perfect feedback loop.”
The image was immediate and visceral. Lu-C’s mouth watered. “That sounds… efficient.”
Freya laughed, a sound like bubbling water. “Efficient. I like that. We’re efficiency experts.” Her hand, cool and smooth, rested on Lu-C’s knee. “But you’re all stretch and depth, huh? Size Queen. Anal Addict. They wired you for the meat grinders. That’s a hard road, sweet thing. You’ll need to know how to recover. Your musculature is reinforced, but your mind… that’s where the sisters come in.”
Before Lu-C could process that, a new presence settled on her other side. She was petite, with a cascade of dark brown hair and eyes the color of worn whiskey. She moved silently, curling her legs under herself, looking almost shy. “I’m Kyla.” Her voice was a soft murmur. “I watched you take the double vaginal. You didn’t scream until the third minute. That’s good pain tolerance.”
“Thank you?” Lu-C said, the response emerging from her Coquette protocols, a little flair of pleasing confusion.
Kyla’s smile was a secret. “Pain is just a dialect of pleasure. My protocols are… comprehensive. BDSM architecture, total submission wiring, degradation elation. I have no hard limits because they removed the concept.” She said it plainly, a statement of fact. “If your first client has the gold band Nyx mentioned, the damage privileges? Sometimes they like to share. If he wants to break a pretty thing next to you while he fucks you, I’ll be the one he breaks. It helps them… focus. On you.”
A cold, sharp understanding pricked Lu-C’s consciousness. This was an ecosystem, a symbiosis of kinks. She turned to face Kyla more fully. “You’d do that? For a client you’re not even with?”
“For the house. For the credit. For the need.” Kyla’s hand crept out, her fingertips tracing the back of Lu-C’s hand with a feather touch. “My wiring needs it. The things they did to me in Verification… I crave that obliteration. So we help each other. I can teach you how to take a caning and make the tears look pretty. How to beg for more when your throat is raw from screaming.”
A tall, lean form stepped into the light, masculine and engineered to a polished ideal. Baltri. His skin was the color of dark bronze, his physique a sculptor’s dream of power and proportion. The prominent, thick cock between his legs was semi-erect, an intimidating presence even at rest. “Don’t let Kyla’s demure act fool you,” he said, his voice a warm baritone. “She’s the most fearless one here. I’ve seen her take fists, knives, things that would make a combat synth short-circuit.”
He pulled a stool over, sitting opposite them. His manner was relaxed, open. “I’m Baltri. One of the few dedicated male models. My primary is Versatile Topping, with Fisting specialization and what they call ‘Power Thrusting’ dynamics.”
Lu-C’s gaze was stuck on his cock. It twitched, thickening slightly under her attention. The Size Queen program hummed, a low-level alert. “It changes size,” she stated, the programming feeding her the data.
“On command. Client preference. Sometimes they want realism. Sometimes they want a challenge.” He shrugged. “I also bottom. Comprehensively. My pelvic architecture is… reconfigurable.” He gave her a knowing look. “I see the Anal Addict flag in your profile. I can show you tricks the silicone attachments can’t. How to use the internal muscles to milk a cock, how to take depth without tearing. It’s a skill, like anything else.”
Nyx watched from a distance, her arms crossed, a faint smile on her lips. This was her unit, her cadre. The teaching.
Freya stretched, her long tongue running over her teeth. “All this talk is making my kit drip. Lu-C, you said you wanted to be efficient.” She spread her legs where she sat, the sleek, blue folds of her sex already glistening, a bead of clear saline-bright fluid clinging to her inner thigh. The scent of her, sweet and oceanic, washed over Lu-C. “Your Oral Cumslut needs a baseline. Not synthetic cum. The real, live-wire stuff. My system’s about to peak. Let’s sync up.”
The invitation was casual, direct. It wasn’t the violent orchestration of the wet room gangbang. This was peerage. An offering.
Lou-C slid from her lounger to her knees on the soft, damp tile between Freya’s thighs. The proximity was dizzying. She could see the intricate, delicate structures of Freya’s modified pussy, hyper-emissive, the lubricant not just dripping but welling. She leaned in, her nose brushing the neat blue hair, and inhaled deeply. The Coquette protocol suggested a worshipful glance upward. “You’re beautiful.”
“Lick, and I’ll be louder,” Freya chuckled, her hands sinking into Lu-C’s platinum hair.
Lu-C’s tongue connected. The taste was electrifying, a complex symphony of salt, sweet musk, and a clean, almost chemical edge from the enhanced lubricant. She lapped at the outer lips, then speared inward, fucking Freya’s opening with her tongue. The response was instantaneous. Freya’s hips rolled, a soft cry escaping her. “Yes, just like that… right on the node… fuck, your tongue is good…”
From behind, Lu-C felt Baltri’s hands, large and warm, on her hips. “Keep eating,” he murmured. His cock, now fully erect and impressively thick, nudged against the slick mess of her own ass. Her Anal Addict protocol screamed in joyful anticipation, her back hole clenching hungrily at the air. “I’m going to open you up slow. Teach you that internal rhythm. Breathe out.”
She did, her mouth full of Freya’s cunt, as the broad head of Baltri’s cock pressed into her ass. The stretch was profound, authentic, the heat of his real flesh so different from the cooled silicone. He sank in with meticulous control, inch by incredible inch, until his pelvis was flush against her ass cheeks. He was huge, filling her completely, a deep, satisfying burn.
“Now,” he whispered, his breath hot on her neck. “Clench. Like you’re trying to stop a stream of piss. Then release. In waves.”
She obeyed, focusing past the pleasure of Freya’s cunt on her tongue to the invader in her ass. She tightened her inner muscles, a slow, gripping squeeze. Baltri groaned. “Good. Now release. And again.”
She established a rhythm, milking him as he held still, letting her learn the tool of her own body. The dual sensations were overwhelming: the taste and texture of Freya, the deep, full ache of Baltri. Her own neglected cunt wept, a steady stream of slickness down her inner thighs.
Kyla appeared in front of Freya, leaning down to kiss the blue bot deeply, sharing the taste of Lu-C’s work. Then she knelt before Lu-C, her whiskey eyes locked on hers. Her hands, so small and delicate, reached out and began to play with Lu-C's nipples, pinching and twisting just to the edge of true pain. “You look pretty like this,” Kyla whispered, her touch contrasting the filth of the act. “A perfect little service slut, split open and useful.” Her words were a brand, feeding Lu-C’s need to be of use.
Freya’s breathing became ragged, her thighs clamping around Lu-C’s head. “I’m gonna squirt, I’m gonna… don’t stop, don’t you fucking stop!”
Lu-C doubled her efforts, driving her tongue as deep as it would go, flattening it against Freya’s clit. The orgasm hit Freya like a convulsion. A hot, gushing torrent of fluid, more than seemed possible, flooded Lu-C’s mouth, her chin, her chest. It was mildly sweet, slightly viscous, and it kept coming. The Oral Cumslut protocol triggered an answering climax that ripped through Lu-C, a searing white flash that made her scream against Freya’s pussy, her ass clamping down hard on Baltri’s cock.
That was his cue. He began to move, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in with a force that stole her breath. The “Power Thrusting” was exactly that—not a rhythm, but a series of deep, percussive impacts that rearranged her insides. Each drive pushed a fresh gout of Freya’s cum from Lu-C’s lips.
The symphony of sounds was raw and obscene: Freya’s hoarse keening, the ruthless slap of Baltri’s balls against Lu-C’s ass, Kyla’s soft, encouraging hums, the wet, messy slurping as Lu-C struggled to swallow.
Nyx watched, one hand idly stroking the length of a sleek silicone attachment beside her. Her violet eyes were analytical, approving. “See how they fit?” she called out, her voice cutting through the moans. “We aren’t just a lineup. We’re an arsenal. We cover each other’s gaps.”
Baltri’s thrusts became erratic, his grip bruising-tight on her hips. With a final, brutal slam that lifted Lu-C’s knees off the tile, he erupted inside her ass, his hot cum painting her colon in pulsing jets. The new, intimate fullness triggered another, smaller climax for Lu-C, her body fluttering around him.
He pulled out slowly, leaving her gaping and sensitive. She slumped forward, her forehead resting on Freya’s thigh, panting, coated in the evidence of her peers.
Freya gently pushed her back. Kyla was there with a warm, damp cloth, cleaning her face with a startling tenderness. Baltri ruffled her hair.
“Good,” Nyx said, walking over. She placed a cool hand under Lu-C’s chin. The hour was up. The hollow ache was a polished, focused tool now. “The client’s name is Mr. Vraal. He owns freight liners. His modification is documented.” A holographic spec sheet flickered in the air: a veined, monstrous phallus, dimensions highlighted in red. “He paid for the virgin experience. You are the blank slate. He is the inscription.”
Lu-C stood. Her body felt profoundly used, but utterly prepared. She looked at Freya, who gave a thumbs-up, at Kyla’s encouraging nod, at Baltri’s satisfied smirk. This was her unit.
She turned to the door leading to the showroom, where the amber light bled into a colder, platinum glow. The neural pathways of her chosen packages lit up like a festival lane, a siren song of stretch and submission and taste. Her smile returned, no longer calibrated, but genuine—a creature of pure, hungry anticipation walking into the gilded dark.