DOA III

by Bentley Little

The bald, wiry guy got out of his jeans, without letting go of her (still mouth on mouth, his hands were back, everywhere) and kicked them away. The next moment he entered her.

  Oh yeah. Pam already was soaked. How could she not be? Fuck Hell Jesus Yes!

  Pounding.

  Between a rock and a hard place... Okay, between a concrete pillar and his pounding hips. The hard place was in her.

  Giggle. Nice. Fucking nice. Nice fucking.

  His dick grew.

  It grew!

  Bigger, stiffer even, no rigid. Metal rigid!

  Flesh rod to metal rod.

  Yeah! Fuck! Yeah!

  Pam knew the feeling of metal in her pussy. She had had all kinds of… She knew the feeling of metal.

  Studs, knobs, scratching, searching, expanding, filling every crevasse, touching every nerve end in her. Metal touch!!!

  Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

  She came, she screamed, with a mouth and pussy full of God-fucking sweet metal. She came again, she screamed again. His hands, his whole body now, was metal.

  Fucking a metal man!

  She was in Heaven. Metal Heaven.

  Pam came and came and came.

  Years ago.

  “L... L... Love you!” Pam sung, very drunk.

  The love of her live, her fiancé, smiled, only slightly less drunk.

  Outside the New Jersey night sped by.

  Pam unlocked her seatbelt.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m gonna give you a… present!” She giggled.

  “Fuck yeah!” he said when her hands found the zipper of his pants. “Yeah baby! I love you!”

  His dick was hard and alive in her hands. Pam bent over and took the love of her life in her mouth.

  “Owww, baby!” he moaned while he hit the gas. “Yeah, quicker.” The car accelerated, and so did Pam.

  Warm lips and tongue, hers.

  Warm dick, his. Soft flesh, so hard.

  He put one hand on the back of her bobbing head, she liked that. With his other hand he steered.

  Dark highway, New Jersey night.

  Fast, faster.

  Hot engine, hot lips.

  Speed, speed. Almost there.

  He came. His penis shocked, the sticky sperm covered the inside of her mouth, ran over her tongue.

  “Hmmm!” she said with her mouth still around his penis.

  “S... Suck it,” he panted. His glassy eyes were on the road, his hand forced her head down once more.

  Pam sucked and swallowed. Warm sperm went down, revolting and exhilarating at the same time. She liked to be forced.

  He liked to force her and came one more time.

  He didn’t have to tell her anything.

  Pam repeated her part. With pleasure.

  Dark New Jersey night.

  They parked outside a diner, in a dark spot. He killed the light.

  “I want you to come,” he said.

  She looked at the love of her life. How?

  “Touch yourself.”

  Touch myself? Here, in the car?

  He only looked at her.

  Pam blushed. She had never done this before. I... Her hand went to her skirt.

  He put on the radio, some easy listening channel.

  She used her fingers. Her eyes were almost closed and through her lashes she watched him watching her. Never had she done this while someone watched. It was weird and wrong and fucking sexy.

  The love of her life took out his dick again. He used his hand. “Go on.”

  Pam did go on. The fingers of one hand circling, rubbing, dancing over her pussy. With her other hand she unbuttoned her shirt just enough to reach her breasts. She was quiet, except for her breathing.

  Oh, yes! Her excitement got him excited. His penis grew, hardened. He did not take his eyes from her. A slight nod encouraged her to go on.

  Fuck. She was getting wet. He must be able to smell me. She wanted to feel ashamed, but didn’t. Her lust was getting too strong.

  Fingers, fingers. In and out. Pinching, touching. God, yes.

  She was getting there. She was getting herself there. While he watched and touched himself. There, on that dark parking lot of the New Jersey diner.

  The windows of the car had all steamed up.

  She felt her own flesh, hot, hard, wet. Nails, the engagement ring, scratching a little inside her. Strange. Good.

  Dry throat, clammy hands, she was almost there.

  He smiled, he knew.

  Eyes closed now, her hands, her body, fuck yes.

  Yesss.

  Orgasm. Forced, while he was watching. Wrong. Good.

  She came again, in her car seat.

  An endless moment of oblivion.

  Pam never heard the truck.

  One moment of sweet total mind and body shut down, no thoughts, just glowing peace. The next moment total chaos, the sound of breaking glass and screeching metal, being thrown around by a giant’s hand.

  The truck ran into their car at full speed, they later told her. A stupid accident, a drunk driver, a truck full of reinforcing steel bars. He went to jail for that. But that was later, afterward. After the hospital and therapy. After her body recovered.

  Now Pam opened her eyes, hyper alert but still feeling the hot afterglow of two seconds ago. A high octane mix of adrenaline and endorphins.

  The smell, the hot iron smell of blood filled her nose.

  The love of her life, her fiancé, sat beside her. The steel bars of the truck had impaled him a dozen times. He was dead, very much so. His eyes were still on her.

  Forever watching.

  “What is it?” Pam asked. “Where did it come from?”

  They were standing before the coffin-like contraption. The sides were thick and black and dull, the inside... The inside looked like a mix of a medieval and sci-fi torture device: shiny metal tendrils, slowly waving in creepy lifelike patterns, protruding thickly from the sides and bottom. The smell of ozone hung in the air and the inside of the coffin radiated heat.

  A power cable and a fat water hose were fused with one of the black sides.

  “Dunno, I found it just like that.” Doc scratched his nose and looked away.

  “But you have to know something,” Pam insisted. “Is it military, or... or… alien?” Her words sounded ridiculous, she knew. But fuck, what else could this thing be?

  “I don’t know, I don’t care,” Doc replied. “Could be a time-traveling pink bunny left it here. All that matters is what it can do.”

  Ah, yes. What it could do.

  Pam looked at the machine (It is some kind of machine, she had decided). Did she…?

  Doc did not ask, did not help in any way. He had explained the how and the consequences. That was it. The rest was up to her. Doc was a great fuck. Human skills? Not so much. Pam did not mind, she had met her share of broken cuckoo clocks over the years. It took one to know one. Doc could deliver, that was what was important. He already had delivered plenty, and now he was offering a chance at her wildest dreams.

  Thanks, Doc! Pam really meant that.

  She was still naked. She stepped into the coffin.

  The warm metal tendrils welcomed her. The experience was not exactly like stepping into a warm bath. Not at all, no. It was like thousands of tiny hot fingers touching her all at the same time. Metal fingers. They supported her, caressed her. She sat down, her legs and buttocks got massaged by hundreds of hands. Owww, and her anus and pussy, and the sweet part in between. Tickle, tickle.

  Pam laid down, arms along her sides. She fitted easily.

  Millions of nerve endings all over her body, all stimulated at the same time.

  The tendrils touched her cheeks, her ears, combed through her hair.

  Some people would have panicked. Pam didn’t. Sensory deprivation, being wrapped in shrinking plastic, being locked up in the smallest of underground cages, water torture. She had experienced all of it, and plenty more. She never had any fears, just could not fear anyth
ing. She didn’t feel any fear now. Not even when the tendrils started to creep further, covering her mouth, her eyes, her nose. As well as the rest of her body.

  Warm living metal, she was in a shell of made of the sweetest of all things in the world.

  I want this forever.

  The metal tendrils started to enter her. Her ears, her mouth, her nose, her pussy, her ass. Every orifice. Owwwwwwwwwwwww. Warm flexible metal fingers inside her, searching, growing longer and longer, not stopping.

  Yesyesyesyesyesyessss.

  Double penetration and deep throat and breath play and wet tongues in ears all rolled into one, only a thousand times stronger. No, make that a million.

  The metal held her head, her body, she was a prisoner unable to escape.

  Like hell, she did not want to escape. Never ever. She was in Heaven.

  The second wave of penetration started. The one with all the pain.

  Over her whole body a hundred thousand needles punctured her skin, all at once. A dozen or so tendrils slithered into her eyes, through lids and skin, over and under the eyeballs. The metal that was already in her, in her pussy and ass, and throat and lungs and skull, branched out.

  PAIN.

  She screamed, well tried to. Not out of fear, no because of the pain.

  Pam did not fear, but she damn well felt the pain.

  Every birth is painful, but usually not for the child.

  Ah, tough. This birth was.

  Like every birth one had to leave the womb eventually.

  Pam was on all fours now, on the concrete floor just outside the contraption. She was coughing, trying to make sense of all the impulses that overloaded her brain. She could feel the metal in her body, a fine network of molecule-thick tendrils, reaching everywhere inside her. It was like a million eyes, a millions hands, a million of millions she suddenly felt. And they were all hers.

  Doc approached her, she could sense the metal network in him, the same as hers but with its own distinct signature. He had a hard on. Pam could tell without turning her eyes and seeing his erect penis. He grunted. It was clear what he wanted.

  He wants to fuck me in the ass. In her mind she saw what he would do: take her ass, push her buttocks apart. His penis a loaded gun with her shithole as a target.

  Pam tried to speak, but could not find the right instructions in her brain to do so. It was all so much! She wanted to look at Doc and shake her head. No.

  Like he cared. He had one thing on his mind. He wanted to fuck. That was why had initiated her. To fuck someone like himself.

  No. Goddamn NO! She desperately tried to shake her head, to do something. It was impossible. There was just too much.

  He took her in his arms and lifted her up without any trouble. She tried to fight but her garbled brain just did not know the right commands anymore.

  “Shhh, take it easy. I know what you are going through,” he said. “You need to sleep. I will put you to bed.”

  No fucking no fucking no fucking, Pam pleaded in her mind. He could do anything he wanted with her, she was completely helpless.

  For the very first time since a car ride in the Jersey night, years ago, Pam felt fear.

  She did not like it.

  Doc carried her down a corridor into a small barren room that had a bed. It looked like a prison cell but apparently it was the place he slept. Carefully he put her down.

  “Rest now. We have plenty of time, later.”

  He did not fuck her.

  Not so many years ago.

  It was so quiet in the S&M club you could hear a pin drop. All looked at the Master and His slave.

  Her feet were on the floor, her arms high above her, cuffed and chained. Her body was full of needles. The flesh was punctured a thousand times, the needles forming beautiful patterns on her back and thighs. The whole was decorated with colorful ribbons. Needle play could be about fear, but it also could be an art form. In His hands it was.

  Fear did not work on her. But they were not alone. One could share fear. The arty-farty part of the demonstration was over, now it was time for the nasty things, the shit that made the audience hold their breath.

  He held the long thin pins with latex gloves. Shiny metal, about ten inches long. He had dozens of them.

  The Master looked at his slave girl—Pam—and asked her permission with His eyes. Are you sure?

  Do it.

  He took her right breast and pushed the pin in, far above her nipple.

  In and in it went, and out it came again, on the other side of her boob.

  The audience was silent, except for a few gasps. Yeah folks, needle play.

  The pin was in her boob, about five inches covered by her flesh, about two and a half inches on either end were outside her.

  He took another pin and again He looked at her.

  Do it. There was no fear in her eyes. Only a strange kind of longing.

  Metal, metal, metal.

  He pushed another long pin all the way through, and another and more and more, in each boob until they looked like porcupines and were completely stiff. Blood trickled down. You never could avoid hitting a few veins.

  They did not stop here. She wanted to go on, and although He was the Master, He also was the slave to her longing and His need to shock an audience.

  The pins through her vulva closed off her pussy. There was more blood there. More veins.

  The pins through her lips closed off her mouth. Blood ran down her chin.

  More, her eyes demanded.

  He hesitated.

  More, her eyes begged.

  He started to push pins through the skin of her throat.

  Quite a few people in the audience turned away. Some hardcore sadists and masochists were still looking, but nobody felt comfortable.

  Metal. More metal. More metal.

  Pam cried when the Master finally ran out of pins.

  Hot tears mixed with dried up blood.

  Later, back in the car, Pam said: “Next time you need to bring more pins.”

  He shook his head. “There won’t be next time. I won’t do that shit with those pins anymore. Needles are okay, but pins... No.”

  “But I want those!”

  The guy turned at her. “Pam, this can’t go on. You need help.

  What you want is not healthy.”

  First she was quiet, then: “You are a fucking pussy.”

  He ignored her challenge. “I am not using those pins on you anymore.”

  She cursed, called him names. Faker, wuss, Daddy Dom (he really hated that).

  “Stop the car. I will find my own way home,” she cried.

  “Hell no!” he shouted. “Dressed like that you’ll be raped and murdered in five minutes.” She still wore here slave outfit under her shiny rain coat: nothing but a collar, a girdle, stockings and heels. He liked it that way.

  “I don’t care. I am not afraid.”

  “No, but you are behaving fucking stupid. I will take you home.”

  “No!”

  “Yes.”

  He took her to her home and they broke up. Later on Pam sometimes thought back. He wasn’t a bad guy, especially not compared to some of the guys she met along the way, but he could not give her what she wanted. No one could, until one night she met a guy online who called himself Doc and who promised some really weird shit that sang to her heart.

  “How long have I been out?” Pam asked between the chewing and swallowing of the food. Tinned stuff, she did not care, it tasted wonderful. She was famished.

  “Three days,” Doc replied, sitting on the only chair (an old crate) in the room. Pam sat on the bed. “Did you dream?”

  “Uhm... I don’t remember.”

  “I watched you, your body changed. You adapted to the metal.”

  Pam chewed and checked herself. She could feel the metal, it was a part of her, it felt natural.

  Doc held up his hand. The skin got a metallic glow, crooked silver thorns started to grow out of the palm and back of his hand
. “Can you do this?”

  Pam held up her hand, looked at it. Thorns. She pictured dagger-like thorns growing from her hand.

  She felt the change immediately. Metal moved inside her.

  Pam gasped, the feeling... This is what she had longed for. The feel of metal in her flesh. Really inside her, a part of her.

  The thorns grew out of her hand. Just like that.

  “Cool!” Doc said.

  Fucking cool! Pam thought.

  He grew a pair of horns, soot black.

  In response she opened her mouth and grew vampire fangs. Growing them was the weirdest feeling in her mouth. Like… like... Like the inside of her teeth being pulled, but without the pain. Weird.

  He grinned. He held out his hand. Do you want to...?

  Pam hesitated, for the whole of half a second, maybe less. She had metal inside her. He had metal inside him. Oh yeah! Of course she wanted to know how that felt.

  “In the big room, where we first did it,” she demanded. She didn’t have a clear picture of what she wanted to do, but at least she wanted to be able to move around. This tiny room was too limited.

  Doc nodded and rose.

  She followed him.

  It was dark, but he turned a switch and the industrial light came back to life. Again the white circle in a sea of darkness.

  Neither of them was clothed. Pam walked into the circle, swinging her hips. Swinging the metal tail she had grown the last few seconds.

  He howled, wolf like.

  Pam smiled. What’s up, Doc?

  He jumped her, like she was a bitch in heat.

  She was.

  He was all over her, arms, hands and body, and his touch almost took her breath away. The living metal inside her sensed the metal in Doc. It did not vibrate, but it felt like it did. It recognized its counterpart and responded to it.

  “Whoa! That’s new!” Doc experienced the same.

  The sensation did not stop them. Far from it.

  Wrestling, kissing, biting, clawing. They danced in the light.

  Finally he had her, one hand on her neck, his other hand held her arm behind her back. She growled, lashed out with her tail and her hair writhed like a nest of metal vipers.

  Yesyesyes! shouted her mind. Excited her metal glowed.

  He pushed her against the pillar, where it all began. Her face grazed the rough concrete. The chains clinked aimlessly. They didn’t need them, they had their own metal.