Phase One

Her unexplored ass struggled to accept the phallus' girth, stretching to its limit even as it spasmed in pleasure. The rod began to spin and thrust slowly, working its way deeper by a mere fraction of an inch each time. The rods diving into her mother had no such trouble, filling her more practiced holes with ease. She closed her eyes to focus on the sensation of the pumping shaft, moaning in pleasure as she reached the hilt of the phallic array.

Hundreds of unseen ridges and nubs pressed against her taint and slit, tickling and denting the sensitive skin. Then, they began to vibrate. She screamed out in pleasure, voice mingling in chorus with her mother's as their bodies trembled. Before she could adjust to the sensation, the twinned shafts inside her began to move, one withdrawing slowly while the other plunged deeper still. Their pace offered no time to recover, a relentless pounding that would make even a whore blush.

The bumps and protrusions on the fake cocks sought her most sensitive spots, servos whining as they adjusted path and angle for optimal stimulation. With every thrust they grew more accurate until she could not help but scream as a trio of soft bumps struck her g-spot. Every subsequent stroke hit the same spot, robbing her of breath. The pleasure came to a head, driving her over the edge and headlong into orgasm.

She whined as she came, straining lamely against her bonds as wave after wave of pleasure assaulted her body and mind. It seemed to last forever, dragged on and on by the unrelenting pace of the paired shafts thrusting against her most sensitive spots. When she finally did come down, there was no sense of relief, only ever greater sensitivity as her raw nerves protested against the overstimulation.

With her lust undiminished by her last orgasm and the precise but brutal simulation of her aching cunt and ass, she knew that another orgasm was not far away. She had had multiple orgasms before, but this was different. There was no relief and no exhaustion, as if her body had already forgotten the pleasure, even if she had not. There was no limit to what the machine could do, the pleasure she could feel. She could cum a dozen, maybe a hundred times with the same intensity and still beg for more. She was being molded by pleasure, changed forever by orgasm after orgasm, and she was loving it.

Maggie did not fare much better, mouth dripping nearly as much as her sodden quim. The faint outline of her convulsing abdominals could be seen through her sweat-soaked skin as her body responded to the pleasure without her consent. The look on her face showed little resistance, her body - if not her mind - already surrendered to the embrace of the machine.

Melissa knew the sight should upset her, yet the drugs and the pleasure made it very hard to care. A small part of her mind recoiled in fear, terrified by her loss of control and the urges that rose unbidden to her pleasure-addled mind. It was as though she were a prisoner in not only her body but her mind, her thoughts reduced to mere whispers drowned out by cries for more and erotic fantasies.

What scared her most was that she enjoyed it. Not the pleasure, that was a given. She could not possibly fight such intense stimulation, not when her nerves were aflame with drug-induced sensitivity. She was enjoying the loss of control, the comfortable, warm haze that settled over her thoughts as her concerns faded and sensation took the fore. Trying to fight it was like trying to walk through quicksand, and that was assuming that she wanted to fight it at all. She offered only token resistance as her mind slowed to a crawl and began to sink.

Watching her mother writhe in ecstasy, she instinctively knew how wonderful it would feel to submit, to surrender her will to the machine. Every thrust intensified the burning pleasure that demanded ever more of her attention, her moans drowning out the ever-quieter voices in the back of her mind. As it became harder to think, it became harder to want to think, the silence feeling so much better than her brief moments of lucidity. She was losing. She was losing because she did not want to win.

That moment of realization signaled the end of her resistance. She had no will but to feel more, no thoughts but increasingly depraved fantasies. She could blame her arousal on the drugs, but the overwhelming need that wracked her came from within. This was all her. The thought of being nothing more than a pair of holes to be filled, to have a life of constant sex and pleasure turned her on more than she would ever have admitted without being so powerfully aroused. She loved the drug, loved what it did to her, and loved every second of the pleasure being forced upon her.

She came again and again, her orgasms synchronizing with Maggie's as one's ecstatic throes would ignite the other's. She could not pry her eyes off of her mother's glistening, heaving body, imagining what it would feel like and how it would taste. She imagined her fingers on Maggie's breasts, squeezing and groping as she buried her face between her legs, each lick forcing a sigh of pleasure and a twitch in her arched back. She imagined herself straddling her mother's face, still massaging her bounteous bust as she ground her hips against the woman's open, receptive mouth and tongue. She never had lesbian fantasies before, certainly none of her mother, but it was so easy now, so erotic since her restraints had been lifted. Her mind slipped off into a world of fantasy as her body begged for more.

At the height of one of a countless number of orgasms, a new sensation broke her from her sapphic fantasies. A warm wetness began to fill her, splattering against her vaginal walls in regular bursts. She pried her eyes from Maggie's flushed, bouncing chest for long-enough to see a thin trickle of white work its way down her leg and realized at once what was happening. The doctor had said that they would need to bear children, after all.

She was going to be pregnant. Pump after pump of semen flowed into her receptive cunt, dripping in excess to the floor and running in thick sheets down her thighs. It was an inhuman quantity, certain to achieve its mission with sheer volume alone. She had never felt a man ejaculate inside her, but she knew it could not compare to this, the potent aphrodisiac letting her feel every rivulet of cum as it splashed inside her with each thrust.

After what felt like gallons of cum leaked out of her abused cunt, the flow finally stopped. Melissa couldn't bring herself to care, certain that the overabundance of seed had taken hold inside her. The mechanical cocks inside her ceased as well, the armature retracting and allowing a huge quantity of mixed fluids to leak from her and her mother in long strands. A moment later, the tube in her throat and screen covering her eyes retracted and the world around her returned.

"I think we can call it a day with that. It a moment, I'll administer the antidote to the aphrodisiac and sedative and I'll let you get cleaned up. Fair warning, coming down is going to be hell. Think heroin withdrawal, only worse. Oh, and you get to do it every day for the next month."

Dr. Robert spoke from the same spot behind his desk, only now next to a small mound of used tissues. It took Melissa a second to process his words as the fog receded in her mind, leaving only a splitting headache in its wake. She was already miserable, but there was something that he said that stood out to her.

"So we get to do this again tomorrow?"

"Of course. The drug will not activate properly without it."

She turned to the side, seeing her mother face-to-face for the first time in hours. She returned a lopsided grin, telling her all that she needed to know.

"Great! When do we start?"