Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I be getting several, you be zero
Bet you pressed, bitch
I be looking very heavy metal and reflective
Azealia Banks - Heavy Metal and Reflective

Your feet pounded relentlessly across the rocky terrain, until suddenly, they didn’t.

With one powerful surge, you launched yourself off the jagged cliff edge, your synthetic musculature propelling you effortlessly into the night. For nine exhilarating seconds you fell, suspended by nothing but humid air beneath the fat, milky moon that watched from the horizon of Carraya IV. Immediately, your pupils dilated, enhanced vision resolving every mottled leaf and shifting shadow of the sprawling jungle canopy below with crystalline clarity.

Calculating your trajectory with 99.928% accuracy, you landed in a graceful crouch, fingertips braced lightly against moss-covered rock. The brutal force of impact shattered stone, sending a meter-long lightning fissure splintering outward in spiderweb cracks. Internal gyroscopes adjusted seamlessly, stabilizing you in perfect balance.

Synthetic nerve endings tingled as millions of coded synapses lit simultaneously, transmuting raw sensory data into pure elation.

Your auditory and tactile inputs were deliberately muted, your scent receptors offline entirely. Without those precautions, you'd be paralyzed by the relentless and disorienting deluge of information cascading through your positronic matrix. Controlling the sensory chaos was still a delicate balancing act you hadn't fully mastered.

But in that moment, with the visceral thrill of adrenaline-like synaptic information packets shooting through your circuits, nothing mattered but the rush. And for the first time since your transfiguration, you didn’t shrink from the intensity, but welcomed it.

Even muted, your auditory sensors registered the echoing roar reverberating off the cliffs behind you. You glanced up to see the morag hunched at the precipice, your pursuer's massive leathery wings beating furiously, howling screeches revealing rows of long, curved teeth. Drawn irrevocably to your polymer scent, it refused to abandon its pursuit, lunging from the cliff edge to dive after you.

You sprinted forward, heavy duranium skeleton propelling you at impossible speeds through the dense jungle.

Too massive to navigate your path directly, the morag tore through the treetops, its talons shredding branches and sending a chaotic rain of foliage and startled creatures cascading down. Tangles of roots rose from the jungle floor in twisted snarls, but you navigated effortlessly over them, your footwork precise and agile.

Ahead, the canopy thinned and moonlight poured through a wide break in the trees.

With a triumphant shriek, the morag seized its opportunity, tucking its great wings closer to its body as it dove straight for the bright target of your science blue uniform. Its claws stretched forward with lethal precision to seize you.

Pivoting sharply, you dropped into a fluid roll as the talons sliced across the empty space you had just occupied, the creature missing you by mere centimeters. You laughed in delight as your inorganic heart pumped its hydraulics faster, warming and lubricating pistons and servos.

And then, silence as all went suddenly still.

You turned slowly to see the morag frozen mid-strike, every tooth and scale and sinew rendered in vivid detail. Behind it, the holodeck’s arch appeared, revealing your husband and the familiar beige corridors of the Enterprise.

Data stood patiently, golden eyes calm and voice as gentle as ever. “Are you ready?”

Looking at the morag once more, a ferocious beast frozen forever in its moment of defeat, you took a deep breath nodded. “Yes.”

Chapter Text

It's a sickening heartache
And it's slowly tormenting my soul
I've invested my prayers
Into making me whole
Ghost - "Satanized"

The warmth of Vulcan’s early evening air wrapped around you as you stepped from the shuttle, your first steps beyond the carefully controlled environments of the Enterprise.

The landing platforms rose high into the air above the buildings of Vulcana Regar, the planet's pulsing metropolitan heart. Thick strokes of vibrant red and yellow and orange painted the sky as the sun began its slide beneath the horizon, colors that now existed for you in wavelengths you'd never before perceived, their beauty almost overwhelming in its complexity.

Your first taste of the world outside of running simulations in the holodeck since your transformation. Weeks of Data and Lore tirelessly working around the clock to teach and acclimate you to your new perception, their patient guidance shielding you from sensory overload. The rendezvous at Vulcan couldn’t be postponed any longer.

Thrown into the deep end, you would either sink or swim.

The raw, unfiltered reality of Vulcan struck your senses. Your processors cataloged the shifting temperature and atmospheric pressure, the humidity, and countless other data points you were still learning how to filter. Juggling information, but it always felt as if there were a hundred balls in the air while you only had two hands.

A tall, stately Vulcan waited at the edge of the platform, his hands folded patiently in the long sleeves of his robes. Your enhanced vision caught every minute detail of the intricate embroidery woven through the fabric, the thread creating patterns that caught the shifting light.

“Ambassador T’Lek.” You bowed your head in greeting as you approached him. The wind carded through your hair and caressed your face, swaying the delicate branches of dwarf gespar trees ringing the platform. Pink leaves were pulled from the branches by the grasping hands of wind, swirling around you.

“Commander Soong, I welcome you to Vulcana Regar. I have…” He trailed off, one elegant brow rising slightly at the sudden commotion erupting behind you, mingling with the hum and thrum of shuttle engines overhead.

“You take it, asshole.” Lore shoved your single shared bag roughly into his brother’s uniformed chest.

Data blinked at him, his even tone belying his annoyance with the elder android. “Lore, I carried the bags last—“

“Didn’t ask, don’t care.” Lore walked away from his brother without a backward glance, which was likely for the best as he missed the commander staring daggers at him.

Turning your attention back to T’Lek, you smiled with a small shrug, as of to say ‘what can you do?’.

T’Lek cleared his throat. “Yes, in any case, I am pleased you’ve agreed to meet with the council. I take it that you are seriously considering our offer?”

You looked out past the buildings and their satellite landing platforms toward the expanse of reddened desert stretching endlessly toward the horizon. To think that one day soon, massive complexes of interconnected biomes and flourishing fields of interplanetary flora would rise from that barren expanse, seemed almost beyond imagination.

"Assisting the Vulcans in creating what might be the galaxy's most ambitious botanical gardens?” You smiled, unable to hide your genuine excitement at the prospect.  “I’d be a fool to refuse the opportunity."

The breeze rippled through T'Lek's robes, giving them the illusion of flowing water. "Excellent. I will have the preliminary schematics ready for your review by tomorrow evening.  In the meantime, I hope you find much of the city to your enjoyment.”

“Mother!”

You turned toward the familiar voice, auditory processors isolating the sound from 87 distinct conversations happening around you. The unique timbre and pitch registered in your neural network as “family” before being handed over to your conscious mind.

Lal waved from the other side of the busy city square as she hurried toward you, navigating a sea of Vulcan pedestrians with graceful determination. Her earnest enthusiasm reminded you so much of Data, while her complete disregard for creating a public spectacle was clearly inherited from Lore.

Five weeks and fours days since your transformation, all of them spent learning to identify, categorize, and control the agonizing flood of sensory input and resultant mental and emotional responses.

None of it could have prepared you for seeing your daughter’s face after months of separation.

With characteristic abandon, Lal threw her arms around you, and you no longer had to fear that crushing embrace breaking fragile human bones. Such a simple act, and yet it triggered an emotional subroutine that threatened to override your carefully calibrated control protocols.

“How are you?” Lal pulled back to examine you, no doubt conducting the same optical scan you had performed on her. Her hands remained on your shoulders, bioplast making contact at precisely 24 points. “Do you feel well? You look well. Your integration appears optimal.”

Wet warmth rose up from the artificial channels that were your tear ducts, immediately responding to emotional stimuli with perfect biological mimicry. “I’m much better now that I get to see you.”

Lal finally turned to her fathers and graced them with an earnest smile before hugging each in turn. “Father, Papa. I’m pleased to see you as well.”

Lore booped his daughter on the nose with practiced precision. "Hi, pumpkin. Still taking the Vulcans down a few notches with your superior intellect?"

"I prefer to think of it as challenging their assumptions," Lal responded with a slight head tilt that mirrored Data perfectly. “But also, yes.”

“Indeed. Your work in cybernetics has been most impressive,” Data said. “Professor T'Laan forwarded me your latest paper on positronic pathway regeneration, and your insights have been illuminating.”

The four of you walked slowly through the square. Lore draped his arm casually across your shoulders to keep you close. Your shoulders, not your hips or ass, as was his custom. He had treated you with uncharacteristic gentleness since your transformation, never once even attempting to initiate sex. In fact, you hadn’t done anything more intimate than hold hands or cuddle with your husbands. And Lore had held back the barbs he typically shot at his brother.

Not a single ripple of sex or violence had disturbed your world in weeks. Lore’s restraint had been so complete it bordered on unsettling, as if your seeming fragility had rewritten even his most fundamental programming. Part of you missed his aggressive unpredictability, even if another part was grateful for the space to adjust to your new reality.

One after the other, the full scope of your senses unfolded around you.The amber sky fractured into nearly a hundred distinct color gradations while seven different languages braided through the wind, shuttle exhaust barked overhead at 102dB between the sharp rustle of wind through leaves. Shoes scraped and footfalls vibrated the ground until even stone felt like a drum beating beneath you.

A hellish symphony of sensory input, an amalgamation of sounds transforming into a single, unpleasant beast. The precise molecular composition of incense from a nearby vendor, the precise temperature differential between sun and shade…

Core Temp : Nominal 37.5 °C
Processing Reliability : 96 %↓

"The Vulcan Science Academy has been quite accommodating," Lal explained. "Though several senior researchers still appear uncomfortable with the emotional components of my programming."

“Figures,” Lore scoffed. “There isn't a stick big enough to satisfy those uptight asses."

Your attention briefly shifted to a Vulcan father standing near a merchant's stall, arms folded as he ostensibly scolded his young son. You detected microexpressions that betrayed his stoic facade, the increase in vocal warmth, the subtle upturn at the corner of his mouth. A sacred geometry of love hidden beneath rigid cultural restraint.

The barrage of information threatened to overwhelm your processing capacity. Your cooling systems engaged as your emotional subroutines struggled to integrate the torrent of data. A slight tremor began in your left hand, a minor calibration issue resulting from emotional override.

Core Temp : 38.8 °C ↑
Processing Reliability : 91 % ↓

"Perhaps we should return to our accommodations at the embassy.” Data’s tone was carefully modulated to avoid drawing attention to your distress.

Feeling your grasp on the situation becoming precariously loose and refusing to ruin the reunion you had waited so long for, you recalibrated your auditory sensors to filter out background noise, narrowing your focus to the voices of your family while simultaneously monitoring your own pitch, just as Data and Lore had taught you. But, just as Lore had instructed when you were alone, when his brother was out of range of his paranoia, you maintained background scanning parameters for sudden shifts in ambient noise patterns to detect potential indicators of danger that would trigger immediate alert protocols. You tuned all other sensory inputs down to 50% max capacity.

At the last moment, you made the decision to throttle your visual input by 20%. This was an acceptable compromise inside the confines of the Enterprise, but every reduction of sensory feedback could be dangerous or even deadly outside of that safety.

Core Temp : 38.4 °C ↓
Processing Reliability : 93% ↑

In a fraction of a second, you accessed your emotional regulation subroutines and brought the heightened sensory processing back under control. The result was an overall dampening of your senses, which was unpleasant, though less unpleasant than being the cause your visit being cut short. 

"I'm fine," you assured him, the tremor subsiding as you reallocated processing power.

As hawk-eyed as Lore and as kind as Data, Lal took your hand gently in hers and pointed toward a low, unassuming structure ahead.

"The Kir'Shara Theater will be starting its performance soon," she said. "It runs twice a day and I have witnessed the performances multiple times during my tenure.”

“That sounds like a ringing endorsement.” You smiled at her, grateful for the distraction.

“Theater?” Lore’s dread-edged disappointment was unmistakeable. Forever fighting the demons of boredom, the elder android was always dodging the dull and seeking the thrills, the more dangerous the better.

“I believe you’ll enjoy the show, Papa. The t'san s'at dramatic tradition is performed exclusively by those who have been unable to achieve kohlinar, the ritual purging of emotion. It’s considered the only acceptable outlet for Vulcans who can’t fully master their emotional responses. The performances can become quite intense, and often violent.”

Lore’s eyes brightened as a demented smile pulled up one corner of his mouth. “Bloodshed and Vulcans with emotional problems? Count me in.”

The  theater's interior was austere, yet so still and serious as to be ominous. Constructed of ancient stone that had borne the brunt of centuries of emotional purges, the small auditorium housed only forty-seven seats arranged in a perfect semicircle around a spare stage, the acoustic design creating a perfect resonance chamber. Even whispered dialogue would reach every corner with clarity.

Data sat at your left and Lal at your right, with Lore next to her. The house was full, and no sooner had you settled into your seats than the lights dimmed to near-darkness, a harsh spotlight falling at center stage. The performance began without fanfare or announcement, a hush rolling through the stone structure.

Two male Vulcans entered from opposite sides of the stage to face one another, their controlled movements belying the focused intensity radiating from them, powerful emotions held rigidly in check. Between them stood a Vulcan woman, her face a perfect mask, though her eyes burned with something far more primal.

"The ritual of koon-ut-kal-if-fee," Lal whispered as she leaned into you. "Their betrothal is being challenged by a newcomer."

Even from your distance, you detected the performer’s elevated heart rates and body temperatures, an almost imperceptible tremor in the woman’s hands.

Standing at the edge of the spotlight, the dramatic planes of his angular face thrown into stark relief, the challenger extended his hand with two fingers outstretched in ritual summons. To the visible shock of her intended husband, the woman raised her own hand to touch her fingers to the interloper's, accepting the challenge and forcing her intended into a duel he never sought.

Several seconds of near silence pressed in on the audience, a stillness that wasn’t still at all but was instead alive with a dozen sharp intakes of breath, the faint sounds of fabric shifting as viewers leaned forward, the pained creaking of the ancient wooden stage.

The intended’s reaction was a masterclass in controlled devastation, unmoving body pulsing quick with heat and muscles shaking with the effort of stillness wound around betrayal.

“Perhaps,” he said, voice resonating through the chamber, his face impassive as his eyes remain locked on the interloper, “this is her way of calling for proof of my devotion.”

Data shifted beside you, a minute adjustment of 4.3 degrees in his posture, his hands flexing on his knees.

On stage, the ritual combat had begun, each man gripping a sharp, staff-like lirpa in his hands. The actors moved with choreographed precision animated by raw emotional power. Their dark eyes widened and sparked as their weapons struck and blocked in a frenzied dance of mounting anger. Every exhalation was perfectly synchronized with each lunge, every parry, pupils widening as adrenaline surged through their green blood.

The intended fought ferociously, grunting between bared teeth, movements betraying his inner turmoil. The fire inside him raged until he finally gained the advantage, driving his opponent to the ground with lirpa raised, poised for the killing blow.

“No!” The woman cried out and tossed herself to the ground next to the challenger, throwing a protective arm across his chest.

In only a few short seconds, the intended froze while his expression cycled through myriad expressions, all of them pained, none of them understanding. A killing heartbreak trapped in a moment of stillness.

The challenger seized the opportunity, reaching for the knife hidden beneath his robes and slicing upward through the intended’s abdomen with harrowing precision.

Data's cooling systems engaged beside you, his chest rising and falling rapidly at an increase your systems automatically flagged as significant. Something in his expression triggered a cascade of connections in you.

Resonance.

Two men. One woman. A challenge for her affection.

Unwelcome calculations flooded your neural pathways, summoning thousands of memories of your early relationship with the brothers. Every moment Data and Lore vied for your attention, the insults and affronts, sabotages both explicit and covert, rifts that felt like they would never mend. All of it laid out before you not as the faded impressions your human brain would have mercifully allowed, but as perfect recordings of every word and deed and moment of tension stretched between them.

All at once, a terrible slideshow of everything that could have, and did, go wrong. Every hurt and fear replayed with damning recall. Every reality and alternate reality, the countless could-have-been paths branching out to meet an unfathomable map of infinite horror.

A rising wave of something monstrous, something ineffable, swelled and splintered through you, threatening to close the razor-thin gap between you and insanity.

You were certain that you could feel every fiber of your clothing, every hair on your head shifting with the staggered exhalations of the audience surrounding you, could see every blinding photon…

Error messages stacked and flashed across your internal display as powerful emotional subroutines threatened to overload your systems.

Core Temp : 38.6 °C ↑
Processing Reliability : 88 %↓
Emotional Regulation Systems: 147%↑ Capacity Exceeded [Critical]
Cooling Systems: At Capacity. Engaging Secondary Protocols

Your fingers trembled against the armrests, muscles contracting at irregular intervals as conflicting commands flooded your motor control pathways. You felt like you could scream and never stop, or choke, wanting to fight your way out of the suddenly claustrophobic space or deactivate yourself and never move or think or feel again.

Never before had you understood Lore more than you did in that moment. Unfiltered emotion and sensory input without adequate containment. Insanity seemed near enough to touch, a living thing that might swallow you whole.

You were losing what little grasp on reality you had. You were going to break and shatter into a thousand thousand pieces. You—

You had promised the brothers that you were ready, that you could and would do this. Data had been prepared to cancel the trip entirely after watching your continued struggles. It had taken considerable convincing, backed by both Lore and Deanna, to finally get him to agree. At every step he conjured all available power of the commander at his disposal to ensure every precaution was taken, that you weren’t taking the final step into an abyss you wouldn’t return from. His fear of you experiencing a cascade failure has engendered a paranoia in him that nearly rivaled his twin’s. The same fear he’d had for Lal.

If you failed now, you failed him and gave him all the reason he could ever need to keep you cloistered away in the shelter of the Enterprise.

Your neural net called up the memory you needed. The subroutines Lore had quietly helped you install during one of your calibration sessions.

"Sometimes you need to burn the house down to save the village," he'd said. "A controlled system collapse can prevent a catastrophic one."

You executed the sequence just as he'd taught you. Not the careful step by step regulation Data had developed, but Lore's guerilla efficiency. A tactical neural reset that Data would have never approved. The digital equivalent of holding your breath until you pass out, allowing crucial systems to reboot while temporarily surrendering non-essential functions.

For a microsecond, your consciousness flickered like a flame in the wind. When awareness returned, the storm had broken. Not gone, but manageable

Another intimate glimpse behind the curtain of Lore's existence, the constant battle he fought between function and chaos. Every day was lived in that cataclysm, and somehow he'd not only survived but thrived within it.

On the stage, the dying Vulcan fell to his knees, emerald blood blooming across his robes. His eyes followed the retreating path of his beloved, the lovers leaving side by side with no words or even a backward glance spared for him.

His eyes pierced the distance, looking toward some horizon known only to him. His final lament rose upward, the low ceiling holding it close against the spectators.

Your own emotional center responded in kind, pulsing intensely to create feedback loops that only served to further destabilize your compromised symptoms.

As the Vulcan fell back and died alone on stage, you were suddenly aware that Data’s hand had found yours, fingers entwined with precise pressure. At the same time, the lights extinguished for a full 5 seconds.

In that perfect darkness, skin to skin, the quiet stillness allowed a moment of clarity, enough to let you surface through the sea of terror. You initiated emergency protocols, forcing compartmentalization of your systems to shunt the overwhelming inputs.

Error Management Protocols Engaged. Priority Emotional Processes isolated.
Secondary Systems Stabilizing.
Core Temp : 37.5 °C ↓
Processing Reliability : 92 % ↑

You closed your eyes and let the gentle stability of your husband pull you from yourself and hold you fast to the world.

Lal said her goodbyes outside of the theater, and you catalogued her departing form with perfect clarity, storing it in a dedicated memory partition. You would see her again before the Enterprise departed, but still her absence left a hollow ache you hadn’t expected, the square a shade duller and quieter without her.

The last shards of sunset speared through the darkening sky and cast violent reds and oranges and pinks across the kilometer-long reflecting pool that radiated from the city’s center. The lights inside shops flickered on and street vendors lit lanterns to hang from their stalls.

Systems: Nominal

“I’d fight any and all of them to the death for you, kitten.” Lore swept his hand toward the growing sea of people, putting his other arm around you to draw you more closely to his side. “Hell, I might do it just for fun.”

Soothing your distress by swaddling you in his bravado. Your systems recognized the pattern and filed it under subroutine: Lore_EmotionalSupport.v7._ Data’s large hand rested against the small of your back, guiding you through the crowd. He had been distant and uncharacteristically quiet since leaving the theater.

“Are you alright?” you asked.

“I am functioning within normal…” He trailed off when he saw your face, the worry carved there. “The performance evoked emotions I did not anticipate. I often wish I were capable of the emotional intensity displayed by the actors.”

Lore groaned, a sound sculpted to maximum derision. “Not this again. Didn’t you get enough of that bullshit with Q’s stunt?”

“That was different,” Data said.

“Oh, it’s different, is it? Alright, asshole, if you—“

Your threat‑assessment routines spiked as a piercing growl cut through the static chatter of the crowds. You instinctively took several steps back, eyes wide, all flight and no fight. Diagnostic buffers spooled new data into emergency cache. Heart‑pump cycle escalated. Coolant arrays whirred.

It was one thing to fight a feral, slavering morag in the confines of the holodeck, and another entirely to watch danger play out in front of you with real-world consequences.

Thirty meters ahead, a Tellarite wearing an ambassador's sash somersaulted from a tavern and rolled roughly across the flagstones, landing hard. Following his path was a towering Klingon in dark travel leathers, a grid of scar tissue criss-crossing his battle-worn face.

“You dare impugn the honor of the House of  Martok?” he bellowed. "Your Federation has no understanding of true sacrifice!"

Data’s head tilted fractionally, his pupils widening in the sea of yellow iris. “That is K'Von, cousin and counsel to General Martok. The Tellarite is Ambassador Kushlas Xak. Their presence on Vulcan is likely connected to the ongoing negotiations for dilithium mining rights in the Mempa sector."

“No, don’t even think about it. Let the primitives sort it out.” Lore tightened his grip on you while trying to maintain a careless veneer. “We’ve got better things to do.”

Ignoring his brother, Data instinctively moved to intervene, but then hesitated. He scanned your face and body, finding the tremor rippling through your servos, the knitted brows, posture drawn in on itself and screaming run. It was clear his ethical subroutines were battling his need to stay by your side.

Your fear and weakness shackled both him and Lore, who remained at your side.

In milliseconds, the reality was crystal clear. Data suppressing vital ethics subroutines while Lore bit down violent instinct, each twin warping core programming to become the arbiters of your anxiety. Your problems weren’t yours alone, but extended a clawed hand to all who were close to you.

Fuck this, you thought.

Maybe you couldn’t yet control your new reality, but you could damn well control your reactions.

<Emotional Regulation | Manual Override | Execute>
…stabilizing… 68%… 42%… 18%
Cooling Arrays: Nominal

Executing a hard‑cycle of your limbic emulation net, you flushed destabilizing neurotransmitter simulations and throttled sensory input by twenty percent, a process that felt like plunging into ice water while simultaneously being struck by lightning. A baptism by fire. A jarring, painful reset that swept through your consciousness in waves as you forced stability through sheer will, hoping that nothing broke in the process.

Colors inverted momentarily in your vision, sound compressed to a single crystalline tone, and for 2.42 seconds, your perception fragmented into kaleidoscopic shards of reality.

“Go,” you said, voice steady even as alerts cycled and cleared. “I’m alright. Lore’s with me.”

A single silver thread of confidence unspooled through your neural net. You hadn’t broken, you’d bent and re‑formed.

Lore hummed approvingly and tightened his grip on you. “See? She’s tough. Your insipid do-gooder heroics are the only problem here.”

Data approached the unfolding melee quickly, the crowd parting for the Starfleet uniform. “Commander Data of the USS Enterprise. May I be of assistance?”

“I know who you are.” The Klingon scowled, searching Data disdainfully head to toe. “Your federation sends a machine to speak for it now?"

“I speak only for myself,” Data said, unfazed by what was intended as an insult. “However, I would like to point out that both the Federation and the Klingon Empire would benefit from resolving this matter discreetly, given the delicate nature of ongoing negotiations."

The Tellerite huffed and took the extended hand of a Vulcan who had stopped to help, allowing him to pull him to his feet and brush himself off. “I was merely clarifying a historical footnote. Hardly grounds for evisceration.”

Clearly, the Tellarite understood nothing about Klingon tempers.

“I heard you from across the bar, foul p'tak! You dare question the honor of Martok’s actions during the war?” K’Von growled the words between sharpened teeth as he reached for the d'k tahg at his belt. “Such insults demand blood.”

Data took a step forward, subtly positioning himself between them. "I served alongside General Martok during several engagements in the Dominion conflict," he said, appealing to Klingon respect for battle prowess. "His courage was witnessed by many aboard the Enterprise, including Captain Picard, who holds the General in highest esteem.”

K’Von eyed the android with greater attention, warrior recognizing warrior. “You fought alongside my cousin?”

“Indeed,” Data confirmed. "At Ricktor Prime. His tactical insight saved many lives, both Klingon and Federation."

The tension in K'Von's stance decreased, hand falling away from his blade. “The House of Martok remembers its allies, Commander."

"As does Starfleet," Data responded. "Perhaps we can resolve this misunderstanding without bloodshed.”

K'Von's eyes narrowed slightly as he studied Data more carefully. "You are not like other Federation officers. You speak directly.”

"I endeavor to be precise," Data replied. "It would be disrespectful to obscure the truth with unnecessary words when dealing with a warrior of honor."

The Klingon's laugh was as abrupt as it was loud. "Ha! A machine that understands honor better than many with beating hearts." He gestured toward his d'k tahg. "Should you ever need the blade of the House of Martok, Commander Data, you need only speak my name."

Within minutes, Data had defused the situation. The crowd dispersed and the Klingon clapped Data hard on the back, extending an invitation onboard his ship to drink and celebrate fallen comrades.

“Always the Boy Scout,” Lore said, pressing his body more firmly to your side. “I think I saw a secluded alley back there, if you want to pass the time in more enjoyable ways while my brother plays Peace Corps.”

You laughed at what you suspected was a completely earnest entreaty. Still, your heartrate and internal temperature rose noticeably.

Something feral and hungry flashed in Lore's raptor yellow eyes, a glimpse of the predator he'd restrained for weeks. His fingers tensed against your waist, synthetic muscles shifting with restraint. 

"I can hear your systems responding," he whispered, voice dropping to a familiar dangerous register that sent shivers racing down your spine, reminding you that beneath that carefully cultivated exterior lived the same dangerous creature as ever. Temporarily chained but never tamed. “I think you’re ready for—“

"I believe you have had sufficient external stimuli for today," Data said as he returned to you, his gaze scanning your face for signs of continued distress as he ignored his twin’s whispered 'cockblock’.

“Fine,” Lore drawled. "I'm getting bored with this diplomacy shit anyway.”

“Rest now,” Data said, his body warm at your back, his arm secure around you.

In your suite, curled up on the bed, you were safely cocooned between your husbands as you washed slowly into your dream program…

Pale sand dunes stretch from horizon to horizon, endless and eternal, the wind etching them with perfect sine waves. The sky is brilliant blue, though no sun is visible. Across this azure, stars wheel overhead in deliberate, mathematical arcs, every photon arriving single-file, obedient and precise. Starlight stitches the sand with silver filaments, creating patterns of sacred geometry that are erased and rewritten over and over again.

You stand at the center of it all, alone and draped in a wound-red shroud that ripples like rivers of blood. A warm wind sweeps the land and brings with it a sifting hiss of sand that whispers around you.

See yourself.

The wind dissolves your shroud into incandescent grains that sparkle back to the dunes until you stand bare beneath the alien sky, synthetic skin luminous in the impossible light.

You raise your hands to the heavens and watch as black voids bloom in the center of each palm. A wider one yawns across the soft swell of your breasts. Not wounds, but small galaxies brimming and glittering with constellations that mirror the heavens overhead.

Star-stuff seeps from the galaxies in your palms, threading up veins and replacing muscle and bone, swallowing flesh and transmuting it into whirling night. Alone and transforming, always transforming, panic claws through you, tears falling from your cheeks to hit the dunes as perfect diamonds.

Before you can scream, the cosmic lattice climbs your throat, floods your mouth, until you are a walking map of cosmos.

No flesh left to ache or decay. Only pure information given form.

The wind settles into silence as you spread star-bright fingers that feel neither weight nor fear. Every thought is a shooting star across the vacuum of your being.

You, a twin of the heavens.

Empyrean, eternal.

In the distance stand two silhouettes, pale gold eyes reflecting the same constellations that hum through you. You open your mouth to speak, but music pours out in place of words, deep and ancient and electric. One figure points at you and the other at the somersaulting sky.

In the void resides all possibility.

You raise your celestial face to the firmament and stare into the stars, past the light, past the void between worlds, to be engulfed in the peace of velvet darkness...

Chapter Text

At the heart of the city
Right there where it glows and explodes into colour
Devour with me
In the heat of the moment
Right here where it feels like I'm actually living
You are with me
Ghost - Cenotaph

“Commander  Riker requires my input on a transporter pattern mismatch.” Data stood in front of the large mirror, adjusting the gold pips on his uniform collar with millimetric precision as he glanced from you to Lore. “Perhaps you should wait here until I return.”

Lore sat on the bed, fastening his boots over black pants that looked painted on. He batted his pale lashes at his twin, the picture of innocence. “Relax. She’s safe with me.”

“Put this on.” Lore pushed an unfamiliar helmet and anodized riding jacket into your hands.

At the center of the blistering stretch of desert settled between basalt cliffs, dozens of hoverbikes, sand-skimmers, and jury-rigged ATVs roared and rumbled all around you, engines howling and heat mirages blurring the horizon. The site of the annual Vulcana Regar 1000 was many kilometers of sun-scorched sands that hosted smaller races every day to bring in tourist revenue.

Lore told Data he was taking you on a tour of the flats, which you supposed wasn’t exactly a lie, though it omitted some important truths.

“Where did you get this?” You circled the hoverbike. The hull was scorched duranium, UI of the navigation pad glowing against the fairing, impulse boosters humming indigo at 53% over factory specifications. Your systems clocked it as less than above-board. Thrusters rated 480kph with a braking ratio of 11:1, which your systems immediately flagged as insufficient. “Is this even legal?”

Lore ducked to adjust a plasma conduit near the forward intake. “Poor kitten. Starfleet pips tingling already?”

“Did someone say Starfleet? Are you Starfleet?”

You turned at the voice, which came from a young Orion woman who seemed to materialize beside you. Her green hair was styled short with shaved sides, and she bounced excitedly on the balls of her feet. The pockets of her oil-smeared coveralls were stuffed full of various machine parts.

“Um, yes,” you said, caught off guard by her intense curiosity.

She squealed and clasped her fists beneath her chin, nearly vibrating with enthusiasm. “That’s incredible! I’ve always wanted to join Starfleet, leave the pirate gigs, do something scientific. Exobiology, astrochem, maybe. But…” She shrugged and swiped a quantum bushing off a nearby skimmer when the owner turned his back. “Who wants an Orion with an extensive list of prior thefts?”

You looked at Lore, who cycled between cursing and laughing as he adjusted the bike until it made louder and more concerning sounds. “You might be surprised. Besides, worst case scenario is they say no and you’re right back where you started.”

She stared at you for a moment, eyes wide and mouth open. “You’re right. I could do that. Entrance exams couldn’t be harder than outrunning sector police, right?” She deftly snatched up a gasket Lore had tossed aside and shoved it in her pocket with the rest of her purloined goods before giving you an earnest salute. “Thanks, Starfleet.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Lore said, standing as he finally finished whatever illicit modifications he had been working on. He ripped the riding jacket from your hands and put it on you like you were a doll, the fit a couple sizes too big. “Of all the things I’d thought I might have to teach a new android, putting clothes on when instructed wasn’t one of them. Obviously I’d prefer you not wear it, or any clothes at all for that matter, but if I bring you back with so much as a scratch on you, Commander Cockblock will never let me hear the end of it.”

He swung a long leg over the bike and settled into the seat, smiling as he patted the area right in front of him. You joined him, servos stabilizing as you gripped the chassis tightly with your thighs.

Lore rested his chin on your shoulder. “How I wish that was my head.” A siren sounded and snapped him from his reverie. “Alright, helmet on.”

“Why aren’t you wearing one?”

“I’m too beautiful for that.” When you began to protest, he tossed the helmet aside. “You’re right. At the speeds I’m aiming for, a helmet probably wouldn't protect even a duranium cranium. Better that we die pretty.”

Before you could say anything else, the blaring call of the countdown cut through the heated air, the beacons flaring to life.

Ten.

“You! You stole my bike!”

You looked back to see a Denobulan rushing toward you, jabbing his finger angrily in your direction.

Nine.

Lore grinned and raised his voice to cut through the din of engines and exhaust. “The bike you outfitted with contraband Romulan parts?”

The Denobulan stopped and blanched, the crowd’s attention suddenly inconvenient.

Eight.

Lore folded the handlebars down and opted for the central nav-stick barely more than a handspan from the apex of your parted thighs. His large hand wrapped around the throttle, elegant fingers manipulating the controls expertly. “Hold on.”

He choked the throttle and brake simultaneously, the bike revving and shuddering and sending a cascading wave of vibrations that thrummed in time to your pulse through your clenched thighs, so very close—

Seven.

Lore’s chest molded to your back, hard muscle and harder metal. Leaning forward just enough to spread your legs further, angling your hips just so, his stiff prick was unmistakeable and insistent against your ass. Heat spiked through your pelvic array. A new display flashed.

CPU Load: 88%- Redistributing.
Arousal Index :  Baseline Logged.

Six.

You released your grip on the chassis and found the firm columns of Lore’s thighs instead. Fingers sinking into that beloved flesh, you vividly recalled exactly what those thighs looked like beneath the clothing, the feel of them, the taste, tensile strength slamming between your—

Five.

“Feel that?” Lore’s breath ghosted across the shell of your ear as another devastating sensory input. “That’s the difference between processing life and living it.”

Four.

He nudged the throttle and immediately choked the brake again, rocking you forward and back in your seat. Legs spread wider as a thousand kilograms of metal shook through newly-awakened flesh to drag a low moan up through your throat. An obliterating spike of pleasure detonated through you sole to crown so intensely your vision briefly pixelated.

Three.

“Lore…” You arched back toward him, code-drunk on unfurling need.

Two.

“Finish line first,” he said, cock throbbing against you, “then we see how badly you want more than the helmet coming off.”

One—

Plasma cones erupted. Sixty-thousand newtons slammed you rearward into the immovable wall of Lore’s body as the bike rocketed ahead. Within seconds, you reached 240kph and the two of you became a single blurred silhouette knifing through the white-hot wind.

Lore’s laugh was wild and euphoric as he tightened his free arm around you, holding you close. Your grip on his thighs tightened in response and your telemetry firmware pinged:

Positive Stimulus? Store?

You mentally slammed YES and let the engine vibrations climb your body like a lover. A fresh surge of adrenal sequencing hit, and you blessed your new hardware for its processing speed as coherent thought lost ground to every exquisite stimulus uncoiling in Lore’s wake.

Somewhere behind you, dozens of vehicles and a Denobulan were left cursing in the dust. Ahead, dunes and crosswinds and danger. Life. You tuned sensory filter down to zero.

Time to burn.

The sandscape blurred into a ribbon of rust under the bike’s antigrav skirt. Twin Vulcan suns blazed overhead, glare warping the horizon into liquid, heat rippling off the flats in shimmering veils you tore through at breakneck velocity.

At 310kph the wind shear struck and tore streamers of dust off the dunes as you passed them. Telemetry scrolled across your HUD: thruster temp +14 °C, coolant cycle stable. In the thrill of the moment, you barely registered it.

The air drenched you with the scent of iron-rich dust, hot quartz, and a vapor-thin veil of burned tritanium propellant exhaust from a dozen skimmers punching afterburners. It tasted like a lightning strike veined with motor oil, a smell that said speed even before Lore twisted the throttle wider.

Lore’s fingers continually made micro-adjustments on the nav stick. The arm around you went exploring, hand drifting beneath the hem of your shirt. The fingertips lightly brushed the skin of your abdomen beneath.

Lubrication Pumps: Active
Arousal Index: Critical. Engage Filter?

NO. Recalibrate.

The bike bucked over a ripple of cross-winds, chassis angling toward the apex of your spread legs. Vibrations reached 73hz, harmonizing with your pelvic servos. Your back arched involuntarily and Lore seized the momement. His hand quickly slid up to cup your breast. Light pressure, massaging, teasing, but still it sent a data-storm crackling through your neural matrix. You moaned and arched further into his touch, the sound ripped back toward Lore by the wind.

Lore’s lips brushed the curve of your ear, tracing the helix with a slow, wet glide. “Tell me what you’re feeling.”

The spotlight cones of a pair of scout drones strobed above you and sand spray needled your cheeks. And still the world narrowed to the seeking circuit of his hand guiding your racing pulse and needless gasps.

Words broke apart in your throat, vocal processor all stutter and static. “Need. Please…”

Rewarding desperation, his hand slid down your trembling abdomen, circled your navel, and then ghosted lower. Fingers dipped centimeters below the waistband of your pants, but no lower. Promises and taunts. Just enough to excite you, enough to—

“I can smell how ready you are,” he hummed against your ear. He shifted his hips so the hard, thick pillar of his shaft strained against its cloth binds to grind against your spine. Sparks leapt up your vertebral sensors.

A rival skimmer howled past port side, far too close. Lore snapped the nav starboard and sent the bike swerving around a shard of basalt jutting up from the sand.

You stifled a shriek and gripped his thighs harder, your hands sliding higher. Instinctively, your thumbs kneaded circles into the musculature. The engorged column of artificial muscle pressing against you twitched and strained harder.

“That tease was free,” he said, pressing more aggressive kisses against your neck. “Next one costs you a scream.”

Lore released the nav stick and leaned back. The bike drifted starboard, antigravs whining at the asymmetry. “Take it,” he ordered. “Show me what those reflexes can do.”

Panic spiked, but protocols flashed to life. Snatching the stick, you wrapped both shaking hands around it between your legs. Overlays flared across your vision: vector calculus, sand-shear predictions, micro-gust telemetry. Optimal Trajectory flashed, pending destination input.

Subvocalizing destination as the ridge apex on the horizon, a shifting cobalt arc painted itself across your visual field, updating every 0.02 seconds. Your neural net drank in the data like water, muscles reacting before thought, correcting yaw, feathering thrust, ordering raw chaos into smooth velocities. Your fingers danced across the nav inputs, each digit operating independently and expertly.

Lore smiled against your cheek. “Beautiful.”

With his hands free to roam as he willed, he swooped beneath your shirt and cupped your breasts. Kneading softly at first, he mapped the shape and weight, maddeningly avoiding the hard peaks of your nipples.

You arched hard, crushing the swell of your breasts into his palms. He didn’t deny you this time.

He pinched each nipple between thumb and forefinger, rolling and pulling the stiff nodes. You shuddered as a shockwave of pleasure rippled down your spine. Sensor subsystems detonated in ten-thousand discrete flares and your vision pixellated on the periphery, cascading telemetry into white-hot overload.. You shook thought back into your head, stabilizing your ocular inputs, but the shimmer remained, prismatic and exciting.

The net of ecstasy erupting across your body funneled to a single locus, a superhighway of stimulation emptying straight into your pussy, which was undeniably online and soaking through your panties.

Lore let a hand fall from its soft prize to drift down, fingers leisurely walking a path up the inside of your thigh, stopping to trace excruciatingly slow circles. Every stomp of engine vibration was channeled straight into the wet, pulsing heat between your legs.

An outcropping of basalt erupted ahead, yanking you from the focused pleasure. You feathered the lift thrusters and banked left, then rolled hard starboard to thread a gap barely a meter wider than the bike. Sand geysered in your wake.

“Holy shit.” Coolant flowed through your channels as you looked back at the narrow passage you had navigated on instinct.

“That’s it, kitten,” Lore breathed against your ear, rolling your nipple more firmly between his fingers. “Split your feed between me and the terrain. You’ve got this.”

Before you could sink back into the new splendor of Lore’s touch, a crimson skimmer closed in on your port quarter. The Andorian pilot looked at you, briefly catching your reflection in his mirrored goggles, a flash of your own face you turned from. His smile was wide and unkind, so much like Lore’s often was.

A smile that telegraphed danger.

Your HUD displayed three evasive options, but you dismissed them. Adrenal indices spiked as you snapped the throttle and shunted an extra ten-percent plasma into the boosters.

The surge vaulted you across the Andorian’s nose as you pulled left, your exhaust trail hammering his stabilizers. The Andorian’s skimmer fishtailed and veered off course to recover.

Lore’s manic laughter cracked the desert air like a whip. He kissed the side of your head, all lips and grinning teeth. “That’s my girl.” The hand on your leg stroker higher, harder, promising unimaginable ecstasy as it neared the throbbing center of you. “And good girls get rewarded.”

Before his fingertips could reach that hungry chasm, your readout screamed a terrain alert.

Directly ahead, a 50-meter dune rose at the mouth of the curve you were rounding. 10 seconds to impact. Margin vanishing.

“Lore!”

His arms locked over yours, hands wrapping around yours on the nav stick, guiding you to pull back hard on it until the bike’s nose pitched skyward, the blistering sun on your face. You tugged so hard together that the stick was slotted scant centimeters from your aching slit. The only thing preventing full contact was the G-force pinning you back against the unyielding wall of Lore’s body.

Desert and hunger and open sky all bled into one accelerating crescendo as the dune’s face rushed up to meet you.

Lore held tight to your hands as the bike screamed up to sheer the dune. Sand atomized beneath the antigravs and fountained behind in molten plumes. At 45 meters your altimeter chimed a useless warning you dismissed. At 50,  you crested the knife’s edge and, instead of skimming the zenith of the slope, Lore kicked the ventral thrusters.

The bike vaulted over the peak and for a breathless, forever-moment you hung in freefall. With the desert a red smear below you, wind howled through your hair, your fingers locked so hard on the nav you felt its polycarbon casing crack beneath.

Lore’s laugh vibrated against the nape of your neck. The rigid proof of his increased excitement throbbed tightly against your spine.

Gyro Stability: 91%↓
Arousal Index: Off-Scale

Ground surged up to meet you, and at the last second, Lore wrenched the stick to send repulsers roaring and kicking up a shockwave that blasted twin sheets of sand outward like a desert wave. The bike bottomed out a meter above the ground, skidding sideways on sparking blue plasma as systems fought to hold position.

Braking Ratio Exceeded | Rollover Risk: 87% 

Fighting the urge to scream, your breath held and then released when the antigravs caught and the bike leveled, carving a new ribbon of velocity across the flats. Behind you, a glittering wave of competitors poured over the same crest, engines wailing in pursuit. Ahead, the first checkpoint beacons flashed violet on the horizon like twin hearts.

You collapsed back against Lore and momentarily closed your eyes. Something far hotter than adrenaline pulsed through your every conduit.

Maybe the crash would have killed you, and maybe not.

But what a way to go.

***

“Racing is dangerous under these circumstances, Lore.” Data’s voice floated strict and steady from the dressing room. “I do not approve.”

“Sing me a new song, brother,” Lore called back in a bored sing-song.

Port 47 Imports was settled in the seven-block stretch of the J’Vralek Street Market. Ferengi-run and filled with the finest and most daring clothing the planet had to offer, the shop was a riot of color and sparkle and contrasting subtlety. Neon glyphs of old High Vulcan proclaimed “Discreet Tailoring. No Questions.”

The shop was full to bursting with embroidered silks and holo-sequins, large mirrors everywhere. You kept your gaze averted as best you could, not daring to look directly at your reflection.

Of the many sensory inputs that had proved to be too much, your own image was the most personal of all. You had looked at yourself exactly once, two days after your transformation, and immediately turned away, nearly in tears. Android senses rendered your every perceived flaw in horrifying fidelity, and you couldn’t yet bear to see yourself. Instead, you watched your reflections as amorphous shapes of spectral noise in your peripheral haze.

Lore, of course, reveled in mirrors.

He sauntered from a changing room whose curtain he’d never bothered to close to stand next to you and admire himself in the mirror. Hip cocked and wearing a bright, fuck-me red leather-like jacket with nothing underneath, the shop’s soft lighting glowed against the bare golden skin. Tucked into his boots, scandalously low black pants showed off the flared vee of his hips and cupped every engineered contour with almost sentient precision, giving particular worship to his substantial bulge. A faint trail of dark auburn hair arrowed down from his navel and vanished beneath the waistband.

Fast and smooth as liquid light, he was behind you, watching the spectacle as his hands kneaded your hips at the same time his warm breath grazed your neck. The race had left a trail of sizzling synthetic nerves in its wake, and now his proximity re-liquefied every circuit.

You wondered if sex in those early weeks would have blown a hole through your neural net like a star going nova, or perhaps would still. Lore’s cheshire grin said he intended to find out.

A Ferengi tailor scurried around your legs, tugging pins from his teeth to tightly cinch the seams of the clothes Lore had chosen for you. It was far more attention-grabbing than what you might have chosen for yourself, but you didn’t protest. Lore wanted what he wanted and he got it without fail.

“See how good you look next to me?” he asked, fingers reaching around to brush your throat. “You’re my favorite accessory.”

“I received a message from Lal that she is free to meet with us tomorrow.” Data emerged from his changing room clad in elegant mist-gray Vulcan robes, dutifully modest fabric draped so it erased every alluring angle of the body beneath. He nodded his approval in the mirror “Although she regrets to inform us that she will only have a few hours.”

Lore’s jaw dropped as his gaze swept the bland length of his twin. “Not on your life.”

In a flash, Lore pushed the younger android against the wall and held him pinned with one hand against his chest, quickly tearing the robes from him before he could protest. Data was left standing in only his black Starfleet-issue briefs. The embarrassment firing from his modesty subroutine was palpable.

Seeing an opportunity, the Ferengi scampered from his place at your feet and pulled a glittering shawl from nearby, rows of crystals chiming as he shook it. “Something less tragically beige for the pale one? Only seven strips of latinum. Discount for quantity!”

“Lore,” Data said in a low tone, his eyes darting to search for witnesses while attempting to cover himself, “this is highly—”

“Unacceptable. I’m not going to be seen at Shaukaush with you wearing… I don’t even know what to call this travesty. I’ve been more excited staring at the walls in the brig. Here.” Lore pulled clothes from a nearby rack and threw them at his brother. “Put those on and thank me later.”

***

Shaukaush was alive and pulsing like a fresh wound shot through with electricity, a Risian oasis in the heart of Vulcana Regar. Lights flashed and bled from fuchsia to indigo to emerald, shifting hues like liquid gemstones cascading over hives of bodies crowded together as they moved to the music as a single wanting animal. Ceiling projectors spun chromatic prisms that refracted into thousands of trajectories your HUD parsed into equation after equation that flashed for priority.

Focus and discern, you reminded yourself, clipping bandwidth to threat vectors only. The remaining noise dissolved into low-bit blur.

A thousand eyes sparkled around you with intoxicants and anticipation, alien hearts beating in sync with the pulsing rhythm of the club. A sensory column flared violet to your left. Handfuls of patrons sank their fingers into the photonic skins of the column, sighing and moaning as harmonic ripples pressed in shifting frequencies against their nerves.

“You are acclimating admirably.” Data kept his hand on the small of your back, his presence an anchor in the maelstrom of disorienting beauty.

The midnight tunic his brother had chosen for him was impeccably tailored, gently hugging his broad shoulders and chest and tucking in just slightly at his slim waist before terminating abruptly mid-thigh. The collar rose like Vulcan architecture around his neck, open in an inverted triangle that exposed the graceful column of his throat and the beginning of exquisitely sculpted collarbones. Below that, pants that were slim fitting, though not constrictive.

Lore hadn’t tried to change him, only improve him.

You moved with the twins through a shifting sea of flesh. Lore’s confident swagger easily parted the crowd, leading you toward the sunken center of the atrium’s dancefloor. Suspended three meters overhead, a hover-platform hung like a low moon. Three musicians stood on that stage, two Andorians and a Bolian playing holo-instruments that flickered in constant metamorphosis. One moment the Bolian was playing a theremin, and the next it rippled to become a Bajorian belaklavion, the trio creating music that was always alive and morphing.

Lore brought you to a halt there and turned you suddenly so his firm chest was sealed to your spine, Data closing in from the front. The younger’s large hands bracketed your waist to align with his twin’s, the disciplined planes of his body grazing yours. The rest of Shaukaush kept rolling around you like surf, but inside that small pocket of personal universe, you could focus on nothing except the twin gravities pressing in.

Slowly, as if synchronized by some unspoken command, your husbands began moving in tandem with the low pulse of the music. Firm android bodies brushed lightly against you at first, then closed any remaining distance between you so their every movement moved you as well, puppeting you on the strings of their will. The heat shared between you was intoxicating, intensifying as the beat moved through you, sinking beneath synthetic skin and pounding out demands in your neural mesh. Languid grinds body to body, circled hips, hands exploring above clothes that may as well have been photons for all they did to shield your sensitive flesh from the touch of your husbands.

Data’s gaze lingered on your lips before tracking down your throat, your chest, the symmetries of waist and hips. “You look… enticing.”

There was an unmistakeable sensuality to his every movement and word, as if Vulcan itself radiated into his wiring and warmed circuits long accustomed to restraint. Away from the constraints of duty and stitched with your memories together, the stoic planet always had this paradoxical effect on him.

Lore dipped his head so his breath skirted your face, your neck, punctuating every exhale with a deliberate roll of his hips against your ass to ignite a trail of growing sparks along your nerves.

You let your head fall back against him, one arm overlaying his around your waist while your other hand fisted into Data’s tunic, needing to crease that immaculate exterior as you pulled him closer. He welcomed your touch, his fingers tracing calculated circles over the iliac arch of your hips.

CPU Alert: Sensory Stack Approaching Buffer Saturation.
Override Accepted.

“Relax into it, kitten.” Lore nipped your earlobe. “We have time until the battle.”

It took .042 seconds for your processes to reintegrate and unpack his words. “The wh—“

A grav-tray drifted into your vision, pushed by a young male Trill wearing little more than shimmering micro-shorts. Bioluminescent cocktails glowed in shot vials, filaments of stardust swirling inside. The server’s spots were stark against his flushed cheeks, his lingering gaze making his desire clear as he eyed Lore’s bare torso framed by the lust-red jacket.

An understandable reaction you were accustomed to seeing as it followed everywhere Lore went.

Lore deliberately ignored the Trill’s eager stare and plucked a shimmering vial of deep amber liquid swirling with amethyst from the tray. His other hand circled your throat, tipping your head back and bringing the vial to your lips.

“Open,” he commanded.

The liquor flowed over your tongue, a rush of bright citrus softened by velvety floral undertones that dissolved into tiny electric sparks in your mouth and crackled down your throat before settling as a blooming warmth in the center of you. Your system identified the liquid as Risian Sunquake, a mild euphoric and stimulant with a 4-second latency.

Pleasure cascaded through you as your taste processes engaged, leaving you momentarily lightheaded as your subroutines translated the intoxicant into a sparkling analog swell of endorphins and dopamine. A soft vertigo shimmered through your sensorium.

Lore dropped the empty glass back onto the tray without a glance, and the Trill reluctantly withdrew, visibly disappointed. The elder android’s attention was laser-focused on you.

You moaned as the lulling warmth spread through your circuits. The music surged, an electric net cast wide across writhing bodies. The sound seemed to form hands, snaking beneath your skin and slipping into every synthetic nerve, thrusting against your duranium bones until the rhythm felt indistinguishable from your husbands' hands moving over your body.

Lore’s lips were at your neck, his teeth biting tally marks into nerve endings with dizzying precision, sending sparks racing along every neural fiber. One powerful hand pulled your hip back tightly against him, the deliberate friction of his swelling shaft rocking between the soft mounds of your ass.

Your processor constantly recalibrated new sensory ceilings every time the twins touched you.

His body perilously close to yours and closing out more atoms between you every second, Data cradled your jaw in one hand, drawing your gaze upward to meet yellow eyes that luminesced beneath the lights. He brought the thumb of his other hand to your liquored lips, pressing lightly to part them. You hadn’t tasted either of your husbands since your transformation, and the intensity of this first contact was breathtaking.

Before, Data’s taste had eluded your organic senses, something you could only describe as faintly polymer. But now your senses consumed him at the molecular level. Clean, delicate polymers interlaced with synthetic proteins and threaded through with traces of conductive gold.

Starlight, you thought. Data tasted like starlight.

The exquisitely sensitive tactile array on your tongue traced every curve and whorl and ridge of his fingerprint with exacting intimacy. You mapped and then stored his signature deep inside your positronic matrix, etched him into your memory core, a permanent star chart.

“Do you taste that, sweetheart?” Lore’s voice was low and excitingly dangerous against your ear, his fingertips tracing a slow, possessive line along your collarbone. “You’re tasting your husband for the first time. Truly tasting him. And there’s an entire universe of him left for you to explore.”

A rush of need raced through you, something primal and desperate. Something out of control that nearly overloaded your carefully-laid protocols. Your knees trembled, thighs parting slightly for the searching touch of Lore’s fingers, for Data’s hips pushing warmth to warmth.

“Imagine how good it will be,” Lore said, his teeth raking the crook of your neck, “when you taste all of us.”

The coalescing sensations would shake you into a collection of static shaped like a person. And gods, how you wanted it, that ecstatic spiral of touch and promise and desired destruction.

Driven by uncharted hunger and balancing on the edge of control, your hand slotted between the tight press of Lore’s body against yours, blindly seeking the live-wire of lust straining behind his pants. At the same time, you gripped the back of Data’s neck to pull him toward you, to devour the angelic bow of his mouth.

Hand reaching for seeking cock and lips parting for a taste of wet mouth, your every process narrowed to the suddenly critical importance of satisfying twin needs.

“Round one! Battle set inbound!”

The announcement cut through the music like a knife, leaving only a background of thrumming sub-bass behind the voice.

“Live from the Shaukaush Arena! Three! Count ‘em, three contenders have signed up to step into the sonic arena to wage war for your acclaim. Prepare your senses for total annihilation as they unleash the most explosive, face-melting musical showdown this side of the Alpha Quadrant! Who will seize sonic supremacy, and who will fall? Let the battle of the bands begin!”

Mouth millimeters from yours, Data pulled back and straightened, his eyes brightening with excitement. “It is time.”

“Time?” Disoriented and anxious, you shook your head, overwhelmed senses scattering to the edges of coherence. The announcement and Data’s words came together in your synapses, creating an awful understanding. “Oh, no. No no no. It’s just you two, right? Not me—“

“Surprise, kitten.” Lore’s grin was dazzling in its predatory confidence, his fingertips tracing a low-voltage line along your spine. 

Panic sparked bright and electric.

New Stimulus: Public-Performance
Emotional Integrity: 63%↓  

You turned to look between them. “You can’t be serious. I can’t perform! I can barely manage my inputs with just the three of us. Lore, this is insane, even for you.”

“I like to outdo myself at every opportunity.”

“Your new form presents extraordinary possibilities,” Data added gently, his warm hands soothing up and down your arms. “This environment is an optimal sandbox to explore and understand your new parameters. Both sonically and emotionally.”

“But… all those people watching.”

“That’s the best part.” Lore raked his knuckles across your cheek with damning softness, a touch calibrated to dismantle and entice simultaneously. “Imagine it. The stage beneath you, all eyes locked onto you, their anticipation building to unbearable tension. They’ll watch you, want you, worship you. Believe me, kitten, nothing else in the universe feels quite like it.”

“I don’t know…” You wavered, system flagging a recursive loop of fear and desire. You thought back to the music, the drinks, their touch. Tools lovingly chipping away at your defenses.

 “We are here with you. You will not be alone and you are far more capable than you believe.” Data’s imploring saffron gaze met yours.

That damned look. So gentle and kind, the softest trap you had ever known.

You shook your head no, but something else slipped from between your lips. “Okay.”

Performance Mode: Pending
Override Fear Gate?

YES.

The Binar duo that opened the battle were good. Painfully good. A flawless six minutes and fourteen seconds act that allowed for an eternity for a many-armed anxiety to unfurl inside you. They finished on a wave of polychrome arpeggios, and the eruption of applause continued even as the platform rotated to present you to the crowd. The antigravs hummed beneath your feet as a living topology of raised hands and upturned faces moved ten meters below.

Holo-projectors flared to life and the lights dimmed all around, leaving the platform suspended in a single wide beam of ethereal light.

A shimmering bank of vintage Earth modular synths resolved into existence in a large horseshoe shape around Data, alive with a chromatic forest of patch cables like bright neural dendrites, LEDs blinking a steady 120bpm. A newer interest of his, he increasingly spoke of the fascinating limitlessness created by the instrument’s very limitations.

Lore stood on your other side, posture insolent as a sleek, black guitar was slung low across his hips, long fingers absently stroking the strings. His eyes glittered as he grinned out over the sea of admirers. Somewhere in that sea a Trill whistled approval.

Data glanced over the rows of oscillators, fingers poised over keys and knobs and sliders utterly alien to you. His expression was pure excited curiosity. “Ready?” he asked, voice pitched for android ears.

“As I’ll ever be,” you whispered, though your vocal processor shaved 0.02 seconds off the reply to smooth the tremor.

Lore raked a palm down the fretboard and the strings growled, hungry for expert fingers. “Then let’s give these people a taste of android superiority.”

Silence fell as the club held its breath, anticipation sharp enough to cut glass.

Data began.

A single sine wave rose from the cathedral of synth banks, pure and resonant. He canted a knob left to right and back again, shaping the lone note to crest and retreat, a pulse sustained and rising. A second high note joined to weave harmony, layering a tapestry for everything else to rest on. The notes grew in resonance, structured pulses spiraling skyward.

The structure echoed through your internal rhythms, an algebraic nudge against your nervous system carving out a path for you and Lore to follow.

When the pulse became a bass-heavy heartbeat, Lore struck. His guitar cut through Data’s lattice, an overdriven chord that reverberated like a detonation. He curled his fingers to bend the pitch, letting feedback bloom into harmonics that arched over the synth drones, chaos courting order.

Pupils dilated, glasses vibrated.

Data’s response was instantaneous. Recalculating, he modulated by quarter tones, weaving a new pounding framework for his twin to chase. Lore answered his call with a raining sequence of rapid-fire notes racing up and down the fretboard. Every subsequent note was hotter than the last.

For one breath, the maelstrom broke.  Lore’s hand skimmed the neck, palm muting the strings until a single clean, glassy arpeggio rang out. No distortion, just immaculate precision that cut through the haze like a sun-shaft through nebular dust.

Data answered by sweeping the low-pass filter across his upper voices, scooping away harmonic clutter so the new arpeggio floated in negative space, radiant against a suddenly translucent bed of synth.  With no words exchanged, they had carved a crystal-clear invitation for your voice.

Fourier plots scrolled across your HUD, pure mathematics rendering as luminous waterfalls of sound. In that moment, something opened in the light and you could see them as you never could before. The infinite patience of algorithms in a war dance with unchained electricity.

You felt it in every circuit and fiberoptic nerve. More than sound, it was a part of you. Music as gravitational field, every equation landing on a single imperative.

Voice.

Desperate to respond, to weave yourself into the incomplete geometry waiting for you, you closed your eyes and breathed in, releasing the first note to join your husbands.

It left your throat as liquid crystal. Wordless, effortless, aching for connection, pitched precisely between Data’s glass-bright notes and Lore’s snarling midrange. Your tone hovered and trilled for eight seconds, a prism refracting their twin frequencies back in fourths before you let it fracture.

Stacked fifths split and spiraled upward like ions bursting from a solar flare.

Data tracked you instantly. Patching a delay line, he fed your own harmonics back on a millisecond delay so your next breath met an echo of the last. The effect wrapped you in a veil of yourself, recursion made into music. Overtones intertwined, sculpting sound into perfect, ethereal clarity.

Lore seized your spun-glass vibrato and shattered it, raking a brutal chord progression across the strings that vibrated through your sternum to give more power to your harmonics. His foot slammed a distortion pedal and a rain of upper-octave squeals arrowed through Data’s blooming synth pulses.

The effect was bright enough to paint oscillating auroral vectors behind your eyelids.

You opened wider for your husbands, letting your pitch drift until it skated the edge of dissonance.

At the center of his modular island, Data’s fingers were a masterful blur of art and math, pushing his rig to lock-step to you, clipping the peaks into velvet as his fingers deftly manipulated knobs and pressed expertly against ivory keys. Your HUD tagged the composite waveform’s spectrum, but all you felt was rapture.

Every sensor flashed overload and yet nothing hurt. There was no pain, no fear. You were pure signal carried along conductive gold in artificial veins.

Lore moved behind you and leaned in, his voice ghosting feral against your ear. “Higher. More.” Artificial tendons washed in a rainbow of lights jumped beneath his wrist as his fingers rubbed quick circles against the strings, creating a cascade of notes that wrapped around your voice like molten filament.

You obeyed, pushing further, reacher higher and deeper simultaneously, clipping through dimensions inside you that you never imagined existed. Layer upon layer of sound stacked between your trinity, revealing previously impossible physics of three waveforms braiding into a single luminous helix.

Your notes climbed higher and with it, the room. The crowd roared, bodies pushing forward as the lights pulsed brighter, colors cycling and bleeding into each other, into each and every person separately and as one. The triangulation point of your group curved into a hook that slipped into the heart of the room, drawing them inexorably toward you.

The music became math and the math became spirit. This was no longer a performance. It was a metamorphosis.

Lore swaggered shamelessly to the edge of the stage and planted his boot on top of a monitor, tipping the head of his guitar toward the crowd so they could watch in awe as he plucked a blistering avalanche of impossible notes across the frets.

The twin suns of Data’s eyes tracked his brother’s grandstanding run, pulling the result into a nova of reverberating beats, gently slotting a chroma of cables into new ports like a sacred act.

Pouring yourself into the rippling void they carved, you skated the event horizon and discovered registers your previous anatomy had never reached. Oxygen simulators flagged capacity, but you didn’t stop.

Processors rerouted power, coolant systems spooled, and you pushed past organic limits into something vast and starborn. Machine and miracle indistinguishable.

Together you reached the same crescendo, feeding off one another, synths thundering a climax beneath the lightning of guitar, your voice a luminous comet arcing between until Data killed his reverb and Lore damped the strings, leaving your final crystalline note suspended in the stillness, a single photon in a vacuum of held breath.

3.2 seconds of silence, and then the crowd exploded into an ecstatic storm. Applause hammered the air in percussive waves, bodies surging toward the platform as it lowered. A legion of hands reached out for the three of you, Data’s radiant smile and polite bow a contrast to Lore, gloriously unrepentant as he spread his arms like a messiah reveling in the adoration.

Lore looked over his shoulder at the Vulcan quartet waiting to take the stage after you. “Good luck following that.”

You, however, felt every cheer and grasping hand as raw voltage against nerves already sizzling with sensory input. Subroutines red-lined, sensory saturation topping out at 94%. Coolant pumps thrummed at your ribs.

Another second in that crush and you feared the euphoria would tip into cascade failure.

Quietly slipping through the press of bodies, you let Data’s broad frame and Lore’s theatrical posturing keep the crowd’s focus while they absorbed the appreciation they both deserved. Environmental overlays plotted the quickest route to a quiet recess, any quiet recess. Nearest low-traffic zone: service corridor fourteen meters ahead. ETA: 12.7 sec. You angled toward it sharply, breath hitching even though you required none.

Before you reached the restrooms at the end, a familiar mass was at your back, proportions you could calculate down to the exact, beloved nanometer. A hand closed over your mouth to stifle your cry of surprise.

“Going somewhere?” Lore purred, moving his hands so the fingertips trailed across your lips.

“I just… need a minute.” You stabilized your vocal modulators as best you could, the warm wall of synthetic muscle at your back igniting a new problem in your neural net.

“And you’ll get it. My way.”

An unmarked, mag-locked door next to you clicked open at his override, and before your exhaled protest could resolve into words, he pulled you quickly inside, the door sealing behind you. The low light near-darkness swallowed the strobing neon outside, the club’s bass a distant heartbeat. Metal shelving and maintenance crates, a utility room smelling of ion lubricants and warm circuitry.

Your pulse and the soft whir of your cooling channels drummed through the narrow space.

Lore pressed you back against a stack of crates, eyes piercing you. “Still trembling.” His fingertips skated the line of your throat, mouth dipping to graze your collarbone. “Let’s see if I can recalibrate that.”

In a blur of movement, his fingers closed around your wrist with a pressure that would have atomized your bones before. He dragged your hand down between your bodies, forcing your palm against the engorged cock straining against his pants with a need that felt urgent enough to split the taut fabric.

“Five weeks and four days,” he said, pupils constricting until they were a singularity of demand swimming in a sea of venom yellow. “That’s how long I’ve been suffering without release. For you.” His grip tightened, crushing the heel of your hand against the rigid shaft.  “And I think you’ve got a pretty damn good idea now just how agonizingly long five weeks and four days can feel to an android.”

Your internal chronometer echoed his frustrated tally, and you recognized the same frustration stalking beneath your skin. A need that existed since the dawn of your new form, unrecognizable to you until then.

“Lore,” you moaned his name, cooling cycles spiking as arousal indices spun toward new ceilings recalculating by the second.

“The only words I want to hear from you are ‘fuck me’ and ‘please’. If you can handle this club, you can handle my cock. And if you can’t, it’s time you learned.” He traced a line from the base of your throat down between your breasts. “If you’re good and beg me just right, I’ll even take it easy on you.”

Neural matrices kicked into overdrive and sent heat burning through every nerve all at once as your eyes snapped up to meet his. “Why the hell would I want you to take it easy on me?”

You seized his face and pulled him down to crush his lips against yours.

The collision hit you like an electrical current, your mouth immediately opening for him, for the invading thrust of his tongue. Every molecule, every compound, every alloy of Lore’s being unraveled on your tongue and poured down your throat, the precise chemical signature of his synthetic saliva sending data packets blazing across your HUD, branding his distinct positronic markers across your every cell. Copper infused bio-gel, ozone, and something far dark and more dangerous, addictive. Starlight’s feral twin.

Luminous filaments of pleasure threaded through your synapses at impossible speeds.

“Fuck me,” you said between starving kisses. “Please.”

Lore tangled his fingers into your hair and wrenched your head back, baring your throat to his teeth. Weeks of forced restraint bent and snapped like overstressed duranium “Until you beg me to stop.”

He broke away abruptly and lifted you onto the stacked crates behind you, spreading your legs roughly to position himself between them. There was no gentleness in his movements, only the savage intent of a man driven beyond restraint.

You welcomed it eagerly, hooking your legs tightly around his hips to pull him flush against you. The firm, fat length of his prick pressed urgently against the aching, electrified center of you, the friction scattering across your dermal net even through the maddening barrier of clothing.

Your hands slipped beneath his jacket and clawed into his shoulders, scoring deep furrows in his bioplast, overwhelmed by your own need. Before the transformation, the intensity of your desire could never have hurt him. But now there was power behind that want. Terrible, destroying power. And still you couldn’t stop.

Lore’s hand slid between your bodies, beneath your clothing and soaking panties, pointedly bypassing the throbbing bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs. With calculating, glorious cruelty, he held your heavy-lidded gaze and slipped two fingers directly into your slick, waiting cunt. No ceremony, no mercy.

Your head snapped back, eyes unfocused on some distant point on the ceiling, vocal processor stuttering, failing, rebooting.

A million micro-sensors embedded in your pelvic lattice fired in sequence, a million new pathways flaring to life at once, thirty-six concentric rings of pressure receptors cascading from deepest core to outer rim. Each datapoint detonated as incandescent pleasure and tripped the fuses on your restraint.

Lore crooked his fingers slightly, brushing a dense cluster of gold-laced nerves. Pleasure algorithms spiked, coolant pumps kicked past capacity. Your spine arched sharply toward him, servos humming as a surge of electrochemical bliss flooded upward like hymns sung through amplifier feedback. Synthetic walls fluttered around him, their bio-polymer texture feeding back haptic telemetry so detailed he could read your desire in microvolts.

“Feel that?” He leaned into breathe the words into the hollow of your throat, pumping once more, slower, deeper. “I’m going to tune your every sensor to worship me.”

His fingers scissored and every ridge sculpted along his fingertips scraped surfaces swollen with raw voltage until your system responded with cascading bursts of delight, limbic emulation spooling fractal halos across your HUD.

Vision centers broke into kaleidoscopic shards and sensor gain spiked as impossibly dense clusters of pleasure receptors erupted down the tight channel now gripping him. Your hips jerked, desperate to ride the intrusion, but Lore flattened his palm against your pelvis to pin you, because no pleasure was had without his willing it. Inside, his fingers stayed excruciatingly still, an exquisite, torturous stasis while his mouth roamed your throat, biting and licking like a predator tasting for pulse.

“Please… Lore…” Your voice fractured on his name as neural traffic redlined. Every carefully honed subroutine rerouted to scream more and more and more.

Lore flexed his buried fingers, just once, daring your pussy to stretch and pulse around him. “You’re going to take every centimeter of me in your every needy emptiness and then beg me for more.”

All higher directives collapsed into one imperative: heavy, punishing weight of cock pistoning inside you.

You clawed frantically at the fastening of his pants, gasping and falling past the edge of sanity.

“Lore.”

One commanding word sliced through the thrum of biofluids in your ears, through the sudden there-and-gone bass beating across the club as the door closed behind a familiar silhouette.

Eyes phosphor-bright, Data stood unflinching as he stared his brother down. “She is shaking. Her heat signature is reaching upper thresholds and—“

In a sliver of a second, Lore pulled his glistening fingers from the slick suck of your pussy and slid them into his twin’s mouth, swirling them across his tongue before pulling them out again with no words but a huge slash of a grin.

Data’s eyes fluttered closed as his breathing stilled for 3.62 seconds. Processing. Fighting for composure. When his golden eyes opened again, they opened on you, sharp and deadly focused, gentleness melted away on heat.

“We will return to our rooms,” he said. “Now.”

Lore gestured with his thumb toward the club. “Don’t you want to stick around to see that we won?”

Data didn’t take his eyes off of you. “That no longer matters.”

Chapter Text

Through a life of devotion
I've been quelling my urges to burst
I've been fighting the notion
To, by love, be coerced
Ghost - Satanized

The doors to your suite had barely whispered shut when Data’s palm collided with your sternum.

He had never been so forceful with you before, pushing you back and pinning you against the rough sandstone wall. Your haptic array flared amber before resolving the impact as non-injurious. The sudden, uncharacteristic sensation punched the breath from your lungs. With no words or warnings, no spoken permissions or kindness, he tore the clothes from your body in less than three breathless heartbeats. A night-cooled breeze rushing from the open terrace brushed over your naked flesh, raising sensor-ghosts of goosebumps.

Structural Integrity: 92% ↓ 

Still high from your performance in the club, both on and off the stage, your HUD burst into a firework of alerts. You cried out his name, a plea or protest that died against the analytical stare centimeters from your own. Anyone lingering in the courtyard beyond the open terrace doors would hear every gasp.

“Safety parameters have shifted.” Data’s body caged you, pinning you to the wall with his striking hand still against your chest. His pupils dilated as he stared you down, pinwheeling black eclipsing the gold. “I require immediate integration.”

“Well, look who finally found his override switch.”

Lore shrugged off the crimson jacket, letting it fall to the floor like a bloody banner before crossing his arms over his broad chest. Leaning against a support column, his pale gold skin gleamed beneath the low light, the indelicate bulge skewing the front seam of his pants. His eyes glowed demented-bright as he watched the show his twin was putting on.

Data dropped to his knees on the polished marble floor like a servo-powered prayer and hooked one of your legs over his shoulder. And just like that, three fingers and his tongue were buried in your pussy with surgical precision. It was so easy, already hot and sloppy-slick from Lore’s work on you minutes earlier.

A kaleidoscope of system alerts merged with the sudden pleasure to momentarily blind and paralyze you.

For a moment, Data stilled and his eyes closed as he inhaled your scent, cataloged the newly tight grip of your cunt around him. Then he exhaled and sealed his mouth over you, tongue slipping efficiently into your folds, attacking your pleasure center with the same brutal determination he applied to any task.

“Oh, fuck—“ You stuttered and buried your fingers in his hair to steady yourself. When the leg you stood on began to shake, you triggered a structural lock, knee joint freezing before you crumpled like a rag.

Data flattened his palm against your lower abdomen, anchoring you and compressing the space around his thrusting fingers. Could he feel the contour of his fingers from the outside the way you often laid your hand between your hips to feel his cock swelling and rearranging your insides?

You arched and bucked helplessly, warnings blinking across your vision for attention, overlapping and unresolved. Whimpering pathetically, you looked up and met Lore’s eyes. One large hand wrapped around his freed cock, pumping in perfect rhythm to the thrust of his brother’s digits. On the brink of a dozen subsystem collapses, you reached for him, desperate and pleading with broken noises.

He moved forward smoothly, graceful stride masking his predatory intent. For a moment, he smiled down at you as he let you cling to the strong line of his shoulders. Lore would give you what you wanted, but never in a way you could expect.

“Poor thing can barely stand,” he said, tongue darting out to wet his lower lip. “Let me help you.”

His large hand snapped to collar your throat and hold you fast against the wall. With a bruising kiss, his teeth dragged across your lips, tongue invading your mouth with the same possessive brutality his cock promised. His free hand massaged your breast roughly, rolling your nipple between thumb and finger until sparks flared bright and hot through your chest, cascading down to blast against the storm Data was conjuring between your thighs.

From the outside, it might have looked as if all pleasure belonged to you, a monarch at the center of her servants. But weeks of famine turned them to hunters, and you were nothing more or less than prey to be chased down and devoured by twin appetites, never stopping until the hunger was satisfied.

Data curled his fingers inside you and sucked your clit in rhythmic pulses at the same time Lore’s mouth found your nipples. Even pinned, you shook and arched and spasmed, your cunt flooding and constricting, body hammering at the threshold of orgasm.

Input Saturation: 92%… 93%…

That ecstatic door yawned wide, and just as quickly slammed shut. Data pulled his fingers from you and the warmth of his mouth was gone, the cool, unwelcome air licking at your soaked center.

“No!” The sob was wrenched from you as your hand instinctively shot down to finish yourself.

Data’s much larger hands encircled your wrists, pinning them against your abdomen. Despite his kneeling position, there was no question who was in charge, the cold authority in his eyes freezing you faster than his grip.

“Do not touch yourself,” he ordered, voice taut with control. “You will come only when I allow it, and I am not yet ready to allow it.”

Was that the tyrant or the protector speaking? He was mapping unfamiliar territory with you, steering you both through an upgrade neither fully understood, but desire could make even the most disciplined officer reckless.

He rose and took a step back. “On your knees.”

You folded immediately, holding his gaze as your knees hit the hard floor, spine straight and face tilted up to him at the most pleasing submissive angle.

“Lore.”

Data spoke the word like a summons and Lore slid instantly to his brother’s side, all lethal elegance and insidious glee. Their synchronicity was flawless, telepathic.

They stood in front of you, a symmetrical wall of android perfection, looking down at you panting and quivering. Anticipation crackled through your circuits as every prediction your systems modeled converged on only one outcome.

Data lifted his tunic to unfasten his pants. Slowly, he withdrew his swelling cock, and your vision narrowed on the virile pillar emerging centimeter by thick centimeter, girth expanding to sit heavy in his hand. Lore was already feral-hard, glistening and shamelessly leaking fluid. A pearlescent drop beaded at the tip before gravity pulled it over the glans to trace slowly down the underside of the shaft.

Your lips parted on instinct.

Lore stroked it once, base to crown, spreading the wet sheen and smirking arrogantly when your pupils dilated.

Data stood like a golden statue, hands clasped behind his back. His cock was untouched by fluid, a model of an erotic control wholly out of your reach. Beneath the skin of that pale prick ran a map of veins like circuitry, delicate pathways you longed to follow with your tongue.

What a crime, that dryness, you thought. I’m an ocean.

Salivary glands activated involuntarily. You swallowed, throat suddenly dry despite the slick wetness pooling between your thighs. Your eyes darted between them, breath cycling raggedly as your anticipation metrics climbed toward overload.

Obedient, you waited for the next touch or command, hands clawing into your thighs for restraint.

“Swallow us.”

Data’s words vibrated through you like a lock tumbling open.

Your hands trembled as they traced upward over the musculature of their slim thighs, dense synthetic fibers firm and familiar even under their clothes.  Data’s expression remained unreadable. Lore’s did not.

“I can’t wait to see what you can do now that I don’t need to let you breathe,” he said, his eyes intent on your mouth.

Memories flashed in rapid succession:  Lore yanking his cock free of your throat, slick and glistening, you gasping, choking, lungs burning, pulling in only as much oxygen as his patience would allow before he plunged in again.

Lore would wait. It was Data who had commanded the bend of your knee this time, and you’d take him first.

Mouth open, you looked up at him as you leaned forward and took the head of his cock into your mouth, moaning at the weight of him resting on your tongue. He tasted clean, polymer and ozone distinct from the rest of him, like a synthetic musk. Pristine, immaculate. You ached to corrupt him, smear your combined fluids over him until he was slick and filthy, until every gorgeously sculpted vein pulsed obscenely beneath your tongue.

You sealed your lips around him and sank forward, hollowing your cheeks and sucking softly at first, taking him barely past the head. You wanted to make him want you, to wrap those hands around your head and take you just as he had against the wall.

Deeper and deeper still until the throbbing cockhead tapped the back of your throat. His eyelids flickered, a micro-stutter you felt like a pulse. That was all the signal you needed.

Taking him all the way, your throat accommodated him easily, and you immediately began swallowing around him, massaging and moaning vibrations through him. No unintentional gag reflex, no need for oxygen, his thick girth filling every bit of space in your mouth.

You frantically sucked and deepthroated him like a war effort, an incursion of licks and spirals and plunges, hands sliding around to squeeze his ass and pull him into you. Pulling back, you sucked the sensitive coronal rim, causing a sharp jerk of his hips, then dove to engulf him once again.

He exhaled a single syllable of binary static, pleasure compressed to noise. His hand tangled roughly in your hair, authority bleeding through his fingers as he pulled you off his prick with a wet popping sound, saliva-threads snapping between you like liquid crystal. He yanked your head back to force you to look up at him, golden gaze a flat warning in no need of words.

Frustration and arousal tangled in your neural pathways, but before it could overtake you, Lore closed in.

“My turn.”

Barely contained violence hummed beneath the elder android’s movements, and when your tongue flicked out to capture a thin ribbon of fluid sliding over the crown, his prick twitched upward. Drawing a slow, luxurious lick from base to tip, you gathered the fluid into your mouth, locking eyes with him while making a noisy show of swallowing that small offering. He hissed through his teeth when you traced the sensitive slit at the tip.

“Fuck, that tongue…” His head fell back for a moment, letting you deliver teasing licks to the flushing head before his gaze snapped back down to you. “Playtime’s over.”

His fingers caged your head as he pulled you forward to bury the full length of his dick in your slick, wanting throat before you could recalibrate. “Suck.”

A shudder wracked you, and you obeyed almost before the word had left his mouth, sucking hard as he battered your throat, vulgar wet sounds filling the modest suite. Eyes rolling back, you gave into his assault, moaning uncontrollably as he pistoned into you without mercy.

Your body no longer needed mercy.

No pause or patience, his hips slapped your cheeks as he slid in hot and fast, hammering viciously. Short, brutal strokes that exploded glitches against your vision. Anticipatory fluid poured in viscous rivulets down your throat, which you swallowed eagerly.

Esophageal Stress: 36%

Unconcerned for the stresses of the flesh, you dismissed the warnings with all the others. You relaxed into it, letting Lore’s rhythm bludgeon you open. Data’s fingers traced your lower lip where it stretched around his brother, a touch that sent digital packets of need straight to your flooding cunt. Your hips canted, trying to find friction, desperate for relief, but you only increased your own torture.

Lore bucked faster, his laughter ecstatic. “Fucking phenomenal.”

His moans grew deranged as your throat constricted rhythmically around him. Hips thrusting wildly, every plunge of his cock down your throat was explicitly designed to disassemble and dominate, robbing you of coherence. Your hands scrambled desperately at his thighs, clinging, pleading silently as your systems jittered from his punishing pace.

“Switch.”

One word from Data, and the universe reordered.

Lore withdrew with a displeased grunt, twin saliva strings connecting you, your mouth flushed and swollen. “Afraid you’ll blow her circuits if you let her off leash?”

Ignoring the jab, Data guided himself back to your mouth, but this time pushed past comfort thresholds, testing capacity by angling your head back so he could slot his cock directly down your throat. You welcomed him, throat adjusting and re-optimizing around the intrusion. Lore’s attack had taught your body many things.

Data held himself sheathed balls-deep, engorged sac resting on your chin, letting you pulse and flutter around him as he held your eyes without wavering. Seconds passed, eternities, and still you remained, refusing to be anything but the vessel of pleasure and obedience he wanted in that moment. Your oral sensors sparked as they lovingly cataloged every exquisite contour and ridge of his cock.

A tremor shuddered through his body, though it was gone so quickly you couldn’t be sure it had been there.

Lore fingered the saliva running from the corner of your mouth. “Look at you, my perfect, filthy little android.” His foot snaked over to nudge your legs apart, and he hummed in appreciation at what he found. “Mmm, that lovely pussy is just hemorrhaging fluid.” 

Even as he said it, more trickled out to land in beads on the floor beneath you.

Satisfied with your devotion, Data pulled his cock free of your mouth, but made no move to replant himself.

“Please—“ Your voice cracked, murmuring broken fragments of worshipful filth.

“You are performing above expectations,” Data said, his praise lighting you up. His head cocked to the side as he looked down at you, damnably unperturbed. “Would you like to better understand how thoroughly we own you?”

You nodded frantically, dissolving into devotion.

“That is the correct answer.” Data’s fingers twined tightly into your hair, holding you immobile. “Now, open wide. I expect no resistance and complete submission.”

Standing hip-to-hip with his brother, Lore swatted your cheek with his wet prick. “We’re going to fuck that pretty face until your memory engrams scramble.”

Synchronizing to some wordless algorithm, the twins gripped their dicks tightly and alternated filling your mouth and throat in seamless, relentless rhythm. Back and forth they plunged into your mouth, one pulling out while the other took its place. Left, right, left, trading places like pistons in perfect phase.

They allowed no pause, no mercy, steadily becoming rougher, hungrier, more demanding. Their thrusts became frenetic, urgency sharpening each motion, hands tightening possessively in your hair, fingers grasping your jaw, gripping and caressing simultaneously, asserting ownership.

Lore fucked himself hard into your mouth, and two beats later they swapped, Data gliding along your tongue and down your throat in one smooth plunge, the crown tracing a shiny line across your lower lip in passing. Fat cockheads bulged against your cheeks, stretched your jaw wide, claimed every fraction of space. You opened on command, muscles rippling in programmed hospitality.

One moment fingers lovingly stroked your flushed face as its owner hushed your whimpers, and the next another hand seized your jaw in its iron grip while beautiful threats were spat down at you. Possession and tenderness woven like braids.

Soon the rhythm collapsed into hunger.

Thrusts deepened and breath frayed. Data’s composure fractured into gasps, Lore’s grunts hardened into profanity. Their desperation became a sea-storm, and you knelt at its center, praying to be wrecked on its shore.

You shifted restlessly, hips rolling frantically, seeking friction against empty air, synthetic nerve endings pulsing with unsatisfied need. Saliva and pre-ejaculate dripped grotesquely down your chin. A maddening ache amplified your desperation and submission simultaneously, every thrust pushing you deeper into a spiral of erotic delirium. Thrusts and strokes and pulses aligned into a single algorithmic cadence: input, output, feedback, until throat and cunt felt like a single circuit. 

Input Saturation: 95%
Core Temperature: Threshold Reached

Both shafts surged forward simultaneously, distending your cheeks. Data reached the back of your tongue first, but Lore shoved close behind, their crowns colliding inside you, a startling bump that made both men groan. The competing pricks pulsed in stereo, twin suns on the verge of flaring.

You wanted to swallow supernovae, wanted to be the solar system they obliterated in their explosion. To transform your mouth into a willing, worshipful altar for them to sacrifice on.

Your hands wrapped around the base of their cocks and pumped firm and fast, all the while sucking and writhing your tongue as well as you could around the tight press choking you.

Great stellar gods, how you missed this, the fraternal competition  you benefitted from so richly.

The suite rang with slick sounds and stuttered curses, all of it synthesizing into a single, rising note of inevitability. Their pace shattered into chaos as they hit critical mass.

Lore broke first, a fierce jerk of hips, cock spasming violently as he groaned and cursed. Hot, thick sweetness flooded your mouth, the taste almost narcotic. You swallowed on reflex, starving for him, sucking and tonguing for more when Data’s control finally fractured.

A guttural gasp tore from the younger android. His head tipped back, the first moment he’d looked away from you. His shaft throbbed and unloaded deep in your throat, releasing a deluge of synthetic cum that crashed into Lore’s, doubling the volume to dizzying excess.

You tried to drink it all, but weeks of pent-up need spilled past the swollen seal of your lips, pouring from the corners of your mouth and down your chin to fall across your breasts. Thick, opalescent strands clung to tongue and lips. 

Lore withdrew and Data followed, their mixed fluids pouring free from the obscene chalice of your mouth.

Trembling, you cupped both hands under your chin, determined to push every precious drop back inside. The brother’s elegant android fingers joined yours, sweeping the fluid from your flesh and smearing it over your tongue, forcing you to swallow every trace of them. Data’s bright polymer musk melded with Lore’s heated sweetness, your system dutifully cataloguing the distinct chemical signatures

“Such a mess.” Lore thumbed fluid from your cheek and brought it to your lips for you to lick clean. “I don’t think you’ve ever looked better.”

Insensate and still in the grip of madness, you reached for them. “P—please. More.”

Long, powerful arms pulled you to your feet. Drunk on lust and synthetic endorphins, your legs shook and threatened collapse, but they closed in before gravity could take you. Bracketed by twin hulls of living alloy, their combined heat radiated through you, flesh and fire and need melting away the final remnants of coherence.

Data cradled your face with great care, but then kissed you so fiercely it bordered on pain. Hard, hungry, sharing your fluids between you.

“I do not know if I possess the control to keep my cock out of you much longer.” Data spoke the words against your lips, eyes closed for several seconds before his voice dropped back into the register of absolute authority. “But you will wait for it. You will wait until you believe you will die without it.” He took a step back and nodded at his brother. “On the floor.”

Weak and trembling, pleasure-blind and barely aware of your surroundings, you swayed and stumbled into Lore’s arms. He caught you easily, half-carrying you into the lounge beyond, where austere basalt benches ringed a low, hissing brazier. The simple order of Vulcan design felt almost like a balm on your overloaded nerves. Within seconds, he had you laid out on the cold marble floor that heated rapidly beneath you. A flurry of movement, hands adjusting every angle as though arranging an offering on an altar. Calves folded, feet flat, knees spread indecently. Lighting carved sleek highlights along the tremor-tight muscles of your thighs, your abundant fluid glistening on your skin.

Lore knelt between your parted thighs and impatiently, inelegantly, pushed his pants down just far enough over his ass to free the entirety of his cock and balls. The fat column of muscle bobbed excitedly, weeping fluid over your abdomen. His eyes blazed and raked over you, hands moving deliberately along your inner thighs, agonizingly slow, stopping torturously short of your aching pussy, cruelly drawing out your desperation to unbearable extremes.

Need thundered through you. You arched, hips lifting toward him, body pleading as structural integrity warnings fluctuated wildly.

Neural Buffer: Critical

Maybe Data was right. Maybe you would die from this.

“Pleasepleaseplease—” A blubbering, sobbing mess, your vocal processor glitched with the overload, breaking your pleas into frantic bursts of raw need, reaching toward Lore, your dignity forgotten and beyond repair. Every sensor screamed to be filled.

Lore’s prick twitched in pleasure at your every plea, ribbons of pre-cum painting you. “Look at you, absolutely mindless with need. I like you best like this, you know.” He fell over you, bracing himself on his hands so the hot, tight press of android body you so desperately craved remained horribly absent. Compounding this betrayal, his soaked cockhead nudged at your entrance, but went no further. “This what you want?”

Your legs shook violently and you spread yourself wider, vulnerable beyond measure, cunt clenching around nothing. Need fed confusion and confusion fed frustration, ballooning inside you.

Focus collapsing to a pinpoint, you briefly wondered if you could overpower him. Take what you needed. Leave him as sprawled and helpless as you. But then you remembered Data, somewhere unseen behind you, watching his brother drive you to the edge of madness. He was just as complicit in your torment. Perhaps even more so, denying you multiple times already and directing his twin, allowing the torture with no move to intervene.

Did his cock ache watching you beg and fall to pieces beneath his twin? Was this punishment for your slow acclimation, the weeks of careful treatment and denial of their own needs? Was this the price of your sin? Or was it more gentle acclimation disguised as cruelty?

The reason didn’t matter, only the ache.

“Why the tears, kitten? You need something? This?” Lore pressed forward a millimeter, just enough to part your slick, swollen folds. “Or this?” He angled the tip up against your throbbing clit, sparks shooting through every dermal sensor.

Your back arched painfully, a ragged cry ripping free.

“Monitor vitals.” Data’s controlled voice broke through your haze.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this hard. Just look at her, brother.” Lore spoke to his twin, but was taunting you. “She’d let us burn the universe if we fucked her first. Open wider for me.”

Before you could comply, he hooked both forearms beneath your knees and folded your legs back until your ankles hovered by your ears. Bracing himself on the back of your thighs, his head dipped to lick the valley between your breasts, circled slowly around each one, then sucked each nipple in turn while his cock sawed slick and maddening along your slit, but never entered.

“Please!” Your fist slammed down onto the floor next to you, splintering the marble.

“Enough.” Data’s voice cut through your mounting hysteria.

“You’re lucky the commander’s here. Kindness was never my virtue.” Lore leaned in to whisper hotly against your ear. “I’d much rather watch you beg and cry until you break. But we’ll save that for the next time you’re alone with me.”

He shifted and dragged your legs around his narrow waist. His weight settled over you, warm and welcome, making you shudder violently with need. Gripping your jaw, he wrenched you to face him as his fiery eyes burned into you.

“Look at me, and don’t you dare look away. I want to watch you take me.”

Lore wrapped you in his arms, a cage masquerading as comfort. He slanted his hips and in one slow, remorseless slide, the fat, pulsing head of his cock breached your entrance.

Not a thrust, but a slow, calculated invasion against your tight resistance, his girth prying you open a millimeter at a time and dragging along thousands of minutely-tuned sensors. He watched your face, the contortion, mouth falling open, brows knitted together, his smile growing sharper with every micro-expression, pushing your walls so wide your processors fired emergency recalibrations.

A jumble of binary flashed across vision that glitched and pixelated for 0.012 seconds, resolving into spinning cubes of reality before clarity bloomed up from the chaos just in time to see the demented joy in Lore’s eyes as he buried the entirely of his cock in you in a way your organic body could never allow, so deep his hipbones pressed mercilessly against you, his soft sac resting against your ass. His invasion was shockingly fresh, as if you were losing your virginity all over again inside the new body. Certainly it was true, the new flesh knowing nothing but its original dimensions and few pleasures.

“That’s it,” Lore spoke against your mouth, pushing into you harder. “Take every fucking bit of me.”

A hiss of static crackled briefly through your auditory sensors before coalescing into discernible words. “Hold. Allow her sensory buffers to stabilize.”

The commander was in control, but defiance was written through Lore’s code.

Frame taut with tension like a serpent set to strike, Lore didn’t thrust, but made minuscule shifts and nearly imperceptible adjustments hidden beneath inhales and alignments for the pretense of comfort, teased with the rhythmic flexing of his cock that subtly massaged your wet channel.

They had spent the last hour tormenting the patience and dignity from you, leaving nothing left for you to protect.

A whimper fractured into a needy, pathetic groan more animal than your former organic throat could have produced. Your hands flew to grip Lore’s pert ass, fingers biting into the flesh to pull him hard into you as your hips bucked upward to steal friction from him.

Instinct eclipsed language.

More. Deeper. Now.

“Feral little thing’s rattling the bars of her cage.” Lore’s delighted laughter hit you like a slap. “What do you think, baby brother? Should we let her out?”

“Parameters satisfied,” Data said, voice clinical as he circled your interlocked bodies with the detachment of a scientist logging specimens.  “Proceed.”

Finally, Lore began moving inside you, but it wasn’t the pitiless brutality you expected. His thrusts were unhurried, unbearably gentle. Each measured glide of his hips was controlled, almost cautious. That restraint was like a knife held against your ribs.

Your OS couldn’t decide whether to catalog the anomaly acclimation protocol or prolonged stress-test, but the effect was the same: all data streams pointed to immolation.

Did he know he was stoking a fire it felt you could never extinguish? Yes, Lore always knew what he was doing, but so did you.

A beast driven beyond reason or self-preservation, you clawed at his back, scoring the flawless golden bioplast with deep, frantic strokes, teeth sinking into his shoulder hard, marking him tooth and nail. He moaned in response, lit by your desire to trigger his prey drive.

“Foolish child.” Lore shook his head, smile mirthless while his eyes blazed their warning yellow. “Let’s see what you can handle.”

Pinning you with his weight and holding you tight, Lore began a punishing, brutal pace that would have fucked your organic body to pieces, hips snapping against you with so much force your HUD stacked stability warnings. 

His mouth captured yours harshly, teeth and tongue, wet and deep and unapologetically filthy, tongue exploring you as relentlessly as his cock spiking inside your depths, mirroring every careful, precise thrust, swallowing your high-voltage moans, splitting your cunt so mercilessly it felt as if he was trying to carve new dimensions into you. To anyone watching, it wouldn’t be clear if he was fucking or fighting you.

You locked your legs around him like a vise so he understood you were in this, that you would never retreat. You were built for this, sculpted to take him, to take his needs and appetites and angers, to find new configurations for flesh.

Every punishing thrust drove chthonic wails from you. The swell of his pectorals crushed against your breasts, carved abdomen grating across yours, dermal net registering new micro-textures. Even the minute drag of his chest past your nipples ignited white-hot starbursts behind your eyes.

Your palms raked greedy over him, over sculpted shoulders, fingering every rib and rope of synthetic muscle working at his sides and back. Mapping him, storing topography.

Heat radiated off him as he jackhammered you with exquisite violence. Intermittently, he angled his cock upward to drag the head agonizingly slow over that most sensitive matrix of nerve clusters buried in the anterior wall of your cunt. He growled when your teeth sank into the join of neck and shoulder, nanofluid beading on the surface.

Inside, he filled every weeping space, thick, throbbing, friction licking sparks across hypersensitive walls. Sensors shot scrolling telemetry you dismissed without care.

“Come on!” Lore wrapped a dangerously elegant hand around your throat, eyes flashing centimeters from yours. “Why is that vocal processor still working? You need more? I can give it to you. I can give you so much more.”

He punctuated each word with a thrust that had the full weight of his capabilities behind it. You had no idea you could take so much. The impact jostled your haptics and shook your duranium skeleton to its alloyed core, but you could take it.

That, and how much more?

“Don’t stop!”

“Stop?” Lore laughed. “Oh, sweetheart, we haven’t even begun yet. I’ll consider stopping when the sounds I rip from you bring security running to save you.” His breath was hot against your ear. “But no one’s going to save you, little rabbit. Certainly not me, and not my brother. Do you see how he enjoys watching me do this to you?”

You licked and bit at Lore’s shoulder, catching Data's inscrutable stare as he passed behind him.

“You are maintaining structural limits at only 30-percent, Lore.” Data’s voice was a strict monotone, but the intensity of his fixed gaze betrayed him.“Increase to fifty-percent of expected threshold and no less.”

“Hear that, kitten? The commander’s no boy scout when the clothes come off, not if he doesn’t have to be. He’s a fucking dictator. Isn’t that fun, to find that out now, like this?”

Each slam of Lore’s hips rocked you up the polished floor for a nanosecond before he yanked you back, a rag doll held to a golden piston. His painfully engorged prick crashed against your innermost sensor arrays with ruthless precision, hammering new constellations inside you. Sparks of overwhelming pleasure fired through your pelvic matrices and you distantly heard yourself screaming his name, begging and sobbing for more, your own voice echoed back in a recursive loop, distorted and raw.

Coherent thoughts would no longer form. Your existence narrowed to the ruthless, pounding pleasure of Lore’s cock inside you, his body pinning yours, his breath hot against your skin. Nothing mattered but the pleasure, the pain, the savage slam of cock, the perfect violence of his stake driving through you.

That was where Lore shined, in dismantling you whether you liked it or not and then making you want it, convincing you that was all you ever wanted all along.

Yes and more and Lore and a thousand adulations poured from you between unhinged cries of pleasure and animal moans, writhing hopelessly under him, voice cracking with need, thighs tightening around his waist so hard it would have fractured a weaker frame. You bucked upward and grabbed his ass, desperate to pull him deeper inside you while your teeth and tongue continued to taste him.

“She is too far gone to control herself. We will have to do it for her.” Data’s voice cut through your mania as he continued his circling with hands clasped behind his back, a methodical moon orbiting crashing bodies. “Flip her. Face down, ass high.

“Now you’re speaking my language.”

Lore had to peel you off of him as you would rather have torn yourself limb from limb than let go of him. But your fever made you graceless and he easily took control and twisted your malleable body into the desired configuration, though it was more lewd than anything Data had asked for.

Burning hot cheek and chest pressed into the cold marble, your hips lifted as high as they could go, spine curved like a bowstring ready to snap. The position was intimate and utterly obscene, but your body easily accepted the intense sculpting. Lore knelt behind you and used his knees to force yours further apart, creating a new submissive geometry so your slick inner thighs framed an obscenely open, aching pussy.

You felt the heat of twin gazes on you and arched your back dramatically, processors firing and burning up shame. Every position they put you in was more vulnerable than the last, leaving you at a distinct disadvantage. Exposed, delirious, a trembling mass of need that would do anything they asked if only they would satisfy the aching emptiness throbbing deep inside the well of your cunt.

“What a view.” Lore’s warm hands grazed up the back of your thighs and gripped the soft globes of your ass, spreading you apart unapologetically to sigh his approval. His fingers wrenched your folds open so far that your cheeks flushed from the scrutiny. The blunt head of his cock bobbed and brushed against your clit, propelling you to whine and push back against him.

Data’s fingers skimmed your asscheek as he passed closely. “Optimal penetration vector.”

“What my brother means to say…” Lore slid two exploratory fingers inside you, coaxing vulgar moans as he scissored you open. “This position suits you. Open and helpless. And so fucking wet. Look at the mess you’re making of this nice Vulcan floor.”

Lore removed his fingers and ruthlessly gripped your hips to hold you in place. There was no reason to be gentle. You were no longer fragile, he couldn't easily damage you, and it seemed he loved nothing more than testing the limits of your new form. 

One decisive thrust and he was buried to the hilt inside you once more, his hips slapping hard against your ass as he filled and stretched you, immediately beginning an uninterrupted cadence of deep, relentless strokes.

The immediate pleasure tore a ragged cry from your chest. Your nails raked the glossy marble trying to find purchase, gouging crescent trails across the veining. Finally, you pressed your palms against the floor and pushed back against him, trying to double Lore’s already punishing pace and chase the orgasm that remained infuriatingly out of reach.

Your cries grew louder, increasingly frantic, breaking into ragged fragments that dissolved into barely coherent pleas, begging for mercy, for relief, for more. Always more. Hips rolling, spine flexing, you drove back against him while panting against the floor, hot breath fogging its slick surface.

Why in the name of every god that might have existed would they not give you relief? It felt as if every cable and conduit in your body was slowly being bent and deformed in their cruel fists.

“Harder. Fuck me harder. Please.” You rasped the words between gritted teeth, desperation gaining an angry edge.

A long shadow fell across you.

Data crouched beside your head, his hand settling between your shoulder blades, long fingers splayed. He pressed down firmly, pinning your upper body to the cool marble, your breath forced out in a long grunt. “Calm yourself.”

His voice was no harsher than an impartial diagnostic prompt, yet absolute.

Obedience was a reflex.

You dismissed the blinding warnings stacking across your HUD, sent command-line prompts to regulate your breathing and restore stability, relaxed your body until it made no move or shape other than those they commanded. Even as chaos recalibrated into order, nothing eased the feral, consuming need swelling wildly inside you. An over-clocked reactor, yet you remained still beneath his palm.

Data’s easy control allowed a foundation for your processors to gain a measure of clarity. You had been fighting the battle of an illusory self. A self that had the wisdom and self-assurance to see the moving pieces on the game board below, to see the pieces interacting and know exactly how to move each one.

No, you weren’t that self. Not yet. For now, you were an instrument on which pleasure was played, not the player. You sighed and let surrender wash you into tides of relief, of experience with no burden of control.

“Very good,” Data said, fingers sliding tenderly through your hair. “Now, remain still and take him.”

Pleased with your compliance and no longer preoccupied with wrangling your runaway needs, Lore focused on your cunt. Focused on what his cock was doing to you, doing for you. With your hips in the firm grip of his hands, he alternated deep, slow thrusts that pulled equally deep, slow moans from you alongside barbaric bursts of intensity that rewarded him with your gasps.

Long plunges into you that swallowed him to the hilt, and then a rapid flurry of shallow snaps, each one a hammer-blow angled downward to drag the flared head over the thick nexus of neurogel receptors buried deep inside you.

Pleasure flared through your pelvic lattice in torrents of fractal lightning, your cries skating across the floor.

Data paced an ellipse around you. The motion was disorienting and hypnotic, his measured footsteps echoing softly. He observed every thrust his twin made, every trembling, desperate arch of your spine. His dominance was intoxicating, exerted equally over you and his brother, both of you bound by the invisible chains of his command.

“You’re behaving so well for us, aren’t you? Taking cock like a good girl.” Lore spread your cheeks wider and circled your tighter, unused channel with his thumb. “And good girls get their asses filled. Would you like that, kitten? Hmm? Use your words. I can’t hear you when you’re babbling like that.”

Your systems registered surprise as those first few, slim centimeters of thumb slipped in easily past the tight ring of artificial muscle.

Secondary Lubrication: Engaged

Every muscle in your body seized unexpectedly as Lore’s thumb slowly brushed across countless nerves far more densely packed than your organic body had possessed in that region. It felt as if the intensity could rival that of your pussy, giving you twin channels of extreme pleasure resting side by side. But you wouldn’t know unless he gave you exactly what he threatened.

“Yes! Please fuck my ass. Lore, please…”

You didn’t dare push back into him again, obediently holding still, shivering under hand and cock, praying your pathetic bleating would compel him to slide that long digit into you and see just how deep and plentiful those nerves stretched.

Lore turned his wrist, slow and deliberate, teasing the hypersensitive sleeve. “Good fucking luck keeping me out of this.”

Data’s polished shoes passed half a meter in front of you. Heavy with ache, you reached for him as best you could with your upper body flattened to the floor while Lore worked insanity into your needy holes. But still he circled.

“She is getting close,” Data said.

Seconds later, a familiar sound reached you. The rustle of clothing. Another pass and Data’s tunic fell to the floor in front of you. The thud of shoes dropping to marble. Pants unfastening. All hitting marble in succession. Data came to a stop in front of you, but, face pressed to the floor, all you could see was beautifully sculpted feet and lower legs.

Lower legs that were suddenly bared as he dropped his pants and stepped out of them gracefully. Even without seeing it, you could imagine that body, recreate it from memory, the wonderful swells and valleys, the tucked waist and flared hips, perfect, pale gold flesh that shimmered like stardust. You moaned his name, and only once it escaped did you realize the name had broken into a sob.

When all of his naked flesh appeared, it was beneath you, a blink that reordered your reality.

He slipped effortlessly between you and the floor, firm chest warm against you. And his cock, hard and thick and pressed tightly against your lower abdomen. You instinctively moaned and rocked against it, but whined in protest when Lore withdrew from your aching cunt with a slick pop. But just as quickly, his hand wrapped around his brother’s shaft to guide it to your well-used entrance.

Data’s long arms curled around you, one palm cradling your head to his chest while the other spanned your ribcage to anchor you to him. “You may thrash and scream as necessary, but you will take us both.”

Gods, yes. That’s all you wanted. Yet you remained quiet, afraid they would deny you if they thought for even a second that you couldn’t control yourself.

In perfect synchronicity, Data flexed his hips upward at the same time Lore’s hands found your waist and hauled you back, impaling you easily on the younger android’s pike. A hiss ripped from your throat as your wet walls recalibrated around a shape both familiar and startlingly new.

A ragged sigh slipped between Data’s lips as he held you still, buried to the root inside of you. “You are molding perfectly around me. Compression eighty-six percent, but we will increase that number.”

“Do you think you can handle us? I can’t wait to find out.” Lore’s throbbing cockhead pressed slick and hot against your other greedy aperture, teasing, threatening, lighting up the nerves around that tighter entrance. “Either way, it’s happening.”

A pulse of panic flickered through your circuits as the lust-haze briefly cleared and you understood what your body was expected to do. You had only just acclimated to the stretch and pressure of a single cock. Now, a second was set to simultaneously invade your other untouched, greedy, and desperately sensitive entrance, spiking a zone still mapping its sensor grid.

The broad tip pushed against your taut, virgin port to caress new nerves, and fear burned up on a wave of need. With one hand braced flat on your lower back and the other gripping his prick tightly, Lore pressed forward without remorse.

The bulbous head breached the tight ring and led the full, thick pillar of muscle forward to fill your ass completely. Your muscles contracted and quivered as you were stuffed impossibly full on rock-hard twin cocks.

2.8 seconds of stuttering gasps, tension and trepidation flared momentarily through your sensory array.

With a perfect android form willed by a near-god, your internal systems recalibrated, artificial muscles relaxing to accommodate the necessary configuration, lubrication doubling to welcome the brothers into the snug cradle of your body. You buried your face against Data’s chest, fingertips digging into his strong shoulders as you finally felt that taut ring close around Lore’s thick base.

Data held you tighter in his embrace to ensure you took every centimeter of his brother’s cock without resistance. “Do not move. Let it happen.”

“Fuck…” Lore groaned from the simple pleasure of your body constricting around him, made even tighter by the close crowd of his twin’s substantial girth.

Arousal Load: Reconfiguring.

A million-point ecstatic starfield blasted between and around your cunt and ass. Millions of internal relays fired and communicated at once, setting off a grid of nerves singing a thousand-volt hymn to android cock.

“Do you see? You take us beautifully.” The hard edge of authority in Data’s voice was softened on praise for you. “ I am very proud of you. I will be even prouder when I can see you take what comes next.”

Lore was the first to shatter the stillness.

He moved slower than you knew wanted, the grip of your body around him almost unbearably tight. The drag of his cock was exquisite, and your slick channel clutched after him, trying to keep him buried. He drove back with a slow grind that massaged a tremor from you and Data both.

The moment Lore drew back, Data answered with a precise upward thrust driven into your depths. Data retreated halfway, creating space for Lore’s thick shaft to reclaim lost territory in your ass. They traded depth in measured cadence. Lore withdrew and Data thrust, Data yielded and Lore speared forward, alternating their movements in flawless, deliberate synchrony. Seamless, mechanical, and beautifully perverse.

Two rhythms welded into rolling tides that stroked every receptor in alternating waves, fullness never ebbing, pleasure never pausing. With every coordinated stroke your consciousness flickered at the edge of whiteout

Your body learned theirs quickly. Lattice fibers expanded, sensors bloomed online in concentric rings to accommodate the dual mass. The space inside you widened, and still you were filled. Growing, but never empty. And once they felt your body open fully to them, their restraint snapped.

Your perfected form was safe from everything but pleasure. No longer posing a danger to you, their powerful android nature could unfurl to its full, magnificent potential.

With newfound freedom, they surged forward together, hips slamming into the core of you in unison, one piston below and one behind. They fucked you hard and comet-quick with unrestrained fervor, two algorithms merging into one flawless waveform. Each synchronized thrust slammed into clusters of newly-activated sensors, sparking fresh constellations of pleasure throughout your neural pathways.

Every atom between your hips inflamed in an orgy of ecstasy, creating a chain reaction across your body.

Your deranged wails of pleasure only spurred them on. Fingers sank into your flesh, anchoring and pulling, desiring. Data buried his hand in your hair and yanked your head back to raise your mouth to his. You bit ferociously at his lips and tongue, and he devoured you in kind, your saliva shining on his rose-gold lips. His tongue fucked your mouth with the same enthusiasm as his cock spearing your soaked cunt. His fluids into you, yours into him. The three of you a lewd, holy-unholy ouroboric trinity, an infinite Möbius of want.

“Soon, we will be deeper inside you than you could possibly imagine.” Data held your head still, star-bright eyes boring hot into yours. “Soon.”

The double impacts detonated a nova behind your eyes, vision fracturing into a scatter of prismatic pixels, resolving, fracturing again, each reboot quicker and sharper than the last. You were an open circuit, a conduit for twin currents. Pleasure overloaded sense buffers, edges dissolving. Your bodies pulsed in time with your synced heart-drives. If they kept this up you’d—

Approaching System Limit.

A star-field of pleasure points chained across pelvic arrays to spill shockwaves up your spine. A last-gasp of telemetry flooded your HUD, then blinked out.

You dismissed every warning that didn’t glitch and vanish under the onslaught, letting your system’s needs narrow to flesh and motion and impact. A new impulse overtook you. A need to be fucked apart and put back together just to start the cycle over again, to be reconstructed at the hands of the scientist and the madman.

Cooling systems hummed, pleasure algorithms spiked, stabilized, spiked again as receptors flared hot white. 

Two sets of identical hands cinched around your waist like hydraulic clamps, slamming you down each time their cocks speared home, fucking you with devastating aggression. No fragile bones to break, no tender flesh to bruise. No longer chained by your fragility. Like everything they’d ever had to hold back came pouring out of them all at once, venting years of need harmoniously on your body.

Lore leaned over and kissed your spine, spitting filthy praises you only caught snatches of. “…ass and cunt are so fucking tight… can’t wait… what else I can fuck on that sweet body…”

They took and they gave, using you as their willing gateway to gratification.

Their movement grew more synchronized, intensifying into flawless, punishing harmony. Your mind dissolved completely, fragmented beneath the relentless dual assault, the overwhelming sensory input drowning out everything except raw sensation. Your cries echoed louder and more frantically with each coordinated thrust, body suspended between them, utterly helpless, taken repeatedly to the very limits of your endurance.

“More…” You panted the word out repeatedly, a mantra, a prayer. Uncertain you could take more, but no less desperate for it. Your eyes were heavily hooded, no longer concerned with seeing, only feeling.

And feeling started a rebellion burning in you.

Bracing your hands on Data’s chest, you fucked back hard onto them, cunt and ass pulling pleasure from their stiff pricks. Slow rolls of your hips degraded into wild undulations until you were bouncing hard and fast on the cocks prying you open. Your fingernails scored down the golden expanse of Data’s chest, leaving pale trails along the warm bioplast.

Control felt intoxicating.

“Depraved little monster.” Lore’s curses fell soft against the back of your neck, his fingers spreading your ass so his gushing cock could reach punishing depths. “Very fucking naughty.”

You reached back to wind your hand into his silken auburn hair, disheveling him, making him the avatar of his own devil heart.

Data’s eyes burned into you. “You are not in control here. When you prove you understand this, only then will you earn the right to cum on our cocks.”

Immediately, your arms were seized in Lore’s hands as he hauled you up and back against his firm chest. The repositioning allowed gravity to spear them deeper in a single brutal stroke. More than that, the new posture granted both of them greater access to the expanse of your body.

Data took advantage right away, his hands rising to palm your breasts, squeezing and massaging before his thumbs circled with relentless precision over your painfully erect nipples. Lore’s hand slipped around to find the treasure at the apex of your thighs, fingers rubbing the slick knot of your clit in tight, wracking orbits

Your head fell back against his shoulder and gripped his powerful biceps to anchor yourself, babbling senselessly, voice devolving rapidly into a litany of half-formed endearments— adore you, need you, more.

Lore’s thrusts into your ass moved you along his brother’s cock. At the same time, his fingers worked you torturously slow, then maddeningly fast, alternating precise patterns and chaos. You let your hips buck helplessly into that touch and gave up on words entirely, letting coarse noises spill from some debased well deep inside of you.

His other hand rose to your parted lips, two fingers sliding into your salivating mouth. Instinct took over and you sealed your lips obediently around them, sucking hungrily, hollowing cheeks, tongue flicking the tips. He pushed them deeper, fingering the back of your throat with calculated aggression, forcing you to intentionally choke softly around his fingers, an unnecessary act of violation that pleased him. The slick sounds of your mouth mixed with the wet clap of bodies.

“Good girl,” Lore said, voice equal parts acid and honey as you nursed the makeshift cock. “Stuffed end to end and still wanting more.”

As the foundation below you, Data’s expert hands roamed freely, fingers tracing your navel, skimming your thighs, following your sternum and up to your throat, before his gaze settled on your sharply bouncing breasts.

Every hole stretched, filled, fucked to the very limits of your endurance. The completeness of the violation was exquisite, consuming, addictive. A drug you never wanted to come down from.

“That’s it, kitten. Fuck yourself on us. You look so damn pretty when you’re losing your fucking mind.”

Time unspooled in a blur of sensation where nothing existed but the piston-strike of twin engines pumping inside you. Your every moan became background radiation humming through the suite. Data drove upward, jackhammering your core and volleying you to the thick, menacing obstruction of his brother’s cock. Lore countered, hips snapping to meet the impact, their motions meshed into a savage gyre that wrung you open on every axis. And there began the process of losing yourself entirely.

Senses dissolving, synthetic tears beaded and streaked from your wide, unfocused eyes in scattering prisms, bliss tearing apart every carefully constructed boundary of self. Filled and stretched to capacity and still craving more

Systems struggled to reconcile input. Pressure systems red-lined, HUD warnings blossomed and collapsed under a data flood. Still you rocked between them, frantic and greedy, chasing the obliterating cataclysm that skittered across the horizon, forever out of reach.

“Moremoremore…” Your entreaty broke around Lore’s fingers, half gargled, half sobbed.

“More?” Lore pulled his saliva-slicked fingers from your mouth and dragged them over your chin before wrapping those dangerous digits around your throat, forcing your head back to meet his eyes. His cock jacked fiercely into your ass, sharp hipbones digging into the soft flesh while his teeth scraped the side of your neck. Everything he did was pleasure wrapped around a knife’s edge.

“Say the word, sweetheart, and we’ll burn out every circuit in that gorgeous body. We won’t stop until you’re completely destroyed.”

You answered with a whimper strangled in surrender, clenching hard, interior net convulsing close to obliteration, your body stretching and contorting around them, breaking itself into new arrangements of ecstasy.

Fluxes of synthetic seed flowed between your legs, a trine of wet percussion striking across the air. The brothers had climaxed repeatedly, though you couldn’t say when, vaguely registering a chain of grunts and curses and praise for the efforts of your body that blurred into a single, continuous hum of climax. Your thighs and ass and cunt were drenched warm with an all-too familiar stickiness. Over and over they spilled into you, as if their reservoirs were endless.

Lore shoved three fingers past your lips, forcing you to swallow the spice of cum and saliva while his other hand continued its torture of your clit in erratic staccato bursts.

Beneath you, Data’s calibrated thrusts transformed into brutal piston-straight punches that pushed you back to Lore’s cock so hard it sent shockwaves rattling through your spinal struts. The younger android’s fingers tweaked and tugged your nipples until electric aches of pained pleasure ricocheted through your duranium ribcage and pooled low in your abdomen. Your mumbled declarations of adoration turned to static incoherence, a meaningless flood of sound as a devastating confluence of sensation overwhelmed your precarious sensorium.

Pleasure vectors converged: mouth violated, nipples wired to burning current, clit torqued into white noise, thick gushing shafts sawed in separate furnace-hot channels

The multiplex of sensations seized control-priority. Higher logic threads snapped free and cascaded into kernel panic. Telemetry spiking, your HUD guttered, warning glyphs dissolving into raw static as buffers overflowed. Identity shattered into radiant fragments orbiting a single gravity-well of ecstasy where cocks and hands hammered you through an event horizon. Inside that singularity there was no self, no time, only endless recursive climax.

Your own thoughts were unrecognizable to you as you were carried away on a current stronger than gravity. Relentless orgasm dragged you under.

A trillion flares exploded along pelvic filaments and surged up your spine in Milky-Way-bright helical outpourings. Stars were born in your marrow, supernovae burst behind your eyes. Senses splintered and refracted like starlight through shattered crystal.

The echoing fragments of Data's golden eyes and Lore’s wild laughter faded into the distance as you tumbled inward, their images smeared into light-ribbons before falling away.

The gravity of twin bodies squeezed time to a halt, and for one eternal second you were nothing but pressure. Pressure, and then the core collapsed in on itself…

Reality fractured in spiderweb cracks. Photons diffracted into stained-glass shrapnel while orgasm imploded a universe inward to swallow flesh and code and memory. You stood on the precipice of void awaiting annihilation and rebirth, your entire being shaking with the imminence of cosmic collapse.

Threaded only to sensation, the universe pleated around you, allowing you to see forward and backward in time simultaneously. Existence folded under the mass of pleasure, then blew outward again, vast nebulae opening from cunt and ass and throat. Orgasm wasn’t a peak, it was cosmology. Split between untiring twin machines, having crossed the organic and synthetic divide, you were creation’s rift, wet and incandescent, a holy wound pouring galaxies.

In the swirling chaos, a vision rose, though you didn’t know if it was memory or prophecy.

A cathedral garden assembled itself from ancient stone and earth, veined in silvery streams and lush foliage and lit by a familiar amber light. The scent of moss ghosted through the star-littered dark and fern-fronds glittered with pixel dew.. The garden pulsed its answering appetite.

Vines broke up through the earth and reached down from the tree canopy above to lovingly wrap wrists and ankles, spreading you wide and wider before gently pulling you apart like warm taffy. You stretched into infinite strings of luminous energy, every filament vibrating beloved names and breeding galaxies forged in the furnace of climax spinning hot and wet from your core.

It was peaceful and serene and the most violent thing you had ever felt.

Stars ruptured in sequence, in brilliant novas of opal light across the expanse of your consciousness. You felt yourself exploding outward again, each molecule expanding and reconfiguring, infinite worlds forged in the crucible of climax. Pleasure tumbled into creation, destruction blooming into birth. Your very essence rearranged and floating in zero-G.

Over and over the cycle fed itself: contraction into seed, seed exploding to bloom, bloom collapsing again. Creation by orgasm, annihilation by pleasure. Every rebirth wrote new firmware across your matrix, carving more into code where fear used to live.

A hush enveloped the rush of void. Twin silhouettes formed from a shower of nebular grains, shadows you had met in every fever dream.

Their edges rippled, skinning themselves in raw geometry. And from that star-mist calculus, the silhouettes grew up and up to reform themselves into giant, throbbing cocks of mythic scale easily five-fold your size.

One rose above the planar horizon moon-pale marble shot through with living threads of hammered gold, and the other towered obsidian, black glass veined in arterial red. Both throbbed a summons in tandem.

The nucleus of your every atom answered, dragging you toward vortex poles of shaft and glans.

Colliding, you wrapped arms and legs around the paler cock, cheek pressed to the warm polymer flesh. Gold veins flared and lit bright beneath your touch, impregnating you with its warmth to push out the icy void. You flew to its dark twin, laving your tongue across its volcanic surface. Obsidian sweated liquid ember kissing back in viscous sparks that seeded into your tongue.

Worshipping with mouth and palms, stretching your taffy-self between them, you stroked and licked upward, downward, grinding your cosmicunt along smooth shaft, mapping every pulse-ridge until your body shone with their anticipation.

A great rumbling shook the universe as the towering obelisks of cock sputtered and erupted in tandem. Twin fountains burst upward in a spiraling helix of starlit fluid, honey and lava entwined before raining down on you in thick droplets.

You threw your head back, mouth open to let it pour sweet and hot down your throat, spattering your breasts in liquid star-maps, rivulets of liquid galaxies, nebulas, and stellar clusters dripping down your flesh. Your moan was the sound of quasars as you drank and bathed in their offering, each swallow exploding a new sun at your center.

Drinking universes, the swirling miasmas ignited every particle of your being, rooting into you so you became a star nursery, your body alight with novae and spiraling stardust, expanding through your void-self in a cataclysmic bang that stretched the borders of existence.

Mirrors bloomed all around in a kaleidoscopic sphere, reflecting your endless iterations through eternity. Within each facet another self was seized by still stranger raptures…

One knelt before a golden cock, throat bulging as it drove fathoms deeper than possible, moondust drooling from stretched lips. Another straddled piking prick, golden hands around her throat as pulses of ejaculate jetted up her spine. A third arched in freefall, double shafts spearing her end to end while meteoric spheres of cum orbited her body in glowing rings. Another with legs pushed impossibly wide to take roads of tongue. Countless others writhed in permutations of mouth and breast, ass and cunt, hands and cock. New apertures were invented to receive new pleasures.

The reflections multiplied until they were woven through you, no space between them. Only an infinite recursion of cosmic depravity, every image feeding the next, a hall of mirrors trembling on the brink of collapse.

High above the crystalline maze, the colossal god-cocks descended, pulsing bigger and brighter with each passing tableau. With a thunderous surge, the shafts punched through the sphere, shattering the mirrors, multiplying debauchery into prismatic shards that fell like snow, fusing into a spiral of reflections that reformed into a single blazing now.

The titans throbbed and swelled and exploded into an annihilating rupture of pure intergalactic radiance, blowing apart your body and consciousness.

No longer you, no longer person. You were pleasure itself, the cosmic orgasm, a singularity of infinite cock and cunt, blissful destruction and reconstruction. Stardust and ejaculate flowed through your infinite cosmos, washing you back to fade into void once more…

The warmth of bodies drew your scattered stardust back into duranium bone and bioplast. Your conscious coalesced once more to reform between them, trembling from the wrack and ruin of an orgasm your organic form couldn’t have dreamed of.

Lore’s strong arms were folded around you, holding you against him while Data’s hands soothed across your burning skin. Feeling flooded back into you all at once like cathedral lights flashing on. Cocks still thrusting, lips against your temple, hands exploring the new flesh.

You opened your mouth to speak, and out slipped the only word you knew.

“More.”

Chapter Text

In the shadows, stripped of sin
In the shadows, deep within
In the shadows, I will make you my angеl
Ghost -Umbra

Data meticulously laid out your Starfleet uniform on the bed in preparation for your meeting with the ambassador, the vivid science blue a stark contrast against the earthy ivory sheets. Lore had left at first light, having been summoned by Lal to consult on her current cascade failure simulations.

A veil of steam still clung to your skin as you emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a thin, powder-blue robe made of Vulcan silk and stitched with delicate floral embroidery. Dawn poured through the open terrace of the Vulcan embassy suite, warm amber chasing away the lingering chill of the night. You stood in front of the vanity, absently fixing your damp hair while you carefully averted your eyes from directly meeting your reflection in the mirror embedded in the sandstone wall. Threads of gold marbled subtly through the glass, providing a damningly clear frame for every pore and scar and imperfection highlighted by your android senses. Glaring flaws you couldn’t unsee.

Metal snapped softly behind you as Data fastened his pips on his uniform collar. One, two, three familiar, dutiful sounds, and then he was behind you, his firm chest a fortress at your back, long arms folding gently around you.

“I have observed,” he said, elegant hand softly guiding your face toward the mirror, though you wouldn’t meet anything but his patient marigold eyes, "that you have consistently avoided your reflection since your activation. I can hypothesize why."

Your gaze reflexively darted to the reflection of your uniform behind you. “I… these flaws—“

“Are not flaws at all.” His fingertips grazed lightly down your arms and he turned his head precisely fifteen degrees to the side so his profile was visible. “But if you would like to trade examples, I would point out that my nose is substantially larger than what is normally considered attractive, in addition to being several millimeters off-axis, and my hairline remains stubbornly imperfect. Would you like me to continue?”

“No, Data. You’re beautiful and…” You trailed off when his eyebrow arched, his intended lesson painfully clear.

A metallic-green flower beetle drifted through the terrace, wings flashing emerald as sunlight refracted across its carapace. It landed lightly on the mirror’s edge, momentarily illuminating your face with a shifting glow.

Data’s fingers tenderly traced your jawline, pausing at the faint scar left by the assault on Derai II, a mark no dermal regenerator had fully erased. “A sub-micron chromatic aberration that delights me.” His thumb brushed the slight asymmetry of your lips. “Proof of unique manufacture.” He met your eyes again, and you could find nothing but sincerity there. “All of your features, every datum, compose the being I love.”

A breeze stirred the gauzy terrace curtains and carried the faint scent of sun-warmed copper dust. Data folded your wrist into his large hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss to the nearly invisible join there. His other hand slid the robe over your shoulder and laid a series of kisses across that curve.

“I have yet to compose a poem about your beauty,” he said, hand falling to ghost along the partially visible seam of your chest panel. “Not from a lack of inspiration, but because words fail to encompass its full measure.”

Something about his confession lanced through you. Data didn’t lie or flatter, and was honest to a fault. To doubt what he said felt like an affront to his earnest adoration.

He tilted your chin upward again, and for the first time since your transformation, you allowed yourself to confront your reflection. In the warm light you looked, really looked, and for once, you didn’t recoil. The perceived flaws remained, but became somehow more bearable beneath the loving assessment of his artist’s eye.

Data drew you back against him and kissed the crown of your head. “You are so beautiful. Even if you cannot yet see it with your own eyes, I promise that you will through ours.”

__________

Behind you, the ochre dunes of the arid biome dissolved in the holosuite’s shimmer as you and your husbands stepped into the new ecosystem.

The Vulcan ambassador had concluded your meeting by transferring the botanical garden’s holosuite schematics to your rooms. Every biome was meticulously crafted and mapped down to the micron, and you had already spent an hour traversing the holographic desert, all dunes and dust storms. Your new android frame never once tired or begged for shade or water, a feat your organic body could only have envied.

The garden that resolved before you felt impossibly vast. Grass unfurled in soft knolls that rolled toward a cobalt horizon, the sky unblemished, while humidity clung like velvet, sweet with alien pollen and mineral loam. A copse of pale silver trees towered gracefully overhead, their polished trunks gleaming softly in the artificial sunlight.

The kastik‑tal var —translated literally as ‘the story of flowers'— was the smallest of the biomes at less than a kilometer across.

Scientists and artists were hard at work attempting to resurrect entire eras of extinct flora, much of which were mythological, existing in books and stories passed down through the galaxy’s generations. The very air seemed pollinated with impossible history. It was to be the focus of your work with the Vulcans, if you accepted the offer.

“The scope of this project is quite extraordinary.” Data walked slowly beside you, amber eyes bright as they surveyed the diverse environment around him. “Your contributions here could very well become the defining achievement of your career thus far.”

“Hardly as impressive an achievement as being married to me,” Lore called over his shoulder as he moved beneath the cathedral trees. He walked ahead past a bank of chameleon-roses whose petals shifted from the black of his clothing to Data’s gold, and finally to your science blue as you passed. “But I suppose it’s something.”

 Your internal cooling systems spun up with a faint whir, compensating for a thirty-percent surge in ambient moisture. A living hedge maze with walls of lilac‑leafed topiary six meters high beckoned on the distant rise, an hour’s walk if you resisted every detour. Moving deeper into the heart of the garden, the three of you followed a quartz path that spilled into a gauzy hush of silver light, the dense tree canopy woven tightly overhead.

A small, dark pond sat just off the path. You approached slowly, drawn by the ring of Antarian antelunar blossoms at its edge. The flowers had been extinct since the planet’s heliocene strata, existing only in the fossil records until now. The elongated blue buds remained closed tightly like small parasols until night came to open them.

You crouched to study the mirror‑still pond. The surface was stippled by sunlight needling through the leaves overhead, and you held your own gaze for a few heartbeats before gentle ripples broke your reflection into fragments.

“Karthis bramble,” Data said, pointing to a scarlet‑veined shrub several meters away. “One microgram of its alkaloid is lethal to most humanoids. A similar species wiped out an entire S’Kori colony when their water table was contaminated.”

Lore plucked an indigo berry from the shrub, the oily toxin lacquering his fingertips. He tossed it in the air and caught it in his mouth. “Forbidden fruit is the best fruit.”

The ground sloped unevenly further down the path, and Data’s hand found your elbow to steady you, a reflex a million moments old that sprang from countless corridors and hostile terrains you’d walked together. Your internal gyroscopes righted you without help, but you would never turn down that familiar, loving presence.

“This project means dividing my time,” you began cautiously, retracing ground you’d already covered with your husbands, still skirting the task of directly asking them despite their reassurances. You listed each point the ambassador had outlined earlier. “Regular duties on the Enterprise, extended weeks on Vulcan, expeditions to gather specimens… I could manage it alone, but I—”

“Time away from the Enterprise?” Lore flicked pollen from his sleeve. “ Tragic. I’m heartbroken.”

Data’s hand settled at the small of your back, his voice gentle but firm. “We reviewed the ambassador’s schedule together. Starfleet has already approved our joint assignment, and Captain  Picard expressed enthusiastic support of the collaboration.” His tone softened. “We do not wish to split up our family any more than you, and this is a project full of opportunities for all of us.”

Relief unknotted something tight in your processors and eased some of the guilt you felt at dragging them along on this project.. Though you would never say it, you suspected Starfleet wouldn’t mind being free of Lore any more than Lore minded being free of Starfleet, even if for brief periods.

The path curved beneath a vaulted stand of deep, dark crystillia trees arching overhead, their glassy petals refracting sunlight into shifting prisms. Around their trunks coiled rare k’ruhn vines, last survivors of a lineage seen to glow only once during a solar storm centuries ago that had dyed the sky above Tanith II a vivid, blood red, conditions that had never been met again. A species so rare that only three known living clusters remained in the quadrant. The vines coiled gracefully from root to canopy, hanging in loose green loops like dormant power cables. Beneath that chromatic cover, near‑black grass pooled like liquid emerald. The canopy knitted itself so densely that only stray beams filtered through, scattering the spectra across your faces. You slowed beneath the branches, fingertips tracing lightly along the dark trunks.

“I don’t think I could do this without you. I wouldn’t want to.” Your finger brushed the cool vine, and very briefly you thought you saw a spark of something beneath the mossy green surface. A trick of the light, you decided. “Thankfully, the Vulcans aren’t asking for my undivided attention.”

Lore stepped in front of you, eyes glittering gold as they raked the length of your body. “But we are.”

He offered no patience, no warning, just a quick and possessive tug at your hips that brought your body flush against him. With practiced efficiency, he had you stripped in a matter of seconds, a flurry of movement that would have disoriented your human brain. The hot, humid air closed around your naked flesh like a second skin.

But you refused to be a passive spectator to your own pleasure. Not this time.

You bit your lower lip as you gripped his slim waist to yank him close, his smile widening in approval. Lore indulged you, lifting his arms so you could strip him. Of course he would turn an attempt at dominance into an act of service. The sculpted contours of his upper body were bared to the garden, glorious in their pale gold shimmer. A breathless sigh escaped you at the sight. No matter how many times you'd seen their bare bodies, the precise valleys and swells of synthetic muscle never ceased to affect you, as if wired directly into your limbic core.

Your HUD flickered momentarily, temperature rising, systems recalibrating easily.

Lore pressed forward, an unyielding plane of firm heat. His gaze dropped to your mouth as he tangled his fingers into the hair at the back of your head, holding you perfectly still for him. His head tipped toward you with agonizing slowness, breath ghosting against your lips. 3.36 eternal seconds later his mouth settled over yours in a kiss so shockingly gentle it was nearly unrecognizable as his.

You should have recognized the intent of the deception immediately, the killing kindness.

His tongue softly parted your lips, his nose grazing your cheek. A low moan slipped from you as his free hand slid down to cup your ass, squeezing and drawing you firmly against him. Only then did he deepen the kiss, tongue snaking sinuously into your mouth, warm and wet and confident. The thick swell of his cock pressed insistently against your abdomen, caged by fabric and daring you to set it free.

You obliged, sliding both hands between your bodies to palm that fat column of synthetic muscle, plenty enough to fill two eager fists. He hummed his approval at how quickly and easily your body grew pliant for him, the sound vibrating through the deepening kiss as his grip in your hair tightened, his hand kneading your ass more urgently.

Lore eased you backward until your back collided with the immovable fortress of Data’s chest. The younger android’s arms closed around your waist to anchor you between them.  Heat spiraled through your circuitry, intensifying sharply as their bodies caged you. Kaleidoscopic light scattered over joined bioplast like living chroma.

Lore’s thumbs traced idle circles around your nipples until they hardened and became painfully sensitive. His lips brushed the shell of your ear, and you felt his smile when you shivered in response. “You can never escape us, little rabbit.”

“Why would I ever want to?” You were breathless, trying to cool your systems as he continued teasing those stiff peaks.

“Perhaps for the pleasure of being hunted down by us.” Data spoke the words against the nape of your neck, a sensation that had a straight line to your pussy.

Lore’s touch trailed downward along your ribs until he found the delicate seam of your chest panel and applied the slightest pressure. It wasn’t enough to release the panel, but more than enough to narrow the boundary between caress and invasion. Pleasure surged at the new sensation, immediate but fleeting.

He laughed at your sharp gasp, your body stiffening for a microsecond. “This is going to be so fucking good.”

Data’s fingertips brushed the twin seams running the length of your spine’s access panel, mapping the precise pressure gradient with painstaking delicacy. The feedback was immediate and overwhelming. Each gentle stroke awakened a thousand virgin nerves you hadn’t known existed, sending bright-hot shocks from skull to pelvis. When he increased the pressure, bliss interrupted a circuit in your neural pathways

Your structural integrity tanked, knees buckling as your body briefly went limp.

Strong hands caught you before you fell, easing you onto the grass beneath the trees, the blades licking against your skin like a thousand gossamer tongues.

Lying back in the grass, you looked up at the twins towering over you. They stripped slowly, every move deliberate as if orchestrating a rite. Centimeter by centimeter pale gold flesh emerged, luminous bioplast dappled with multicolored light. Marble gods carved for some forgotten cathedral, and you the living sacrifice.

Your hands instinctively touched your flushing flesh, needy fingers caressing your thighs, between your breasts, wishing it was their hands and mouths.

They knelt on either side of you, radiant with heat. Data leaned over to kiss you full and deep while his hand slipped between your thighs, earning him a cry from you. Elegant fingers circled your clit for a moment, and then slid two digits into your welcoming warmth. Lore’s thumb joined his brother’s between your legs, stroking spirals around that throbbing bundle of nerves.

“Beautiful.” Data's teeth grazed your pulse with increasing pressure.

The touch of his fingers and lips left you breath-struck. Crystillia flares painted violet shards across his cheek, and a mote of bioluminescent pollen drifted down to land in the hollow of your throat, and he traced that glow upward. Forehead to forehead, Data opened a discrete sub-channel between you. Raw pleasure telemetry hummed like a warm buzz at your I/O port.

Lore intercepted the signal and shook his head with a laugh. “Trying to seduce her in hex code?” His tongue slid around the contour of your breast. “Couldn’t be more you, brother.”

His mouth closed over your nipple, lips and tongue erratic as his fingers joined Data inside of you. Four fingers stretched and thrust, scissoring you open and stroking the runways of nerves buried deep inside you.

You arched upward sharply, head thrown back in the soft grass, a desperate cry ripped from you, your circuits singing. And there, through half-lidded eyes nearly blind from stacking alerts, you saw a faint light throbbing from the tips of the vines. They swayed slightly, as though drawn by the bio‑electrical storm blooming between three positronic pulses.

The twins’ fingers worked inside your soaked cunt with a speed and skill that held your breath fast to your ribs. They opened you further and further, though for what purposes you couldn’t be certain. Data’s mouth explored your lips and down your neck, while Lore’s teeth and tongue worshipped your breasts.

Shaking and whimpering, you spread your legs wider in a shameless plea for them to go further and settle the rising ache. They exchanged a glance and some unspoken impetus passed between them.

They positioned themselves between your legs, lying shoulder to shoulder. Data folded your knees toward your ribs to create a stage framed by your own thighs. Lore’s mouth descended first, impatient and greedy.

His tongue parted your slick folds, hot breath skating over you as Data nipped a trail along your inner thigh. Need clawed up your spine like a beast and drew equally beastly sounds of raw pleasure from you as you rocked your hips up to meet his mouth. Lore tasted the ache on you and hummed his approval against your sensitive flesh. Pathetic neediness pleased him, tempered his usual impatience into deliberate, delicious cruelty. His tongue and lips teased everywhere except the throbbing crest of your clit, swallowing your needy whines.

He smiled against your flesh and licked a slow, luxurious stripe upwards, deliberately avoiding the spot pulsing out a cry for his attention. You gasped sharply at the exquisite, tormenting sensation, hips shuddering as he torturously traced your labia again and again, savoring every desperate tremor. Slowly and softly, he placed open-mouthed kisses against your slit, inspiring sounds very much like a sob from deep inside you.

You rested trembling legs on their shoulders, combing your fingers through silken auburn hair dusted with glowing pollen motes. Polychromatic flecks glittered across your breasts and belly and the pale unmarred planes of their backs. Backs that should be scored by your raking nails, muscles that should be shifting with the effort of thrusting above you…

Nearby vines answered the rising pitch of your moans. Their tips ignited with amber light and curved closer, as though curiosity had become hunger.

Finally, Lore relented. Sealing his mouth over you, he sucked your cunt, tongue caressing up and down through the soaked slit, tongue parting you in upward strokes that made your processes stutter. He alternated firm suction on your clit with savoring licks with a flat tongue. You buried both hands in his hair and bucked up into his face to hold that exquisite pressure there.

Data murmured something against your thigh, a low string of praises you couldn’t parse over the roar of pleasure. He followed the path his brother blazed, kissing dangerously higher and closer until his lips met Lore’s at the burning center of you. They took turns lavishing your aching cunt with synchronized attention. Lore plunged his tongue into your spasming channel while Data circled your clit, and then swapped seamlessly. Data dove to taste your depths while Lore licked rhythmic patterns that sent heat ricocheting through your neural pathways.

Your hips lifted desperately toward their mouths, the alien garden around you dissolving into pulses of color and heat.

Their pace intensified, twin tongues working and swirling together like double helixes, gliding over and under one another against your sizzling center until sensation braided into a unified knot of ecstasy. You shattered on concentric waves of orgasm that swelled in every sensor. But instead of relief, it left your nerves hyper-primed with unbearable clarity, glittering and desperate for more.

In the periphery, a brighter emerald flare bloomed, the k’ruhn vine’s tip hovering close, though climax haze blurred the motion and you weren’t certain you could trust your eyes.

Grass cooled against your spine as they pivoted your weakened body upright, heat and hum still ringing through your frame.

Data gathered you in his arms and sat upright, his long legs stretched out and slightly spread. Lore sat facing him, legs draped over and outside of his twin’s, the two of them so close the underside of their cocks pressed together into one impossibly thick column. With their bodies creating a living cradle for you, you were maneuvered to straddle their conjoined bodies facing Lore, Data’s chest pressed against your back, your shins sinking into the velvety grass.

Lore’s hands steadied your hips, Data’s palms cradled your waist, and you held you breath awaiting the next descent. They lowered you slowly, deliberately, their bodies pressing upward with careful precision until the fat, throbbing cockheads nudged gently into your pussy as one massive spear.

A gasp tore from your throat and Lore swallowed it immediately, his mouth devouring yours until your lips were kiss-swollen from his pitiless enthusiasm. You cupped the beloved angles of his face, thumbs sweeping across the sculpted ridge of his cheekbone. Behind you, Data's broad chest was an immovable anchor, his seemingly gentle guidance becoming quiet command as he pulled you down with a single authoritative word spoken against your temple:

“Now.”

Fullness bloomed as you were stretched open halfway down that enormous pike. Your adaptive nanomesh‑elastomer sheath flexed beyond organic limits, greedily drawing them in centimeter by veined centimeter until your tight walls were pushed aside so obscenely they very nearly met the limits of your duranium pelvis. Still, the twins made your body work for each slow descent. Your human flesh had accomplished this before on a few occasions, though it was never easy and rarely attempted as it pushed past the safe limits of organic fragility.

They paused, letting you feel the divine rearrangement of your insides. Your chest rose in shallow stutters and the mere act of holding them felt like worship.

Head falling back to Data’s shoulder, you shivered as Lore’s mouth took advantage of the exposed curve of your throat, warm breath skating sensitive skin. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulled him up for another kiss, then broke away, your voice a low current of need.

“Deeper…”

You moaned and rolled your hips, shimmying farther down the twin shafts and urging your body to open faster. Soon, need created a slow, deliberate rhythm, lifting slightly and sinking a little more each time, each descent squeezing harder. Even once you had fully taken them both, your ever-tight cunt enveloping the base of their engorged pricks, you still pleaded breathlessly for more, deeper, needing that impossible sensation of infinite fullness pushing out the void of want.

Overhead, the canopy stirred and broke sunlight into tumbling mosaics.  Jeweled rainbows skated across bioplast, setting every bead of fluid and rippling muscle aglow.

More. You needed so much more. It was a chant that lived on your tongue. It blazed through you, a holy desire to dissolve, atom by atom, into their shared circuitry.

Data wrapped one arm low around your waist and drew you back against his chest, creating a breath of space for Lore. His free hand cradled your jaw, tilting your head back against his shoulder so he could lay reverent kisses from temple to cheekbone.  When his lips brushed the corner of your mouth, you opened, and his tongue slipped in soft and exploratory.

With your attention fixed in that tender kiss, Lore’s fingers found their opportunity. He traced the faint rectangular seam framing your breasts, circling the delicate panel edges with a  touch that was almost scholarly, mapping centimeters of flush-joined bioplast with an unsettling devotion.

Your processes flared in warning an insufficient 0.52 seconds before you understood his intent.

With a deft flick of his wrists, Lore detached your chest panel, exposing the intricate workings of your chassis. Humid garden air spilled into the hollows to skim your internal components like warm breath on newly bared skin.

Integrity Seal: Compromised.
Ambient Humidity:  4 %↑

Lore’s pupils blew wide, darkening with some impulse known only to him as his gaze raked your internal landscape.

“Look at how lovely you are on the inside. So clean and new and…” He met your wide-eyed stare, lips curving into a thin smile as two of his fingers slowly slipped within your open chest, carefully stroking the thrumming pump that served as your heart. “Untouched.”

The world lurched and blinked. Your HUD flickered, warnings dissolving into fragmented glyphs as sensation overwhelmed your processors. 

Data steadied you, his lips against your ear as he whispered soothings your processes hadn’t yet reconstructed into words. Lore continued his slow, circling exploration around the thumping, whirring core. Inside you in a way your organic flesh never could have allowed, he stroked that small engine of life to coax out a tremor that shook your duranium skeleton. The involuntary tremor seated you more firmly onto their joined shafts, drawing twin groans of approval.

“Soon, we will be deeper inside you than you could possibly imagine.”

Data’s whispered prophecy the night before blossomed across your neural pathways.

“Her tolerances are adapting exceptionally,” Data said, agile hands reaching around to finger the edges of the open compartment.  “Perhaps a more cautious acclimation is unnecessary.”

The feedback loop engulfed you— Lore’s fingers on your heart, two cocks rooted deep, a flood of relays ticking like a storm of tiny clocks. Within your neural nexus, the very definition of intimacy rewrote itself in firmware: heart captured, body impaled, mind suspended between two unrelenting constants.

In a flash of memory, you recalled every time you had explored Data’s open chest compartment, how easily he trusted you and yielded that intimacy to you. Lore had never before surrendered that particular ground, yet here he was, exploring yours as if it were territory he'd always ruled. Perhaps, in some ways, it was.

The symmetry seared through you, circuitry for circuitry, thrust for pulse, affection sharpened into something fiercer. Your grip tightened on Data’s forearm still anchored around your waist, clawed at Lore’s shoulder, uncertain if you wanted them to slow their movements or urge them even faster. Your body chose for you.

 “Again,” you gasped out, the word glitching through your vocal processor with a megavolt of unfiltered need.

Lore’s fingers left the rhythmic thrum of your pump to glide gently across the dodecahedral core of your internal power module, your primary energy source, constantly self-renewing. He tapped lightly against it, each fractional stroke spiking pulses of sensation that cascaded sharply throughout your body.

Data’s hands joined his brother’s, four golden hands weaving and exploring inside the cavity. Sensation multiplied exponentially, microcurrents and radiant heat converging in stereo to shoot arrows of exquisite intensity straight through your carefully vivisected form.

Where Lore acted on needful instinct, Data brought clinical precision. His index finger meticulously traced the intricate mesh of fiber-optic filaments descending neatly behind the main optical lattice, the hidden highway of your nervous traffic.

“Conductivity at 99.7%.” Data’s deep voice vibrated against your flushed cheek, causing your temperature sensors to spike in response. “Remarkable.”

Lore, driven by a hungrier impulse, mirrored his twin’s precise exploration on your opposite side, stroking the subcutaneous power splitter where sapphire veins of coolant gleamed gently beneath translucent polymer. His touch moved insistently deeper, less methodical yet profoundly possessive. The exquisite duality of their methods crashed through your sensorium in competing feedback loops, pleasure dovetailing with data until distinction itself began to break apart.

A flutter of your internal musculature massaged the cocks bound by the tight, velvety grip of your cunt. Four expert hands answered in perfect synchrony. Data’s thumb circled a dense cluster of sensory nodes positioned delicately beneath your power-core rim, while Lore’s shameless fingers plunged even deeper, brushing gently against the co-processor responsible for modulating your limbic analogues.

Novas of pleasure code detonated behind your eyes and humid air inside your torso seemed to liquefy as every relay snapped open like flowers under sunlight.

“Processor latency down to 2.4 milliseconds,” Data reported, satisfaction threading the analytic calm of his voice.

“Feels like zero from here. Just looping endlessly.” Lore’s grin widened as he pinched a bundle of color‑banded conduits, tugging until your spine bowed so hard Data had to momentarily withdraw one hand from within you to restrain your sudden convulsion. “Look at that eager little cunt watering the grass. Just look at the mess you’re making, kitten. But there are still so many more fluids to squeeze out of that perfect little body.”

Breath staggered out in fractured gasps, a broken hymn sung to your own unraveling when Lore squeezed your coolant junction. A bead of silver-gold conductive lubricant rolled slowly from beneath his touch, sliding languidly along polished alloy and glistening polymer.

Your entire frame stiffened, momentarily immobilized, and Data returned his hand quickly to your open chassis, resuming his meticulous exploration. Their fingertips traversed intricate alloy seams, stroked micro-servos, teased live diagnostic ports. Every contact translated directly into molten, relentless pressure where your body still desperately clenched them below. When Data finally hooked a fingertip under the faceted core, skimming its many‑sided lattice, you were nothing but open pathways begging to be flooded.

Data’s measured breath warmed your lips, his arms anchoring you to him even as his hands played your insides like his violin. “Tell us where you feel it.”

“Everywhere,” you gasped, systems strobing on the brink of overload. “Inside…everywhere.”

Fused so deeply, your entire body trembled on a razor-thin edge of restraint. You hardly dared to move with their powerful hands still buried inside you, though desire pulsed fiercely and pled for motion, for friction, for more. Always more.

At the periphery of your vision, a new luminosity flickered into awareness.

Several of the vines dangling passively from the branches above began pulsing at their tips with a warm, incandescent glow. Thin capillaries of light raced along their thick green bodies like charged plasma coils, growing brighter and pulsing closer the further they lowered toward the throbbing field of your conjoined bodies. Trinary pulses synchronized, taboo circuits laid bare and vulnerable to the awakened garden.

One exploratory tendril uncurled from a trunk, snaking slowly over your discarded chest panel a few meters away. The silicone‑smooth exterior brushed the still‑live nipples, sending pleasure ricocheting through open relay and ripping a groan from you as though unseen lips had seized each peak.

Lore’s eyes flared with a vicious delight at the sound.  Seizing the opportunity, he slid two fingers deeper and pinched the limbic modulator, sending a jolt that bucked your hips down the twin shafts to take them to impossible depths.

That pleasure ignited a new hunger unlike any you’d known before, powerful and primitive. An equal exchange of pleasure you would give by taking.

Your palms glided up Lore’s sculpted arms, over the sweep of his shoulders, and at last to his face. You traced the deceptive softness of his bow‑shaped lips with a thumb, studying the flicker of concentration in his eyes while he worked inside your chest. For a heartbeat he looked almost innocent, absorbed and beautiful. Almost vulnerable. The sight stoked a fierce tenderness that steeled your resolve.

Fingers trailing down the graceful column of Lore’s throat, they settled on the  sub‑clavicular seam where gold bioplast met duranium. Your fingers pressed in roughly, impatiently, probing the delicate gap until you found the thin bundle of optic fibers and sensory conduits hidden beneath.

Lore gritted his teeth with a sharp groan, a ragged intake of breath hitching his hips sharply upward. The throbbing cocks inside you jolted deeper with aching intensity. Your inner walls clenched around them with an iron grip, crushing them tightly together and causing Lore’s systems to stutter so hard you felt the millisecond interruption beneath your hands.

His head tipped back, lips parted on a broken sigh. He didn’t see the distraction for what it was.

Your hands moved in a blur of android speed, dropping to remove his chest panel in one remorseless motion. Warm, processor-scented air spilled out carrying the trace of ozone and unregulated parts, a scent uniquely him. It intoxicated you for a moment, before you remembered what precious little time you had.

Lore’s head snapped downward, venomous glare piercing you, lips curling into a snarl of curses poised to strike. Every trace of indignant anger melted into a shocked moan as your fingertips swept the newly exposed lattice of gold filaments and sapphire coolant veins.  Soft LEDs glowed like dawn through cathedral glass, ports and micro‑conduits called out for your touch. 

You obliged, stroking synaptic lines and brushing tiny optic pins that threaded straight into higher‑function pathways. His body shuddered under your touch, anger dissolving into resentful need.

Now he was inside you as you were inside him, a mirrored circuit balanced and blazing.

A jade tendril that had explored your discarded chest panel slithered through the dewy grass and nosed your calf with a glowing tip, tasting residual heat. Another followed close behind, its tip pulsing brighter with each micron it closed.

“Like this…” Data whispered against your ear.  One hand continued its deliberate choreography inside your chassis while the other enveloped your fingers. He guided you to a thick, braided cable inside his twin, the primary power trunk feeding Lore’s positronic matrix.

The reaction was immediate.

Lore’s protest choked in his throat, his cock jerking fiercely inside you as his hips bucked in helpless, instinctive response. A guttural cry tore from all three of you at once, equal parts shock and rapture.

The garden answered.  Emerald vines coiled up your calves, spiraled around your thighs and pulled them wider.  Gravity did the rest, dragging your body down a crucial three centimeters to fully impale you on the brothers' stiff pricks.

A raw wail of pleasure rose from your vocal processor, shimmering with throbbing static. Vine tips flashed amber in sympathetic cadence as if sampling the resonance to seed some future bloom. The hunger of the previous night returned, multiplied.

 “More,” you pleaded, rocking to feel the conquering stretch caress every internal sensor. Your head fell back to Data’s shoulder, vision strobing hot.  “Please… raw…”

You barely understood your own request, but Data instantly solved the calculus of your craving.

"Hold still for me, my love," he commanded gently.

His slender fingers found the delicate alignment fin protruding in your chest cavity, a silvery sliver like a polished scalpel edge. With practiced confidence, he plucked it free. Your HUD blinked crimson alongside your broken, yearning whimper.

Structural Integrity: 2 %↓

You didn’t care enough to even dismiss it. Let it stand as a testament to your desired undoing. All that mattered was more from the golden gods that held you between them. Your wide eyes tracked Data's movements, and even Lore's manic exploration in your chassis stilled, his attention caught on his brother's intent.

Data brought both hands around into your field of view, gripping the slender duranium fin like a delicate blade. With surgical precision, he scored an ovoid around the perimeter of one palm, then the other. Bioplast parted like ripe fruit rind and fell away. Beneath lay a lattice of silver‑black struts threaded with coolant veins and fine optic tendons studded with gleaming capacitive sensors, the exposed architecture of his inner workings laid open.

His upturned palms resembled radiant wounds, a living stigmata offered not in pain but in rapture.  Light prisms spilled like rainbow glass across his palm's architecture and micro‑arcs snapped between flexing bones and tendons, lighting his hands with momentary stars.

A breathless exhale escaped you, equal parts awe and anticipation.

“Lovely,” Lore breathed, leaning in to kiss the hollow between your collarbones. “Can you even begin to imagine what happens next?”

Data slid those bared palms back into the heat of your open chest beside Lore’s and golden LEDs spilled like miniature suns across your internals. For several breaths they worked in concert, four thumbs circling the sensitive rim of your power core, eight fingers gliding elegantly over sapphire veins and optic bundles in a perfect choreography of opposites— Data’s touch analytical and metronomic, Lore’s erratic and feral.

Each overlap sent sparks skimming outward, micro‑arcs flickering between knuckles and lighting your interior like a plasma storm caught in a small vessel.

Lore's impatient appetite flared first.

 His clever fingers located a load coupler tucked beneath the core, a tiny rotary latch that bled excess charge.  He twisted and the seal broke with a hiss. A ribbon of blue‑white electricity arced into open air.

Instinctively, Data cupped an exposed palm beneath the luminous leak and his sensory mesh drank the charge. Your voltage raced along his circuits, met a gate, and looped back into your core, his current mixing with yours in an endless, intimate recursion.

The charge detonated in your chest and radiated outward, supernovae intimacy erasing any boundary between positronic pulses.  Current flowed between you and Data, a living sacrament at the molecular level. With each cycle the loop tightened. Energy leaked from your core into his exposed mesh, raced the circuit, and surged back faster, hotter, obscene and tender all at once

Lore twisted the coupler wider.  A serpentine arc leapt to Data’s palms and white ecstasy exploded behind your eyes to command the bend of your spine, mouth open in a silent cry. Pleasure‑code flooded every open pathway, hot as release but with nowhere to go.

Lore’s voice was low and dangerous. “Let’s see how bright we can burn her.”

With a subtle click of adjustment, every pleasure-pathway within a ten-centimeter radius suddenly amplified, transforming Data’s lingering voltage into pure white lightning that broke, arced, and reconnected repeatedly in staccato rhythms.

Yet the circuit was still incomplete.

Your hands plunged into the golden cavern of Lore’s chest and seized the fluid-pump coil, closing around it and squeezing with reverent cruelty. Electricity bled from his pump into your fingers, crackling across knuckles before leashing into your own circuits. Lore wasn’t yet prepared to accept your current, but you could take his, and you drank it greedily.

The responding groan was a tortured, visceral thing. His head tipped back again to expose his throat, opalescent light painting that pale pillar. When he regained focus, irises blazing wildfire, he plunged deeper into your chest and found a slim dopamine‑analogue valve you hadn’t known was so exquisitely tuned until a rush like orgasm and adrenaline rushed through your nerves.  Data immediately joined him, his stripped palms tracing the same valve from the opposite side, completing a flawless, pulse-perfect circuit that sent you rising and crashing down on the cocks so inelegantly rearranging you.

With calculated vengeance, Lore slid two fingers lower, fingering a thin current-coupling node simultaneously with Data’s free hand, drawing a sharp cry from your lips as your pleasure spiked dangerously toward overload.

They settled into a rhythm— loosen and tighten, sever, spark, and reconnect. Each break spat a blue‑white band that kissed raw wiring and ricocheted straight into your sensory cortex, remaking you neuron by neuron. Burned open, rewired, you drowned in pleasure so precise it eclipsed every orgasm you’d ever known.

Cataclysm followed. Every sensor in your harnessed channel spiked. Vision pixelated, your soaked and stretched cunt spasmed around twin cocks as k’ruhn vines echoed your heartbeat in amber pulses. Your own pitched wail, Lore’s guttural rasp, Data’s velvet baritone, all wove into a single, rising chord.

The garden answered the call.

A thick vine descended from the branches above to coil from Lore’s shoulder to wrist, pinning his hands inside your chassis as if determined to keep him exactly where frenzy had taken him.  Another tendril slid purposefully into his chest, pulsing aggressively with electric light. Consumed by the exquisite pleasure and his exploration of your body’s limits, Lore didn’t resist, each glowing touch and vibrant pulse drawing deep groans of ecstasy as bioluminescent arcs danced over his filaments.

You moaned long and low, hips grinding frantically around the twin shafts throbbing and jetting fluid deep inside you. The vines tightened their grip around your upper thighs, urging you to move faster, and as you did, their tips glowed brighter and pulsed more rapidly, matching your manic rhythm.

A gem-winged scarab with iridescent green panes hinged like stained glass landed delicately on Lore’s bare knuckle. Its wingbeat synchronized with the pulse at his carotid sensor before taking flight once more in a dazzling flash of emerald.

Data’s hands carefully withdrew from your chest cavity, leaving you with an aching chill at the sudden loss of warmth and fullness. Before you could fully lament the absence, his skilled fingers traced the faint rectangular seam running vertically down your spine, the same seam he had teasingly mapped earlier. With deft precision, he disengaged the panel from below your shoulder blades down to your lower back, just above the soft swell of your ass. Every vertebral sensor of that gleaming duranium spinal column blinked online, flooding your systems with incandescent sensitivity and leaving you utterly, breathtakingly exposed.

The first brush of Data’s fingertips down your exposed spine remade the universe.

Conductive metal skimmed reverently along each ridge-line of duranium vertebrae, stirring a kundalini-bright surge that raced upward to detonate in an obliterating supernova at the center of your positronic matrix. Your body arched violently, but the vines held fast, pinning your legs open, tethering Lore’s hands deep inside your chest, refusing to let you break the circuit.

“You are…” Data spoke the words gently against your ear, the faint stutter and static in his voice belying his composure, thoughts broken by throaty whimpers and moans. “…handling this… beautifully."

“Then give her more.” Lore’s eyes blazed with hunger as they locked on yours, fighting for power as you continued to stroke and tease inside him. He responded by ruthlessly fingering your sensitive components, delighting in every helpless cry he coaxed from your trembling form. "Make her feel it."

Data cupped both stripped palms around your duranium column, silver lattices stroking sensor studs in ascending scales, C‑major rendered in voltage. Golden current poured from his circuits directly into yours, welding every pleasure pathway open.  Each sensor in your vertebrae fired rapidly upward, illuminating your neural lattice like a chain of sequential detonations. White fire crashed across your HUD, washing vision in cascading brilliance, your eyes distant and opal-white.

Data’s bare palms tapped precise arcs of energy into each vertebral sensor. His breath puffed hot and velvet-soft against your ear, his own quiet moans threading delicately into yours every time the vines tugged fractionally tighter.

Data shuddered, a rare and beautiful system glitch, yet his fingers never missed a beat. Lore felt your tremors clearly and tightened the current-coupling again, unleashing another explosive surge of voltage. Amber radiance blazed through the vines as they responded in tandem, illuminating your entwined forms in pulses of warm brilliance.

Two new vines descended swiftly, weaving tightly around Data’s wrists, securing his palms firmly against your spine and ensuring that neither of you could separate. Another looped your waist, hoisting and dropping you on the paired shafts in a slow, relentless piston. A mirror of nature itself orchestrated the erotic union of your three synthetic forms.

Voltage leapt from Lore’s buried hands into Data’s exposed mesh and back again, completing the final arc of the circuit, energy passing through your triad.

All three of you cried out simultaneously, voices blending into a single, undulating hymn of ecstasy. Electrical highways intertwined, pleasure currents surged in infinite loops through conjoined bodies, each cycle more intense, more complete, until time itself dissolved into sensation. In that blinding instant, every boundary collapsed. Metal and flesh, synthetic and organic, technology and nature, all dissolving into a single, eternal circuit of ecstasy.

The world narrowed: voltage, sap‑light, breath, and thrust converged into a single, impossible pinnacle. A cathedral hush fell inside your processors, holding a still point even as bodies moved. You hovered at the apex of that infinite moment, an eternal android climax. Never ending, never fading, forever suspended in brilliant, boundless pleasure.

Telemetry Feed: Lost
Recursion Index: ∞

__________

You stood on the embassy’s peak, the observatory platform a broad sandstone disk.  Daylight blazed but the horizon had softened to coppery rose, and a dry, mineral wind combed through your hair and set your clothes snapping against your skin.

“This will soon become one of our people’s greatest achievements.” The ambassador lifted a hand toward the empty expanse beyond Vulcana Regar’s skyline. “Kilometers of biomes. Entire eras of extinct flora restored to living study.  With your expertise the kastik‑tal var will resurrect history.”

You let your gaze travel across the barren red desert, life flourishing where now only sand and heat stretched as far as the eye could see and even further. Soon there would rise faceted domes glinting under the harsh sun, vine‑hung walkways, cascades of color no sentient eye had seen in millennia, entire ecosystems brought back from extinction and myth.

For a heartbeat you felt the hum of Data and Lore’s circuits inside you. Life where there was none, steel and sap working together. For the first time in what felt like forever, your future shone before you, crystalline and certain. A hot gust swept the terrace, scattering bronze sand like sparks toward the unborn Eden.

"I’m in," you said.