"Flexibility… check."
Donnie pushed his goggles up and rubbed his eyes. He hadn't been getting a lot of sleep lately. He blinked slowly as he looked at his latest test.
April lay on her back a workbench in a closed-off, sound-proofed area of his lab, looking up at him with confused blue eyes.
She was gagged, bright red rubber stretching her lips, and a little rivulet of saliva ran down her chin, which really enhanced the helpless effect. She was also bound. Ably, thoroughly bound, her limbs contorted in aesthetically pleasing but certainly uncomfortable ways.
"You're not April," he reminded her (reminded himself), reaching out to trace the lines of her body with a fingertip.
She didn't seem to understand, but then again, she was a clone – not even really a clone; more like a biological robot built from April's DNA.
That didn't necessarily make him feel any better about the things he'd been doing to her, but what the hell.
She was on her back, and he stepped between her tightly tied legs, caressing her thighs with his palms.
"Are you ready?" he asked softly as he let himself unsheathe, his frighteningly large turtle cock casting a shadow over her flat belly in the harsh workroom lights.
The clone gave a little moan through the gag, and Donnie picked up a remote – cobbled together from Kraang technology and scraps, but functional.
He pushed a button, and a wave of irresistible pleasure broke over her face. A quick massage of her womanhood with his thumb, and she lubricated nicely – she seemed to be getting faster at that. He should start keeping notes.
The head of his cock pressed through her petals easily, and her bright blue not-really-April eyes rolled back as she experienced climax.
Donnie shook his head. As she came. Orgasmed. For him.
Sort of.
He sawed his hips back and forth, fucking the clone machine April roughly, making her small breasts shake, her body shuddering from his movements and from the artificially-induced climaxes that were tearing her poor little mind apart.
She was degrading from the brain out. Every orgasm broke her
down a little more.
Every time he spent himself inside her he broke down a little more.
This was really, really wrong.
He grabbed her breasts and squeezed, hard, making her thrash around as much as her bonds allowed her. He fucked her harder, bitterness in his throat as she shook beneath him.
There was a spreading numbness inside him as he spewed her womb full of mutant sperm. When he took his hands from her breasts, there was black liquid oozing from the wounds his fingers had left, coating his hands.
Donnie pulled out of her (it) with a slippery sound.
"I'd better wash up," he said mechanically.
His knee collapsed as he walked towards the shower he'd installed in his lab.
He lay on the cold metal floor for a long time.
