A/N: Welcome back to the chapter that was supposed to be last time's chapter. Thankfully, a flash of inspiration got me working on this and figured out the trouble I was having with the 'storyline.' That being said, I feel obligated to put this disclaimer here in big, bold letters:
DISCLAIMER - Some of you are going to not like this chapter. Some of you might even hate it. I am warning you now, the first scene from CR-21's perspective is probably going to bother people. Fully aware of that. Just read the chapter all the way to the end before you react/post about it. For those familiar with my other stories, my characters rarely have good lives or backgrounds. They suffer, just like each of the Tactical Dolls so far has had their own 'suffering' to deal with. Going forward, there's going to be occasional characters with some really f'd up stuff happened/happening to them. It's always going to have a 'good' ending in the long run, but be prepared for things to get dark sometimes.
Now that that's out of the way, on a more cheerful note, I've actually also been working on a 'sequel' to this story at the same time, revolving around the G&K crew rubbing shoulders with another certain let's-turn-historical-weapons-platforms-into-anime-girls mobile game. Debating whether or not to start posting that one as well, or hold off for a while. If I do start posting it, it will definitely update slowly.
Reviewers-
Mo Eazy - Yeah, trying to do solely-focused chapters might work sometimes, but I'll definitely be trying to bring in other T-Dolls as side-characters each time. Though, most every character that appears will be doing so in a way that foreshadows their eventual interactions with Commander.
Freddylane1 - At the rate Kalina's developing a hate-boner for Commander, all I can say is it will be quite… aggressive.
Pan0ply - basically, yeah. It'll keep getting touched on here and there as Commander grows more comfortable at the base. From a 'human' perspective, he is still getting used to Tactical Dolls, and his experiences have been off the wall in all directions, so he is legitimately afraid he is setting a terrible impression with them as a whole.
CultureHunt3r - Helianthus will get her moment in the sun. It's going to be equally funny and endearing if I can manage to write it well enough.
I Fredric I - Like a cinnamon roll.
BabyPuffin - I wasn't sure exactly how to write her character until I did some scrounging for her bio info. She seemed to fit the 'adorably cute' character type, and Commander's got to have some non-straight-to-sex relationships.
Blackwarfare2 - C96 can be on the table. I'm trying to shy away from straight loli (personally not a fan of it) but there is some wiggle-room.
Perspective - Commander
Griffon Base Oberon
06:00AM
"Right on time, Commander. Just the way I like it." CR-21 grinned over at him from across the aerobics room, her sharp canines peeking out in a cute sort of way. The Assault Rifle rolled over onto her stomach, dismounting from her back stretches atop an inflated ball, and peered up at him with a predatory expression. "I was afraid I might have scared you away."
He deflected her teasing with a half-serious, half-joking reply. "Tried to, but Kalina hunted me down and threatened to stab me if I did."
"Hee, that does sound like something she would say," the Assault Rifle conceded.
Commander waited patiently as CR-21 rose to her feet. She took her time, first walking her knees up to her chest so her curvy rump stood straight in the air, then rolled up to a sitting position with her head tipped back and her chest thrust out in an eyecatching manner. Were it not for the fact he was familiar with yoga and other stretching styles, he would have thought she was doing it on purpose. In reality, he considered it 50/50 that she was doing this to tease him as much as to pamper her own body.
"What's on the menu today," he asked, shifting his gaze past the sultry figure to the assorted tools in the room.
"Hm… I was thinking we should get to know each other a little better," she crooned. Her bare feet made no sound as she padded over to the door he had just entered from. "Let's head down to the weight room, Commander."
The weight room was downstairs, directly underneath the aerobics room. A handful of others were still present when they entered, mostly Tactical Dolls but there was one male staff member lifting dumbbells and posing in front of one of the long mirrors stretching across the entire southern wall.
Just like with the previous session, CR-21 took him through an exaggerated tutorial of the various equipment, ensuring that he knew how to properly use each and had good form. As a practiced instructor, she alternated between watching, speaking, and feeling, first observing his form, then commenting and critiquing it, then moving in to guide him to the proper postures. Even though this involved a fair bit of touching, there was no sensuality here. She was in full-instructor mode, and took the job quite seriously. Seriously enough that Commander relaxed under her tutelage.
Most of what she taught him was not new, though it had been some time since he last used a proper gym. Rather than try and prove his competency, however, he allowed her to walk him through each machine with minimal fuss, paying close attention to how she instructed him to use it and ensuring his form was top notch.
It took the majority of their hour to go through each of the machines and work through the various dumbbell exercises. By the time they finished the circuit of the weight room, there were only a few minutes left before he needed to retreat to the showers.
"And there we go…" CR-21 took the dumbbells from his hands and set them back on the rack. A wolfish grin spilled across her face for a moment as she watched him through the mirror, then the Assault Rifle turned back to him and carelessly brushed her hair back over one shoulder. "Now then, we've got enough time for you to try and impress me. What's your weight on the bench press?"
"Not sure," he admitted, shrugging off the question with humility. "Been a while since I last did it, so it's probably gone down."
"What was it?"
The male staffer that had lingered in the room occupied one of the three benches. He currently had an impressive 150kg on the bar, which looked about one and a half times his body weight by Commander's guess.
When he did not answer her question, the Tactical Doll waved dismissively to the mans' bar. "Think you can take that? Should be a cinch for you, right?"
There was a certain tone to how she asked him, a hint of rigidness to her voice that was entirely out of place from earlier in their conversation. Commander did not miss the glare that the staffer shot the Assault Rifle, nor the hint of a sneer forming on the Tactical Doll's lips when the man let out a furious breath and resumed his workout. Benching without a spotter was a foolish decision, but one that fell into personal choice, so he said nothing to the staffer. Besides, this was a place to work out, not to lord his rank over others.
"I think I can do 150," he replied.
"You… err…. Think you can?" The staffer huffed loudly as he set the bar. Pausing for a moment to suck in several deep breaths, the staffer turned over to glare at Commander. "I'd be a little more conservative in your limits, Commander. You don't want to hurt yourself there."
"Commander is more than capable of handling such light weights," CR-21 snapped, shifting just enough to stare down her nose at the man.
The two exchanged fierce glares. Commander understood that there was some sort of bad blood there, but did not think it worth diving into. The staffer was fairly handsome, with Asiatic features and a bulky, muscular frame. An arm-length tattoo sleeve depicting snarling dragons covered his right arm, and a hint of smaller tattoos peeked out from under his shirt. He reeked of Type-A personality, but Commander could not remember having met the man before.
There were lots of staff on base. While he did intend to eventually meet everyone, his schedule lacked the opportunity, and in the first place his job had more to do with the Tactical Dolls than the human staff. Kalina handled the human-side, generally speaking. As such, he was more familiar with the Tactical Dolls than human staff.
"Don't worry about him, Commander. He just wishes he was as popular as you." CR-21 gently pushed on his back, easing him over to the bench, and set to work gathering the weights as he laid himself down. The Tactical Doll showed no strain whatsoever as she picked up the 20kg weights and slotted them onto his bar.
When the sixth 20kg weight settled on the bar, he raised an eyebrow. CR-21 showed no signs of stopping, and put two more on in total, bringing the total up to 180kg.
"This looks like a good starting point, don't you think?"
He glanced at the bar, mentally calculating its weight and estimating what he could do with it. In his prime, it would not have been a problem. Now… he was not so sure.
"You're trying to break the commander just to prove a point," the staffer grumbled.
"Commander definitely won't break," CR-21 shot back, her expression a picture-perfect innocent smile. "Unlike someone else who tried to show off to the Tactical Dolls. Now then, Commander. You know the drill. Ten reps, at your own speed."
Ignoring the scathing look that emanated from his right, Commander took the bar and carefully lifted it. The weight stifled him for a moment, reminding him it had been some time since he was in this position, but it only took a second for his brain to adjust. Slowly, using proper form, he began knocking out the repetitions.
"One… two… ooh, you're doing great, Commander… six… seven… you make this look easy… aaand ten. Rack it!"
He exhaled loudly, spending a few seconds stretching his arms and testing for any pain. After adjusting to the weight it was not as hard as he expected it to be, but it certainly left him sucking wind. Not bad for a first time back, though. Even CR-21 looked surprised, despite her enthusiastic cheering. The Assault Rifle circled around from her spotting position behind the bench and came to stand in front of him, eyes glinting with pride.
"That's what I expected from Commander. You're a real strong man, ain'tcha?"
"Amazing," the staffer grumbled, sarcasm dripping from his voice. "Considering he hasn't been doing an actual workout this morning and is in peak shape. Bet he couldn't do it twice."
"Hm… I don't think anyone's concerned about whether Commander can do it twice." The Tactical Doll winked down at Commander. "But… I agree, let's see if Commander can get it up twice in a row. Here, Commander, I'll even give you an incentive."
Both Commander and the staffer stiffened as CR-21 swung a leg over the bench and sat down across Commander's lap. The Assault Rifle spent a moment wiggling into a comfortable spot, making sure to grind her hips against his as she spat a catty glare at the staffer.
"I want you to give me as many reps as you can," CR-21 ordered. "Each rep earns you a kiss."
All too aware of the furious stare bubbling up to his right, Commander heaved a mental sigh and noted that he would have to investigate the history of these two. This went beyond simple pettiness and bickering. There was definitely some serious incident in their past. Serious enough that CR-21 was acting incredibly aggressive to spite the man.
"You wouldn't dare."
"Stick around and find out," CR-21 growled back. Then she smiled sweetly at Commander, her pink tongue licking across her lips. "Don't keep me waiting, Commander. Consider this an order from your instructor."
He grunted, deciding it was better to just get this over with than to argue it. They only have a couple more minutes anyways. It wasn't like he was about to go through a whole workout with the Assault Rifle sitting on his lap.
"One… here's your kiss, Commander. Chu!"
CR-21 ducked under the bar, pressing her body tight against his to fit underneath, and planted a loud kiss on his lips. Then, retreating in a flash, she cleared the way for him to do it again.
"Two… chu!"
"Grrr…" the staffer's growl reached Commander's ears, but he did not turn to look. He ignored it, just like he tried to ignore CR-21 and her muscular thighs rubbing against his hips. The bar was heavier than he would have liked, and it took effort to bring it up and down, especially if he had to pause for the Assault Rifle's ridiculous interruptions.
"Five… wow, you're doing great, Commander! Chu!"
Sweat beaded on his forehead as he extended his arms. His muscles ached from being forced to work past what he felt comfortable with. It really had been too long since he'd done a proper bench.
"CR…"
"Shush, Comm- six… chu! I want four more from you before you stop."
Commander grit his teeth, pushing through the growing weariness in his veins. Having the Tactical Doll sitting on him, her hands braced against his chest, made it harder than it already was. Yet the Tactical Doll showed no sign of easing up. Conversely, she began taking longer with each kiss, no longer darting in and out, but spending a lingering moment with her lips against his, leaving him in the enviable position of having to hold the bar straight up for extended periods of time.
"Mhm… eight… two more Commander!"
The staffer's snarl of irritation rippled through the nearly empty gym. He rose up suddenly from the bench, face twisted in an ugly scowl, then stormed out of the room without another word. CR-21 paused, one hand on Commander's chest, the other rubbing idly against his side as she tracked the man's exit with cruel, glittering eyes.
"Hmph. Alright, Commander, that was nine. Give me one more and… ten! Wow, I honestly wasn't sure you could do it, Commander. Let me reward you."
Before he could try and stop her, CR-21 swooped down on his sweating, aching body. Rather than kiss him, however, the Assault Rifle merely tapped her nose against his and winked cheekily at him.
"Your reward is a shower massage. Let's get you out of those sweaty clothes, Commander. Great job today."
"...thanks?"
The Assault Rifle slid off of his lap as if it was the most natural thing in the world. She gestured for him to move, fetching a towel and a bottle of sanitizer from one of the cleaning stations as she did. "Go on ahead. I'll catch up once I've cleaned it all down."
Neither of them mentioned the little spat that had just played out before his eyes. Commander loitered for a moment, debating whether he should, but CR-21 appeared wholly engrossed in the task of cleaning, or at least pretended to be too busy to discuss it. The Assault Rifle's eyes were locked firmly on the bench as she sprayed down the cushion, the bar, and the weights.
A quick glance at one of the wall-mounted clocks informed him he did not have time for a drawn out discussion. Abandoning the thought, he made a note to bring it up later with her, and headed for the showers. Even if he was not thoroughly invested in the lives of the human staff, CR-21 was one of his Tactical Dolls, and he needed to be aware of anything that might interfere with her ability to perform.
The short trek to the showers gave him time to plan out the day ahead. Tomorrow marked the first day of operations, and a sense of uncomfortable giddiness rolled about in his belly. Two teams were heading out to investigate one sector, and another two were taking over the patrol route between bases Titania and Oberon on the other side of Mount Vilosko. Twenty of the base's dolls would be out in combat zones, with another ten on standby in case something went wrong. With luck, everything would go smoothly.
The last thing he wanted was for the first day of operations to end in disaster.
Commander was by no means a superstitious man, but he had an unshakable apprehension regarding the upcoming day. Years ago, this had been his forte, his bread and butter. A decade or so of inaction led him to second-guess himself, to doubt his abilities and fear for the skill of his operatives.
Truth be told, he wished there was a way to accompany the teams. That would put his heart and mind at rest.
The heated streams from the showerhead soothed a small part of his concern, washing over him in a drizzling embrace. He ran the shower hotter than normal, spending a few minutes testing his arms for signs of overexertion. Without the cooldown stretching it would be too easy to ignore the sudden strain put on them and end up with bad cramps later.
Only a minute or two after he entered the shower, the muffled thump of a towel being tossed onto a hanging hook alerted him to CR-21's arrival. He reflexively glanced in the direction of the entrance, and caught the wonderful sight of the nude Assault Rifle's succulent caramel curves as she sauntered into the shower room. Drops of water beaded on her smooth skin from the steam spilling out of the showers, but the Assault Rifle showed no discomfort as she rolled her shoulders and let out a luxurious groan.
"Ahhh… so much more room in here. You're really spoiling me, Commander." Her yellow eyes shone with joy as she turned on the showerhead next to his, letting out a quiet yip of appreciation as the heated water poured down onto her. "Mhm, and that temperature. You read my mind."
He reluctantly tore his gaze away from the streams of water pouring down the slopes and valleys of her body. Returning to his own task, he grabbed a bar of soap and started lathering himself up.
"Now, now, Commander. I told you I was going to give you a shower massage, didn't I?"
The Assault Rifle plucked the soap from his hands, an impish gleam on her wet cheeks. The powerful scent of wet fur filled his nostrils as she circled around him, lazily running the soap across his body with a single hand. The wet, matted texture of her hair brushed against his arms, offering the faintest sensory touch as she leaned in close, pressing her body into his back.
"Hm… this looks like a good place to start. You have some knots in your back, Commander. It's a good thing I'm here to sort you right out. Not stand still and let this Assault Rifle get you back into shape."
Again, there was surprisingly little sensuality in her massage. The Tactical Doll's assault on his back involved poking, rubbing, and painful prodding as she excised the tension from his muscles. It was not erotic by any means, though the scent of her wet body filled the room as time went on. Tactical Dolls did not have a particular scent by themselves. Unlike humans, who secreted oil and sweat and the like, they had to apply perfumes or other materials to have a smell. Most left themselves unadorned in missions to make it harder to detect them, even.
But CR-21 smelled, and she smelled lovely.
"Oh! Looks like Commander is having guilty thoughts again," CR-21 cooed, her head peering out from around his side. She gazed down at his erection with a wicked giggle before disappearing and resuming her massage. Her hands had worked all the way down to his lower back, and he estimated she would be done shortly.
"It is hard to imagine a warm-blooded man who wouldn't in my shoes," Commander told her, dryly brushing off her teasing.
Before she could linger or retort, he changed the subject rather drastically. Initially he had planned on following up with CR-21 about the staffer at a later time, but this was as good a time as any. As a Tactical Doll, she rarely had free time unless on a day off, and their schedules likely would not match up for some time.
"What am I missing about you and the weightlifter, CR?"
Belatedly, he wondered if a couple's shower was ever a good time for a serious talk.
The shower room fell silent save for the hiss of the showerheads. CR-21's hands paused on his back, pressing listlessly against his lower spine, and he could have sworn he felt her face darken at his question. For a long, pregnant moment, Commander feared that his question had been too blunt, too personal. Had she been a regular human woman-
Fuck.
He still struggled with how to approach the Tactical Dolls. Every day was a chaotic pendulum of trying to find that perfect equilibrium of recognizing how inhuman they were while also treating them as appropriately human. It was true that Tactical Dolls were physically leagues beyond regular humans, but psychologically and emotionally… they fit very neatly within 'standard' human ranges. Some were incredibly tough. Others, frighteningly fragile.
His question had been inappropriate. He had not bothered to figure out CR-21's strengths and weaknesses. Judging by the silence, he had grossly overstepped.
"CR?"
Abruptly, her hands dropped away from his back. The soft splash of water underfoot was the only indication she had retreated.
"I think that's enough of a reward for today, Commander," the Assault Rifle said, her voice light and cheerful as ever. "I'll use this shower again, if you don't mind."
Commander turned to watch her, but the Assault Rifle stood with her back to him, her face hidden from view as she selected a volumizing shampoo from the rack and squirted a thick handful out. Her tone left no room for argument, and he did not feel the urge to pursue it. There was no surer sign that a woman was upset then when she was cheerful and avoiding a topic. He would have to find a proper way to apologize to her for prying, but at the same time her reaction confirmed that whatever the issue was, it was more serious than she wanted him to think it was.
His palms itched restlessly, warning him that if he went digging, he probably wouldn't like what he found.
-v-
Perspective - Jericho
"Here is your tea, Commander."
Jericho placed the cup in reach of the distracted human officer, her sharp eyes skimming over the screen of his workstation. Personnel files. He had taken to reading them electronically rather than in paper due to the sheer amount of paper files that had begun filling the office with his meticulous studying. While Jericho herself appreciated the tactile feel of paper and the personal touch of penning in notes and flipping pages, she appreciated the efficiency of electronic note taking.
It was not as if this Commander was a pencil-pusher anyways. He did not adhere to the established expectation the Tactical Dolls had of what a commander would be: a soft, chipper screen-addict. Commander certainly used computers, and had all the usual useful gadgets to assist in his everyday life, but he generally spent more time out and about than he did behind said screens. Ithaca actually complained that he did not even have a TV in his room or a game system of any kind.
Which was, ironically, one of the things that made this Commander seem less approachable than previous commanders. Though he did display a more active interest in their wellbeing, and even took time out of his day to interact with them in ways previous commanders had not, the simple fact was that he came off as too intense, too serious, for the Tactical Dolls to truly relax around him in public.
Previous commanders instituted things like an open-door policy for their private rooms, going so far as to set up the main room as a 'lounge' where Tactical Dolls could come in and relax around their commander to build trust and better their relationships. This Commander did not seem to be that kind of person; if anything, an open-door policy would prove disastrous given the… activities.. he was already well-known for with certain Tactical Dolls.
In the end, the general consensus was that this Commander would be a great one, but no one knew what to make of him, personally. A few outliers had firm opinions, and those that had taken an adjutant day confirmed he was fairly harmless, but everyone else held their breath and waited to see what would happen after the first mission.
Her eyes flickered as she reviewed the roster. There was one name on the list that made her hesitate, but it was not her place to butt in.
"Thank you, Jericho." Commander sniffed the tea once, his eyes pinching closed as he basked in the lemony scent of the basic black tea, and she could not help but admire how handsome he was. Commander was no ikeman or cutie; his looks were rugged, mature. LWMMG described him as a 'father figure' sort of human, which Jericho took to mean appearance-wise, and not the 'daddy' kink that the Machine Gun was too pure and innocent to understand.
"Is something bothering you, Commander?" She did not fear asking the question. There was a place and time for being coy and political. Commander established quite early on that he had little time or use for beating around the bush regarding important matters such as morale and wellbeing. That applied both ways, though he had never once suggested that it would.
"Bothering me?" Commander laughed softly, a grimace slugging across his lips. "Is it that obvious?"
She could point out that his brows were a touch tighter than usual, his gaze was more severe, and his movements were just slightly stiffer than normal, but that was the computer-side analytics at work. Those that interacted with Commander all vouched for the Commander's desire to treat them as human, or at least, human-ish. So she adjusted what she was about to say to fit that desire.
"Call it a woman's intuition."
"I'm showing it clear as day, aren't I?"
Rather than answer, she offered a faint smile and returned to her desk. Commander leaned back into his chair, heaving a deep sigh, and focused on drinking the cup of tea in smooth, measure sips until it was empty. The fact that it was still piping hot did not seem to bother him in the slightest.
"Tomorrow," he answered finally. Nothing more needed to be explained. Jericho made a little noise of acknowledgement, then continued with her work. There was no point in mulling over it. Worrying and doubting would only upset his morale. If she had to guess, it was the wait that bothered him, not the actual operations. If he could press a button and skip twenty four hours forward in time, he would.
Choosing to not delve into the matter, Jericho settled for the next best thing: keeping him too busy and distracted to worry.
"How does your caseload look, Commander?"
"I could use a break," he admitted, rolling his neck as he closed out of the one file and opened the next. "It's… already three. Day's flown by."
"It certainly has," she agreed. "How about we take a walk. You look like you could use a good stretch of your legs."
The pair marked their progress on their tasks, then stepped outside and into the warmth of the late summer afternoon. The shift in his body language was instantaneous, with his shoulders lifting and his breathing coming more naturally in the open air. Commander was a man who liked the outdoors. Even something as simple as stepping outside lifted his mood.
"Now then, we have… let's say an hour before we need to get back?" Jericho dutifully noted their estimated time of return on the whiteboard beside the door. Then, offering Commander a pleasant smile, she wrapped her arm in his and guided him along in the direction of the dorms. The route took them past several auxiliary buildings, including the recreational facilities and opposite the commissary, both of which showed signs of hosting crowds as the Tactical Dolls not on duty spent their free time in relaxation.
"Do you have a destination in mind," he asked the Handgun.
"No," she admitted. "I figured you would appreciate just walking around for a little while."
His silence confirmed she had guessed correctly. Commander's expression gradually relaxed as they took in the familiar sights of the base, noting particulars like the G-sisters marching down the road in their matching maid outfits as they went off to their on-base jobs, or the cluster of Handguns playing basketball on the outdoor court attached to the recreational facility. Commander's faint smile at the sight of all the diminutive Tactical Dolls playing ball like pro's despite being less than half the height of the hoop assured Jericho that he was indeed enjoying himself.
"Is… is that a regulation basket," he asked suddenly, his eyes focusing on the hoop as a basketball swished through without touching the rim.
"It is not, Jericho confirmed. "We added four feet of height and reduced the basket size to make it harder. Huma- regular baskets are too easy."
Commander chuckled and continued walking. "I'll have to remember to not challenge you all to a game, then."
"Some staffers do," she told him. "They actually have a pretty good team, and they've gotten much better after playing against Tactical Dolls."
"So you only beat them soundly, instead of grotesquely?"
Jericho hesitated before answering. "Well, we do go easy on them."
"Tactical Dolls are amazing," he muttered, shaking his head in wonder.
Her core warmed a couple degrees at his praise. It was clear he meant that in the best way, just as everyone had reported regarding his opinion of Tactical Dolls. She liked him, Jericho had no compunctions about that. The more she interacted with him, the more she agreed that he was a great fit as a commander for G&K. Some commanders revered Tactical Dolls too much, others did not care enough about them and treated them as disposable tools. Commander… he treated them like they were perfectly normal members of his team.
Tried to, at least. She knew full well that he was still adjusting to them, and how different they were, but he put in consistent effort to smooth over those discrepancies and not give in to bias or preconceived notions. And that was enough for most Tactical Dolls. Humans were frail and fallible. He acknowledged his shortcomings and strove to do better each time.
Commander's gait slowed, and Jericho naturally matched his pace. Curious as to what drew his attention, she eyed him sidelong and saw him staring off in the direction of the logistics center. In particular, his eyes lay on a muscular human staffer who was heading in the direction of the commissary.
The Handgun recognized that staffer. Her expression remained neutral though, hiding the disgust that rose in her chest at the unwelcome reminder that that man was still on base.
"You too, eh?" Commander patted her hand soothingly. She wondered how he had recognized her reaction, then belatedly remembered that her arm was wrapped in his. And her grip strength had increased dramatically in the split-second she was distracted with masking her facial muscles.
"I apologize, Commander." Jericho extricated her arm and cautiously felt under his sleeve to ensure she had not bruised him. "That was unseemly of me."
"Don't apologize, Jericho." Commander's light tone indicated he did not take offense, even as his eyes did not shift from the distant figure. "Though as a way of compensation, I'm going to need you to be straight with me. What's his deal? He and CR-21 were at each other's throats this morning in the weight room."
"He…" Jericho's voice faltered, and she glanced down at the pavement. To her shame, she felt an intense guilt pressing on her thought processes, so much so that her voice faltered entirely for several seconds.
"Here," Commander said suddenly, taking her gently by the elbow. He walked her over to a nearby bench. Taking the invitation, Jericho sat down and took a deep, calming breath to buy herself time and collect her thoughts.
"That is Specialist Hang-Mun," she reported. "He used to be the base's fitness instructor. It is a side job, one of many that are available for extra stipend."
"CR-21 is the current fitness instructor," Commander noted. "So she took his job?"
"That is technically accurate." Jericho tried to meet Commander's gaze, but found she could barely stomach the thought. Not because of fear of Commander, but fear of him seeing whatever reflected in her eyes as she talked about the staffer. "Specialist Hung-Mun was being… there were reports he was harassing Tactical Dolls in the gymnasium. His instructive methods were extremely hands-on, to the point he was making Tactical Dolls uncomfortable and several complained about it."
Commander listened to her report in silence, his gaze not once leaving her as she continued in a soft, determined voice.
"The complaints were investigated, but he insisted he was merely helping them with form and the like. And, of course, he behaved perfectly when others were around. Eventually… well, unofficially, CR-21 challenged his job as fitness instructor. She hyped it up, turned it into a competition, and beat him in it."
"Of course," Commander said, nodding along.
"It wasn't like that," Jericho insisted. "The challenge was weighted appropriately. Everyone knows that CR-21 is stronger. She is a Tactical Doll, after all. But in the end she won, and Specialist Hang-Mun ceded the job. He wasn't required to, but CR-21 talked to him about it afterwards and he gave it up."
"Is he still causing trouble?"
"N- no… not that anyone has reported."
His stare needled into her. The Handgun swallowed nervously, wilting underneath his stern inspection. "What is the 'but?'"
There was no point in lying about it. He was their commander, and he had made a point that he wanted to take care of them.
"Since that time, things have gotten more strained between the two. Something is going on there. CR-21 won't tell anyone. She says she 'has him handled' and won't say anything else about it."
"I see." Commander frowned. He had a handsome brooding look, Jericho decided. Not that she liked seeing him upset. But every once in a while, in the right setting, it would not be so bad for him to show that off.
"Anyway, CR-21 is a big girl. She can take care of herself." Jericho nodded after saying as much, almost as if to convince herself that what she said was true. In all honesty, she and a few of the other Tactical Dolls had noticed a growing unease in the Assault Rifle. CR-21 masked it exceptionally well, but the tension between those two kept growing, looming like an oncoming stormcloud.
It didn't help that sometimes the two were caught sneaking out of the equipment closet, one after the other. And CR-21 would have a strained cheer while Specialist Hang-Mun would be smirking up a storm.
"Well, I think that's a good enough break," Commander muttered. He stood up and offered his hand. "Thank you for the outing, Jericho. Do you want a drink on the way back? I'm buying."
"Yes, Commander, that would be lovely." Jericho smoothed the concern from her face, and allowed herself to accept the small kindness he offered. Her thoughts slid easily away from the brooding look that had crossed Commander's expression, and drifted off in the direction of Springfield's cafe and the delightful cold treats available.
-v-
Perspective - Commander
He watched the teams assemble in the vehicle bays, conducting last-second equipment checks and reviewing the mission briefings. Spas-12 and HK23 pored over a well-annotated map of their patrol route. Steyr Aug and Galil gesticulated towards the vehicle, in deep discussion. The bay was lively, filled with a crackling energy of excitement for the base's first mission in months.
Dozens of Tactical Dolls that were not going on mission had shown up, standing on the sidelines and cheering the chosen teams with encouraging words and playful banter. The mood was decorative, celebratory. Everyone was in a good mood, everyone was smiling.
He honestly was surprised no one had broken out bottles of champagne.
Well, not everyone was smiling.
His knuckles were whitening from the tight grip on the railing. Standing overhead, appropriately distanced from the others so he could survey without interfering, Commander waited for the signal to give the pre-mission send off. The Tactical Dolls were competent enough that he did not bother stepping in to assist. He would likely just get in the way, and he had no problem admitting it.
"Hey, Commander."
Grizzly approached from his left, her hands tucked in her bomber jacket as she pulled off the rakishly handsome look. The wily Handgun had earned a spot on his radar after the effort she went to in cheering up LWMMG after the Machine gun's embarrassing day as his adjutant. All around reviews from the other Tactical Dolls agreed that Grizzly was a bit of a firebrand, but looked out for the others and was like a big sister to half the Tactical Dolls on base.
"Good morning, Grizzly." He forced down the frown tickling his lips and offered her a noncommittal nod.
"More like great morning," the Handgun snickered. Her hand slid out of her pocket, clutching a neatly folded piece of paper. "Sorry for the last minute here, but I've got a work order from Persica. She said she needs to see Thunder about something. I'm primed and ready to swap in for her."
"From Persica?" Commander grimaced and took the paper. He skimmed over it, confusion mounting as he verified its contents. "General checkup? She didn't mention this during the ops briefing."
"Maybe she forgot?" Grizzly shrugged, amusement playing across her lips. "Well, it's your call. Want me to tag in?"
"Yes, go ahead." he tucked the paper into his inner breast pocket and dismissed the Handgun. "I'll let her know. Walk with me."
They headed over to the stairwell, drawing the attention of those in the bay as every Tactical Doll turned expectantly in his direction. Brushing off the sudden onset of so many eyes, Commander passed them by and strode up to Thunder, who cocked an eyebrow at his approach.
"Work order from Persica, Thunder. Sorry, but you'll have to sit this one out."
The stylish Handgun took the paper from him, confusion on her face as she read the contents.
"Aug, Grizzly is swapping in. Does that work for you?"
"Yes, Commander." Aug nodded demurely. "I have no complaints."
"Good. Thunder, get on over to Persica's lab." He offered a comforting pat on the back as the Tactical Doll trudged off wordlessly, her eyes glued to the paper. For a half-second he thought he saw every Tactical Doll in the bay looking at the Handgun in pity, but then he blinked and everyone was looking at him again.
It must have been a trick of the light, or his distracted mind.
"Teams ready for outbound processing?" His question was directed at the four team leaders, who each confirmed.
"Has everyone backed up their core?" His gaze went to Grizzly on this one. Since she had not been on the original roster, she did not go in with the others to save a backup of her core before reporting to the vehicle bay.
"Way ahead of you on that one, Commander," Grizzly said, flashing a thumbs up.
"Good." He looked out over the teams, then stepped up onto a small crate Spas-12 helpfully slid over so he stood out over them. "Alright teams, you know the drill. You've done this before, though it has been a while. I have two jobs for you: One, come back intact. Don't get carried away with the thrill of being out on the field again. The Sangvis Ferri are just as deadly as they've been before. I don't need to share with you the casualty statistics coming out of the other bases. Titania's roster has taken a pounding in the months that Oberon has been down."
The Tactical Dolls nodded along seriously, showing a variety of emotions on their beautiful faces. Several of them had been lent out to Titania to reinforce the base's battered roster from time to time. So far there had been no tragic incidents or comprehensive losses, but the base was burning through its reserves at a staggering rate trying to maintain the peace in their shared sectors.
"Two, if you run into Sangvis Ferri out there, kick their ass."
Cheers and whoops broke out from the Tactical Dolls. A few of the brasher ones pumped their fists and stomped their feet, hooting and hollering like hooligans before a football match. Had they been human, their adrenaline would be spiking with pre-battle jitters. But they were not. They were Tactical Dolls, and this was what they had been built for.
"Make me proud. Make yourselves proud," he ordered. Then lifted his hand in salute. As one, the assembled Tactical Dolls returned the gesture, growing utterly serious in the formal exchange.
"Come back in one piece," he reminded them, his voice softening as he spent a moment catching each outgoing team members' gaze.
"Commander's hot when he gets serious," a quiet voice giggled from somewhere in the assembly of bystanders.
"Shut up, Ithaca," Honey Badger growled.
The short exchange released the tension in the bay, and the teams started loading into their armored cars. Both teams were actually inserting by air, flying out to forward operating bases that Oberon personnel had regarrisoned from exhausted Titania personnel over the past three days. The armored cars were half for show, but all they were about to do was drive the tenth of a kilometer to the helipads where VTOL craft would actually carry the teams to the field.
With the away teams sent off, the assembled Tactical Dolls milled about and gradually retreated from the bay. Only ten remained, the two five-doll teams that comprised the rapid-reaction force. They gaze off longingly at the departing cars before heading over to the ready-room to settle in for their shift.
"Hey, Commander."
Honey Badger waved him over from the entrance of the ready-room. After confirming no one needed his attention, he meandered over and greeted the surly SMG.
"What's up, Honey Badger?"
"...here."
The SMG thrust out her hands, fists clenched as if she were about to deposit something. He obliged by holding his palms underneath, and the SMG released a handful of brass shell casings. Seven in total. A thin hole had been drilled through their bases, allowing for a multicolored cord to be strung through them in a homemade necklace.
"This is…"
"It's what you fired, you know." The SMG averted her gaze, scowling at nothing in particular. "You looked like a proper brass recycler, but I uh… well, you know."
"Thanks, Honey Badger." He patted her on the shoulder, touched by her thoughtfulness. Though she tried to portray herself as a bitter, aloof type, she had a good heart in her chest. "I'll keep it at my desk."
"Geez, I don't want you keeping a memento of our first t-t-time out in public like that, idiot!" Her scowl grew fiercer and she made a half-hearted attempt to snatch the necklace from his hand. "Just, like, hang it up in your room or something. Maybe over your bed, or put it on your nightstand."
"Sure, I can do that."
Commander darted forward and placed a peck of a kiss on her forehead. Honey Badger's face turned tomato-red, and she made a show of wiping her forehead.
"Yeesh, enough with the sentimentality already. I've gotta head in. We'll be ready to step off at a moment's notice, Commander."
Giving her frantic excuse to escape, the SMG turned to flee into the ready-room. Halfway through the door, she stopped and glanced shyly back in his direction. Commander waited, struggling to hide his amusement at her bashful side.
"Just so you know… if you ever want to, um… well, I didn't dislike it."
He could almost see steam pouring off her face. The SMG ducked into the room, escaping from his sight.
"What am I going to do with you," he muttered, carefully wrapping the cord around the clinking brass shells and depositing them in his pocket.
-v-
Perspective - CR-21
Her stomach grumbled loudly as she entered the gymnasium.
Lunch had been cut short when the base siren went off just as she sat down. The sharp, well-known bleat signalling incoming casualties had them all sprinting for the helipads, their meals forgotten as Tactical Dolls rushed in from all across base to see who had been hit. The fact that there were casualties did not terribly surprise them; the rapid-reaction teams had lifted off just a few short hours after the away teams went out, and the backup teams had quickly been called in to serve as a third wave in case they were needed.
Honestly, all a girl had to do was access the network to see who was coming in, but that just lacked the personal touch, the 'realness' of seeing it firsthand.
In the end, it wasn't that big a deal. Galil had lost half her face and her left arm to shrapnel, Mac-10 had a fist-sized hole in her right thigh, and Grizzly's disabled body was carted off for salvage while her core was sent off to be installed in a replacement body. Basic casualties, nothing more.
Though, it was touching to see Commander's carefully contained fear as he rushed up to check on the wounded Tactical Dolls. That brief moment when he saw what would have been a corpse had Grizzly been human…
Yeah, there wasn't a Tactical Doll present who didn't carve that expression into their hearts and sigh wistfully when they recalled the distraught expression on his face.
The polite reminder that Grizzly's core was intact, and that she had plenty of backups, calmed him down. Not that he was falling apart or anything. But he had been clearly upset with her state, and had the look of a man who had seen fallen comrades far too many times. At least this time, it wasn't for real.
CR-21 heard what had happened a short while later. Grizzly was taking point in a sweep of that little abandoned village that Sangvis Ferri liked to try and base out of, and she took a trio of Jaeger rounds through the chest. It was a miracle her core wasn't taken out, but her body was likely a goner.
It could have been much worse.
That could have been Thunder.
Pushing the uncomfortable thought aside, CR-21 slipped into the locker room and changed into her athletic clothes. No one else was in the gym this time of day, which was good. It was better that no one was around.
She spent a moment eyeing herself in one of the body-sized mirrors beside the door, a frown creasing her lips as she studied her own appearance. Something akin to regret flickered in her eyes, regret and shame, and she heaved a long groan. Some of the Tactical Dolls thought she was a hero, considered her an idol they could look up to. It chafed her to know how much she lied to them, to all of them.
But there were some lies worth telling.
Grabbing a towel and small bottles of hand sanitizer and mouthwash, she gave herself one final look in the mirror and forced a smile that did not meet her eyes.
"This is for them," she murmured, struggling to convince herself.
The trek down to the weight room was a lonely, depressing one.
The door to the equipment closet lay slightly open, emitting a faint light from inside. CR-21 grimaced at the sight, though she had been expecting it. It stood there mocking her, laughing at her pride and grinding into her like salt in an open wound. Just the sight of the door filled her with nausea.
Approaching silently, she set her things down just outside the door, took a deep breath, then stepped inside.
"I don't like to be kept waiting," a voice growled.
Specialist Hang-Mun sat lazily on an unused weight bench, his shirt draped carelessly over the bar. The man's muscular, tattooed body seemed to dance in the weak light of the closet overhead, rippling and undulating as he stood up and clapped his hands together.
"What does a bad doggie say when she's late for her master?"
"S… sorry, master," CR-21 mumbled, eyes lowering to the floor. Her ears drooped, and she went ahead and dropped to her knees. Like a kicked dog, she pressed her head to the ground and awaited his next move.
"I think the pup has gotten a little ornery with the new Commander on base," Hang-Mun said. His voice came suddenly from above her, so close she had no doubt he leaned down to whisper in her ear. Not that he needed to. As a Tactical Doll, she had heard his breathing the instant she entered the weight room. "Just what was that yesterday? You trying to make me jealous? Trying to make me think that Commander's on your side, and that I should back off?"
"Tsk…" CR-21 grimaced, but said nothing. She knew the rules, and she could not afford to talk back.
"How many kisses was that? Ten?"
A hand clamped down on the scruff of her neck, digging through her thick hair and pinching her neck. Slowly, firmly, he dragged her up until she had to clamber to her feet. In all honesty, she could have resisted him quite easily. Had it only been a physical matter.
"I think we need to even the score," Hang-Mun sneered as he shook CR-21, treating her like a misbehaving puppy. "Don't you think so too, pup?"
Bile rose in her throat. She had half a mind to spit in his face, but knew it would only cause trouble.
"Aw, so quiet. At least you aren't yapping anymore. Though, I kind of liked that vocal defiance. Now you're trying to be all strong and silent. It suits you, I admit it." He leaned in close to her. His breath stank of the food he had eaten for lunch, and he smelled like sweat. She hated it, hated him. But she did not pull back or struggle as he pushed his lips onto hers.
His kisses made her sick. They were slobbering, tongue-filled awfulness that made her want to vomit. Keeping her lips firmly closed, she endured his loud, saliva-filled onslaught. Eventually he pulled back, but the evil glint in his eyes told her he was hardly satisfied.
"That's no good, pup. It isn't fun for either of us if you don't reciprocate. What'd I tell you about being a good doggie?"
"...good doggies please their masters," CR-21 mumbled.
"That's right. And good doggies protect their friends too. You don't want me to go looking for another pet, do you?"
CR-21's eyes flashed nastily. She bristled, but went limp when he dug his fingers harder into her neck.
"...no, master," she admitted, struggling to hold back tears.
"That's right. You are my only pet, and as long as you keep me happy, I won't have to go looking for another pet."
CR-21 cursed the day she decided to challenge the Specialist. Though he was physically weaker than her, he was a canny bastard, and managed to trap her in this hellish arrangement on the promise that he would behave and stop harassing the other Tactical Dolls if she served as his 'pet.' Since that time, right after the death of the previous commander, this had been the way of things.
"Your tits are looking mighty plump today," Hang-Mun told her, sliding his free hand across her clothed chest. His fingers groped shamelessly, squeezing and twisting to the point her pain receptors kicked in, and CR-21 had to bite back her snarl as he let go over her neck and took the hem of sports bra in both hands. With a single, savage motion, he ripped her bra up, freeing her breasts before his lecherous gaze.
"Oh? Something you want to say?" His eyes settled on her, sneering at the effort she put into keeping her face neutral.
"P...please use my breasts as you see fit, master."
Her cheeks burned with humiliation. She wanted nothing more than to grab him by the throat and pummel the bastard into a bloody heap, but her behavioral inhibitors prevented any such action. Hang-Mun was a G&K staff member, which meant he was tagged as 'friendly.' Which meant he was untouchable. That was where she had screwed up. When she threatened to beat him when he laughed at her demand to step down and told her he 'had too many pets to sample.'
"Why, thank you, pup. I think I will." Hang-Mun stepped back and sat down on the weight bench. He spent a triumphant moment unzipping his pants, then pulled out his already erect cock. It was smaller than Commander's, she observed, then quickly wondered why she bothered to make the comparison. Calling it smaller was an understatement. His cock, while hardly small for a human, looked like a child's compared to Commander's. It also felt soft and slimy, and wasn't the least bit pleasant. He had that gross phimosis that he did not clean, and every time it went in her mouth she gagged just from the stench.
"Come on, kneel down. Let me use those lewd tits of yours for a while. If you behave, I'll even let you swallow my seed. You've gotten good at that, haven't you?"
If CR-21 was allowed one wish in the world, it would be for this bastard to die. Thankfully, he had yet to touch her lower half; for now he seemed content abusing her breasts and mouth. But each time they met he grew bolder, more unforgivable. Soon this wouldn't be enough for him.
She didn't know if she had the strength to allow him any more of her body.
Slowly, gingerly, she lowered herself to her knees and crawled forward, making a point of sashaying her hips and shoulders as his greedy gaze drank her up. The more he enjoyed himself, the sooner he would be done. All she had to do was swallow back her disgust, turn her thoughts elsewhere, and-
The door creaked loudly behind her. CR-21 froze, her eyes widening at the sudden intrusion, because she hadn't detected a thing from outside the room. Even Hang-Mun looked surprised, his expression opening comically as he nearly fell over backwards while frantically stuffing his cock back in his pants.
"C-Commander…" Hang-Mun grabbed the weight bench to steady himself. "W-what are you doing here?"
"Looking for CR-21," Commander's voice declared, sounding decidedly toneless. The Assault Rifle blushed furiously and yanked her sports bra back down, keeping her back turned to Commander as she tried to think of an excuse. "Someone said they saw her entering the gymnasium. I had a question for her regarding tomorrow's training."
"Ah… well, here she is, Commander. We were, uh, we were just fooling around, you know." Hang-Mun blanched, then stood up and frantically motioned for CR-21 to do so as well. Clutching her arms protectively, over her chest, the Assault Rifle shyly faced her Commander.
Commander stood in the doorway, appearing neither pleased nor angry at finding her here, like this. His expression was devoid of emotion, utterly unreadable. That struck her as more damning than an actual expression. She thought back for a moment to that look on his face at the sight of Grizzly's broken body. The loss of a Tactical Doll had horrified him. But here, looking at the shameful display of her surrendering her body to this bastard… he showed nothing.
Because she meant nothing to him. She had lied to him, lied to everyone else. She betrayed the trust of those closest to her.
She was scum. It was as simple as that. Grizzly deserved to be mourned, CR-21 did not. Not when she so easily caved to the whims of Hang-Mun. Not when she panicked and gave herself up rather than try and stand against him. She was a Tactical Doll! She should have known better, should have been better.
"I'll talk to you in a minute, CR-21." His gaze was cold as he tipped his head in a 'come hither' motion. "Go wait in the locker room."
"Yes, Commander."
CR-21 hurried past him, keeping her eyes on the ground, trying and failing to hide the anguish in her core processes as she passed under Commander's judgemental gaze.
-v-
Perspective - Hang-Mun
"Want a drink?"
Commander revealed a six-pack of beer, sliding his arm out from behind the door. His expression relaxed the instant the Tactical Doll left the weight room, his inscrutable frown turning into a friendly, relaxed grin.
"A… drink? Sure, Commander." Hang-Mun held out a hand, and pulled one of the cans from the pack. Eyeing the man curiously, he held the can and debated whether to pop it open.
"Apologies for disturbing you." Commander eased the door open wider, leaning casually into the frame in a much more relaxed manner. "I actually was coming to talk to you, not the doll. Things were a little… well, I figured I would lock down the boundaries with that one. She was flirting pretty fiercely the past couple exercise sessions, but you two clearly had something going on. Didn't want to step on toes."
"Appreciate it, Commander."
Commander popped open his own beer can and took a long swig. Taking that as permission, Hang-Mun began drinking his own. It was a heavy beer; the sharp taste of concentrated alcohol hit him fast up front, and left him surprised at how intense it was.
"So, what's your angle with the dog?" Commander's casual question made Hang-Mun tense for a moment, but then he relaxed and grinned up at the man.
"Nothing, really. Just screwing with her. The pup made the mistake of threatening me to oust me from the fitness instructor job. Honestly, I was thinking of withdrawing from it anyway. The dolls were griping too much and being too pissy. But the dog gave me a golden ticket, so I've been using her as a pet until I get bored with her."
"I get where you're coming from." Commander tipped his head. Hang-Mun stood up and walked with him back into the weight room. "They're a pissy bunch, aren't they?"
"Yeah, real uptight bitches." Hang-Mun grinned and slammed back the rest of the beer. He glanced down at the six-pack, and Commander gestured for him to take another. "You know, you're a pretty swell guy, Commander."
"Just don't let everyone else know that," he chuckled. "I'll keep my hands off the dog. Anyone else I should know about? Yours, or someone else's?"
"Nah, just the dog," Hang-Mun confirmed. "Everyone else has struck out. As I said, uptight bitches. They all think they're better than us. Like they aren't a bunch of sex dolls with guns, or something. That's all they're really good for. I mean, I am not going to complain if they are the ones going out and getting shot at, but it's a damn crime to not let us humans have a go at those things."
"Damn shame," Commander agreed. His eyes turned distant for a moment, lost in thought, then he gestured towards the bench presses. "How about this. You're a fit guy. And you seem like the type that wants to earn his rewards, not have them handed out. You do ten reps of 180, and I'll give you any doll of your choice."
"You can do that?" Hang-Mun thought about it, then laughed. "Of course you can. You've got all their override codes. Sure, I wouldn't mind. We talking permanent, or a one-time thing?"
"One time."
"Good enough." Hang-Mun started putting the weights on the bar. Commander lounged a few steps away, nursing his one beer. After setting the weights, Hang-Mun took a third can from Commander's outstretched hand. He chugged the whole thing, belched loudly, then dropped down onto the weight bench and grabbed the bar. "Ten reps, eh? Probably should have warmed up first. It'll be fine."
The weight of the bar almost made him buckle. His arms locked up for a moment, straining to adjust to the weight, but Commander was there, carefully supporting the bar with a towel wrapped around his hands.
"Palm's are a little slippery," he explained. "At your speed."
Hang-Mun grunted, and slowly let the bar fall. His blood rushed at the thrill of pushing his limits, and of finding a like-minded commander for once. The previous pansies were a real pain in the ass. They thought that the dolls were 'real people,' and insisted on treating them with respect and all that bullshit. This one knew better. He had a world-wise aura about him.
The first rep was always the hardest. Once he got that finished, it was easy enough to find his groove and settle into it. Not that it was fast and easy. Controlled breathing was key, as was just the right amount of distraction.
"So… your first day on base you shagged the queen bitch, eh?"
"Hm?" Commander's brow twitched slightly.
"DSR-50," Hang-Mun grunted, scowling as he pushed up his second rep. "Had the stupid bitch on broadcast the entire time too, a bunch of us were off duty. We dialed it into the barracks TV and had a jerk off session while watching it. God damn, you're a lady killer. You literally fucked the bitch out of that prissy cunt. Shame the recording got wiped, though. We were all set and ready to download it and sell it on the net. Doll porn sells for top dollar these days."
"I heard that a good portion of the base saw parts of that," Commander admitted, grimacing faintly.
"I wouldn't sweat it, Commander. She's just a doll. It ain't like you were fucking a real person or something. And goddamn, but you just made us all jealous with the firepower you're packing. You had a doll squealing. I've tried a couple at a brothel in the city, and I can hardly make them fake an orgasm."
He finished his fourth rep and let out a heavy sigh. "On that note, I think I'll take a crack at DSR-50, if you don't mind. Hell, I'd like to invite some others with me, if that's cool. We can tag-team her, see if a few of us can give her half the ride you did."
"...that's fine."
"Sweet. I'm looking forward to mauling those curves. It's a good thing they heal so easily, you know. Pretty sure I've busted up the dog enough times, but she never shows it the next day. Makes breaking these bitches in so much easier."
Seven reps down. Three more to go. His arms were practically shaking as he strained and pushed himself to finish. The thought of getting a night with the top doll on base was certainly encouragement enough to push through the pain. His lips twisted in a grin at the thought of what he'd make her do. He still had the shock collar he had bought to put on CR-21. Maybe he could have the Rifle test it out first.
"Ever heard anything about a kidnapping ring for Tactical Dolls," Commander asked suddenly.
"Kidnapping-? Oh, that. Yeah, I've heard the rumor." Hang-Mun groaned. "Nah, I thought that was just ghost stories. Some of us will loot the scrap bodies and sell parts off in the city, but no one's dumb enough to try and take a whole doll off base. They're tracked, you know. Only time you can smuggle them off would be after they've had their chips pulled before recycling."
"Good to know," Commander muttered. "Looting the scrap must be quite lucrative."
"Yeah it is…. Eight. Damn, this is heavy. Well, it isn't like anyone's going to miss the hardware. It all gets torched anyways. There's pervs out there that pay a pretty penny for certain parts of dolls. Others that want the tech. You just have to know where to look. Niiine. Whoo. DSR, here I come!"
His arms shook terribly as he held the bar up, giving himself a momentary breather as he summoned the willpower to force out one last rep. "I heard Grizzly lost a body today. Now that's an A-grade booty. A few of us are planning on stopping by the workshop late tonight after the cat-freak leaves and giving Grizzly a good old sendoff, if you know what I mean. It's not as fun when they're down, but those vaginas are mad tight and a bottle of lube is good enough to get it done. You interested in joining us? ...teeeeeeeeeeeeeen! Haaa!"
He poured all of his strength into one last monumental push, driving the bar up to full height even as his muscles screamed and his skin prickled with heat. Commander dutifully caught the bar, signalling the end of the ten, and Hang-Mun let out a whoop of excitement. He had not tried out 180kg before. It was a hell of a weight, and he knew he'd be sore for a day or so after this. But it was worth it if the Commander could swing him a playdate with DSR-50.
"Shit, that burns. Well, what do you think, Commander? We got a deal?"
Commander looked down at him thoughtfully. A few seconds of silence stretched out, leaving Hang-Mun uncertain of what the man was thinking of. Then Commander smiled grimly, closed his eyes, and uttered a single word.
"No."
Commander's fingers unravelled, and the 180kg bar sliced down like a guillotine.
-v-
Perspective - CR-21
"Alright, people, move out of the way. What's the ruckus?"
CR-21 pushed her way through the crowd, exasperation coloring her voice as she shifted past confused Tactical Dolls and red-eyed staffers. They milled about the hallway outside the weight room, standing around aimlessly as some sort of ruckus went on inside. Jericho stood just beside the door, gazing inside with a conflicted expression, but her head perked up at CR-21's approach and she held out a hand to half the Assault Rifle.
"What's the matter," CR-21 demanded.
"Training accident, looks like," Jericho said softly. The Handgun did not appear overly bothered by whatever had occurred, but CR-21 bristled with indignation. As the fitness instructor, the gymnasium was her domain. She had very clear rules on what was and was not okay in the gymnasium, and emphasized safety for the human staff to the point that several chafed at how overbearing she was in regards to procedure and protocols.
The thought that some idiot went out and got themselves hurt made her want to strangle that idiot.
"Who got hurt?" The Assault Rifle grumbled.
"Not hurt." Jericho shook her head. "Dead."
"...dead?"
Shock flooded the Assault Rifle's system. She gazed at the Handgun, waiting for a smile or a punchline, but none came. After processing the announcement, she pushed past Jericho's outstretched arm and stormed into the room, her chest thrumming with heat.
The gruesome scene made her pause just inside the doorway, horror overtaking her at just how ugly a scene it was. A slurry of gore dripped down from the man's half-crushed head; it looked like the bar had slammed down right in his mouth, tearing his upper jaw and skull in half. The sight was enough to make the humans sick, and even CR-21 grimaced in discomfort at the extreme damage.
Someone had been benching by themselves, benching far too much. Her eyes took in the weight, 180kg, and for a sparking millisecond she panicked at the thought that the body was Commander's. He was the only human that she had seen bench 180kg.
Had she a heart, it would be hammering so hard in her chest it might have burst against her ribs. Sprinting over to the body, she looked it over and tried to identify who it-
The corpse's right arm was decorated with a long tattoo sleeve. Her synapses froze, body jerking to a halt, and she gaped down at the snarling dragon tattoos in wonder.
"Specialist… Hang-Mun?"
The quiet steps of the Handgun announced Jericho's approach.
"He was drinking," the Handgun noted, gesturing to three empty cans of high-alcohol beer lying carelessly beside the weight bench.
"Bu- but he… what…" CR-21 blinked repeatedly, glancing repeatedly from the beer cans to the corpse. Conflicted emotions rose in her chest. Horror at the loss of a human life. Elation at the death of her tormentor. Shame that she felt relieved for the death of a human.
A flurry of voices reached her ears from outside. CR-21 turned to the door, eyes widening as Commander stepped inside, his mouth set in a determined frown.
"C-Commander."
The Assault Rifle snapped to attention, a cold hand sliding up her processors as his sharp eyes slid over her. She flinched, ears lowering in shame when she detected no warmth in his gaze. It was so vastly different, so chillingly disapproving, that she was struck with a powerful urge to lower her eyes and kneel before him.
How could she stand in the presence of the same Commander who so clearly cared for his Tactical Dolls? What she had done, what she was doing, was a black stain on the record of her fellow dolls. How could he possibly think well of her after her humiliating discovery?
He gave her and Jericho the briefest of acknowledgements as he strode up and inspected the corpse. His expression was stern, unreadable, and CR-21 did not dare stare. She fidgeted restlessly, hands clasped before her waist, uncertain of what to say or do.
"This could have been avoided," Commander muttered, shaking his head in wonder.
Both Tactical Dolls knew what he meant. It was common sense to have a spotter when benching. A fitness guy like Hang-Mun knew that better than half the staffers on base. He clearly had slipped up, dropping the too-heavy weights, and it cost him his life.
Then why did Commander's words lash across CR-21's consciousness, making her lips twinge and her eyes water as if he was rebuking her directly?
-v-
Perspective - Commander
"Good morning, Commander," CR-21 greeted, her tone lifeless and her posture deflated.
It was 6 o'clock sharp, as usual, when he entered the aerobics room. Specialist Hang-Mun's funeral occurred the previous day, attended by human staff only. It was not that Tactical Dolls were not invited, but rather that they all chose not to attend. That had caused some disquiet and grumbling among the staffers, who muttered darkly about their absence. He himself had given a short speech at the memorial, one that lasted an appropriate length and touched on the customary points. The whole thing felt rigid, perfunctory. More rote than heartfelt.
Day two of missions went smoothly with only one minor incident in the form of Ithaca losing half her left foot to a mine. The bubbly shotgun was fixed up and walking again by the end of the day, and apparently invited her room out for drinks to celebrate getting back in the field. No one else took damage, in large part thanks to how expretly Ithaca threw herself into the line of fire to shield her more fragile teammates.
But now it was morning again, and the first training session he and CR-21 had since he uncovered the truth of the relationship between her and Specialist Hang-Mun. They had not said much since; he felt that CR-21 was avoiding him. The Assault Rifle clearly was rattled by both being discovered, and what had happened after. She truly looked like a kicked dog when he was around.
"What's on the menu today," he asked, keeping his tone neutral. It was not that he intended to torment her, but he could not exactly brush off the incident like it had never occurred.
"A run, Commander."
CR-21 quietly led him to the track. This time they ran a full hundred laps, alternating every ten between jogging and sprinting. CR-21 ran at his side the entire way, staying just a few paces behind him, as if reluctant to place herself equal with him. He could feel the guilt and shame radiating off her body, ouring out of her in near-physical waves. But he said nothing, and let the hour pass in relative silence.
By the end of the run he was breathing quite hard, and gratefully accepted her suggestion that they call it a day. Not that there was much time left over. Ten miles in a little under an hour pushed the limits of human endurance. Rather than take cooldown laps, he simply walked with CR-21 straight over to the shower room.
"I'll leave you here, Commander," CR-21 told him, halting at the entrance.
Since that first day, she had taken to joining him in the command shower, claiming it was part of her job as his personal trainer. This was the first day, understandably, that she backed off. The depressed Tactical Doll stood there with her chin tucked against her chest, her wolf ears flattened and her tail hanging limp between her legs.
"Any chance I could trouble you for a massage?" He tapped his lower back. "Feeling a bit stiff here," he lied.
The Assault Rifle's eyes flicked upwards, studying his back. Indecision caused her eyes to waver, but she conceded to his request and obediently followed him inside. They stripped out of their clothes and headed into the showers, neither paying much attention to the other. One because he knew it was rude, the other because she could not bring herself to look up at him.
They gave themselves a cursory rinse under the showerheads. CR-21 kept her back to him, her shoulders hunched as she scrubbed her body with a loofah. He also ignored her at first, taking the opportunity to clean the sweat from his body and wonder just what were the right words for him to use here. His first attempt had led to disaster, one way or another, and he could imagine the precarious spot she had found herself in.
"Here, Commander. I'll do it now."
Strong fingers pressed against his back, making small circles as she felt out the tension and knots in his back. Unlike the previous time she massaged him, this time her work was hesitant, softer, less professional and more timid. It was as if she was afraid to press too hard. Not that she feared hurting him, but perhaps displeasing him?
Either way, it wasn't the same. He had lied to her as it was; his back felt fine and any stiffness he actually had could be ignored.
His thoughts drifted back to the previous time he tried to bring up an important conversation in the shower. This was still probably a terrible idea. One thing he had learned about Tactical Dolls, though, is that they were hard to approach about serious things unless you put them off balance. It was not as if he was trying to abuse her, or take advantage of her. But CR-21 was hurting, and she needed help that he did not think she would reach out for on her own.
"CR." Commander reached behind his back and caught the Assault Rifle by the wrist. Holding her gently, he halted her progress and waited for her to reply.
"...yes, Commander?"
"It wasn't your fault."
His words were muted by the falling water, but he knew she heard him. The Tactical Doll remained motionless, silent, for several long and painful seconds.
Sniff
Sniff
"I'm sorry, Commander." CR-21's voice shook, and the Tactical Doll leaned forward, her forehead thudding into his upper back. Uncertainty flooded her words, drowning out the beat of the showers. "I lied to you. I lied to my fellow Tactical Dolls. I lied to everyone! I-"
"Shhh…"
He tugged lightly on her wrist, guiding her around to stand in front of him. CR-21 shivered meekly under his gaze, her arms wrapped around her chest, shielding herself not out of modesty, but humility. Those piercing eyes of hers started to rise, but dropped low again as she waited for his condemnation.
"It's okay, CR." Commander put his hands on her shoulders. "You did nothing wrong."
"B-but I… the things I let him do to me. I let him violate my mouth and my… my chest… all to protect my own reputation."
"You protected a hell of a lot more than your reputation. You were protecting your fellow dolls, weren't you?"
"Sniff… I… I told myself I was…"
"Jericho said you got Hang-Mun to stop harassing the other Tactical Dolls." He lifted a hand from her shoulder and ruffled her hair softly. "That's a win in any book. I won't lie and say you couldn't have handled it better, but you put yourself out there as a shield. Had I- well, this all happened before I got here, so I can't say anything about it. You Tactical Dolls are my responsibility, CR. If something is hurting you, please tell me."
"Sniff… I was… scared…" she admitted.
"You don't have to be scared." He slid his hand down to her chin. Cupping her sharp chin in his fingers, Commander lifted her head until she met his gaze with her watery yellow eyes. "You don't have to suffer. Not while I am here. If someone threatens you, or threatens any of the Tactical Dolls on base, I will take the steps you can't to keep you safe."
The instant he said that, he regretted it. In his desire to comfort her, he let slip something he should not have said. And it did not go unnoticed. Something clicked in the Assault Rifle's eyes, and her mouth opened in a startled 'o'.
"Commander… did you..."
CR21's words trailed off, afraid to even voice the question that must have struck the Tactical Doll as blasphemy. It was a core component of Tactical Doll programming that human lives were held sacred, and they struggled with the concept of humans killing other humans. Many of them simply did not understand what could possibly motivate a human to want to kill another.
His thoughts must have reflected on his face, because the Assault Rifle's eyes widened and she took a hesitant step backwards. The slight move put her back up against the wall of the shower room, hardly out of reach. But it was not a defensive move, but a startled one.
"Are you sure you want the answer to that question?"
Tears formed in her eyes, and the Tactical Doll let out a low, keening wail. Startled by her reaction, Commander stood frozen as she lunged into his chest and buried her face against his neck.
"Waaaaagh, Commander! What did I make you do?"
"There, there," he muttered, awkwardly embracing the Assault Rifle and trying to soothe her as she sobbed. CR-21 wept loudly, her hands clutching at his arms, guilt and shame pouring out of her with each wail.
"I'm so sorry, Commander!"
"Shhh…"
He rubbed her back and whispered softly to her, letting the Assault Rifle vent out her sorrow and pain, listening as she devolved into a blubbering mess that alternated between manic sobbing and stammering apologies. All the while he waited patiently for her, eyes fixed on the wall, not daring to let his mind wander. The shower continued to beat down on them, rattling against their naked skin, and each little cough or sob made her body shake and press against him in an uncomfortably arousing way.
This was the danger of having this conversation in the showers, he reminded himself. It was about as awkward a situation as he could imagine himself being in.
Eventually, her cries faded away, and CR-21 gradually steadied her breathing. Her face remained pressed against him, eyes fluttering every so often as she steadied her emotions and bled out her tears.
"Why, Commander?" Her head lifted finally, revealing the tear-stained beauty of the Tactical Doll as she peered at him with half-closed eyes. "Why would you help a pitiable Tactical Doll like me? I'm… I'm dirtied. And I betrayed the trust of everyone."
"You aren't dirty," he promised her. Carefully, he released her and took a step back. "And you aren't the first woman to fall in the trap of an asshole. Next time… just don't let it get that far."
"I won't! I promise, I won't!"
CR-21 pouted up at him, sniffling one final time as she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. The pose struck him as so cute, so startlingly innocent, that he grinned and bopped her lightly on the nose with one finger.
"You protect us, and I protect you. That's how this relationship works, got it?"
"Yes, Commander." Her gaze lowered for a moment, falling to the floor, but she immediately found something that caused her cheeks to redden. "Um… Commander?"
"Yep, I'm aware." He sheepishly dropped a hand to cover up as best he could. Then he decided that both hands would be more appropriate.
CR-21 smiled softly, regaining a hint of her impish charm. "I do think I forgot to give you your reward for that ninth rep, Commander. I still owe you a ki-" her grin abruptly reversed, self-loathing filling her expression. "No, I'm sorry. You probably don't want to touch my lips now that you know what I-mph!"
Commander leaned into the Tactical Doll, catching her by the chin, and gave her a playful smack on the lips, just like how she had done to him on the bench. CR-21 staggered back a step, startled by his aggressive move. It was clear she had not expected him to make the first move, if at all.
"Hm, it isn't as nice when I'm the one kissing," he muttered.
CR-21 giggled, and leaned into him with a sparkle in her eyes.
"Then I guess I should finish it off," she murmured.
This time, they shared a lingering, gentle kiss unlike any of the previous pecks or smacks. The Tactical Doll's tongue licked playfully against his closed lips, teasing him to open up, and he reciprocated with a lazy, exploratory kiss as they embraced each other under the pouring showerhead.
Her hands slid around his neck, holding him tightly as she pressed deeper into their kiss. CR-21 was the same height, so they played back and forth, tilting their heads and shifting their weight to playfully try and establish dominance over the kiss. She did not want to surrender so easily. That was fine by him. He let his hands roam freely up and down her sides, carefully avoiding her intimate places, stroking tenderly and calmingly.
"Mhh… Commander…" The Assault Rifle pulled back, blushing furiously. "I… I want you to take me. I want you to do what he did to me… make me forget his touch."
He was not sure it worked like that with Tactical Dolls. The easy method would be to selectively wipe her memory banks, but he understood what she meant. What she wanted. It was a human-like reaction. She wanted to forget organically, not artificially. She wanted to be treated like a human.
"I'll be gentle," he promised her.
"You don't have to," she retorted, then blushed even darker.
He kissed her again, walking her back until she bumped against the wall. The Assault Rifle grinned against his lips, and her fingers curled against his short hair, unable to find a proper grasp. Her right leg pressed against his inner thigh, rubbing sensually between his thigh and her erection.
"Thank you, Commander," she whispered, her voice barely reaching his ears.
Commander ran his hands up her sides, dragging his thumbs across her toned stomach, and grabbed her weighty breasts from beneath. The Assault Rifle was a buxom doll even in her restrictive sports clothes. Outside of her clothes, she had a lovely pair of breasts with small brown nipples that were hard as ice under his fingers.
"C-commander!"
A multitude of expressions danced across her face: excitement, horniness, fear, lust, all warring together as he played with her chest, sometimes squeezing and massaging her breasts, other times pinching and twisting. His touch was not as gentle as normal; she had given him permission to be rougher, and he figured with what had happened to her a touch of roughness was needed to 'erase' Hang-Mun's abuse.
That did not mean he wanted to hurt her. He eased off when pain shimmered on her expression, or when her increasingly heavy pants twinged with sharpness.
"Let me know if it's too much," he ordered, sneaking past her mouth to nibble on her jaw. The Assault Rifle moaned breathily under his expert play. She released his head with one hand, trailing it down to the weapon between his legs, and countered by grasping it in a firm grip and stroking.
"You- you can go harder," she panted. Her lips pressed into his neck, planting saliva-filled kisses that drooled on his skin even as he began to rock his hips in time with her hand. The pair moved gently, slowly, adjusting to each other's rhythm, sampling the delights that they each had to offer.
"Commander's wandering lips found a target in her fluffy wolf ears. He bit down experimentally on one, causing the Assault Rifle to let out a muffled shriek and tense up, her body going rigid with shock at the unexpected pressure.
Afraid he had hurt her, he pulled back and grabbed her jaw, lining her up to look for signs of pain. Instead, he was startled to find a dreamy, slackjawed grin on her Tactical Doll's face.
"M… muh ears…" CR-21 stammered. "They're s-sensitive."
A predatory smile broke out on his face. "Sensitive, eh? Do you want me to stop?"
"N- nuh."
Resuming his attack, Commander caught her twitching ear between his teeth and began to cautiously nibble, tracking his teeth up and down her ear in the softest bites he could manage. Her ears were fluffy and so very soft, almost like satin as they offered the barest resistance. And each nibble accompanied an erotic moan from the Tactical Doll as she writhed in his arms.
He had abandoned her breasts with one hand, returning her favor by forcing her legs apart to rub against her tight outer lips. The Assault Rifle's slit was extremely tight, so tight he struggled for a moment to find it against the wet fur of her pubic hair that clung messily to the gap between her thighs.
"Aahaaa… Nnnooot fair!"
Practiced fingers slid between her closed folds, gently prying them apart to reveal the burning heat emanating from her sacred place. Commander turned his attention away from her ear just long enough to get a feel for her tightness, and how much he could do without risking damage. She was very, very tight. So much so that he was not sure penetration would even be on the table.
Not that he was sure she wanted that. CR-21 asked him to override what Hang-Mun had done, and both of them had confirmed they had not had real sex.
"Says the woman jerking me off," he muttered into her ear. All the while he continued playing with her breasts with his other hand, giving her no rest as he toyed with her body. The Tactical Doll squirmed in his grasp, but there was no way she could avoid a single hand or mouth, much less all three. Taking full advantage of how she was pinned against the wall, Commander pressed into her fully, squishing her against his chest.
CR-21 had to abandon her attempt at getting him off, unable to maintain a grip with his cock pinned between their bellies, and he likewise dropped his hands away from her body. That did not stop the Tactical Doll from catching him in another furious kiss, and they lingered there for several seconds, doing nothing else but sinking into each other's embrace.
"I wish we had a bed in the next room," CR-21 gasped, her eyes glistening like a love-drunk maiden.
"Don't need it," he growled back.
He attacked her breasts with his mouth next, kissing and licking with abandon, enjoying himself and the succulent moans that echoed above him. The Assault Rifle's lewd sounds tickled his ears, made all the sweeter as his hands pushed her thighs even further apart for easier access. He had to hunch awkwardly to achieve his objective, but the doll did not complain.
CR-21 pulled him tighter to her chest, whimpering quietly and pleading for him to be more aggressive, to bite harder as he rolled her niples in his tongue, scraped his teeth against her perfect curves.
"H-how are you… at's sho gooood."
Her voice went shrill when his fingers returned to her slit. This time he was less gentle, driving a single finger into her narrow tunnel with the bare minimum of warning. Instantly, he found himself encased in a boiling tunnel, his finger barely able to move for how closely packed her vaginal walls were.
Shit, he really might not be able to fit inside her.
"Yes! Like that, Commander! Mooooove-oh god!"
Pushing the thought aside, he explored the first stretch with subtle wiggles of his finger. His hand slid back and forth, sliding in and out of her in a sawing motion, drawing an ecstatic cry from the Tactical Doll with each repetition.
"I've got a challenge for you," he told the panting Tactical Doll. CR-21 gazed at him, her eyes hooded with lust. "If you can stand fifty reps…"
"I… I get a prize?" Her voice squeaked, and the Assault Rifle nodded vigorously. "I want a prize!"
"Good girl." He rewarded her eagerness with a smooch. "Do you want to know your prize?"
"Nuh-uh." Her tail wagged despite the weight of water holding it down. Eyes shining, CR-21 closed her eyes and adopted a cherubic smile. "As long as it's Commander, I'll love it."
"That's what I want to hear," he told her.
With her head tilted up, her throat was vulnerable. Commander darted in before she could lower her chin, catching her by surprise as he planted a series of kisses along her neck. Then, after ensuring she was ready, he began to thrust in and out of her pussy with a single finger.
"Mmmph… is- is that all y-youv'e got?" Her pinkened cheeks contrasted delightfully with her defiant words, making him grin as he added a circular motion to his finger, corkscrewing the tip of his middle finger inside her walls, grinding it against new spots each time it went in and out.
"Do you want more?" He stared up at her from his spot kissing her muscular shoulder. Though not quite an Amazonian build, the Assault Rifle had a powerful frame and sexy muscles in all the right places.
"Rrrrr…" conflicted emotions raged in her eyes. She clearly wanted more, but feared she might not be able to survive fifty repetitions if he obliged. Commander let her stew with indecision for a long minute before making the decision for her.
"Let's ramp it up a notch."
A second finger forced its way inside her slit, earning a shriek from the Tactical Doll. CR-21 buried her face in his neck, biting down hard enough to leave a mark in an effort to stifle her voice. It was cute, and he rewarded her by lifting his head to catch her other, untouched ear in his teeth, and he nibbled away to add to the torture of his playing with her body.
The Tactical Doll's legs began to tremble as he picked up his pace, sliding his fingers in and out of her with ever increasing speed. The walls of her vagina squeezed them, clinging to every digit as they curled and flicked inside her, constantly searching for points that drew the loudest moan and cry from the helpless Assault Rifle. The wet sound squelching from her womanhood was nearly drowned out by the shower, but it was there. Her heavy, panting moans burned in his ear, filling him with giddy delight even more when she wrapped her arms around his back and hugged him so tightly that he could not begin to extricate himself.
"Haa… harr…"
"Harder?" He chuckled into her ear.
To his surprise, the Assault Rifle nodded without hesitation. Her forehead rubbed into his shoulder, desperately answering his question with her actions rather than words.
One of her toned legs lifted on its own accord, awkwardly wrapping her calf around his hip to give him better access to her pussy. Commander rewarded her by acquiescing to her request. His wrist hammering into her, slapping his palm loudly against her sopping slit with even greater speed. He was hardly at thirty repetitions and she was gushing, barely able to stand on her legs- leg.
"Cc….mmm...mmm...haaaa...aaa…"
"Ten more," he murmured to her, and his hand accelerated into overdrive. Any thought of being gentle to her was tossed aside as he furiously pumped her pussy with all his might. The contracting walls of her vagina warned him of her oncoming orgasm even faster than her shrill, frantic cry as CR-21 desperately yanked her face back from his neck and sought out his lips in a passionate kiss.
"Commmmmaa- cuuuummmiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!"
The Assault Rifle's body locked up, seizing in place around his fingers as her vagina released a torrent of sticky fluids. CR-21's eyes rolled back in her head, expression going slack mid-kiss as she buckled and orgasmed hard from just his fingers.
Commander rode it out, easing down from his merciless pace, continuing to massage her insides until she finally released him and he could pull his bruised fingers out from inside her. Amazed by the stiffness in his fingers, he gazed down at the faint discoloration along them that indicated he would have a very telling bandage in the coming days.
Almost as an afterthought, he reached past her and turned off the shower. They had wasted plenty of water in this fling. While they were next to the ocean and water was plentiful, at some point his skin would get all wrinkly, as might hers. Though, he had no idea if Tactical Dolls had that problem. They wore synthetic skin, after all.
"Goddamn," he grunted, and allowed CR-21 to slump lifelessly against him.
"Caaahmmmhandda…" she drooled, her chest heaving with each sucking breath.
"How are you feeling, CR?" He asked the question honestly. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her, even if he had gotten a little carried away at the end. To his delight, she flashed him a weak thumbs up and grinned up at him.
"Awwweshum. I waannna hav' cahmanda's widdah cahmanda tooooo."
"I don't think there's anything little about my 'little commander,'" he warned her. Holding up his fingers, he let the Assault Rifle inspect the bruising. "And I'm pretty sure you'd break it off if I tried to put it inside you."
"I diiid that?" CR-21 shook her head lightly, and her sensibilities came back with surprising speed. Blinking back her stupor, the Assault Rifle took his hand in hers and turned his fingers over. "Oh, crap, I didn't even- that's my fault, Commander. I had… well… I had Persica tinker with my body a little because of Ha- him. I didn't want him to be able to put it inside me…"
Shame spilled back over her words, and her head drooped low again. Commander quickly pulled her head back up and kissed her deeply, assuring her that she had nothing to be ashamed of.
"You can do that," he asked her. "Change your body at will?"
"Well, not at will." CR-21 snuggled up into him, enjoying the warmth of his embrace. "I've got like an on/off switch."
"That sounds terrifying."
She snickered against his chest. Pulling his fingers closer, she opened her mouth cutely and slid them between her teeth. Her tongue lapped against each in turn, sucking lewdly on them as she gazed up at him with a heated expression.
"Don't worry, Commander, I wouldn't do that to you." She spoke out of the side of her mouth, not once stopping from her teasing play with his fingers. "Ithaca would kill me if I broke her boytoy."
"Does she call me a boytoy?"
"Yup."
"Why am I not surprised?"
They shared a relaxed grin. CR-21 slowly eased his fingers from her mouth, giving each one last, suggestive lick to clean her saliva from his skin, before reaching down again and grabbing his erection with both hands.
"Now," she began, adjusting her grip to allow both hands to stroke in tandem up and down his length. "I want you to fuck me."
Commander grimaced, not because he did not want to, but because he was already throbbing with desire from playing with her body. Though her hands were not as smooth as the other's, likely she had been designed from the ground up with a sport body in every way, her fingers and palms worked in expert sync to give him so thorough a sensation it was like he had stuck his cock in an onahole.
"Your wish," he grunted, fighting back the temptation to slam her against the wall and take her in an instant.
"Good Commander."
Despite how thoroughly he had stripped her of her defenses mere minutes ago, CR-21 had a smug look on her face as she stepped back against the wall and lifted that one leg in the air again. Standing at a distance, with one leg held up to display her body, she posed fearlessly for his viewing pleasure.
And it was pleasurable indeed.
Though they had shared the shower numerous times, he had made a point of not staring, not investigating the delight that was her caramel body. Now he spent a moment enjoying it, savoring the delicious definition of her muscles, the wispy fur clinging to her belly, the weightiness of her breasts as they hung in the air. Any man could die happy knowing he had a beauty like this who wanted his love.
The fact that CR-21 was one of several who had chosen, one way or another, to have sex with him like this made him almost feel guilty. But he was not 'cheating' on any one of them. His escapades were, for better or worse, generally public knowledge across the board. It was almost as if the Tactical Dolls looked at him like a human dildo, seeing him as nothing more than an outlet for sexual stress.
That was the shallow way to look at it. He did not have enough blood in his head to look at it a deeper way at the moment.
"Well," she asked, a ghost of uncertainty shadowing her smile. "What do you think?"
"I think I can die happy," he told her.
"That cheesy line? You can do better than that."
"I could," he agreed.
Stepping into her embrace, he scooped his hands under her rump and lifted her into the air. CR-21 cackled with delight, accommodating the maneuver by wrapping her legs around his waist to hold herself in place.
"Maybe I should have said, I can't stand how beautiful you are."
"Ugh!" The Assault Rifle blanched, grimacing like she had just taken a gut wound. "Ooh, that's terrible. Awful! Never say that again, Commander, or I'll have to punish you."
"Why don't you punish me now?" He stuck out his chin, bringing his lips to hers in a playful series of nipping kisses.
"Let's see… I have an idea. Fifty squats, right now."
"That's it? Fifty squats?"
"Well, I wasn't done yet." CR-21 fumbled between their waists, seeking out his cock with a single hand. Easing herself up just a little, she lifted her hips just enough to position the head of his cock at her dripping entrance. "Fifty squats with you inside me."
"Not sure if that's a punishment or a reward," he grunted.
It was true, Tactical Dolls were heavy. They weighed perhaps twenty percent more than a human of the same size and build. His legs were hurting from the long run, but he did not think it would be too terrible.
"One…" CR-21 hissed, her eyes fluttering with pleasure as Commander squatted down. The motion drove his cock inside her, and to his relief the crushing pressure from before had relaxed entirely. She was still tight. God, she was tight. Her vaginal walls rippled with every movement of their bodies, mirroring the flexing of her belly as she wiggled her hips to assist in driving his cock deeper inside her.
"Fuck."
Fifty repetitions of this was going to be hell. A sweet, sublime, abysmal hell.
"Hmmm… you said it, Commander." The Assault Rifle laughed huskily at his sudden concern. "Up you go-ooaaaahhh!"
He surged back to a standing position, pounding his cock deep inside her in a violent thrust. The Tactical Doll's voice wet shrill again, and her hands pulled back from his neck as she hid her face behind her arms.
"One," Commander grunted. He could not see her face, hidden as it was, but the sudden wild contractions dancing along the length of his embedded cock warned him that she had just endured a small orgasm. "I think this is a punishment for both of us."
"C-c-continue, Comma-aaahahhaaa!"
Without giving her a lick of warning, he began to knock out squats at a furious, desperate pace. He did not slow down, nor did he listen as she frantically cried out with each powerful thrust inside her. Both of them had underestimated how powerful this position was; he felt his control slipping- no, sliding away entirely, with each squat, with each mini-orgasm that ravaged the Assault Rifle's body as she howled and clawed furiously at his back.
This 'punishment' had become a race against time. And he wasn't sure at all if he could win it.
"Waa- too- ffaaaast! Hhoooo- ooo- tmooooooooooot! Taaaaimmm- Timeeeooo-"
CR-21's frantic screams pounded in his ears, accompanied by sharp ripping pain as her nails raked his back. Her insides burned like the insides of a furnace, embracing his cock in a sickly fire with each lunge, tearing at his sanity as he desperately tried to keep count.
The slapping of their bodies echoed rhythmically in the room, keeping time to CR-21's cries and his labored grunts. There was no relief to be had in any of his five senses. Her body reeked of powerful, delicious pheromones that saturated his mind with a decadent fragrance. The springiness of her breasts squished against his chest, contrasting sharply with her muscular limbs to clung to him with fanatical strength. Every mote of his brain was under direct assault from the heavenly beauty as they fucked wildly.
Somehow, CR-21 formed enough of a coherent thought amidst her constant orgasms to pull back just a little and fix him with a manic, glittering snarl.
"Harder, Commander! Fuck me senseless!"
Her biting tone struck him like a slap in the face. Adrenaline burst into his veins, aching muscles suddenly growing taut with competitive spirit. Returning her feral growl with one of his own, Commander increased his tempo, throwing his body into the squats with such manic speed that her body bounced against his hips, making each insertion even more agonizingly amazing. His cock throbbed and ached, pulsing with increasing urgency. His orgasm was approaching far too rapidly; they were barely more than halfway to fifty and he-
The Tactical Doll sought out his lips and kissed him, biting his lower lip to lock their mouths in place. Her breathy moans forced their way into his mouth, spreading the wet heat of her lust into him anew.
Commander groaned, unable to hold himself back. Her name emerged from their kiss in a humble of unrecognizable moans, but neither paid it any attention. A piercing, molten heat flared up inside him, cascading from his belly down into his groin, and his cock let loose in a furious torrent. The Assault Rifle's pussy went wild, contracting and shivering uncontrollably with each spurt inside her, and her wild trembling spread through her body into even her fingertips as she came hard and furiously alongside him.
At some point they tumbled to the ground.
He was vaguely aware that he threw his hand out to catch them, and now CR-21 was entangled with him, her body caught under his, her legs rubbing against his thighs as they moaned each other's names over and over.
"Haaa… Commander…" CR-21 blushed, gazing up at him with adoring eyes, her hands brushing his cheeks.
"CR… goddamn." He grinned sheepishly at her. "I think that was only thirty four."
"We'll have to fix that. Your stamina doesn't seem to be as impressive as I was told," she cooed.
"Perhaps," he admitted.
"Still.. Thank you, Commander." She pursed her lips, and he obliged with a lazy kiss. After several seconds of enjoying each other's mouths, he lifted his head and turned to regard the glaring figure standing in the doorway of the shower room.
Kalina shook her head, irritation written across her face.
"Nah, don't mind me, Kalina," the logistics officer growled. "I'll just keep you waiting for half an hour while I'm in here banging YET ANOTHER TACTICAL DOLL! You stupid manwhore!"
CR-21 giggled quietly underneath him.
