The Derelict Craft (A Ratchet and Clank FanFic)
"Okay Clank, seriously-- you have got to pay attention next time I'm actually playing a hologame or something." Ratchet grunted as he stared out the window. The golden-furred Lombax turned his head to and fro, leaning forward in Aphelion's cockpit over the controls to try and get a better look into the emptiness of space. Stars were scarce this far out-- what would normally be a shimmering curtain of white, red and blue speckles was now an inky, empty and unsettling void. Ratchet hated flying so near the edge of the galaxy.
"Ratchet, there is no data for Lombaxes unfortunately, but similar species have experienced arthritis prematurely by prolonged exposure to hologames and other similar devices." His robot companion, Clank stated matter-of-factly to the Lombax. Ratchet rolled his eyes, grinning down at the small warbot toothily.
"Oh re-laaax." Ratchet chided. "Since when have I ever had problems with joints and stuff like that...?" The Lombax rolled his shoulders, grinning as he turned his gaze forward. "I mean, if I can fire the RYNO for extended periods of time--"
"Ratchet, that could be indicative of Nanotech Addiction." Clank responded again.
The Lombax fell silent, his eartips drooping noticeably as his gaze flashed between the blackness of space and Clank. "How long has it been since you've rebooted? You're getting cranky."
"I hardly think that is--" Clank started, his eyes narrowing before Aphelion's dashboard began flashing bright green.
"Warning! Warning!" She called. Ratchet sighed heavily, slumping back against the seat.
"Aphelion..." Ratchet groaned, tilting his head back against the headrest. "I thought I turned that off. Don't just shout 'warning' at me, tell me what's going on."
Aphelion went silent for a moment, only for the computerized voice to blip back to life. "Your player history suggests you've been at the 'Grave Void' trilogy once more, Ratchet." Aphelion beeped.
Ratchet blinked. Grave Void was one of his favored sci-fi games of the time (for the moment, Clank would argue); it was about these explorers that go to some weird planet, Sol, and discover a bunch of creatures there who wore the skin of animals as they completed bizarre rituals. More than once Ratchet nearly pissed himself playing the first one; it all turned more into action shooters by the time the third one rolled around though.
"What does my player history have to do with anything, Aphelion?" Ratchet asked, keeping his head against the cushion.
"Only that you are about to experience what experts refer to as deja vu, Ratchet." Aphelion quipped. "Adjusting route now; and approaching Centurion Rim Station. Patching you through to the comlinks now."
Ratchet adjusted himself in his seat, pushing back the fur on his ears and tugging at the collar of his bronze colored, Galactic Ranger uniform. "This is Ratchet, of the Galactic Defense Force." Ratchet said clearly toward the center console. No one was coming up on screen just yet, and Ratchet felt a shiver move down his spine. Aphelion was right... This was a bit creepy. "Centurion Rim Station, respond! This is Galactic Ranger, Ratchet Razz, from Planet Veldin! Come in Centurion Station!"
Static was broadcast over the line once more, and Ratchet slumped into the pilot seat as far as he could while still hanging onto the controls. "Aphelion, let's bring her in, nice and easy. Biometrics scans, thermal readings--" Ratchet instructed. "I want everything."
Clank tried speaking to Ratchet once, but the Lombax's nervous glower in the robot's direction was more than enough to make the metal compatriot fall silent.
"Reports back, Ratchet." Aphelion chirped.
"What's going on?" The Lombax asked, perhaps too quickly as he leaned toward the screen.
"Optimized life signs aboard; communications array damaged by internal wiring structures located on Deck 14; Subsection 92-Alpha." Aphelion confirmed. "According to security camera footage--"
"What!?" Ratchet yelped, his ears folding back firmly against his head. "How long have you been able to use cameras remotely!?" Aphelion ignored the question as the ship continued.
"Shows life signs behaving naturally. Preliminary scans indicate that the optimization of their biologies has been enhanced by local plant life from the planet Xyrros VIII." Aphelion paused before completing her report. "Ratchet, it is worth noting that a chemical review is being conducted on the plant."
Ratchet was silent, mulling over the implications of Aphelion's newfound abilities with cameras. Clank giggled some to himself. "What's wrong, Ratchet? Or do you not have the stones to admit something?" The little robot chortled.
Ratchet locked his gaze forward, but he couldn't hide the feverish blush Clank could detect coming from beneath his fur. "Clank." Ratchet said, his strained voice an octave higher than it had any right to be. "Someday, and some day soon, you are going to get an upgrade from the Extranet's urban dictionary, because that made no sense."
Clank harrumphed softly, looking to the Lombax before standing up in his seat. "Ratchet, I hardly think that is--"
"Evasive maneuvers!" Ratchet yelled, grabbing the steering wheel and yanking hard to the right. Clank yelled in surprise as he was thrown against the window-- Aphelion spiraling majestically in a barrel roll, before leveling out. Ratchet blinked, then looked around, giving a small, innocent shrug. "I'm sorry pal." Ratchet said, unable to keep the small sneer out of his throat as Clank adjusted his ocular sensors. "Coulda swore we were getting shot at."
Clank glanced to the window where he had landed, his eyes narrowing in Ratchet's direction. The Lombax wasn't looking at Clank, too focused on humming a nameless tune as the Lombax drove them toward the landing bays. "Aphelion would have warned us, I am certain." Clank replied coldly, sitting back down in his seat.
"Did you not hear me just tell her 'no more warnings' there, pal...?" Ratchet replied with a toothy, if not impish grin.
"Indeed." Clank's scowl deepened as Ratchet flipped Aphelion's interior lights on.
"Centurion Station, this is Ratchet Razz--" He said, straightening his back as the Lombax veered the course to the afforded airdock. "Preparing to board."
The landing went off more smoothly than any Ratchet had ever performed before; under normal circumstances, he was at a quarter speed right up until he couldn't get away with it any more, spinning Aphelion into place. This time? No. He piloted Aphelion through the airdock shields with his fist curled around the thruster control. Clank looked down, then back up to Ratchet, whose gaze was locked forward.
"One percent thruster control?" Clank asked, trying not to sound too amused at the cautious-- no, the nervous Lombax. "You act as if you're navigating an asteroid belt."
"Clank. Not now." Ratchet snapped softly, his eyes still darting around the hangar. Clank straightened to look around; everything was in perfect order. The crew were operating at optimal efficiency, the flight deck was clean. Near as Clank could tell, all of the ship was in perfect working order.
Clank could only conclude for whatever reason, be it a horror game he'd played or perhaps his animal instincts, Ratchet was terrified. Clank couldn't read the emotion itself; his CPUs didn't process emotion as was considered 'normal', but he could see it in the tension across the Lombax's shoulders, and strain in his throat. Clank's optical sensors turned down for a moment; it was times such as this he wished he could genuinely feel what was going on inside of the Lombax's mind, rather than just analyze the telltale signs.
Ratchet wasn't even sure what was going on in his own head; something about the hanger felt... off. Even from inside of Aphelion, the glances he saw from the other members of the crew just looked, for lack of any better term, hungry. "Let's just go in, fix the problems, and get out." Ratchet whispered over his shoulder, flipping through the exit sequences of the craft before turning to Aphelion's main console. "You get ready to leave; anything you can skip past as far as a pre-flight ready, I want you to do. At least, without making everyone suspicious."
"Of course, Ratchet." Aphelion chirped. "Powering into G.T.F.O. Mode."
Clank blinked, then glanced up to Ratchet. The Lombax grinned sheepishly back at the robot, shrinking back in his chair with a slight shrug. "Been playing in the custom power settings again, Ratchet?" Clank asked, absolutely unamused.
"What was your first clue?" Ratchet just grinned before reaching down to the side of his seat. The Lombax cranked the ejection lever, sailing high into the air--only to immediately collide with the reinforced raritanium glass. He fell back into his seat in a muddled lump of fur, groaning loudly. "Oooowww..." He bared his teeth, pressing both of his hands against his head. The Lombax looked up, blinking tears away from his eyes.
Clank stood near the edge of his seat, looking at Ratchet for a moment before giggling. "My hand must have been on the 'close cockpit' button. I apologize, Ratchet." The warbot released the button, allowing the cockpit to open. Ratchet rose to his feet and grunted several things that Clank's sensors only read as "@#$!%*@", "^@$*%!" and "#$@#*%#@$* mother @#)$(*^%@!" He blinked in Ratchet's direction. Perhaps a download of the Extranet's Urban Dictionary would be prudent. Or at the very least a sensory upgrade.
Clank followed the Lombax on foot as he self-diagnosed. Everything was in working order; everything except for his parental controls, which were turned on. But that was normal for general operating; it wouldn't have any affect on his hearing unless Ratchet's vocabulary had somehow stepped outside of family-friendly boundaries. Clank stopped the diagnosis as Ratchet approached one of the main reception desks. It was wedged against the wall right next to a pair of transport tubes, all of it painfully white. "We received a distress beacon from this location. You guys having trouble out here?"
"Yes, and quite a bit one at that. We have asked for a GrummelNet licensed technician! Are you one?" The receptionist asked. He was a frail-looking, slimy green lizard sort of creature. Ratchet didn't know exactly what species he was, but he seemed cartoonishly unprepared for a job that involved him staring out the very edge of the galaxy. The Lombax cleared his throat, then nodded.
"Yeah, I have a GrummelNet tech license." The Lombax bluffed. Clank glanced in his direction; he knew better than anyone that Ratchet didn't have a license. The warbot also knew that Ratchet had been itching to get a look at GrummelNet's latest Gray-Market Flux Capacitors. Clank suspected Ratchet of wanting to modify Aphelion, but he didn't know just what Ratchet could do with the design.
"Then right this way!" the timid, gullible creature nearly shouted. The lizard's fingers danced over the keyboard, causing one of the transport tubes to open. "Down on Deck 17, sector 48-Delta!" The lizard pointed at the open tube. "It's our simulation room. We need it fixed!"
Ratchet blinked, then looked up at the lizard. "The simulation room... not the communicator?" The lombax quizzed.
The lizard's head bobbed up and down fervently. "Yes sir! The communications can come later, but for right now, we need that simulator up and running!"
Ratchet didn't push the issue any farther, content instead to just step into the elevator platform. "You coming pal?" Ratchet asked Clank, who remained outside of the elevator for now.
"You go along, Ratchet." Clank said, looking back to the lizard receptionist. "I will examine the communications relay--divide and conquer!" The warbot giggled, and Ratchet gave him a lopsided grin.
"Alright pal, but try not to take too long!"
Ratchet's descent to the bowels of the ship was a far less than pleasant one. Most of the guys here were staring at him in ways that made him very, very uneasy. His grip tightened on the Omniwrench, flipping it over in his right hand idly. The Lombax had the Groovibomb and Fusion Grenade launcher prepped and ready; first sign of trouble, and he was gonna reduce it to a nasty, red-and-or-green-quite-possibly-even-blue paste on any adjacent wall. The Lombax refused to take chances on this.
"Where exactly is this simulation room that's busted...?" Ratchet asked into the empty-feeling hallway. He nearly jumped out of his fur when a computerized female voice chirped from one of the speakers nearby.
"The Automated Stimulation Service, Recreation and Personnel Equipment Room is located just at the end of this hallway. It is the final door, directly ahead."
"The Auto..." Ratchet muttered to himself, spelling out the acronym in his head. A. S. S. R. A. ... He paused, stopping dead in his tracks before pinching the bridge of his nose. The Lombax's ears twitched back irritatedly, and he sighed heavily. "I suppose when you've got the lawyers for it, you can name things whatever the hell you want." He muttered to himself as his shoulders drooped, shaking his head in mild distaste.
"Something wrong, Sir?" The computer chirped overhead. Ratchet didn't respond. The computer beeped again, and Ratchet ignored it further before stepping warily into the Equipment Room. The door was a standard security issue, raritanium-plated (Rare-itanium? Ratchet wondered to himself. How the heck is it so 'rare' if it crops up everywhere? Geez.) door with magnetic locks and deadbolts on all four sides of the frame. It was most certainly the type of door that Ratchet expected to see in a prison, or for those who absolutely, positively did not want guests.
The interior was a mess--ripped straight out of an overdone action thriller. Panels hung from the wall, suspended by wires and bolts, sparks flashed and the entire room smelled like an orgy.
Ratchet immediately turned around, and left the room. "We need a cleaner bot in here! And actual maintenance!" He shouted into the hallway. A few heads poked his direction from previously unseen alcoves, each one grumbling in the Lombax's direction. His ears perked to listen to what they might be saying when it struck him that he didn't exactly care.
More than one pair of dirty glances were shot his way as Ratchet pressed his shoulders against the wall next to the door. His gaze followed each of the men into the room, then back out. Only one of them looked back in his direction before leaving to the posts they'd previously occupied. "The room is self-repairing." One of the lizards grunted; he looked like an Agorian, but his scales were green instead of red. "We called to have the auto-repair functions fixed."
Ratchet clucked his tongue idly against the roof of his mouth. "Well, in that case, can I ask one of you fine gentlemen to get me something to eat from the cafeteria...?" Ratchet asked hopefully. He wasn't hungry now, but he also didn't like the thought of being overpowered while his back was turned so near a room as conspicuously labeled as this.
The lizard grunted at him, then stomped off toward the elevators. Ratchet watched him round the corner, his ears perked as he listened for the elevator to open, then close. He waited until the noises in the hallway died completely again before returning to the room.
The Lombax's eyes trailed up and around the room, moving in figure eights as he scanned the wall for any obvious-looking diagnostics panels. Finding one on the far side of the room, Ratchet glanced back to the door. It was shut for now, as it should have been; Ratchet debated deploying an auto turret just for extra security, but thought better of it. Someone may be bringing him food, and he didn't want to have them shot for doing something he'd asked.
That's my shtick. Qwark's voice sounded off in his head. Ratchet bit back a small chortle of laughter before hopping up to the panel, working it free, then crawling into the computer space.
Ratchet saw the problem immediately; the computer housing was cracked, and one of the sisterboards was damaged. Ratchet didn't dare try and understand what had caused it, nor did he even want to know. He was able to remove the entire housing, and pull it free without any issues at all. It's almost like GrummelNet had known these things would break, and made it easy for them to be replaced: Most likely at a handsome repair bill at that.
No sooner did Ratchet's feet land on the floor than did the door on the far side of the room open. He turned--a Fusion Grenade loaded into his hand before he even squared his shoulders at the intruder. There was no way he was going to let someone sneak up behind him on a room that's acronym was--
"Crimeny sakes, fuzzball." The green Agorian looked at him curiously, setting a plate of what looked like a salad on the ground. The reptile slid the food over to Ratchet, showing the Lombax the palms of his hands as he stepped backward slowly through the door. "Security issues... shit." The reptile grumbled as he turned, and exited the room.
The grenade retracted into his replicator, Ratchet still scowling at the door. "Knock first." He grunted after the Agorian, even though there was no way the reptile could have heard him. Ratchet glanced down at the plate that had been slid closer to him. He didn't recognize the leaf it had been wrapped in, but he could smell the Veldinian Barbeque Sauce on the meat; that was all the invitation he needed.
The Lombax had wolfed down the meatball wrap before he even got to the elevator. "Clank--" Ratchet said into his comms. He didn't hear anything but static, but he was sure that Clank would get his memo in no time. "I found the problem with the Equipment Room-- I'm gonna head to a salvage yard nearby, if I can even find one, and see about a replacement. I'll be back for you in an hour or two pal." Ratchet signed off.
He felt more relaxed now--Ratchet wrote his earlier apprehension off as just being hungry and not realizing it. That meat wrap thing had really hit the spot; he even debated grabbing a second one on his way back up to the hangar, but thought against it.
Aphelion was waiting as ordered; she tried giving him a bit of guff for leaving Clank behind, even tried hailing the robot to let them know they were taking off. "Communications are still down; even locally now." Aphelion explained. Ratchet slumped back into his seat and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Maybe we can get back before Clank even notices we're gone." Ratchet grumbled, grabbing the controls. Aphelion didn't respond as Ratchet activated the engine, and pulled away from the Station.
"Ratchet, come in." Clank said into the communications array. It was no use; something had damaged the comms unit beyond repair--and Clank had just removed the relay that allowed interstation communication. It appeared that someone had put a foot through the comms unit, and Clank knew why. "Ratchet, come in." He insisted, but he couldn't even route the communications through Aphelion. This could be disastrous. Clank thought before speeding off in the direction of the hangar.
Clank had been trying to fix the comms for nearly an hour now; and had isolated the cause of the damage to blunt force owed to someone's boot. Immediately suspicious, Clank began investigating; these components weren't fragile by any means. The amount of force that would have been needed to break them was astronomical--even for an Agorian crewmember.
Clank suspected it had something to do with the odd biologies he'd noticed earlier when they'd landed to begin with; that anomaly that threw everyone's vitals off. From there, it was cursory scans and rudimentary computing to discover that the fauna the crew had been harvesting was from a nearby asteroid. The algae they were confusing as a type of lettuce was a deep space organism; it could be cooked and digested without emergent issue, but all sorts of changes would be made to the basic homeostasis of the organism. Aggressive tendencies were the most common that Clank could discern, but that was for Agorians; it was why the communications array had been stomped in half.
"Ratchet-- are you there?" Clank asked again as he climbed into the elevator. Certainly he was close enough now to route a message through Aphelion. "We need to talk about--" Clank began as he stepped into the hangar. He recalibrated his ocular sensors, his shoulders drooping softly. "Oh dear." The robot muttered to himself, staring at the now-empty space where Aphelion had once parked.
Four hours later, Ratchet hadn't found anything. He'd traveled in a straight line so he wouldn't get lost--there was no real bearings this close to the edge of the galaxy. He was beginning to get antsy--especially since Clank was back on the station. No radio was out here, and Clank had most of the music installed on his ancillary hard drive. There was only so many times that Ratchet could listen to Courtney Gear's "Destroy All Organic Life" without wanting to rip out his fur.
Didn't help that, of all the times, he was now starting to feel a bit randy. The Lombax shifted time and again in his seat, trying to ignore it for the time being, but he was now painfully erect underneath his spacesuit. "Aphelion, try again." He ordered, trying to find something-- anything really, that he could get up and try and walk off his boner. Aphelion scanned the the parsec once again; searching for any signs of ships or life.
"Ratchet; I found something. Bearing 042-310. It appears that a derelict craft of the same year, make and model for the Automated Equipment Room is adrift."
"Is it owned by anyone?" Ratchet asked, leaning forward to look at the monitor, He tapped through the menus, looking over the specifications. Aphelion had found it--and by the looks of the scans, it had the part he needed.
"Negative. It is adrift in international space. The life support has been disabled, however."
"That's fine." Ratchet said. "I'll be in and out before you know it; it's easy to get at where I need to be."
"Beginning docking procedures now then." Aphelion replied. "Would you like me to prepare any countermeasures? This is far more similar to Grave Void than your previous venture."
Ratchet shook his head. "No, I'll be fine." He said as Aphelion pulled into the bay.
"Regardless, I will reroute as much as I can so that you can have breathable air." Aphelion said as the ship slowly lowered. "Your oxygen tank isn't rated for more than fourteen minutes of exposure to zero-pressure environments."
"What...? Yes it is!" Ratchet protested, adjusting himself in the seat. "I've spent hours out there before!"
"That was because Clank always filled your oxygen tanks for you, Ratchet." Aphelion replied pointedly. "You both neglected to do that recently--Clank was unaware you airdried yourself after your little swimming trip on Planet Pokitaru."
Ratchet scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I didn't have a towel." He grumbled. "Let me know when--"
"Done." Aphelion cut Ratchet off. "I've rerouted power from the emergency systems to the life support, and used the life support to kick on the ancillary medical generators. From there, the generators are now powering the lights, and everything should be ready to go in about three minutes."
They were the longest three minutes Ratchet had ever been forced to wait, but the instant it was safe, he was out of the cockpit and running down the hallways. He pressed the buttons dozen times more than necessary, his cock now painfully hard as he limped toward the room. It was exactly where it had been on the other ship; but Ratchet didn't even bother to question what duplicate stations were doing this far out.
The door slid open quickly for Ratchet--the Lombax's eyes fell immediately upon the service shaft he would need to use to access the computer's mainframe. "Subject detected. Scanning." A computerized voice came from the ceiling. Ratchet looked up, then jumped a bit as the door locked firmly behind him.
The Lombax rushed to the door--only to feel something wrap around his waist, and yank him back. "Aphelion! Get help!" He managed to shout--hoping that the ship was listening for his comms. Ratchet looked over his shoulder, then down to the metal tendril wrapped around his waist. It began to drag him back to the center of the room, where several other tendrils swayed in the air, waiting for him.
"Aphelion...!" Ratchet said, his voice rising in panic.
"Seeking assistance; state your emergen--" Aphelion started. Ratchet didn't have time to state anything before the tendrils shot forward, knocking his helmet away.
By the time Aphelion had arrived once more at the Centurion Station, Grix, Hixon and Tori had nearly finished their rounds. The trio of Agorians had seen the Lombax go down to the Equipment room, then come back up in all sorts of a hurry. When his ship arrived several hours later, the three Agorians knew they had to rescue the fuzzball. "Priority one distress beacon" for a Galactic Ranger meant only one thing; the Agorians got to open a can of whoopass, and they were not going to let this opportunity pass them by.
Fighting was so much better than picking cabbage and space plants off of an asteroid anyways.
They climbed into their ships and darted after Aphelion--but that ship was fast. Crazy, stupid fast. They had to redline their engines to keep up with the unmanned craft, but even then they were forced to just follow an ion trail to a derelict ship.
It was operational enough-- some of the decks were vented, sure, but Grix couldn't help but wonder just what on board would cause a Priority One Distress Beacon. Unknown assailant was something huge.
"I lost contact with Ratchet as he was headed down to Deck 14, Subsection 92-Alpha. He was retrieving a module from the vicinity." Aphelion noted. Grix felt a small twinge in his throat. The Automated Stimulation Service, Recreation and Personnel Equipment Room. Ratchet was stuck in the ASSRAPE Room.
Grix had to bite back a laugh as he imagined the Lombax, trapped in a nearly-unending orgy. He wondered just what fantasy he'd be walking into; maybe Ratchet was with Courtney Gears; maybe even Darla Gratch. No. He grinned toothily to himself. Cora Veralux.
That had to be it, Grix somehow knew it. He couldn't stop grinning as he, Hixon and Tori each left their rifles aboard their ship. The three Agorians were powerful, even by their own species' standards. All three males were head and shoulders taller than most of their own species; their scales green from some reaction they'd had with the food they were being fed on the Centurion Station.
Once they were out of earshot of Aphelion, the laughter ensued. "Holy shit... what do you think we're in for?" Tori laughed.
"Furry trash, that's fuckin' what." Hixon hissed, shaking his head. "Don't get me wrong, he's cute and all, but that's a part of him I don't think I want to see."
"Cute, huh Hixon?" Grix challenged, smirking hard. "After all the shit he's done to the rest of our species, you think he's cute?"
Hixon shrugged. "Big eyes, big ears, soft fur."
"Oh you cannot be serious." Tori growled at his brother. Hixon smirked back.
"I've made no secret about it in times passed. I'd fuck him." The Agorian smirked. "And, being that we're twins... all that medical psychology stuff--"
"Oh shut up." Tori snarled, clearly embarrassed.
"It'd suggest you'd do the same." Hixon continued, baring his teeth in an ugly grin.
"Both of you faggots shut up." Grix grunted softly.
"How much do you want to bet that he's a total knob-gobbler?" Hixon continued.
Grix rolled his eyes, stepping in front of the pair of Agorians and turning around. "Look, I don't give a fuck what he's doing in there. Point is that we asked him to come down, and he had the honor to do just that. What is happening in that room will stay in that room, do you understand?" Grix ordered. Hixon and Tori looked at one another, then nodded in agreement. Grix grunted, and they finished their journey to the Equipment Room in silence.
"Override the locks." Grix said to Tori, who did as he was told. It took some doing, and a bit of cussing, but eventually the doors swung open. Grix's jaw nearly hit the ground at what he saw.
The Hero of Solana was in the middle of the room, naked as the day he was born. His body was quaking, and Grix swallowed hard as he walked a careful circle around the Lombax. His head was kept low by a collar that yanked him forward, forcing him to kneel by merit of a steel cable. The Lombax was clearly drooling around ball gag that was almost too big for his mouth, his arms trapped in the small of his back by some stubborn-looking ropes. The same ropes hugged his biceps to his chest as well, and his shins against his thighs.
Grix blinked as Tori and Hixon each stepped forward to examine the Lombax, kneeling and blocking most of his view. "Look at this, he's making a fuckin' mess!" Tori commented, reaching forward to undoubtedly grip the Lombax's cock.
Ratchet moaned gutturally around the ball gag, his body trembling anew as he struggled in the ropes. Hixon, too was bending low, raising Ratchet's tail. "A prostate massager? This cat is a damn sub!"
"I knew it!" Tori grinned. Grix rolled his eyes, looking for the module that Ratchet had located.
"Let him be you two." Grix grunted as the brothers began to torment the Lombax. "He's probably humiliated enough as it is--"
"He is purring Grix." Hixon snapped. "Purring. Ratchet's been teased so damn much his brain is almost fried."
"All the more reason you shouldn't do anything." Grix said, climbing up to the computer maintenance shaft.
"He's trying to nuzzle Tori's dick for fuck's--"
"Then do it, fuck!" Grix snarled back at the two horny bastards surrounding the Lombax. "But for crying out loud, I don't need to hear about it."
Ratchet shivered in anticipation, mumbling softly as he listened to the Agorians bicker. He panted slowly around the ball gag, leaning forward to nuzzle at one of their crotches--"Tori", this one was called. He didn't care. He loved the feeling of the leather against his muzzle--both from the straps holding the ball in place and the Agorian's space suit. Ratchet shivered in anticipation, pressing his hips back slowly as the one they called Hixon began to itch at his eager, wanting tailhole.
Whoever this Grix guy was, he was being a buzzkill. Ratchet pressed his hips back once more at Hixon, moaning softly as he quivered. "I think he wants to get fucked." Hixon murmured--Tori didn't even have time to respond before Ratchet nodded, panting eagerly around the gag.
The pair of Agorians grinned at one another, and Ratchet tried to look up at them before the tendrils showed their forms once more, tying a thick blindfold over the Lombax's features. He moaned softly as his world was reduced to darkness, and sensation. He didn't know the Agorians well enough to know their voices, and his mind was too hazy with lust to separate them in the pillow talk they engaged in.
The ball gag was peeled away from his features, and Ratchet didn't even want to get a word in edgewise. He panted for only a moment, and opened his mouth, pressing forward at the very first thing that was pressed against his lips; it was one of the Agorians' dicks. He didn't know which one.
He moaned throatily around the rough skin that filled his maw, the Lombax pressing forward--nearly choking himself on the dick. Ratchet wished he was even more firmly bound, and the machine obliged immediately. He felt the tendrils wrap around his chest, legs and belly, locking him into position, only to move him ever-so-slightly. Ratchet felt the tendrils raise his tail, and he pressed his hips back eagerly as one of the Agorian's pulled the prostate massager out of his ass.
Ratchet could only moan in ecstasy, his heart racing as he felt the gentle prod of one of their cockheads against his ass. He rolled his hips back, trying to spread his hole as wide as he could--the machines assisting him by squirting just a bit of warm lube, right at his pucker. The Lombax melted at the sensation of feeling his ass spreading over another of those phantom cocks. He felt their hands move over his body--each of his trembling muscles calming as the Agorian's hands moved over them.
Ratchet couldn't even pinpoint what he loved the most--the stretch in his ass, the feeling of the ropes and steel immobilizing him, the taste of the salty precum in his mouth, or the feeling of his cock throbbing beneath him. Hours he'd been teased by the machines, waiting, aching and wanting release... Now that it was here, the Lombax didn't know what he could do with himself; he was lost in the throes of his own lust.
They pushed their dicks in, trying to meet in the middle, it felt. Ratchet's eyes watered as he struggled to breathe, but there was nothing he wanted to change about the situation, not until he heard the low hum of the room powering down. The tendrils, blindfold and ropes receded, leaving Ratchet spitroasted between the two Agorians. He wasn't sure of they were making out just above him, he kept his eyes closed as his hands reached forward, gripping the Agorian's thighs as he gagged softly over the cock in his mouth. He pulled himself off of the dick, grinning a bit before looking up. "Stand up." Ratchet panted, thrusting himself back.
The Agorian behind him yelped in shock as Ratchet buried the beefy reptile's cock in his ass--using the force of his shove to sink balls-deep over the Agorian's cock. Ratchet's ears splayed back, and he yelped at the sudden move; it hurt like hell, but it made his toes curl in pleasure. "P... Put me in a full Nelson." The Lombax panted. The Agorian behind him complied, Ratchet's eyes opening for just a moment before the one in front of him--no doubt Tori--stood up.
Hixon's arms wound underneath Ratchet's, and the Agorian crossed his arms just behind the Lombax's head. Ratchet yanked to and fro, but he knew he wasn't going anywhere--not with the Agorian's arms locking his, and spearing his ass like he was. Ratchet winced as Hixon rolled his hips in quick, short bursts, but looked up at Tori, nodding his head and purring softly. "Step right up."
Tori's cock was buried in Ratchet's muzzle once more, the Lombax struggles were just to enhance his fantasy as he was fucked from both ends. "I ain't gonna last much longer..." Hixon moaned softly as he bounced Ratchet in his lap.
Ratchet's mind was feverish with pleasure. He didn't know who came first, or what anyone had howled, or shouted, or what. His world flashed white as he felt his ass get pumped full of thick, ropey Agorian cum. Musk washed over his features as he tasted the other climax as well. He wasn't even sure if he'd cum himself until he looked down at his chest; Ratchet had painted his own frontside with his climax, but hadn't felt a bit of relief. He coughed as Tori withdrew completely from his maw, and Hixon pushed him off of his dick.
Ratchet laid there in between the two of them, his mind still hazy as he rolled over, stroking his dick slowly, and wetting his lips to rejuvenate the taste of the cum.
"Holy shit..." Hixon panted, looking down at the Lombax. "T... Tori, grab'im." The other Agorian did exactly as he was ordered, picking Ratchet up and securing his arms in his massive hands. Hixon trembled as he climbed to his feet, the one they called "Grix" looking thoroughly unamused.
"You guys have your fun?" Grix asked gruffly. Tori nodded some, looking down at Ratchet, who squirmed.
"But it looks like this little guy could go on a bit more." Tori said. Ratchet panted, then nodded at the statement to fill the otherwise awkward silence that followed.
"What do you suggest, then...?" Grix asked, an eyeridge arching in mild distaste.
Tori and Hixon looked between themselves, then shrugged with a wide, sadistic grin. "I think we've got a whole crew that would appreciate this--"
"I don't think I'd mind." Ratchet cut in, grinning up at the trio. "I don't think I'd mind that at all..."