FSE

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“What do you say, Eri'? A house on the coast, near those beautiful beaches, a glass in your hand with the setting sun?"

“I say, 123, you're an idiot. What do you think, 63?"

Alphonse-63 looked at the sea stretching far into the distance. Draco III, or Draco, was a beautiful world colonized by mankind in 2439… And now, almost two centuries later, the idyllic world was under assault. From all the atmospheric entries, the sky had gained a tinge of red that reflected on the usual gold-tinted seas. In those southern reaches, still in the tropical belt, the environment resembled the Mediterranean landscape without the stuffy heat. The place was almost pleasant with that evening breeze.

“Hey, Alph'? You're with us?"

The sound of metallic snaps forced the Spartan to look at his peers, Hector-123 and Erika-124. Two Spartans II like him, two kids who had been conscripted to fight long ago… And who were usually luckier than him. Alphonse sighed, putting back his helmet on and letting the Mjolnir's system boot again. Third try, probably the good one.

“Yeah, I'm with you. And Erika, let Hector have his fantasies. Once this war is over, we will let go of our weakest members," he mused without believing it, barely heeding the punch Hector gave to their teammate and the smirk back. They were Spartans, genetically selected and biologically modified to be weapons. Still humans but pushed to the extremes: their talents were complimented by their sizes and reinforced bodies, clad in the Mjolnir armor they all wore, though with different tints.

Erika had a discrete blue tinge, Hector a reddish one, And Alphonse's, it was pure gray.

Though he dreamed of ditching this armor, the same as the rest of his squad. As usual, he clenched his fist and checked the hydraulics.

“Is your hydraulics malfunctioning? They were supposed to be repaired," stated Erika-124, taking her eyes off her sniper rifle. She had been lying there the whole evening, following the movement inside the covenant outpost they would clean up, found 50 kilometers south of the capital.

“No, the HUD keeps showing me wrong vitals and feedback from the armor. A 278 bars atmospheric pressure at sea level..." he stated, checking it. 1.029 bar this time. All legitimate.

“Seriously, Alph, you should request a change. Each mission, it acts up!"

Alphonse rolled his eyes though none could see it. Even if he got a different armor, it would be the same. If the star of the promotion had been John-117, praised for his “luck"; Alphonse was the unluckiest one. Which made it more surprising he had survived all this time and endured the Spartans' augmentation where others failed.

Even now, he only relied on good mechanical weapons like his good old M6 handguns, or MA5B assault rifle. Even if they broke, which they always did, it was a piece of cake to solve it. Percussive maintenance was a real thing. Alphonse had even managed to raise it to an art among his peers.

“Next time. But you know how it is with the commandment. Hector, anything new?"

While Erika was on the lookout, Hector handled the communication with a portable radio, checking all the frequencies for orders: retreat, deployment, anything had to pass by Hector to know if they could continue their missions. Which… Would be problematic in the situation they were in.

“Nothing but white noise. We should move further, or take down the antenna," mumbled Hector, pointing towards the outpost with his thumb.

The Covenants had settled two days ago. Yet, they had already installed a jamming tower. The structure was crude, on an outcropping above the camp. But it killed all communications on its perimeter: impossible to receive orders or send anything.

“Well, then… Erika, any sign of suspicion?" asked Alphonse, turning to Erika. In his HUD, it displayed her as number 123 instead of 124. Oh well, that was a tiny issue in comparison.

“None. They seem oddly… Relaxed. I don't know what's down there, but I watch them drink… We haven't lost the planet, right?"

Alphonse turned towards the direction of the capital. The gulf hadn't been reached yet… or so he hoped. He shrugged.

He returned to their outcrop, watching and checking a path amidst the Mediterranean-like flora. Copses, bushes, flower patches amidst the exposed rocks. It would be easy to cross through as the Covenants weren't suspicious, it would be perfect for infiltration.

“Okay… We'll target the antenna first."

The place was simple: Take a hike through the hills surrounding the bay where the encampment was at night. It was to take a long time, but they would arrive directly at the Antenna without getting in the Encampment's direct line of sight. Alphonse was on the rearguard, Hector in front, and Erika remained on lookout.

The two Spartans would be at the Antenna's site and take down any covenants guarding it. Next, cutting off the antenna, destroying it, or stopping the jamming signal would be a formality. Then, once they received confirmation, they would crack down on the outpost.

Which… Was easier said than done as Hector led the way, and Alphonse followed, keeping watch for anything that could come from behind. Funnily enough, Erika hadn't picked the sign of any Elites, even camouflaged ones. Further than that, there were no incoming shuttles, no grunts or jackals. Even further… No HUD.

In a growl, as they passed under a branch, Alphonse-63 punched the side of his helmet to see the display suddenly boot up again and show him aberrant details: no bullets in his gun, atmospheric pressure through the roof, shields on the verge of breaking.

Nothing seemed to work, not even his radar.

“Still the armor, Alph?" asked Hector, checking over his shoulder while Alphonse gave a good hit against the helmet. A bit more, and he gave himself a concussion. But no dice. No changes.

“Yeah. My radar is offline. I count on you to tell me if we have targets," he grumbled. Even his hydraulics were beginning to act up funky.

And… … Was there something shaking?

“Hector, keep advancing. Something in my armor is stuck," mumbled the Spartan to his teammate, who looked back at him. Surely, Hector-123 squinted and tried to check for something from Alphonse. But then shrugged.

“Sure, I'll scout ahead," Hector said, lifting his gun and stepping forward.

For a few more seconds, Alphonse held his breath. Then, he sighed out loud, leaning against a rock as he felt it… The tremor, the shocks, the vibration. After some time, most ignored the urethral probe settled inside the Spartans' bladders. But they rarely overlooked the stimulation package when it kicked in: electrodes, soft rubber pads, even a pump. UNSC had thought it smart to have a way for Spartans to “blow off" steam discretely and efficiently. To Alphonse's dismay, the whole set had turned on.

At that instant, when Alphonse leaned on the rock and heaved, silent in the dead radio, he felt it. He experienced the slight shock against his hairy scrotum, making it taut and the skin tighten. The tender rubbing against the skin from the pads rolling and pressing against his nuts. Oh… There was the pump, too.

His codpiece' armor slid and moved up to accommodate the extension of the pump. So much so it was obvious he “had" an erection. Usually, it wouldn't be a shame among Spartans since they all dealt with it once. But not like this.

Alphonse didn't want his squad to see it, nor for them to understand it was the armor's bugs acting up.

He didn't want Hector to hear the slight buzzing from the electrodes working at full power on his nuts, making him shiver and tremble like any other human… Nor the whirr from the pads. Or even the rev from the pump around his dick.

That pump… That damned pump not only held him tight but also sucked all air… Air-tight, the pressure on his dick was intense, as well as the contact on his shaft from the gelatine-like substance. Up… Down… Up… Down… The revving pump bobbed back and forth along his dick, stroking his veiny skin. It even circled his cocktip. He-

“Hey! Alph'! Are you okay?"

Alphonse-63 groaned internally as he looked to his left, where Hector had gone. Despite the situation, his teammate had turned on the flashlight to signal him. And with his lack of answer, 123 was coming closer.

The revving noise, the whirr, the buzz. All stopped at once. No… Even his codpiece moved. A moment, he was massaged. The second after, he was cockblocked and had his dick crushed as the pump retracted and bent.

“Hhh- Hah, yeah. Sorry, Hector. I hear a buzzing noise. I- I guess I'm getting the white noise from the comms," he mumbled at a sorry excuse as he faced the blinding light.

In front of him, the red-tinged armor from Hector froze. He lowered his rifle's muzzle and turned off the light. But his body language told everything Alphonse needed to know: he was worried.

“Don't… Worry. It's just an issue, it'll pass!" said Alphonse, trying to chuckle and act innocent as he took a step towards Hector's direction and froze, too. He gritted his teeth. If he didn't, it was certain he would howl: his testicles were stuck in a vice grip by his servos… He- He took a smaller step this time.

“Okay, Alphonse. But if it endangers the mission, you've got to tell us. I'm your teammate."

With that, Hector leaned to pat Alphonse's shoulder, although the latter wanted nothing but to scream and take apart his armor. Next, the rifle was pointed towards the hills they were climbing. Hector remained on the front with his gun out. And Alphonse on the back with his “gun" up. The worst was he had to take small steps otherwise…

“Hrmph!"

“Something the matter, Alph?"

“No- Nothing! The same white noise that's drilling my ears."

Hector seemed to stop a second, then continued onward. They were soon at the top of the hill, above the encampment and the antenna. It would be a quick trek down. All perfectly aligned.

“What's that whirr?"

If not for the armor…

Alphonse held his breath as he felt the pads rubbing his abused testicles. The sore skin wasn't so displeased by the touch… But its owner was certainly holding a groan as he felt his caged manhood press against the pump's bent walls.

“Fuck, not again," groaned in petto Alphonse as he felt the pads circle and dance around the orbs, rubbing them behind… In front, below… In all directions was his scrotum deliciously pulled and massaged by the moving rotations.

No. The pump wouldn't budge, and his erection slammed against a hard wall. Worse, without the pump being active, he could feel the interior of it fill up with precum… So much fluids. He knew only the pump was coated now. But, with the sweat, it felt like his underwear was drenched in precum. His.

“Alph? You read me, you're hearing that whirr, right?" asked Hector, hand raised to signal.

“Yes, it's… It's my hydraulics… Again," grumbled Alphonse-63, trying not to reveal the frustration nor the tremor in his voice. Fuck, the guys in the UNSC were perverts to install all those toys.

Even staying put was difficult as the vibration climbed along his scrotum and onto his dick, de facto stimulating it… And his dick, it felt like it was about to burst.

“Again? Can you… Huh. Hit it?" asked Hector, waving his closed fists as if he knocked on something. The percussive maintenance, huh. In his state, Alphonse had almost forgotten about it.

He waited for his teammate to move, then he leaned and gave his thighs a good smack. He wouldn't hit the codpiece; he didn't want a lost nut in the mission's casualties. But smacking it close enough would-

The whirr stopped, leaving the Spartan breathing and exhaling as the sensation eased… He was still rock-hard, but that was better than being teased.

“Alright! The hydraulics are back," said Alphonse, feeling the tension around his nuts lower. He lifted his foot, no pressure on his nuts. Hence, he jogged after Hector.

“Good. Once we're back at base, I'm gonna fill your assessment myself. Your armor is driving me crazy!" said Hector. And honestly, Alphonse could only acquiesce.

Especially when, five minutes later, the electrodes were the ones to return. This time, their slight shocks were hardly audible by Hector… But they were persistent.

One, two, three hits. They stayed on, massaging and electrifying his nuts and cock like fried-food.

And worse was the peak.

[I]Bzzt!

[/I]

Followed that sound was a pang of pain right into Alphonse's babymakers, one he had to silence with gritted teeth as he marched on… But slower, slower than before. Enough for Hector to notice and see his squad leader hanging behind.

He turned.

“Okay, what's the issue now?"

“Nervous feedback," groaned Alphonse, taking the opportunity to bend and hold on his knees. If one more shock and he was-

[I]BZZT![/I]

In a gurgle, Alphonse swallowed by the saliva filling his throat once, twice, thrice… If he did, he wouldn't puke… He wouldn't, despite the- [I]BZZT![/I]

“Fuck, what's going on with your Mjolnir? You're sure you're good for the mission? We can walk back and have Erika with me while you stay on lookout," said Hector, holstering his rifle and approaching with open arms.

One step, two, three… If he came closer, he could hear the shocks.

Alphonse swallowed his saliva again and straightened, ignoring his fluttering eyes. He could barely keep the lids open. He extended his hands forward to halt his teammate.

“No. If we do this, we'll be too late. And it's worse if I was on the lookout but couldn't do anything. Let's just- hope it won't get worse."

“Yeah… Got it, Alph'. At base, I'm gonna smash that piece of junk," grumbled Hector, turning away.

“Aye. I'll gladly join you," groaned Alphonse, trying not to jump despite the electrodes ganging on his gonads.

The following ascension, up to the hilltop, was relatively quick in comparison, despite the Mjolnir's armor unable to decide besides the pads or the electrodes. Whether it was one or the other, but never the two… or the pump.

Happily, it wasn't the pump. He would have blessed whatever spirit was watching over him for keeping that hellish contraption at bay. And for that spirit to keep doing his job, as they were on the coastal side of the hill.

They were in the visor of Erika-124, who would survey their advancement and notice any details.

At least, they were lucky they didn't encounter patrols up to this moment. In fact, despite the torment, Alphonse was feeling suspicious of this mission but still approached the granite rock that would be the start of their descent.

And… As expected, once Alphonse and Hector activated their scopes, Erika was still at their camp with her rifle pointed at the Covenants.

She raised her hand… And the feed cut for Alphonse. [I]Bzzt![/I]

“Fuck's sake!" he whispered to himself, turning away as he felt the electrodes give him another taste of their love and- [I]Whirr![/I]

This time… It was both. It was both as Alphonse leaned against the rock, feeling his legs go weaker under the assault. This was much more intense than the first act-up. So much so.

“Alphonse? What's the issue?" asked Hector, closing his fist in the air before turning to Alphonse.

“Hydraulics and scope down, I can't reboot out in the open. Can- you… Handle the exchange?" answered the squad leader while trying to toughen up against the sensation. He was about to burst in his pants, in front of his teammates… It was so awful. [I]BZZT![/I]

He almost grumbled. His legs were so weak… He leaned against the rock and locked the articulations.

Even his hands twitched, he crossed his arms to cover them. Hell. They were about to enter a Covenants camp, and a buggy armor teased his dick.

“Alright, alright," answered Hector, turning and starting to message Erika with hand-codes. “She was worried about us, we've been late. The antenna is deserted, and she sees no troops' movements there. She thinks there's a trap but can't see anything from her position."

The codes continued, and so did the gesticulations from Hector.

[I]Bzzt! [/I]But Alphonse- [I]Bzzt! c[/I]ouldn't care- [I]BZZT! l[/I]ess when his balls were- [I]BZZZT! [/I]Fried! Not only fried but massaged, squeezed… Worse, he even felt a slight tug from the pump but no movement, no extension of his codpiece.

But he felt it… The tension in his prostate increased with all the shocks. The pressure, the electrifying pleasure. In his armor, his toes curled. His fingers twitched. His thighs contracted. And it stopped.

It… Stopped.

“We will follow the usual itinerary, I will handle the communication since my scope is working. Alphonse, do you think you can hold out for the mission? At least, up to the antenna?" asked Hector, turning to see the squad leader frozen.

Alphonse stretched one leg, then the other… He pushed against the rock. He was fucking rock-hard, his cock was fucking squeezed between metal and glass.

But he was able to move. It had stopped!

“Yeah, sure. We've got this!" he even said, chuckling… Despite feeling a dripping between his legs. It would be awkward to explain.

“Good, let's move."

For the last descent, Alphonse was glad the armor stopped acting out. Okay, the HUD was still messing around, he had no scope or radar. But it was good to walk without feeling his genitals crushed or tortured. It felt like the day and night as they descended the hill along the discrete path. Supposedly, tourists had used that place to explore the coast and watch the different coves bordered by thin beaches.

It was one of the multiple reasons Draco was so peaceful and appreciated… Now that he wasn't focused on his groin and loin, Alphonse could enjoy it a little. As long as it didn't go against the mission, of course. But it was not like a tiny peek toward the bay was a crime.

“Damn, it's even more beautiful from here," he even commented to himself, grinning.

“What do you mean, Alph'?"

“The sea. The moonlight, the trees. It reminds me of those pictures of Earth we used to watch," he chuckled.

Hector remained thoughtful, a hand to his helmet as if he scratched his chin then checked over his shoulders.

“Those the UNSC used in their recruitment posters? It takes me back."

“Right? They were so cheesy with that bimbo on the front," Alphonse said with a smile as they jumped over a tiny depression.

The antenna was only two or three minutes away, like a massive purple rod planted in the planet with solar panels attached to its sides. It was way bigger than the usual comm node, fridge-sized purple blocks, or the mobile ones on their tripod. That antenna was as massive as a tower. It also jammed all communication and video feedback. A pain in the ass.

“This is it, Hector. What Erika say?" asked Alphonse, watching the disposition from a discrete outcrop covered with bushes. The antenna was assuredly a prefab, with its claws digging into a massive block of concrete in the middle of a sort of old summer camp. A very old one.

“Nothing on her scope. There are heat signatures inside the antenna, all huddled together. There's also three in that place."

With a finger, Hector pointed at a dilapidated human building. It looked like military quarters due to the length and lack of large windows, though Alphonse had an inkling this spot was used as a dormitory before. That place reeked the same energy as the military camp where the Spartans had trained, but… More rustic.

“So, what do we do?" asked Hector, closer to Alphonse, almost shoulder to shoulder.

Beyond the outcrop, they had no cover whatsoever. No bushes, no walls, nothing, for like 100 meters. At the same time, there was nothing. Even as he glanced around, Alphonse couldn't see camouflaged Elites or hiding Grunts… It was strange, eerie even.

He knelt, ready to run.

“I handle the Antenna, and what's inside, you check the building," stated the Squad leader, taking one M6 out of his holsters.

“Seriously? You're not afraid with your armor? And your shield!"

Alphonse groaned at the thought. But he chuckled, shook his head, and tapped Hector's helmet with his gun's barrel.

“Don't worry. I'm always fighting like this. Three heat sigs, you'll handle it quickly. So I count on you if anything goes wrong. Move out!" said Alphonse before running off.

In his back, he heard Hector's course, then listened to how it drifted on his left before disappearing. In the night sky, the massive covenant antenna appeared like a sore spot with purple reflects. Its metal structure was extremely sturdy, even at the evident weak spots like the exposed capacitors.

Taking one down from the outside necessitated heavy weapons. But he ran inside, where he was sure to find, at least, one control room. Unless the schematics from the UNSC were already obsolete.

Swiftly, the Spartan entered the structure by a wide open entrance on the side leading to a circling corridor. The place was calm, with only the buzzing of electronics and the humming from some distant machines to break the silence.

Erika was right, that place was dead. He-[I]

BZZT!

[/I]

Alphonse nearly froze, hoping it had been a remembrance or his mind playing tricks.

[I]BZZT![/I]

This time, he rushed to lean against the nearest purple wall. He felt it… The shocks! Again, and stronger than ever. Strong enough to steal his breath and make him heave. Strong enough, he hoped for his balls to move up.

But no, the pads were now closing on them too, and both electrodes and pads were back at it…

The sound wasn't discrete… Anybody in the corridor could hear it if they passed, but no. No one.

“Fuck," mumbled Alphonse, stumbling and walking with one hand against the wall. The corridor circled, but its natural inclination was leading the Spartan upward.

And closer to… grunts?

It was noise he clearly heard, not from machines but from aliens. Grunts and growls, low enough to make his body shiver. Elites. Not one, multiples. How far? He couldn't tell amidst the buzzing and whirring that drilled into his skull…

And the pump.

“… What?"

Alphonse mumbled as he heeded the hydraulics, lifting his codpiece and straightening it. He blinked as he watched the gray surface extend to adapt to the pump's presence. And he reached for it, pushed against the hydraulics.

“Fuck, no! Not now!" he hissed, his teeth gritting as he suddenly stumbled and fell back first against the wall. A moment of weakness, rewarded by the “clang" of the locks keeping the codpiece up.

Now, pushing was impossible, it was impossible to stop the machine from going crazy on his dick.

… Though, it wasn't so bad as his dick was finally allowed some room, no longer crushed by the pump inclination.

Sweaty, the head heavy, the thoughts foggy, Alphonse pushed his head against the wall. If Hector caught up with him or anyone, he didn't care anymore.

He needed to cum. He needed some release from all the pent-up pressure in his prostate and balls. He had been shocked, caressed, stroked.

At that moment, he dug his fingers into the steel wall, felt the resistance from the surface as the electrodes sent another pulse. One so strong it made him hump the air.

“Hhhh!" he hissed through his teeth, his eyes half-closed while his vision blurred. More shock, more caress from the pads.

And… Yes, the pressure. It increased on his dick, the pump being almost air-tight.

“Do- Do it," he mumbled to himself. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine this was a pleasing mouth or a hole prime to fuck. He pictured those curves he held onto. He envisioned his hands on the soft skin, on the shoulders.

The pump lowered itself on the shaft, its gelatinous surface rubbing against the length.

Alphonse imagined it… No, he mimicked it as he thrust, plunging his dick into that reverie of a hole.

The pump lifted, followed by his hips retreating.

“Hhhh… I- Need it," mumbled Alphonse, at a loss of wits while the pump ever so slowly moved up until its sole contact with his dick was… The tip.

The Spartan's breath quickened in anticipation. His eyes nearly rolled as he gripped the air. He was on a mission, but after being blue-balled so much, he didn't care.

Just a few more pumps, and he'd be back on the run.

It lowered!

The gelatinous texture rubbed his cockhead all over, his length, closed on his cock base in a sweet and delicious kiss, with fluids dripping in all directions. Even his testicles were drenched in juices he had been macerating in. He-

The pump moved up again, quicker. His fingers clenched, his fists closed while his toes curled. If it kept going so slowly, his legs would be the first to give out.

There… He locked the knee articulations as he leaned a bit further, rigid like a statue. He- He had to cum, even if it sounded so absurd. He locked his elbows and shoulders so he wouldn't drop… And closed his eyes.

He envisioned that plump ass over his groin, rubbing against his skin and balls. He imagined the electrodes' shocks as caresses, the pads as fingers digging into his scrotum… The pump. That tight pussy, he imagined it lowering on his dick.

And it did… It lowered, centimeter by centimeter, so slowly. At a snail's pace. His teeth clenched, his toes curled further. He was about to cum, he was about to cum! He was about to cum!

“Sexual stimulation aborted."

The artificial voice echoed within Alphonse's mind. His eyes opened on the many error messages on his screen, he felt the pump on his dick relaxing its grip but not moving.

“No! No! No! I was so close!" he croaked, directing his gaze at the HUD to start to get a grip of the system. Menu, folders, sub-folders, sexual stimulation routine. He tried to restart it again, but no. It didn't boot back.

“Fuck," he moaned, his voice coarse as he unlocked his articulations. “Fuck this," he mumbled as he tried to take a step. He felt the codpiece, still outstretched, rub against his legs and limit their movements. More than that, his balls were about to burst! His prostate, too, it was mind-boggling.

Alphonse lowered his hand on the codpiece, passing a finger against the metal, then lower, towards a security port he could grip with his fingers… If… he wanted. He could rip the codpiece apart. He-

No.

Alphonse exhaled, removed his trembling hand from the codpiece. He exhaled, inhaled, clenched the right leg to force blood into it. His raging boner abated, but not the sensations he felt… Nor the frustration.

“… Fuck this," he mumbled, reaching for his M6 with his shivering fingers. If… If he could handle the mission quickly, perhaps he'd somehow found a modicum of release.

But one thing was sure… It would not only be difficult, but he wouldn't hear the end of it from Hector, Erika, or any Spartan. With all the fluids dripping from his codpiece, he was stinking.

Alphonse took another deep breath and reinforced his grip on his handgun.

The mission. He had to focus on the mission now.

Even if each step reminded him of his dick's presence, and it felt like the codpiece slapped against his thighs. Even if the halted pads still squeezed his balls. Each step was tedious and challenging, but he managed to walk onward and ascend the corridor.

He only had to follow the corridor's inclination to move up the antenna.

If he referred to his previous experiences, Alphonse was between the ground level and the first floor. Ground floor was the reactor, the first floor was always dedicated to maintenance. Above, it was all maintenance up to the last, which would be the control room. In this instance, the antenna was too small for more than two level above ground.

So he needed to take the maintenance first, then move up.

His breath stilled, his mind focusing on his mission; Alphonse tried to obtrude any vile thoughts as his careful step led him right above where he entered. But this time, the corridor opened on a threshold from which emanated the sounds of machines, humms, and buzzs from the electronics.

But nothing more. Not even a grunt as he looked inside.

That was weird, as well as the grunts from Elites being stronger and closer.

[I]RAAAAAGH! [/I]The guttural cry echoed within the tower. Was there a fight? Was there someone else? A civilian or another combatant?

Alphonse's eyes darted up at the ceiling, where the cry came, followed by more shuffles. A bunch of Elites were there, and they were moving, fighting? He guessed as he turned towards the machines standing open and exposed. A few commands and-.

Alphonse refuted this, shaking his head, and turned towards the corridor. This time, he pressed on the pace. He forced on the articulation, stomped on the steel. There was no one but those Elites, surely… And the sounds of their fights would cover his run.

Hence, he ran.

He ran, leaving some imprints of his armor as he ascended to the second floor and watched from afar the blue and purple hue from the holographic displays, as well as the shadows of the Elites… piling up?

Alphonse slowed down, trying to make head or tail of what he saw. He blinked, his eyes fluttering as he took a discrete step toward the door. He was only a few feet away from-[I]

BZZT![/I]

He clenched his jaw, trembled.

[I]BZZT! BZZT! BZZT![/I]

The sudden shocks stole gasps from the Spartan as he nearly dropped to the ground.

“Sexual stimulation initialization," said the same dull voice as before while errors appeared before his eyes.

[I]BZZT! BZZT! BZZT![/I]

It wasn't an initialization, it was a full-blown war against his genitals as the pads whirred once more. They moved, danced, rubbed against his genitalia. Worse, their speed was so intense they were starting to wobble and tremble on their axis. One on the left was even giving slight nudges to the gonades.

[I]BZZT! BZZT! BZZT![/I]

Alphonse gasped for air, saliva filled his mouth as the electroshock was strong enough to force contractions in his abdomen.

The pump was back at full speed. It had sucked on his shaft and was now bobbing back and forth at full speed. Up, down, in, out, his cock was in hell.

Shivering, Alphonse pushed on his knees to stand up. He nearly dropped the second a shock hit him in the left nuts at the same time the pump descended on his cockhead. He was drooling, in pain, in shivers… The interior of his armor was drenched in sweat, and more precum dripped from his codpiece.

Yet… he took another step.

[I]BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZT! Bzzt![/I]

The long shock, followed by the smaller one, stole another gasp. He nearly fell but stomped on the ground to recover his footing.

Just… A bit.

He clenched on his M6… No. He clenched on... where it should have been?

Did he dro- [I]BZZZT![/I]

Alphonse fell on the ground, frothing at the mouth as the pump had gone to full-pace. The hydraulics were straining under the effort, chugging and forcing that gelatinous against Alphonse's cock and pubes. He… He gritted his teeth. He forced on his closed eyes. He exhaled.

“Sexual stimulation finished."

He had ejaculated. His balls were released, so his prostate, so the warm pain at his cocktip.

“I- I hate you," mumbled Alphonse to the machinery with his fist clenched.

The sounds of the electrodes had disappeared, and so of the pads and the pump. His softening cock followed the pump's retracting movement. His orgasm had been wasted, but...

At… Least, he could still handle the Elites.

Sighing, Alphonse-63 opened his eyes and lifted them.

On an Elite. He blinked.

He watched an Elite standing there, the alien's stance wide from surprise. It was a Sangheili, clearly with that brownish skin, yellow eyes looking at his right, four mandibles covering that aghast mouth, and tensed lean muscles. A male Elite.

How did Alphonse know?

From the dripping purple cock the Alien sported, the half-chub organ oozed with a white substance on the ground and the alien's round brown testicles. He was entirely naked, from head to toe…

And as Alphonse turned to follow the male's gaze, it was to see more of the Elite's peers inside.

Naked… All piled together. Sticky. Stinking.

“Urgh," he groaned, hitting his helmet against the ground, his forehead against the padding.