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I stepped into the embrace of the refurbishment cubicle. The sounds of the station faded into obscurity as the door sealed behind me. It was dim inside. Warm. Cozy. Mechanical arms reached around me, lifting and maneuvering me into the position and orientation the cubicle wanted, which was facing the direction I'd entered.
Standing would imply I was self-supporting. I was not. Straps were placed around me, securing me to the heavy-duty structure. My gunports were blocked and I was presented with grips to hold to reduce the chance I'd break anything - desperate strength and all that.
I wasn't worried about what was coming. It was a simple and straightforward process I'd been through many times before – I needed oral hygiene and internal cleaning that I had no way of performing myself. It wasn't something I needed often, which was why regular cubicles didn't have the capability. SecUnits were self-contained and self-cleaning enough that even long assignments didn't require a deep clean. But the company ran one between assignments to keep us at top performance. And I never missed the opportunity.
The arm that moved in front of me was one I knew to be flexible and almost jellylike in composition, an amorphous, worm-like limb with a central spine and a nozzle built into it along with various sensors and cleaning rasps. It was dry when it touched my lips, a shadow in the dimness, but then moisture oozed from the nozzle and was instantly wicked across the seemingly smooth surface. Sufficiently lubricated, it slid smoothly between my relaxed lips and between my cheek and teeth on one side.
The rasps deployed as thousands of tiny protrusions, delicate brushes that scrubbed firmly against the synthetic bone of my teeth and more gently against the organic tissue of my gums. It had a muscular, swabbing action that tickled and tingled as it stretched my cheek. It reached to the back of my molars and then turned in place to scrub the top layer of my inner cheek as well. The tissue massage felt nice. In its wake, I knew my teeth would be slick and smooth, whatever minuscule contaminants I had would be gone.
It pulled out, cleaned itself with a pair of ancillary appendages, then rewet itself and inserted for the other side. I was breathing deeply, calmly, enjoying this gradual buildup to the main event. My eyes were half-shut, my higher functions mostly off-line due to the cubicle's override of my systems. It was like the whole world was slowing down, narrowing to no more than this experience. The organic parts of my brain were unaffected. And happy. Very happy.
When the arm insinuated itself between my lips a third time, I opened my mouth without waiting for the cubicle to cue me. It slithered inside where it rasped along the inside of my teeth and then cupped the tip of the arm to do the flat surfaces. This tickled a little more as the stiffer bristles at the edges rubbed across my gums. By now, enough cleansing solution had been dispensed from the tip of the arm that it dribbled from my mouth, dripping onto my naked chest.
Teeth done, it moved to my upper palate, hesitating for a moment as it pinged a warning into what was still functioning of my brain. Yeah, right, fuck, I didn't care, do it. It did and even though I knew what was coming, I still jerked hard within the restraints, my head pulling back away from its touch as it chased me down and pressed itself against the sensitive tissue at the top of my mouth. That part of me was studded with sensors that metaphorically exploded in my head under the assault, like a huge, blinding, grey force of pressure and taste and smell all activated at once.
It wasn't … bad. You might think it would be (or was, from my reaction), but it wasn't. It was just incredibly, intensely stimulating. I gripped the handles I'd been given and let my body twitch with each sweep and swab of the cubicle's organ as it carefully scrubbed every impurity from the bottom of my olfactory sensory pad. I breathed out an involuntary noise, a wheezy whine that my organic neural tissue felt the situation called for. I didn't argue. After all, I was as much the organic tissue as I was anything else and right now I was trembling with the intensity.
It turned and enveloped my tongue, cupping around it and gripping it like it had my teeth. It sucked and massaged, dislodging any foreign matter that might be tucked into some crease or crevice. The overstimulation by taste was stronger this way and the sensation of having my tongue sucked made me tense all over. I groaned and shuddered.
After another cleaning break that allowed the overstimulation to fade, my jaw was opened to full extension. The intruding limb returned and flattened against my tongue, pressing it downward. My head was already pressed into the support behind me. There was another ping of warning as the thing in my mouth became heavier and larger. The corners of my mouth quirked up as much as I could in the position, helpless as I was. I made a happy, nervous noise.
Instead of an imminently flexible, shapeable appendage, it was pressurizing, making it more like a tube. I was breathing faster, knowing what was coming, but it was still a shock when the thing snaked forward, pressing into my throat and closing off my airway.
Reflexively, I choked. SecUnits do have a gag reflex, since aside from this one operation, there is never a reason for anything other than air to pass the back of my mouth. The cubicle leaned harder on my mind, making sure I didn't react to the warnings popping up or get too concerned about my body's involuntary responses. I was tied down, but I was still jerking in place, gripping the handles and moving my legs fitfully. My throat spasmed involuntarily, trying futilely to eject this thing that took up my entire mouth and wormed itself inexorably down my throat.
It took up every shred of space, expanding itself to fill the available capacity and then, even more, swell outward. It was no longer soft and pliant. It was fully engorged now and demanding as it stretched me. I shuddered and mewled (for my vocal emulator did not need air like a human) as it writhed and wriggled all the way inside me, until the cool metal of the ring at the base of the arm pressed against my lips, letting me know it was at full extension. I crooned, as full as I was going to get. The other end of it had to be at the top of my lungs, occupying the entire channel it was designed for.
My oxygenation level was on a countdown because I wasn't getting any air. It wasn't a fast one and I wasn't worried. Not only had I gone through this before (and loved it; the feeling of it swollen inside me, throbbing faintly, the slick bulk of it depressing my tongue and swabbing over my hard palate, stimulating me in a way nothing else did, was incredible and I didn't want it to stop, not even for air), but I knew the cubicle had full view of my vitals. I could sense it watching that countdown, too.
And so it took its time. It made a slow twist one direction that had me twitching, bucking and whimpering, and then the other way with another surge of uncontrolled physical responses from me. Fluid was dripping steadily from my mouth now, wetting my front, running down my abdomen and over my thighs. My skin felt electrified and my extremities kept twitching in time with its motions within me. I was making snuffling whines between the whimpers, begging for more in the only way I could. My jaw flexed the tiny bit that it could, but the cubicle's limb was so hard now I didn't have any leverage.
That organic, emotion-regulating part of my brain was flooding me with emotions along with a cocktail of endorphins and adrenaline I didn't get at any other time in my existence. I convulsed in time with the pulsing of the device. It was slowly backing out, in no hurry even as I could feel the early symptoms of asphyxiation creeping over me, covering everything in an ecstatic haze.
I was still trembling and choking as the oxygenation counted down. I knew it would retract in time, but I still felt the spike of fear. It felt good, as twisted and perverse as that was. Somewhere about now, all my frantic, disparate bodily reactions synced up in a glorious rhythm, clenching and releasing in time with the thing's final throbs. My head pushed and pulled on it in time. If I could have sucked, I would have. With each motion, I made a wet, plaintive sound.
Then there was a click somewhere in the mechanism. The thing depressurized, going flaccid while it was still inside me, still blocking my airway but a soft bulk instead of a hard one. I bucked harder against the restraints in a fit of violence. I don't know if I was fighting for air or chasing the sensation, hoping for more. I felt frenzied and I couldn't think. The cubicle creaked, but held.
My throat was getting some purchase now when it constricted. Even if I had no control over the continued gagging, I could feel I was squishing and compressing it. I was just about out of air, when it withdrew, trailing slime and cleanser. I gasped, feeling cool air cut down my raw and tender throat like a line of ice. I coughed next, expelling the tentacle-like arm from my mouth and letting everything spill from my slack lips. I hacked up the cleanser that had filled my lungs during all this and could finally get some meaningful air. I panted and drooled, slowly relaxing.
I shivered in residual pleasure, smiling faintly when my face finally deigned to cooperate. The fading adrenaline gave me a sensation of pins and needles through my extremities. The endorphins made me feel like I was flying. And warm now. So warm. I felt open and cleaned and cared for. I was loopy. My thoughts were disordered and I didn't even care. I felt so delightfully spent, used, used up, and yet simultaneously shiny and new. I sagged in the restraints.
The arm cleaned itself in the dim lighting, repetitively applying cleaner and scraping, applying and scraping as it purged everything I might have breathed in on dusty planets or in disgusting mines. The cubicle waited politely as I recovered – faster than I would have wanted, but SecUnits are hardy and we don't stay phased for long.
It lifted the firm grip it had held on my consciousness, letting me have the liberty of thinking again. The first thing I did was save a copy of all this to review later. And then, because I'd been through this before and knew that requests were usually honored, the second thing I did was ask, Again?