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When Nicole pushed open the door to Random Play, she did so with a hesitation uncharacteristic of her normal entrances. The bell on the door barely even jingled, and she closed it behind her without further sound. With her back to the door, she exhaled slowly upon noticing that the room was empty, both of customers and the managers. A sign on the front desk in hastily scrawled script read "back in fifteen minutes". Nicole relaxed—she could recognize Belle's handwriting. This whole thing was going to be much easier to ask Belle about than Wise.
Unfortunately, Nicole had managed to arrive closer to the beginning of the allotted fifteen minutes than the end, and the minutes that ticked by only made her more nervous. Her skin crawled, and she checked her bag for not the first time. Good, it's still there. Wait, am I sweating? She lifted her arms. Yep. Gross. Checking to see if the coast was clear, she ducked her head and quickly sniffed, then sighed in relief. Thank god. Unfortunately, lowering her arms back down made the wetness that had soaked into her shirt plaster coldly onto her skin, a grim reminder of how much she needed a shower. Despite taking one right before she came.
Belle returned after twenty minutes and Nicole was ready to greet her with 100% saccharine cuteness when she walked through the door. Stunning smile? Check. Sultry wink? Check. Cleavage? Check, check, check.
Only to immediately crash and burn.
"Belle! You look super cute today!"
A beat—Nicole realized that she'd laid it on waaaaaay too thick. Belle's happy expression became a unique mixture of dubious neutrality that also somehow included a raised eyebrow and a half smile—Nicole hung her head. Defeat was instantaneous. Before Belle could ask her what she wanted in that exasperated tone, Nicole fessed up. "I need your help."
"If this is about your late fees, I already told you that we don't charge interest."
"It's—not about the late fees."
"Okaaaaaaay?" Belle asked, then paused as if to say, "then what?"
"I need some help with a. . . mechanical issue?" Nicole phrased it as a question, which only served to confuse Belle further. "Or at least, I think it's mechanical? Or like, an engineering issue, maybe? I don't know—I'm not an electric. . . electrician! I'm not one of those!"
"I think this is going to go much faster if you just tell me what's going on," Belle said. She had at that point moved to the front desk and now leaned on it with both her elbows.
"I can't do that."
"Yeah, I kinda figured. I can't really help you then." Belle tilted her head and gave a bland smile, lips pressed together. The perfect customer service face, directed at Nicole.
Nicole was pretty sure she had never seen Belle make that face before. She decided she hated it. "You don't know any electricians you could refer me to?"
"Well," Belle said (and now Nicole knew she was being fucked with), "how do we even know that an electrician is the person you need? You said it yourself: maybe you only think you need an electrician when what you actually need is an engineer. Or a mechanic." While Belle spoke she became overanimated, making hand gestures to emphasize her words as though she was New Eridu's president and was giving a political speech to an audience of thousands.
"You just want to know what I need," Nicole sobbed.
Belle's hands shot up to cover her mouth in horror. "J'accuse! But yeah, you got me."
"So you're not going to help me."
Belle stepped around the desk and, before Nicole could figure out what she was doing, had blocked the exit. She flipped the sign on the door to closed, then locked it. She advanced.
Nicole stepped back once, twice, and realized that her hands had unconsciously flown down to protect her bag, pushing it behind her. Belle caught the motion and zeroed in on her purse like a shark tasting blood.
She lunged. "Let me see!"
"No!" Nicole shrieked and fled up the stairs, taking them two at a time. As fast as she was though, Belle was faster, having just refueled with what must've been an energizing lunch. Nicole made it as far as the landing when Belle's hands caught her by the purse strap.
The strap dug into Nicole's shoulder and arrested her movement. Momentum swung Belle up onto the landing, and they both crashed into the far wall together. Stunned, Nicole made a mad grab to protect her purse, but Belle wasn't trying to steal it. Instead she upended it, emptying its contents onto the floor. Chapstick tubes, free-floating bills, her vibrator, multiple hair clips, a packet of tissues, taser, and hair brush all clattered to the floor in a cascade of bright colors.
And of course, the folded paper Nicole had been so ardently trying to protect from prying eyes. She reached for it—Belle was faster. She snatched it out from under Nicole's descending hand (which slapped onto the floor, sans paper), then skittered down the stairs like a spider, cackling all the way.
Nicole didn't bother repacking her purse. She slid down the stairs like viscous honey, shame and mortification removing her bones and turning her muscles to mush.
By the time she reached the bottom step and pooled at the landing, Belle had unfolded the paper and spread it flat on the desk. Nicole searched the room for anything she could use to end her own life. Coming up empty, she settled on closing her eyes and trying to meditate herself into a coma. When that didn't work, she mustered the courage to look at Belle. Just how much trouble was she in? To her surprise though, the expression on Belle's face wasn't one of disgust, but rather one of thoughtful excitement. Belle put a hand on her chin as her eyes raked over the paper's contents, smile growing, then snapped her fingers.
"Aha!" she said, making Nicole jump. Belle—steadfast ally, trusted friend, cool confidant, beautiful Belle!—gave her a thumbs up. "What you need is a mechanic, and I know the best girl for the job!"
~ ~ ~
Nicole followed the map Belle had drawn on the back of a receipt, and of course Belle had predicated the release of information on the condition that Nicole pay her late fees. It was a trade, and one that Nicole begrudgingly had to admit was fair. It wasn't as though the late fees were that steep—it was, after all, just a video store—but it was the principle of the thing! After so long, having paid her debts to Random Play felt wrong. As soon as this was over, Nicole was going to make it a priority to rack some more outstanding late fees.
The thought of what exactly "this" was made Nicole stutter in her step. She checked the map again, cross-referenced it with the street signs. This was the right place, but that didn't help her much—she didn't spend too much time in the industrial district. Even the signs looked like gibberish to her, despite ostensibly being legible. Were construction companies divided by number like houses, or was there a different organization paradigm in effect here? Nicole huffed, steeled herself, and got to work searching. After surviving the embarrassment of Belle revealing her secret, she wasn't about to let getting lost stop her.
The Brant Street Construction Site was a jungle of semi-trucks, chain-link fences, I-beams, and machines. Nicole walked through the site like a tourist, eyes upwards to take in the sights of infrastructure above her. Everywhere she looked, she saw things she couldn't understand. The things that seemed familiar were skewed just enough to confuse her more—she could recognize the base form of a tractor, but what in the world was attached to the front? Why did the mechanical monstrosity suspended from a complex framework of metal beams look suspiciously like one of the mechs from her childhood tv shows?
The whole place was eerily quiet. Though it was the weekend, Nicole had always had a prevailing thought that construction zones operated seven days a week. Perhaps the place Grace Howard worked—Belobog Heavy Industries—was an exception?
Paths in the campus led her organically deeper and deeper into a labyrinth of industry until Nicole came into a clearing in the forest of metal and concrete. At the far end was an open garage, and from within came the sound of an angle grinder. Showers of sparks lit the space, shining on the sweaty figure of a woman who looked to be in her twenties. How the woman could survive being bathed in sparks without any more protective gear than a pair of goggles was beyond Nicole's understanding.
"Umm, hello?" Nicole called, waiting for a lull in the screeching of the angle grinder. When that produced no response, Nicole approached the garage and knocked on the shutter above her head, making a loud rattling noise. The screech of the angle grinder stopped, and the woman before her pulled the goggles from her head, looping them onto her belt in a single smooth motion.
The eyes underneath those goggles were the same deep garnet color as the lenses that had protected them, like glowing coals in a forge. The woman, muscle glistening with sweat and streaked here and there with grease as black as coal made Nicole think of an engine: oil and potential energy and flame compressed into a form too small to contain that much heat and power.
"Oh, hi," the woman wiped her grease-stained forehead with a rag that had once been white. "Welcome to Belobog Heavy Industries. Or at least, that's what I would say if we were open."
When the woman brought the rag to towel her armpits, Nicole had to remind herself how to speak.
"Hi, sorry. I'm looking for someone named—" (Nicole checked her receipt) "—Grace Howard? I was looking for some help and got referred to her."
"Oh?" The woman's flat affect became tinged with curiosity. "Who referred you?"
"Belle. Er, I don't know her last name. She runs the video store on Sixth Street."
At the mention of Belle's name, the woman's demeanor shifted. Not quite 180 degrees—she hadn't been rude—but at least 90. She smiled, giving Nicole her full attention. "I'm Grace. What can I do for you?"
Nicole ground her teeth. So what if the woman she was going to ask for help from was incredibly hot, both literally and figuratively? "I have a commission—I'd like you to make something for me. On the down-low."
"What did you have in mind?"
"Can we talk privately?"
"Sure?" Grace beckoned Nicole to follow her through a door that led into a cramped office. Every available surface was filled, either with mechanical parts or papers. Natural light came in through the window; Grace pulled the blinds and plunged the room into darkness. The overhead light that illuminated the place flickered to life, then shone with a cold hue. Bolts and nails in plastic drawers sparkled and gleamed, spools of copper wire added color. Behind Grace, a whiteboard filled with diagrams and schemata took up the entire wall, framing her with a projection of her genius.
With both of them in the small office, Nicole became hyperaware of Grace's presence. The slightly alluring scent of her exposed skin, stained with sweat and oil, textured the air. Nicole breathed in deeply.
"Money is no issue," she began, removing the paper from her purse. "But your discretion is." She placed the folded paper face-down on the desk, but Grace merely glanced at it, then turned the full force of her focus back to Nicole.
She crossed her arms, the motion subtly pressing her breasts upwards, and Nicole had to remind herself not to stare. But Grace's tone, cold as steel, cut any errant thoughts about the woman's attractiveness straight from Nicole's mind. "Let me guess: you want me to build you something illegal. No, don't say anything. Listen. I'm not usually the type to accept illegal work, but I trust Belle, and if Belle trusts you enough to refer you to me, then I'll at least hear you out. But I reserve the right to refuse, and if I do, then we've never met. Do you understand?"
"It's not like that—" Nicole tried, but Grace overpowered her. She stood.
"Do you understand?"
It had been easy, up until that point, for Nicole to let her guard down. Grace was disarmingly attractive, sure, but she seemed nice enough, and Belle had recommended her for such an. . . intimate request. How bad could she be? In that moment, Nicole took in Grace's focus, so close to anger. She took in the muscles that rippled through her stomach, the raw strength in her arms that came from lifting heavy metal, and the way the smell of oxidization clung to her like the aura of a crucible.
Nicole swallowed. The fear ran like an electric shock straight to her clit. She was definitely sweating, and maybe she was getting wet?
"G-got it," she managed. Trying to explain the truth of the matter wasn't going to be as effective as simply having Grace figure it out herself. "I promise."
Grace's expression relaxed. She sat back down and leaned back, took the paper, unfolded it. "Well then, let's see what we're dealing with."
Grace's frown became a neutral line. Over the next few seconds, Nicole watched her face go from anxious anticipation to glee, her eyebrows rising, quickly followed by the corner of her lips, and then she was smiling broadly. "Oh I get it. "
"Is that sort of thing possible?"
"Possible or not—that's not what I'm saying." Grace tapped the paper, "I'm saying I get it. You're a freak like me. You wanna fuck a machine, don't you?"
Under the weight of Grace's smile, Nicole's mouth went dry. She tried to force a denial through her lips—she didn't want to 'fuck a machine', she wanted to. . . And then her mind came to a clear understanding. Hmm? She and Grace were obviously approaching the matter from different angles, but what was the functional difference between what she and Grace were saying? Weren't they ending up at the same point either way?
"I guess I do?" Nicole said. Trying to rush the conversation on, she added: "So is it possible?"
"Possible?" Grace hummed in thought. "Well, to speak frankly, your drawing is kinda terrible. "But," she interrupted before Nicole could complain, "I don't see why not. A simple piston and a flywheel. I can probably put something together in a week or so."
"That would be. . . very helpful."
Grace was a blur of activity, pulling an empty grid-patterned sheet of paper from a file cabinet and filling it out with design notes. "Hey, what's your name, by the way? And number?"
"It's Nicole. Nicole Demara." She waited until Grace had written her number down to ask the question that had been poisoning her mind ever since she'd come up with the idea. "You don't think it's weird? You don't think I'm like. . . a desperate slut or something?"
"Nicole, I think you're a genius." Grace sighed. The eye contact that followed was gentle, filled with understanding and something that maybe even resembled camaraderie. Her eyes were less intense and more inviting, like a hearth. "I'll be level with you. At the risk of giving you too much information about myself: I have a machinery kink. Getting my hands greasy and working the gears of a system, loosening up pistons, unplugging things and plugging them in? It gets me going. This?" she tapped the paper, "This is what my wet dreams look like. I say we do it."
Nicole could tell from the heat in her face that she was blushing furiously. "I really appreciate it. I didn't know who I could talk to about this."
Grace offered a smile. "Us freaks gotta stick together."
~ ~ ~
A week later, Grace sent her a text that simply read: I'm a genius, alongside an emoji that suggested a mind being blown. Taking that to mean the prototype was ready, Nicole finished up her dailies and excused herself from the presence of her fellow Hares. That she'd leave wasn't so strange, though her genuine excitement was noted in the raised eyebrows of her fellows. When asked, rather than come up with an excuse she simply said she was going out on business.
It wasn't even a lie.
She'd memorized the route to the Brant Street Construction Site by now, having taken to daydreaming about the woman in the Belobog campus and how she might look while working on the subject of her focus. Did Grace always work without a shirt on, or would she wear protective gear? Would that make her sweat more or less? The train ride passed with Nicole fantasizing about peeling Grace out of the tight layer of workshop clothing she'd imagined her into, and by the time the train stopped, Nicole was kicking her feet. She forced herself to stop, willed her legs to be still. What would follow was going to be a professional business transaction and nothing more.
But her mind was not to be denied, apparently: excitement built under her skin until she was practically skipping the final distance to Belobog Heavy Industries. This time she nimbly worked her way through the labyrinth of construction materials and gargantuan mechanical devices, unbothered by the fact that the route to the main building had changed due to some items having been moved throughout the week.
The garage shutters were closed—Nicole knocked on them like she'd done before, the metal slats rattling upward from where her fist connected in a wavelike pattern.
Grace's voice, coming muffled from behind the metal, was barely recognizable, but the enthusiasm she'd displayed before was unmistakable. "Nicole!" she called. "Hang on, I'll be right there!"
Nicole waited for the shutter to rise, expecting it to do so slowly and under the power of electricity. What happened instead was that she heard a grunt of effort and then it shot up. Grace was suddenly inches away from her with her arms raised, holding the door open above her head. Nicole's greeting died in her mouth at the sudden proximity, the way Grace's whole body was tense, muscle fibers working in beautiful harmony to keep the weight from crashing down.
"Hey. Come on through," Grace nudged, and Nicole sidestepped and ducked into the garage. The door slammed down behind her a second later, making her jump. As her eyes adjusted to the dimly-lit interior, she saw just how exhausted Grace looked. The woman's shoulders were rounded in, and dark rings under her eyes suggested multiple nights of little sleep. Her voice hadn't simply been muffled, she sounded hoarse, like she'd spent the previous night singing at the top of her lungs at a rock concert.
An unspoken question hung in Nicole's mind. There was only one reason why she was here, so why was it so hard for her to speak? She wanted to see the fruits of Grace's labor, but considering the nature of the product, would it be a faux pas to just. . . bring it up? "Are you okay?" Nicole ended up asking. The thought that Grace had overworked herself so severely didn't sit right with her—she'd have to arrange for a generous tip.
"What?" Grace asked. "Oh, you mean my voice?"
"I mean your everything," Nicole confirmed. "You look like you didn't sleep at all last night."
"Do I really look that bad?"
"N-not bad at all!" Nicole backpedaled. She pulled a hand mirror from her purse and handed it over. "I just wanted to make sure you're okay?"
"Mmm, right, right," Grace said, pinching her cheek as if testing its elasticity could supply her with as much information as a hand mirror was. "The reason I look this tired is because I tested it out."
"You did?" she practically squeaked. She forced herself to calm—of course Grace had tested it. She was a consummate professional engineer in Belobog Heavy Industries; testing machines was as vital a part of her job as building them in the first place. Nicole didn't know Grace well, but no part of the woman gave the impression that she'd ever in a million years let a faulty product leave her care. Just because she had built a sex toy didn't mean it was an exception.
Grace spoke casually as if they were in a completely different setting under completely different circumstances. As if she and Nicole were wearing business suits and discussing finances—as if Nicole hadn't commissioned her to make a sex machine. "Well yeah, I wanted to be sure it wouldn't malfunction and rip you to shreds. I also wouldn't feel right taking your Dennies if the thing burned out. Had to get all the dials dialed in juuuuuust right. The torque needed some adjusting, and I kept coming up with new ideas as I went. You know, for ergonomic purposes, ease-of-access, that sort of thing. Oh but don't worry, I'm not going to charge you extra for those mods. Anyway, yeah, I tested it and it runs like a dream—I ran it for six straight hours at various speeds."
Nicole sighed. "And that's why I looked like I didn't get any sleep last night. Because you stayed up all night testing it. You know I can't pay extra if you did a bunch of unnecessary overtime, right?"
Grace's matter-of-fact expression became a kind of dopey grin. "I think it'd be more accurate to say that it kept me up all night," she said knowingly. "I did put it to the test on me, after all. If it can make me sing, it can make anyone sing."
It took Nicole a solid second to understand just what exactly Grace was saying. And that was when it hit.
Her face lit up like a blast furnace; her mind went wild. Grace had tested the machine. Like, tested tested it! With her own body. Up all night, six straight hours of testing. No wonder she looked wrecked. No wonder her voice was shot. If the machine was anything like what Nicole had imagined it to be, then how could it not be perfect? Her blood rushed in her ears—if she strained hard enough, would she be able to hear the echoes of Grace's screams?
Was the way she had started fidgeting totally obvious? Nicole's fingers played with each other, she shifted her balance from left to right and when her thighs pressed together it nearly threatened to make her eyes roll back. It was by miracle that she managed to keep her shit together. "And what's the verdict?"
"No problems at all!"
Nicole let out an exhale. This was finally happening. "Okay. Okay!"
"So do you want to see it?" Grace asked. Nicole swallowed and nodded. Yes, she wanted to see the machine capable of taking a woman as outwardly powerful as Grace and making her look like that.
Grace led them to the back of the garage, behind a section that was curtained-off. Instead of fabric, the material looked to be a heavy chainmaille weave, and it pooled sluggishly at Grace's arm as she pushed it aside. They were in the bowels of the garage now, far away from the front door that Nicole could barely see it. She imagined many people could come in and go about their work without once realizing what exactly it was Grace had been working on for the past week.
Behind the curtain was a white sheet that had been draped over what looked to be a pedestal with a large shape placed near one side. Before Nicole could begin to fantasize about what lay beneath, Grace grabbed one corner and whipped the sheet off with a triumphant "Tadaaa!"
Nicole leaned in, eyes as wide as saucers, heart constricting at the beauty before her.
She had to admit that the difference between her rough sketch and the sleek machine in front of her was night and day. What she'd envisioned was as barebones as possible, the very basics to get the job done. A motor that powered a shaft to thrust in and out. The pure need that had led to her coming up with the idea was as embarrassing as the machine was simple.
Grace had taken those ideas and run a marathon with them. What Nicole saw before her was basically a saddle: shiny plush material stretched over a shaped seat as though a barrel had been cut in half vertically and then placed on the ground so that its arch was upwards to make a smooth convex surface. The ridge of the seat was made of a different material—Nicole wasn't sure what that was about but she approached it anyway and ran her hands over the small spikes and bumps, each no more than half an inch tall. They flexed easily under her palm, silicone tickling.
Focussing her attention on the shaft caused her to draw in a sharp breath. The metal rod to which various sex toys could ostensibly be attached was much wider than she'd imagined, a good two inches. It extended from the interior of the main housing through a slot that left no gaps for air—precision engineering skills and an eye for aesthetics brought to the task of creating a sex machine so mechanically marvelous that Nicole thought she might be starting to see what made Grace tick.
The whole setup was placed atop what looked like a bed, though it would've been more accurate to call it a particularly wide coffee table that Grace had bedecked in a few layers of—well it certainly wasn't blankets. The squishy material looked familiar to Nicole though, and eventually she realized it for yoga mats. The effect was that the sex machine was on a pedestal, given almost religious importance, and surrounded by yoga mats for easy cleaning.
And of course, off to the side sat a bottle of lube so large that it could only be called industrial-size. It even had a pump top, the kind you push down on to make the contents squirt onto your palm—something about the imagery of that right next to the sex machine was what tipped her mind over the edge of rationality.
Nicole couldn't stop the strained giggle building in the back of her throat. Even looking at the damn thing was making her hot.
"I took a couple liberties with your design," Grace said, stepping in close to the pedestal. She showed the thing off like she was a car saleswoman showing off her latest product; Nicole thought Grace's pride was well-earned, though. "This top section is a vibrating pad, and believe me when I tell you that it is just heavenly. Try grinding across it after you lube it up a bit—" as Grace spoke she rubbed her hand over the silicone spikes, shivering as they tickled her palm "—you'll be in for a great time."
Grace slapped her palm on the shaft, producing a dull thud. The machine didn't so much as rattle, and Nicole was pretty sure Grace had applied some serious force. "The shaft is heavy-duty," Grace explained, "it has to be to match the torque of the motor."
"I don't know what that means?"
"It means that if this thing thrusts forward, it's not gonna stop, no matter what. So for the love of all that's holy, be careful when you adjust it—it will hurt you if you let it."
"Oh." Yes, when Nicole looked at the machine as an entire unit rather than a combination of different functions, it certainly did have an air of intimidation.
"Don't make that face, I installed a safety so that it requires confirmation before getting really rowdy. But I didn't want to be the one who chose what roughness you can take before you break, you know?"
Nicole wasn't sure what to say, so she settled on honesty. "I. . . appreciate that."
"This might be the rambling of a mechanic, but I think it's comforting when I design something that won't break before I myself do." Grace went on before Nicole had to force herself to think of anything to say, something for which she was grateful—it was all getting a little overwhelming, and she hadn't even tried the damn thing yet. "But honestly, I think I really outdid myself! These smooth curves, the texture of the silicone, the way it warms up underneath you as you go—Ahhh I could just gush all day! Or all night," Grace added with a wink.
Nicole had envisioned a panel filled with knobs, dials, and sliders that would control the actions of the sex machine, but what Grace produced as the next part of her tour was a small tablet, about the size of a phone. "Normally I'm much more of an analog girl, but unfortunately I didn't have the time to do any of the complicated wiring, so I had to settle on a screen for the testing. It's a temporary solution," Grace assured her, "but I'm sorry that I had to deviate from your blueprints."
Nicole didn't mind that at all—her daily life placed her in front of her phone's touch screen much more often than it did in front of dials and switches—but what really tickled her was the fact that Grace had honored her chicken scratch sketch by calling it "blueprints".
By the time Grace finished explaining some of the finer points of the controls, she was out of breath. A slight flush colored her cheeks, pink standing stark against the black streaks of grease that cutely painted her chin and extended partway up her left cheek. A different kind of beauty mark, one that Nicole was finding more and more fascinating by the minute.
"So? Wanna try it out?"
It was like the gears in her mind were suddenly disengaged and left to spin aimlessly. Nicole had an inkling that her arousal was quite plainly displayed on her face. When Grace's words sank in, Nicole was positive of it. She looked around in near panic. "Here?"
Grace shrugged. "Why not?"
"B-but we're in public!"
"It's the weekend; it's only us here today." Grace pulled the heavy maille curtain so that it closed off the view from the front of the garage. "How are you going to give me feedback on the design if you don't test it out? You're the most important part of this whole process, Nicole. I need your design input so I can deliver the best product possible. Here at Belobog, we strive for a 100% customer satisfaction rating. I'll just be in the office, so you can get me if you need anything or have any questions."
"I—"
"Don't worry! I'll put on my headphones and turn the music up really loud." Grace elbowed her gently in the ribs. "Won't hear a thing."
Grace walked away with a gleeful swing in her step, and Nicole found herself left alone in the garage with only the sex machine for company. It loomed in the middle of the floor, silently waiting for a chance to fulfill its purpose. Her steps forward were stuttering; try as she might to be rational about everything that was happening, the machine itself was imposing. Quickened breaths culminated in her placing a trembling hand on the shaft, in the same place Grace had placed hers, and that was when she noticed something that was going to be a problem: How was she supposed to test it without a dildo attached?
An attache case on the other side of the pedestal answered her question after a short search. It was filled with multiple dildo attachments, each sporting a hollow base so they could be attached to the machine's shaft. They were simple in shape but came in a wide variety of size and girth options—Nicole selected one that struck her as medium in size and girth.
Taking it in her hand, she eased it onto the shaft until it clicked into place and her hands slipped over the surface. The head pushed out the other side of her grip, seeming to strain under her fingers, and that was a sight that made her feel a little more at ease. At its core, this was just going to be like masturbating at home, except she wouldn't have to be doing all the work.
Which was, of course, why she commissioned it in the first place. Strange that she needed to be reminded. She wasn't afraid of her vibrator—why was she getting all nervous just because this was a larger version of that? Was it the presence of words like thrust and piston, and torque?
"This is stupid," Nicole muttered, and slammed her hand on the lube pump. The best antidote to the pre-sex jitters were to just get on with it. Slick clear liquid coated her hand and part of her wrist, and she slapped that hand onto the dildo. With the other, she turned the machine to its lowest setting.
Grace had been right about the power behind the thrust. Though it was as slow and gentle as could be, Nicole's tight grip didn't so much as cause the machine to stutter. Nicole had tangled with thrusting dildos before, and had thrown them away once their motors proved to be shit. What was even the point of designing a thrusting machine that couldn't do that one job? Was the solution all along just to go larger? Grace's machine thrust through her hand without issue, perfectly maintaining its speed and power.
So far, so good.
She turned the dial up more, and the dildo thrust assertively, pushing her hand backwards. Oh, so it's a challenge you want? Nicole tightened her grip. Added her other hand. Yeah, this was getting pretty fun!
But she wanted more, and that meant that she had to find a place to wipe her hands since she had stupidly gotten them both covered in lube. Lo and behold: Grace had thoughtfully left a stack of neatly-folded towels on a nearby shelf, adjacent to a laundry basket.
Said basket was also full of towels, but Nicole decided to not be a freak and think too hard about just why those towels were there, or what their purpose had been. The sex machine kept thrusting in the background, the quiet mechanical purr of its motor sounding all too clean and high-tech for a grease monkey's garage.
On the way back, Nicole drew the metal curtain all the way, closing herself off in her own little world. Unless she got close to the weave she couldn't see anything through it, and even with her eyes close she could only make out a blurry suggestion of the rest of the garage beyond.
It was time to see what the machine could really do. The thrusts began slowly, then jumped forward when Nicole thumbed the dial further. Another slider adjusted the stroke length, and by the time she'd maxed it out, Nicole was as incredulous as she was turned on—how somebody could fit a dildo large enough to make use of the full stroke length inside them was an utter mystery, and not one she was keen on finding the answer to day one. With the shaft settings all maxed out, the sex machine reminded her more of a motor than anything else, the cylinder pumping so fast that the purple dildo became a blur, droplets of lube shaking off the tip. It wasn't a sex machine anymore, it was a piledriver. For concrete, not soft and fleshy bits.
The image was ludicrous enough to make her laugh. "That would just kill me," Nicole giggled, and set the safety limit on the tablet to be much lower. She double checked the feature—as Grace suggested, she would have to double-confirm before the limit was removed, which would prevent any accidents involving slippery fingers or loss of coordination if adjustments were made while she was being thrust into.
The machine was not quiet when she activated the vibration function. It sounded like a propeller plane when it started to go, and Nicole did a quick glance around the garage to make sure Grace hadn't heard her turn it on. There was no question that she was getting what she paid for—more than. Still, when the vibration was turned to max, she did a slow three-sixty to make sure the garage itself wasn't going to rattle to pieces around her.
Once again, she set the safety limit to be far below what was actually possible. Testing her limits could come later.
Speaking of, Nicole was still completely clothed. The garage itself was warm, but the mental barrier of getting naked in a place she shouldn't be was making her antsy, and knowing that Grace was less than fifteen feet away did little to quell the butterflies in her stomach. But she certainly wasn't going to be able to test the thing out with her clothes on. Fingers trembling, Nicole fumbled with her choker and jacket, shedding accessories as she went. She pulled her shirt off over her head and threw it on the shelf next to the stack of towels, where it was followed by her shorts, then her fishnets, then her panties, and really, why did she wear so many things?
Such frustrations distracted her from the fact that she was standing in the middle of the garage, stark-naked save for her pink heart-print socks. They clashed with the cement floor, reminding her that she was foreign in this here. Buuuuuut she was also really really wet, and that had her crossing the distance to the sex machine's pedestal. The yoga mats were deceptively soft on her knees.
She cast another look around just to make extra sure she was alone, and then focussed her full attention on Grace's work. Only for the philosopher in her to kick in.
Now there was a thought. If she was controlling the machine, was she fucking herself or was the machine fucking her? To what degree was the machine a separate entity from her? Nicole imagined what Grace would have to say on the matter. . .
Grace. There was no denying that Nicole wanted her. Getting off within fifteen feet of a hot mechanic was going to be as easy as it was going to be nervewracking. But she always got off alone. Did that necessarily have to be the case today?
She could at least try, right?
It would be mildly inappropriate to solicit her business partner, but the worst that could happen was that she got shot down. It helped that Grace seemed comfortable saying no with force, if their first meeting was anything to go by.
Nicole was totally gonna be inappropriate about it.
Rather than get completely dressed again, she wrapped herself in one of the dry towels as if she'd just finished taking a shower. It left little to the imagination, but wasn't that better in times like this? Steeling herself with a breath, she parted the metal curtain and approached Grace's office door. When knocking on it didn't get a reaction, she pushed it open a crack. "Umm, Grace?"
Grace jumped up from her chair, pulling her headphones down to her neck. "Everything okay?"
"How am I supposed to adjust it? The speed and depth, I mean."
Grace made an apologetic face. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't really show you how to use it in-depth, did I?" She set her phone down. "Want me to give you a tutorial?"
Nicole shook her head. She wasn't doing a good job of making her wants clear. She tried again, shooting for coquettish rather than technologically inept. "I don't think I'm going to be able to. . . you know. . . reach them. When I'm in the moment."
Grace crossed her arms, thoughtful. "I suppose I could make it voice-activated, but that'd take an extra week or so of work, and I'd need you to come in for a bunch of recording sessions. If you want—?"
Ah, so that was the problem. When it came to discussing machines, Grace was just too tuned-in to her job as a mechanic. Subtlety was going to have to take a backseat to brazen courage. But Nicole's tongue had stopped working in her mouth. Grace seemed nice. Discreet. A fellow kinkster, if she'd been telling the truth about 'testing' the machine. Was Nicole really about to ask?
Fuck it.
"I'm not complaining! I-ughh okay, here goes. How would you feel about. . . helping?"
Grace didn't respond, but her eyebrows went way up and she uncrossed her arms. For the first time since meeting her, Nicole thought Grace looked caught off-guard. "You want me to help?" Grace asked slowly, "Like, adjust the dial and stuff for you? Um, during?"
Nicole feels small. "Yeah? Like, if you don't think that's weird?"
Grace looked at the machine. Back at Nicole, and she was smiling. Something in the air had shifted, and now she and Grace were absolutely on the same wavelength. "I could do that."
Nicole's "yeah?" was more a nervous breath than anything coherent. Luckily, Grace seemed to understand. She walked around the desk and leaned into Nicole's space, one arm braced against the doorframe. Their height difference wasn't so severe in actuality, but Grace had crowded into the doorframe so that Nicole's back was pressed against the wall, and Nicole found herself quite enjoying looking upwards. She only hoped Grace liked the view from above—it wasn't as if the towel was hiding much. "Well there's no better way to learn the ins and outs than to have the girl who built it show them to you in really really great detail, right?"
"Really really great detail sounds helpful," Nicole somehow managed without stammering.
"Let me just wash my hands."
The thirty seconds between Nicole returning to the machine and Grace washing up were the most painful Nicole had ever lived through, but also the most elating. She pumped her fist and did a little hop. Hell yeah!
"Is it okay if I get naked?"
Grace's presence came as a surprise—Nicole hadn't heard her come in, since the metal curtain was still open. She couldn't quite see the front of the garage, but the private room definitely had an air of exhibitionism about it now.
"Wait," Nicole started forward, "you forgot the curtain—"
Grace caught her hand in midair, lacing their fingers together. (Damn, Nicole though, I think I'm falling in love.) "Doesn't getting naked in places you really shouldn't be kinda turn you on?"
Wow. Oh man. They really were on the same wavelength. She leaned around Grace and checked the angles again: if the garage door on the far side opened they would still be hidden, but only just. The path to Grace's office was completely open though, the closed door ominous. Nicole shifted her balance and tried not to think about how wet she was.
"O-okay then," Nicole managed. "Please do." She hoped that the amount of enthusiasm coloring her voice was closer to appropriate than desperate.
Grace never once separated her fingers from Nicole's. She started by pulling her headphones from her neck, and then the goggles beneath over her head. What happened next is Grace gave Nicole an extremely slow and up-close striptease, and Nicole tried not to overheat and pass out. When Grace unzipped her sports bra and her breasts spilled out, Nicole thought she might die. Her whole body tilted forward like she was instinctively trying to lean into the woman's cleavage. Unfortunately, Grace noticed. And worse, she was apparently in the mood to tease about it. "If you get too distracted by me, you're not gonna be able to test out the machine I built just for you."
"Sorry! I can't help it, you're really hot!"
"You're not so bad yourself," Grace said. Her index finger landed on Nicole's towel pulling downward slightly. "May I?"
Nicole practically begged for it. In the moment the towel fell away, Grace pulled her in so they were aligned, body to body, heat on heat. To her surprise, Nicole found that Grace wasn't a very practiced kisser—too much stiffness in her lips—but the mechanic more than made up for it with enthusiasm, and Nicole couldn't quite find it in her to care when they were pressed together as they were. She pressed her knee between Grace's thighs until she met slick black curls; Grace snaked a hand between them to grope at her breasts.
They broke away and it was Grace that began giggling. "I wanted to do that from day one." That got Nicole started too, and she kept laughing when she told Grace she felt the same and Grace's face got red.
"As fun as kissing you is, let's not get distracted." Grace (still flushed) took her by the hand and turned her so they both faced the sex machine. "Shall we?"
Nicole let Grace guide her to the pedestal and was helped onto it, then pulled Grace up behind her. The pedestal wasn't tall enough to warrant assistance, but Grace had started with the silly chivalry and Nicole wasn't about to be lax on that front, even if she was a self-described pillow-princess.
Then the gremlin side of her came out. Nicole pumped her hand full of lube and slapped it onto Grace's abs. The look of shock on the woman's face was priceless, up until Grace returned the favor. She pushed Nicole down with a palm on her chest, took the whole bottle in hand and squirted it all over her, coating her with a line from navel to collarbone. Another line of liquid went across her breasts. Nicole squealed—the lube was at room temperature and therefore a little cold—and got her revenge. She pulled Grace down to her level, and within seconds they were both soaked. If it weren't for Grace bracing herself on her forearms on either side of Nicole, the lube would've made her slip off.
Reaching behind her, Grace fumbled the tablet into view and began clicking through some of the settings. The sex machine began to shift in response, the housing lowering to change the angle—Nicole hadn't realized it could even do that—and then she jumped in surprise when something pressed up between her legs. The dildo was angled a little high, but when Grace fiddled with another switch, Nicole understood her idea.
The dildo thrust between their lubed stomachs, extending to the limit. It wasn't girthy enough to hit Nicole's clit at that angle, but the pleasure of feeling it slide between the two of them was enough to have her squirming. All the foreplay was getting her antsy, and she was going to turn into a whiner if she didn't have something in her pussy, stat.
As though sensing her anguish Grace whispered: "Can I put it in you?" She'd slid her hand between their stomachs so the dildo could thrust into her fist—she lowered it down each time it withdrew so that the head then was starting to hit Nicole's clit with every pass. The grind of the toy's head made coherent thought hard, and it only got worse with Grace's hot breaths fluttering in her ear, her breathing hard like she was already close to coming. Nicole nodded her assent, digging her nails into Grace's powerful back, marvelling at the broadness of her traps up until Grace leaned to one side to free a hand. She started by fondling Nicole's tits—Grace really seemed enamoured by them—and then caressed down her flank, across her stomach (Nicole giggled) and then between her legs.
Grace made a face of concentration straight out of a comic book—a look of concentration complete with her tongue poking out from the side of her mouth—while she quested with her fingers to find Nicole's hole. "Everything's so lubed up, it's hard to tell where—aha!"
Aha indeed. Two of Grace's fingers slid in without resistance and Nicole's body reacted with a shock of pleasure, accompanied by a moan that must've sounded strained. She swore she could feel the callouses on Grace's hands, extra texture and ridges where her own were smooth and so familiar in comparison. And Grace's fingers had more girth to them, which was turning out to be quite a plus.
"Whoa sorry, are you okay?"
"Don't stop!" Nicole grit out when Grace tried to withdraw. Her grip on Grace's wrist was too slippery to actually stop her from pulling out, but then Grace overcorrected and pushed back in with Nicole aiding her, all the way to the knuckle. Nicole saw stars for a moment, her head thunking backwards onto the yoga mat. "Fuck that feels good."
"That feel good?" Grace asked with the air of a professional, but the smile on her face was anything but. "Think you can take more?" A third finger pushed at Nicole's cunt and she took it easily, trying to grind downward onto the palm, but then the fingers were suddenly all gone.
"Hey!" Nicole started, only to be silenced as Grace guided the dildo to press insistently at her entrance. Though the head was already soaked, she swept it up and down over Nicole's hood and down through her lips, the tablet in the other hand.
Once the toy was aligned with Nicole's entrance, Grace opened her mouth. "Are you ready—" she began, but Nicole was already trying to shimmy down to spear herself on it. And thanks to being so lubed up, it was actually working. "Alright alright I get it, hold still."
Grace made eye contact with her while she held up the screen, showing off all the dials and knobs. I'm going to show you mathematically just how I want to fuck you, she seemed to be saying. Her finger alighted on the slider controlling thrust speed and began to rise, and with it, the dildo finally, finally slid past her entrance.
The machine, or rather Grace's deft touch through the machine, was gentle yet assertive enough to make Nicole's breaths come small. Grace started slowly, testing to see how she was handling, if she was holding up okay. She didn't increase anything until Nicole was practically begging for it, and the one time Nicole tried to reach down to play with her clit Grace caught her by the wrist and pinned it above her head. Yet another unspoken rule. Nicole had asked Grace to make a sex machine, so the sex machine was how she was going to get off. No ifs, ands, or buts.
"Wow, I could just watch you forever," Grace hummed as she ratcheted up the stroke speed. Up until now, each thrust was only enough to tease and tantalize; now they were beginning to enter into the faster territories. Not quite rough, but enough to get the job done, given time. "I'm gonna touch myself," Grace said, removing a hand from Nicole's left tit.
"N-no," Nicole breathed, "you can't, you have to get on the vibrator pad. We have to test to make sure—ohhh—make sure that it works."
"Oh yeah? Fair enough!"
The moment Nicole was waiting for showed itself as Grace struggled to get herself off the slick yoga mats. She put the tablet down so she could balance better, and when she stood up and threw one leg over the machine, she reached for the tablet only to find that Nicole now held it in her clutches.
"You've toyed with me this whole time," Nicole batted Grace's hand away, "now it's my turn to watch you." Grace met the challenge in Nicole's eyes and settled down on the grinding pads, then jumped a little as Nicole turned the vibration on, starting it near 15% of the maximum.
"H-hey, go easy on me—my pussy is still sore from last night."
"Nope!" Nicole said, and jumped the vibrations up to the quarter mark.
Grace came alive on the machine, abs tense as she curled inwards. "Oooh," she shuddered. Her face was doing something that Nicole hadn't yet seen: an expression almost like she was in pain with her eyes shut tight. But the truth was in the way she bit her lip, how her eyebrows arced upwards in the middle, the way her arms flexed as she braced on the housing of the machine and began to grind on the textured pads. Without realizing it she was making quite a show, the silicone spikes spreading her pussy wide under her weight as she rocked backwards, jumping up to stiffness as they flicked past her clit.
Nicole wanted to see more, couldn't possibly look away. What she intended to do next was increase the vibration further—not by much, she was happy to cater to Grace's soreness—but what actually happened is that her finger missed its intended target.
The machine fucked into her harder and faster, and Nicole lost her grip on the tablet. Her body refused to move for a second as it bottomed out, barely hitting her cervix. All thoughts of Grace coming undone in front of her went white as her hands found the edges of the yoga mats and gripped. The flared base of the dildo jolted her with each thrust, and she only dimly became aware that Grace was talking.
"This is what it's all about," she was saying, "You want to feel the power of the motor with every thrust, know that every impulse is in service of you. The torque, the drive of the shaft, the vibration of the engine—it's like it's alive and it wants you!"
Even if Nicole had a response, she wasn't sure she'd be able to get it out. She had a tendency to go nonverbal when she was close, and the machine was doing an excellent job of holding her right there, fast enough to tantalize but not quite enough to finish her off.
Grace had started grinding hard against the machine, rubbing her whole pussy across the entire grinding pad. "More, please," she was panting, and Nicole obliged, flipping the tablet over so she could access the controls. The screen was covered in lube but still responded well to her touch, and she heard the results of her adjustment before she even had a chance to see them.
Grace's voice devolved into guttural huffs, moans building in the back of her throat, and Nicole's view from below was nothing short of marvelous, her shiny body and leg muscles working as she dragged herself forward and then pushed herself back. Nicole wasn't sure quite how high the vibrations were set at, but they rumbled with enough power to make little droplets of lube fly from the tips of the silicone spikes each time Grace wet them with her pussy.
"I live for this—" Grace panted, "—the place where the border between body and machine starts to blur. Can you feel it? How wonderful it is? Flesh and mechanical parts working together in perfect harmony."
Nicole could feel it, just as much as she could feel orgasm about to make her black out.
Grace beat her to it though, and one final, abs-quaking, legs trembling push brought her over the edge. Her mouth opened in a silent scream, whole body going rigid for a second as her feet lifted and her whole weight ground her cunt into the vibrating pad, and then like a computer being rebooted, all at once she lifted herself from the soft silicone and was hyperventilating, breaths cut short with the aftershocks of climax.
Nicole was pleased to see that the grinding pad was much wetter than it had been a second before. She brought the vibration to its lowest setting so Grace could lower herself back down, and then increased the shaft's thrusting speed and brought herself the rest of the way with her fingers.
Grace cried out, barely pulling her back into reality in time— "Wait, pause, pause! Move your arm, I wanna see your face when it makes you come!"
Nicole obeyed. Orgasm snapped through her like a shower of sparks, the sex machine relentlessly pounding her like a hammer hitting white hot metal until she was exploding under the pressure. When her lower back tensed and lifted fully from the yoga mat it caused the angle the dildo was thrusting into her to change, from excellent to just right. It ground into her like it had a grudge it was working through on her g-spot. A dam inside her burst, a flood of wet gushing over the dildo and the shaft.
Her ears were a muddy soundscape of static. For a brief moment she couldn't hear anything; when the orgasm receded from blinding and her senses started to come back online, moans she recognized as her own were fading from her throat.
The machine was still fucking into her and she thought she either might come again or die trying from the overstimulation. Grabbing at the tablet provided reprieve—she put the thrust speed as low as it could go—and then went limp like a bunny in the jaws of a tiger.
"Fuck, shit, I'm sorry—" she began, but when her eyes managed to focus again. The mats had been slick with lube before but now they were soaked, ditto for the machine. Liquid dripped from the shaft and the base of the dildo. Hopefully the internal components of the machine were waterproof.
She hadn't meant to squirt. If she'd had a choice, she'd have preferred not to. Not in front of Grace, not on a first date. Was this a date? How was Grace going to react?
But Grace didn't look the least bit unhappy. In fact it was the opposite: she had her hand between her legs and rubbed at her clit furiously as she rutted on the grinding pad so hard her whole body shook. Droplets of sweat fell from her bangs as they shook and the sterile garage lighting painted white highlights across her breasts and emphasized the line of every cord of muscle.
"Oh my god," she was whispering, "Oh my god that was so hot, I've never seen someone squirt that much!!—" She came again, as if the vision alone of Nicole clenching hard on the dildo while she climaxed all over the yoga mats was enough. She was more loud the second time, her howl echoing through the space.
Nicole brought her down slowly, lowering the vibration until it was all the way off. Wrung out from orgasm, Grace tried to stand and failed, instead landing on her stomach so that she was draped over the housing of the machine like a cat. She gave Nicole a sheepish grin and a thumbs-up. "Mind if we turn off the vibrator? It feels really weird on my stomach."
Nicole limply reached for the tablet and clicked the button to turn the whole machine off. The dildo stopped at the end of its thrust, all the way inside her one final time as though the machine itself were trying to fill her up. With the absence of motion came the soreness that she knew was going to come, alongside the sense of filled-up and well-fucked satisfaction. Nicole let out a languid sigh, her mind still buzzing.
They lay there for a solid minute, each panting as they tried to fill their lungs with air. "What do you think?" Grace finally asked, leaning up. She was bracing her palms on the machine's housing and inadvertently doing the seal pose, her breasts pressed together between her arms.
"Amazing," Nicole answered, pretty sure that it applied to the view before her and the sex machine itself. She managed to lift her head, then let it fall back to the yoga mats. "Do you have a shower here that we can use? Not right now—I need a few—but once I can move again?"
"Yeah, I'll show you." Grace looked over her figure, unshy. "You were amazing. You are amazing. Watching you was like a once-in-a-lifetime experience."
"You can consider me a very satisfied customer," Nicole said, and pulled herself backwards so that the dildo slipped out of her. The absence made her cunt throb, but fatigue was there in equal measure. She was sure she could force another orgasm or two if she really wanted, but that was going to have to wait for another time.
Nicole also hadn't ever seen herself squirt that much before, and she wanted to clean up. Knowing the sight helped Grace finish made her feel less self-conscious of it, but only marginally. And above all that, parts of her stomach were starting to dry in what was becoming a sensory nightmare of dry and moist. She was fine with being slimy or bone-dry—never both at once.
Grace half-slid half-fell from the machine, landing on her knees so that she was facing the housing. Without preamble, she began fiddling with the bolts. "I can probably make some improvements to the design," she said at Nicole's incredulous expression, as if that somehow made what she was doing make any more sense. They'd just had sex—Nicole had basically had the life fucked out of her—and Grace was already back to mechanical work? Not even cuddles? Or pillow talk? Unbelievable!
What had Grace said? Watching her come was once in a lifetime experience?
Not if Nicole could help it.
"I should probably get cleaned up," Nicole said, "So. . ."
Grace looked up from her work. She already had grease on her fingertips. "So?"
"So what if I came back next weekend to test out the new things you've done?"
Grace's face lit up. "I think that's a great idea!"
"Great!" Nicole grabbed her by the hand and left the platform, pulling Grace along after her. She made sure to definitely ignore how her footprints left a wet trail back to the object of debauchery. "Now before you get all absorbed in that, show me where the shower is. We both need it."