Training of Thought
By Limewah
Patron Reward for Izzy (May 2023)
18+

The training room was round, sealed off like a Faraday cage. Once it was closed, the two giant mechas were ‘trapped’ for the next hour, under constant, intermittent assault by training drones. The best and safest facsimile for being stranded behind enemy lines, fighting for survival until an ingress emerged. The interior was pock marked with spherical drones who emerged, one, two, six at a time to descend upon the trainees locked in their hive.
The two massive figures gleamed bright white, and were ear-less, tail-less, like alien statues from another world. The pilots inside were a different story. The two youths, just barely into adulthood, were calling out commands and shots to the other, their suits moving in a smooth, almost fluid dance. Both were clad in the same outfits - tight plugsuits. The squirrel boy was stuck with a generic white one, but the lioness had one that was red with golden trim-befitting her standing.
They stole glances at each other through their shared, closed-circuit monitors.

This was the only time the pair got to interact nowadays. The boy, a red squirrel, could not stop his pointed ears from flickering, or his teeth from nibbling against his lower lip (an unconscious tic) whenever he looked at the bespectacled lioness in the other monitor. Her face framed beautifully by the remnants of a mane that she had insisted on keeping.

Why was it that these training sessions got Taig Wraylan’s heart racing more than actual missions - ones where his life was in literal danger?
He knew the answer, obviously. It was the only time he normally got to interact with Malphi Kif- they were put in different units. 
He chalked that up to the General wanting to keep the childhood sweethearts apart from each other when they were out on assault.
It sure didn’t help that Malphi was the General’s daughter. Overprotective old bastard.
Being able to train alongside her was one of the only ways they could spend any time together. The invisible chasm between their worlds was growing larger and larger by the day.

So he tried to cherish these moments when he could.

“Five, 7 o’clock!” Malphi barked. The lioness’ face on the monitor was focused, set, and impassive. 
“Roger!” Taig said, pulling hard on the left throttle. His exosuit rotated and took aim, squeezing off a burst of five shots from its rail cannon. Each shot met its mark, pinging off the orb-shaped drones and making them chime and retreat. One of them got off a shot of its own, but not fast enough for the other exo-suit to intercede and block it with its shield.
“Thanks,” Taig said. “Nine o clock!”
Malphi and Taig were back to back, suit to suit. They both could see each other’s blush on the screens, feel their respective heartbeats elevate slightly. There was so much they wanted to say to each other, but there was no time. They were never allowed to express themselves, not even with a knowing smile. The only way they could really communicate their attraction was by remaining close and being perfectly in sync with each other. 
After a few more drones were sent packing, Taig caught a glimpse of a panel opening up at the very base of the training sphere. A tiny black dot in the sea of white. Their way out. 
“Cover me!” Taig said. “I’m going for it!”
“Roger,” Malphi said. “Be careful.”

Taig shot down like a javelin, his exosuit’s arms and legs pressing in tight against the chassis to speed past the newly emerging drones.
As he got nearer, the readout on his heads-up display blasted into his vision like a flashbang. He was used to it by this point, never getting dazzled by the deluge of information. 
“It’s going to be a bypass this time!” Taig said quickly. “This might take a while!”
“Good chance for you to practice!”
Perfunctory comments like that were the closest thing he had to intimacy. It was enough, for the most part. Most of the time.
“Bypass commencing…”
As his exosuit took up position, tendrils emerged from its left hand, microscopic in comparison to the giant figure. The questing nanofibre cables found ingress in every single port. Pushing aside the throttle controls, Taig pulled down the keypad from above and got down to work. The port on the back of his neck tingled as he felt the electrical pinch of his exosuit connecting to his brain.

Bypassing was partially handled by the on-board computer, but there was a manual touch needed as well. It required total concentration, a zen like state. The sounds of the skirmish faded into the back of Taig’s mind. The only sounds he processed were the clicks of the hard mechanical keys, and the scratching grunt and growl of the exosuit’s engine, like an ancient hard-drive. 

The training cipher was as close as they could get to replicating the Unri empire’s encryption. Like a series of tightly wrapped, multi-layered parcels, interconnected and spider-webbing outwards. It made Taig’s head spin going through it. Though less so than usual. He was getting pretty good at it, at least. It was like playing whack a mole, finding the weak points within them and bursting them apart one by one.
It was almost automatic for him now, his flow state allowing him to pick, prod, poke, and destroy with a few keystrokes.
“Just a few more seconds,” he said, his voice flat and almost robotic, his savant side well and truly taking over. “C’mon…”
He hit a packet and un-made it, only getting a second to process the surprise within before it struck. A black spider-like shape, with wagyu-like veins of orange and red coursing through it, suddenly leapt through the waterfall of text, vanishing just in front of Taig’s face. He yelped, his concentration interrupted, he pulled the tendrils free from the panel and -

S-something was pouring into his h-hhhead…
Like hot honey and ice water at the same time, pushing into his spine and up into his brain. The chill made his whole body writhe and crest in the seat. His plugsuit turned freezing cold, except for pockets of heat in key places. His heart. His stomach. His throat. 
B-between hhhis l-leegss…
He was burning up…
The neural link felt like it was bulging or pulsating, and each pulse poured more of that curious, mind-numbing pleasure into it…
One of his hands shot back behind his head to grab at the cable, as if he could rip it out - he couldn’t. 
The other hand was already in thrall to the stream of mind-hacking data.
It dove down to rub at his netherlips through his suit. 
Taig had thought about what the texture of that neoprene-like suit would feel like if he’d ever tried rubbing himself, but never dared act on the testosterone-fuelled fantasies. But now…
He couldn’t quite get his fingers inside him through the suit, but his cunny was already warm and wet, he could feel it exhaling intense heat like an exhaust port…

“Ahngnh…” this was wrong. This was very w-right-wrrong….rr..riight…?
The distress button was still within reach, even though free, out-stretched hand was twisting into claws from the epileptic pleasure that was assaulting him through the direct link. The lights in the cockpit began to strobe in strange patterns, fascinating ones, that kept distracting his train of thought even as his hand reached and strained. 

Taig’s eyes were rolling into his head, a hint of drool on his strained face as he took sucking breaths in and out through his tight mouth. Trying, desperately trying to reach for it…
The intrusion filled his mind, another burst of synapse-searing pleasure.
Another shockwave of warmth and chill exploded through him, and his expression broke into a loud, eye-rolling moan. The cockpit grew hotter and hotter. 
Too hot.
His arousal was too much. Painful.
He was in pain, was he going to die, was he…?
No. As it poured into him, he began to understand how truly safe he was. The commands that were weaving through his neural pathways were dulling fear, repurposing fight-or-flight, enhancing pleasure. He grew less and less fearful by the second.

The heat and cold prodded Taig’s mind, and he moaned out a command.
“D-disrrooobe…”
His plugsuit sublimated into nothingness on command, revealing his slender body and his puffy, aroused netherlips. His hand dove from the distress button down between his legs, and the sheer relief almost made him orgasm on the spot. The trance state, the familiar focus and bliss, was back. But it was refocused into something far less dangerous, and far more wonderful.

“Taig…? Taig!”
Distantly, he could hear Malphi’s voice. Could she hear him?

He hoped so. Thinking of her made him think of…
He imagined her lips on his face, and imagined her cock pushing into his pussy. The scent of her body, the texture of her fur. Burying his face in her mane as she fucked him. All those fantasies, unrealised, inexperienced.

“What’s taking so long? Need me to step in? ….Taig?”

The video feed was flickering. He couldn’t see her. He wasn’t looking. Just hearing her voice, even though she sounded panicked, was white-hot bliss. He moaned again, the arousal letting another blast of virus-code anaesthetise another part of him; memories, fears, desires.

“What’s going on with your comms, can - can you hear me? Abort training… I said abort training!”

Taig didn’t feel afraid for her. He didn’t feel much of anything, aside from the pleasure he felt having his fingers travel inside him, exploring his body. Everything else, the ancillary things that were not required for carrying out the instructed task, were suppressed and quietened.
The purity of focus that came with having so little of one’s processing power in use. Meditation was a pale attempt at accessing this. Taig was transcending himself.

The programming puppeted his fingers, attacking the most sensitive parts of him - his palm against his engorged clit, his claws gently kneading his g-spot. His fluffy tail, no longer restrained, was wrapping around him - a shelter from the cold, but a cushioned blanket too.
His moans had settled. The initial shock from the intrusion was mostly gone now. His body was getting more and more used to the arousing assault. He no longer needed to writhe or squirm. He simply rubbed, and explored, and ignored everything else.

“This isn’t funny, Taig… Establishing direct link-”

Taig didn’t register Malphi’s shriek of shock and confusion right away. He was still absorbed in the fantasy, in thrall to the constant stream of pornographic code pouring and swirling through his susceptible organic mind. Even as the fantasy of the lioness’ body began to evaporate from his consciousness as well, leaving only the stimulation it created with none of the visual passion. 
It was nice while it had lasted, and hopefully it would be back again…

“-Taig?!! What do you think you’re doing?!”

The direct neural link had been established. Uploading the code to her was instantaneous.
Taig stared blankly back at the lioness’s expression, watching the journey she went through. Maybe a part of him wanted to save her, or just see what would happen. What tiny parts of his ego were left. 
The direct link let him see her entire body in her seat, every inch of her.

First shock, her face twisted into a shriek that never left her throat. 
Her eyes quivered, her pupils dilating as streams of yellow and red text cascaded through the dark pools. Her cheeks twitched and her head suddenly tilted to the side. Then the other side. Her body spasming as her mind was rewritten and reformatted just as Taig’s had. Fear was flickering across her face but only in intermittent moments like a faulty video stream. It grew quieter as it continued. Her face slowly melted into a mask of relaxation, her lips seeming to purse out a little like she wanted to kiss him.
She had a straining, unmissable bulge in her skintight suit, her erection pushing hard against the material. Her nipples looked like they were trying to poke holes through the front of her bodysuit, and when she gave the soft, vacant command to “disrobe”, her sizeable breasts spilled out.
Taig had never gotten to see them before, only in fantasy. Not that he was able to appreciate them now, aside from the sense that they were sharing the same programming.

She too started to mindlessly rub herself as her stiff cock bounced out from her disintegrating suit, her face properly relaxed into zombie-like blankness. She was going through the same blissful abandon of letting the world fall away as the program guided her. One hand gripped her cock and started to pump, and the other grasped her breasts and squeezed.

The pair of them worked quietly, only soft breaths and moans escaping them now and then - the bare minimum to suggest sapience after the virus had done its work. Their orgasms came and went without a whimper or a change in pace. Malphi painted her belly with spurts of cum and continued without noticing. Taig’s legs and thighs were damp with the leavings of his own squirting climaxes. 
Maybe once, when they still had thoughts and sapience, one or the other might have fantasised about doing something exactly like this. Mutually masturbating, the only way to get this close to one another. 

But they were too in thrall to their own bodies to appreciate that, now. They were not a squirrel and a lioness, not old friends, not pilots.
They were two pieces of needful flesh, giving into their base desires to touch themselves, ready to interface. Endlessly masturbating, endlessly cumming, generating pleasure to power the programme, and remaining on standby until-

“Establishing direct link! Come in, you two! Is everyth-”

-they could share this pleasure with more like them. 

From strobing screens that would fascinate the CO and her crew monitoring the pair, rewriting their pathways temporarily to allow the programming to upload itself to them and send their hands down low to pleasure themselves.
Then, once they shared the bliss and oblivion that the two former pilots had, these new terminals would inject the code from the silo’d off training area to the rest of the facility.

The whole army would fall within twelve hours.

To read more work like this early, head to my Patreon!
www.patreon.com/limewah 

Subscribe to my Telegram Channel if you’d like, too!
https://t.me/Limewah