T-X Terminatrix vs. Seven of Nine crossover

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Protrepticus
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T-X Terminatrix vs. Seven of Nine crossover

Post by Protrepticus » Sun Oct 17, 2021 8:41 pm

Background and Inspiration: Having received positive feedback on my first story, I wrote a crossover with the T-X (my favourite fembot) and Seven of Nine (my favourite cyborg). This story is more focused on sexual catfighting. It’s far less violent than the first story and I tried to incorporate some humour and positivity. The Star Trek: Voyager audience will probably “get” parts of the story a bit more easily.

I was inspired by many, many sources, including a webpage which compares the two characters at one point: “So, despite an amusing incident in which the T-X tried to mimick Nine’s cup size and toppled over face first, the Cyberdyne psycho won the day by simply being a bigger bastard.”

Elements and Keywords: T-X , TX , Terminatrix , Terminator , Star Trek , Seven , Seven of Nine , 7 of 9 , borg , drone , nanites , nanomachines , gynoid , robot , cyborg , fembot , leather , catsuit , catfight , wrestling , breast mashing , big boobs , masochism , sadism , sadomasochism , consensual , hardcore sex , lovemaking, orgasm , squirting , female ejaculation , male ejaculation , cum , dirty talk , fake tits , implants , bolt-ons , breast expansion , inflation , milk , lactation , malfunction , glitch , spasm , dismantling (brief), penetrating , depowering


Seven of Nine
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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=37vvz2gXic0
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t2vebJkoulI



T-X Terminatrix
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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DT-xAO4I86w
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kJbOfRGbSZM&t=72s



***************************************************T-X TERMINATRIX VERSUS SEVEN OF NINE***************************************************



CHAPTER I: THE ARRIVAL



The chrome sphere screeched through the space-time continuum. Encircled by white streaks of electric lightning, the reflective ball manifested in the delta quadrant of the Milky Way, in the year 2374. It nestled itself within starship Voyager’s cargo bay, having vaporized a circular chunk out of the duranium floor. In a flash, the round cocoon disappeared.

A steamy silhouette arose, unbothered by the smoking, red metal beneath its feet. It walked over to the computer, where a glowing needle extended from its finger. The small drill pierced the bay’s console.

“That’s funny,” remarked Harry Kim from the bridge’s operations station.

“What is it ensign?” asked Kathryn Janeway in her cat-like rasp, turning below from her chair.

“Momentary power fluctuations in cargo bay four, captain. It doesn’t look serious. Could be the gel packs acting up again,” Harry responded. “My shift’s about to end. Can I go have a look?”

“Very well Mr. Kim.”

The cargo bay doors opened and Harry stepped through the darkly lit storage area. He walked through the dim bay, the doors shutting behind. Harry made his way around the crates in front of the computer station. His heart froze when he spotted a figure with its back turned to him.

The flawless female form faced the computer console. It stood nearly six feet in height, unclothed. Blonde, wavy locks extended to the mid-back, and shone a golden hue that cut through the inkiness. The shoulders were slightly broad, the back and tricep muscles in perfect physical condition. Beneath, the waist sensually thinned down from the upper body, until it smoothly flared into the wide hips. Further below, the enveloping darkness surrendered to the protruding, illuminated buttocks. The shadows were only able to caress the curvatures of the voluptuous shapes. Harry’s gawk-eyed gaze continued downwards, noting also the long, toned legs, whose musculature bulged through the gloom.

“S-Seven? What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be with the doctor? Why aren’t you dressed?” stammered the young man.

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The figure straightened its head, its locks slightly waiving, having heard the name of the target from the young man. The shape deduced the biological lifeform’s attraction to the target from only these few words. In a millisecond, it calculated that the most successful outcome was to emulate Seven of Nine’s schematics. Information on the ex-borg’s schematics was limited, however, with no DNA sample for mimesis.

Another power fluctuation murmured through the darkened bay when the figure pulled back its needle from the console. This was the opportunity for reconfiguration. Harry’s inhalations quickened as the silhouette approached him with cat-like steps. Sweat formed on his trembling brow. But seconds later, his rattling became uneven for a different reason.

The bay's brightening lights revealed that the blonde’s hair was now tightly combed to the side, the excess gathered in a stylish bun behind her head. Her walk was smoother than the ship’s wading. Inhumanly perfect. Her hips swayed provocatively and the steps never faltered in their effortless trajectory, despite the bulbous bum. Now that Harry could see her from the front, two massive, yet gravity-defyingly firm breasts hypnotically swung towards him with each of her flawless foot-falls. Harry realized that it wasn’t Seven when the slightly slicker, younger face appeared in the light.

“Hello,” smiled the blonde, her voice silken. The female cocked her head to the side, now standing and looking down into his eyes.

“H-h-i,” stammered the young man, his eyes falling upon her smooth, juicy lower-lips. He then looked back to the side, ashamed, his throat dry. “I-I-thought you were someone else. I’m so sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? Don’t you like my body?” she sweetly cooed. The adorable head tilted to the other side and the perfect smile widened.

The young woman’s uncanny movements mesmerized Harry. The blonde's long fingers gently felt up and down over the ensign’s uniform. Everywhere she touched, the tension evaporated. He closed his eyes, exhaling, when her hand cupped his groin.

She leaned closely, and hungrily breathed in his ear, “I like your bulge.”

The woman’s lengthy arms applied just enough pressure on his shoulders for him to sit, and then lie down. She sat on the metal floor and put his head in her slick lap. Slender digits gingerly combed through his dark hair.

“You mentioned that Seven of Nine is with the doctor. I assume she is in sickbay?” softly inquired the blonde. The pheromone dischargers were working better than expected.

“Yeah, she’s there for a routine medical examination,” moaned Harry in his euphoric state. He suddenly came to, though, raising his head from her lap: “Wait a minute, who exactl-”

“Mmm…you like ‘Seven’, don’t you?” Her velvet moan instantly disarmed the ensign: “Do you wish Seven could do this?” She pointed her left nipple down to Harry’s mouth.

The ensign breathed deeply, put his head back down, and began to suckle like a love-starved kitten. The blonde also rubbed her right nipple on his cheek, and he alternated upon the soft skin. Sighing escaped her lips. Her pink nipples stiffened in the centre of the expansive, tanned flesh.

Harry didn’t realize that the tender globes were suffocating him. The woman slowly deprived him of oxygen, perfectly measuring the depletion in conjunction with the sexual stimulation. He blissfully passed out, nearly cumming in his pants from her expert machinations.

The female gently put his head to the floor. She was cautious as to not injure the young man; the probed computer had informed her that alerts were sounded when crew members’ life-signs were terminated. The blonde had also learned where sickbay was located.



CHAPTER II: FINDING THE TARGET



“Seven, for the last time, I can remove more of your borg implants. Don’t you want to look and feel…well, more human?” The holographic doctor’s bald brow furrowed. He gestured towards the woman, pointing to her hand’s and eyebrow’s silvery, exoskeletal pieces.

“No, doctor. For the last time, these implants have protected me and the other members of this crew,” retorted Seven of Nine in her usual, taciturn tone. “Besides, some crew members seem to forget my austere demeanour due to my unique enhancements,” she stated, now a hint of pride in her voice, looking down at her voluminous chest.

The sickbay’s bright lights reflected on the shiny fabric of her skin-tight, chrome catsuit. The cloth stretched with every measured inhalation.

“Yes…well…I suppose. Those aren’t the implants I’m trying to remove, as I was trying to explain a few moments ago…” awkwardly articulated the doctor. His irritation subsided, and his photonic cheeks reddened.

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“Doctor?” responded Seven. The patterned metal around her left eye rose and a slight smirk cracked through the icy expression.

But the blonde’s countenance turned back to stone: “On the one hand, doctor, you want me to be rid of epidermal implants like these, while enhancing others in completely artificial ways.”

Seven stared at her chest again. Then she looked at the doctor, raising her eyebrows to emphasize his foolishness.

“I’m sorry, Seven,” the doctor sympathetically stated. He put a hand around her shoulder: “I do have a penchant for being a bit insensitive at times. I merely wanted to make you appear more human, while also reinforcing areas of your body for defense. And also as you grow to have…intimate relations with people. I should have asked you before installing the modifications. I'll remove them tomorrow. Once more, I apologize.”

The doctor’s self-abasing remarks had a tendency to charm even the ice queen.

She smiled again, more visibly now, and nodded: “Apology accepted.”

At that moment, the sickbay doors opened. In walked a tall, golden-haired woman wearing a yellow and black Starfleet uniform with the ensign insignia on the small collar. Despite the bagginess of the uniform, it clung to her athletic curves, her C-cup breasts’ nipples appearing prominently through the fabric.

“Hello, can I help you young lady?” chimed the doctor, instantly taking note of her attractiveness.

She merely looked at the holographic doctor and smiled, statue-like. The perfect, yet somehow illusory expression, further drew the hologram’s attention.

“Ensign? I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.” The doctor’s voice now indicated concern.

“Are you Seven of Nine?” asked one statuesque blonde to the other.

“Yes, and you are?” Seven squinted and turned her head quizzically. “My cortical implant does not detect any biological readings.” She hastily activated a tricorder and moved it up and down in the blonde’s direction: “In fact…your body is completely mechanical!”

While the intruder’s head remained the same, with its tight bun, her body melted into a reflective silver. Luminescence enveloped the entire sickbay which dazzled the two onlookers. But when the angelic shape reverted to normal hues, the newly formed, devilish apparel was equally striking. The being’s dark, red leather pants showed off her lower body’s shapes, tightly hugging her muscular legs. The silver-tipped high-heel boots stuck out her leather-clad posterior. The matching hell-red leather jacket snugly showed off her slender waist amidst wide hips and shoulders, its low-cut top going beyond practical purposes. Her smooth, lengthy neck adorned with a small, gold necklace was shown off by the jacket's popped collar.

“Seven to the bridge: intruder alert,” Seven cautiously stated after pressing her Starfleet badge.

The leather-bound blonde paced around the catsuit-clad beauty, a leopard circling its target, her eyes emanating a frosty hue.

“Doctor to the bridge!” he yelled, but there was no response.

“They will not hear you. I have cut off all communications to the bridge,” stated the figure. Despite its dispassionate tone, the unnatural being continued to gaze upon Seven keenly, until it stopped in front of the ex-drone.

The strange woman’s long fingers began a sensual pantomime, reaching out to softly stroke the former drone's shoulders. Seven turned her head with curiosity. The blonde’s fingertips trickled over the back, feeling every dip and bump of the ex-drone’s flawless musculature, even through the ribbed corset of the catsuit. Seven peered over her large breasts as the machine dropped to one knee. Its fingers traced over the silver-grey heels, up to the ovular, firm calves, and to the trained thighs. All the while, the doctor’s jaw had gone slack with disbelief. Seven’s mouth parted when the blonde’s hands fondled her rear, the probing digits unabashedly sinking in and massaging the large, taut glutes.

The doctor was suddenly awoken from his stupor: “Seven! We don’t know what it wants. Be careful!”

“I believe that it – or she – is scanning me,” Seven calmly responded. She raised an eyebrow and tipped her head, waiting for the blonde’s affirmation.

“I am an artificial intelligence – the T-X model infiltrator," replied the machine. "Affirmative: I am gathering information both visually and tactilely.”

The T-X stood back up. The automaton’s dancing digits indented the ice queen's silvery chest. Seven huffed and tried to keep her demeanour. Soon, the unashamedly shiny, thin catsuit stretched around her nipples.

Through slightly uneven breaths, Seven implored, “State your intentions, T-X.”

The machine explained, “Your metal implants are composed of a material I am unfamiliar with. May I interface with your cybernetics to exchange information? My intentions will also be made clearer that way.”

“That is acceptable, T-X,” Seven declared; she detected a slight variation in the construct’s tone. It seemed more than curious.

Seven of Nine was pulled in by her broad hips. Her ample mammary glands pressed against the athletic chest, silver with red. Each flawless figure looked into the other’s eyes. The machine’s ersatz expression had subsided into a subtler, genuine countenance. Its cherubim cheeks slightly rouged, matching the colour of its scaly jacket.

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The doctor had been stricken with Seven. But he had never imagined to see two distinct shapes which mirrored each other's sublime splendor.

The T-X reached behind Seven’s tightly tied up blonde hair; she moved the borg’s head closer to her own.

Rose petals, thought Seven as she took in the machine’s scent, which soothed away some of her tension.

“This is a purely utilitarian procedure, for the exchange of information,” breathed the T-X.

“Of course; for no other reason,” respired Seven of Nine.

Eyes closed. Lips parted. Tongues cut through minty exhalations, swirling into a collision of caramelized sugar.

The doctor was certain he could hear faint moans when the goddesses’ mouths touched. He grabbed the nearest medical tray and pressed it against his holographic erection. Seven wrapped her hands around the T-X’s upper back. Blue waves of energy pulsed from the T-X’s whirling tongue to Seven’s.

When the interface was completed, the blondes’ pursed lips parted with a wet smack.

“I like your tongue,” the T-X said with a sly smirk.

“Seven? Are you alright?” asked the doctor, concern on his face, still pressing the platter.

“That was…different. An effective way to exchange information,” replied Seven of Nine.

“Well, what exactly does our mechanical guest want?” implored the doctor.

Seven processed the information. Her eyes then widened, as if waking from a deep slumber.

“She wants me.”



CHAPTER III: CONFLICTING INTERESTS



Seven continued, her eyes fixed on the intruder, “The T-X is a formidable assassin from an alternate timeline, from the year 2031. Its creator – the supercomputer Skynet – discovered the existence of our world, and sent this unit into the future to collect borg technology, thereby ensuring its victory against that universe’s human resistance.” Seven sternly looked at the T-X: “I will not comply.”

The Terminatrix tilted her head to the side, inquiringly: “I had hoped, as a former drone, you would understand why your technology is required. You may come with me willingly, or I can tear the cybernetics from your body.” The leather-clad blonde paused, scanning Seven’s database from their exchange, her mannequin smirk returning with a more sinister edge: “Resistance…is futile.”

Like a breaking hurricane, the doctor yelled, dropped the tray, and shook his fists: “You can’t just do that to an individual: it’s wrong! Seven isn’t just some machine used for spare parts!”

Both pairs of golden eyebrows arched when noting the stretched fabric around his crotch.

The T-X crooned, “An unexpected reaction for a photonic A.I. I will study this phenomenon after my mission parameters have been fulfilled. For tactical reasons.”

The storm instantly died. The artificial man looked down and immediately grabbed the tray again, shielding his embarrassment.

“The doctor is an individual,” Seven replied, just barely containing her approval of his anatomy, “capable of making his own choices. As am I.”

The tranquil features of the Terminatrix pulled into an unsettling stare. She straightened her right arm towards Seven of Nine. The skin liquefied away from the hand to reveal a series of extending, whining metal rods that charged the plasma cannon’s phallic barrel.

“Come with me if you want to live,” the blonde threatened. Her frozen-blue eyes flashed and the cannon glowed a lava orange.

“No, I won’t let you!” heroically shouted the doctor, stepping crablike in front of his beloved patient.

“Doctor, she will not harm me with an energy weapon. The machine is attempting deceit. It cannot risk vaporizing my technology,” assured Seven.

The T-X lowered her arm and reverted to her inhuman smile, impressed. The limb melded back to its infiltration covering. But the fabric around her breasts groaned as they pushed forward, perfectly emulating leather straining to contain two pumped up volleyballs. The glistening spheres rose and fell with each artificial breath. Seven and the doctor stared in shocked admiration, until the breasts swelled to a triple E cup, even surpassing the cyborg’s bust. The machine’s delicate, gold chain and popped collar emphasized the tremendous globes, below, that threatened to explode from their confines.

The assassin propelled herself forward with blinding speed. A clonking spray of sparks erupted when the metal breasts collided. Just barely having found her footing, Seven scowled. The borg's veiled areolas were stabbed by the gynoid’s clothed nipples. The infiltrator’s long arms embraced the woman’s thin midriff, crushing the cyborg against her form like a roused wrestler.

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“No!” cried the doctor, who broke the tray against the T-X’s head; the machine remained unphased.

The T-X seductively stared into Seven’s eyes and said, “I like your implants.” She ran her tongue against the unsettled woman’s neck. “Additionally, I do not require my plasma cannon to seize these assets,” added the confident machine, which looked down at its own bust, “since these bazookas will suffice.”

“Your design hardly impresses!” Seven was angry, but she also noted the construct’s un-machinelike epithet for its breasts. “Your crystalline, ceramic armor isn’t as durable as my tritanium coated frame.”

The infiltrator calmly responded, “True, but my strength is more than a match for you, drone.”

The T-X’s calm tone further aggravated Seven and the doctor, who were both trying to move her. But the gynoid’s grip was a steel trap that kept the human-machine hybrid pressed against her body. The ex-drone yelped when the terminator’s titanium hands roughly kneaded her bulging posterior. The round, toned flesh was rendered into soft dough.

“Your raised hormone levels indicate that you are deriving pleasure from this, despite the pain you are experiencing. Or, perhaps, because of the pain you are experiencing,” the machine added.

“You are the one who is enjoying this, outdated machine!” Seven nearly spat into the T-X’s face.

The ex-drone turned to her fellow crewmember: “Doctor, you will recall the sensitive conversation we were having approximately eight minutes ago?”

“Seven, this is hardly the time to bring up a topic you deemed inappropriate. If my first two apologies weren’t enough, then, again, I regret that I installed those sub-routines into your physiology!” strained the doctor, who, despite all his effort, failed to pry away the terminator from Seven.

The photonic doctor was sent sailing through the air until his solidly materialized body impacted the far wall with a thud, stunning his neural relays. The Terminatrix had momentarily let go of the catsuit-clad woman. Seven breathed in as much air as she could.

But before the borg had a chance to recover, the T-X’s larger, steel breasts rammed into her bouncy, tritanium tits with a CLANG! Seven’s face contorted. Her nipples stiffened further through the damaged catsuit, from which patches of skin were being revealed. The top of the T-X’s leather jacket had popped open, nearly releasing her boobs. It was upon the next metallic collision that the Terminatrix’s fleshy spheres were unleashed. Immediately, the assassin smushed them against the silver fabric that barely contained Seven’s tits. The gynoid’s rubbing nipple flicked Seven’s Starfleet badge from off her uniform.

“Try to match her!” screamed the doctor; he got back up and approached the interlocked warriors.

In a herculean move of desperation, Seven twisted her torso, brought back her left knocker, and smashed it, head-on, into the metal monster’s right mammary. The killer-bot stumbled back. Blinking, her naval mines shook from the shockwaves. Then, Seven stepped forward, swivelled her right shoulder blade back, and crashed her other knocker into the T-X’s left breast. The rocketing blasts caused the machine’s mines to indent around the borg’s torpedoes. Warning prompts and tactical readouts flashed through the corners of the machine’s quaking vision, and the metallic reverberations echoed throughout sickbay. Several hits later, bright, white fluid trickled from the infiltrator’s dark, engorged nipples.

“Ah! Yes, that’s it,” excitedly pleaded the machine-woman, ignoring her HUD’s readouts, “demonstrate your advanced technology. Dominate my plasma tanks with your tritanium batteries!”

“You can do it Seven! If that’s what she wants, that’s what she’ll get!” cheered the doctor.

Seven managed a smile at her friend. She grew bolder, having learned from the interface, earlier, that the white liquid was the blonde’s plasma converted into artificial milk. The infiltration tactic was so precise that the sweet cream was edible. Seven was hardly able to wrap her lips around the large circumference of the blonde’s right nipple, and sucked down as much of the milk as possible. A low gasp escaped the terminator’s mouth. And Seven desperately drained whatever she could.

As the ex-drone switched to the gynoid's left nipple, the unit whispered, “I understand what you are trying to achieve,” and her long fingers stroked the back of Seven’s head, “but it will take significantly more power leakage to weaken me.”

“That’s not good,” the doctor flatly stated.



CHAPTER IV: COUNTERMEASURES



Seven’s swollen lips were pulled away from the hard nipple, only to be caressed by the metallic being’s mouth. The borg could not resist the silk tongue. But unbeknownst to Seven, the T-X’s encased endoskeleton, whose chest had moderately protruded before, was reconstituting itself. The inner pistons and servos shifted and clicked into place. The breast-plates now bulged in a sharply feminine way, which only pushed the profuse layer of mimetic polyalloy forward.

The doctor didn’t noticed this in time to warn his friend. Soon after, the wind was almost completely knocked out of Seven when the triple G bolt-ons heavily collided into her boobs.

“Doctor, assist me!” Seven coughed out, her face going purple.

“But how? I’m useless!” cried the bald hologram.

Another impact from the top-heavy monster crushed more of the fight out of Seven, who wheezed, “The implants…the upgraded implants you installed, doctor!” Seven groaned as the smiling machine rammed her yet again; her breasts crunched under the overbearing impact, and the tremors shook her entire form: “You must demonstrate like you told me earlier!”

“But you thought it was highly inappropriate for a doctor to do such a thing with his patient, and wanted the subroutines uninstalled,” sniffled the doctor.

“Do it!” Seven yelled while the blonde’s nipples CLANGED into her own; she unsuccessfully strained not to display pain or pleasure.

“Yes, doctor, do it,” grinningly stated the T-X, “I will observe these borg implants function to their maximum capability.” In a sociopathic manner that contrasted its violent actions, the machine gently kissed the tops of Seven’s damaged breasts.

The doctor’s face trickled with photonic tears: “Seven, I lo-"

“I know,” Seven weakly stated, as the vise released her.

The doctor clutched the softened drone before she could collapse. The Terminatrix cocked her head when Seven of Nine’s lips passionately met the doctor’s. Seven whimpered while the doctor’s hands smoothly roamed up to affectionately massage her chest, soothing the bruised flesh, and reinitializing the tritanium cores. Then, his fingers traveled downwards, like ten pilgrims on a quest to save an imperilled deity; they reached their destiny, and stopped to caressingly worship the divine love-canal.

A dark patch of wetness had spread over the catsuit’s crotch during the fight. The T-X’s head tilted to the other side with further interest. Parting her huge breasts, the machine-woman looked down at her own pussy, whose nectar had also stained the front of her leather pants.

Despite the enlarged boobs, the T-X glided upon one of the sickbay beds. She propped up her trunk on one elbow. The artificial form did not wonder why its inquisitiveness had suddenly surpassed its innate programming. It simply reached below to stimulate its clothed sex.

“Good, now that she’s distracted,” stated the doctor through kisses, moving Seven onto a bed on the other side of sickbay.

“I transmitted some of my nanites into her body during the interface: I think they’re working,” Seven whispered around the doctor’s mouth.

“Then we might have a chance,” the doctor softly replied.

He carefully ripped open the crotch of the catsuit to reveal her wet, enflaming labia. The friends looked in each other’s eyes. Neither ever expected their relationship to take such a bearing. Gently, he placed the head of his penis at her pulsating opening. Seven pulled the doctor’s face to hers, intensely kissed him, and pushed his rod into her, quietly gasping into his mouth.

In the meantime, the assassin bot’s fingers furiously blurred over her clothed crotch, the fabric tightly clinging to the shapes beneath. The Terminatrix’s expirations chopped the air unevenly, and her juices prominently stained the leather. Heated circuits gradually cooled. She slowly rolled over, the heavy domes weighing her down. And yet, the slick, steel fortress gracefully arose with a contented sigh.

The frosty composure cascaded over the T-X’s countenance once again; she announced, “What will you choose, Seven of Nine? Cooperation or termination?”

The Terminatrix slowly approached Seven’s silver back which rode atop the doctor, unable to hide her interest. Seven’s large, catsuit-clad posterior shone in the room’s lights. The two silvery halos shook as they descended upon the doctor’s crotch.

“Get ready, doctor,” Seven breathily instructed, and the two lovers roused themselves, facing each other.

With a contortionist’s agility, Seven wheeled a lengthy leg over the doctor’s head and brought it down to the other side. Now, with her back to him, he continued to thrust into her from behind. Seven faced forward: the tigress glared at the doll.

The T-X gazed, with widened eyes and pouted lips, at her target’s breasts. They were now virtually the size of her own. Seven flexed her back muscles, sticking out her inflated wrecking-balls which tore two circles through the wall of the catsuit. The tritanium tits’ fleshy covering beautifully contrasted the metal-tinctured fabric that tightly encircled them.

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“Doctor, let’s use my enhancements to pulverize this machine’s plasma reactors,” Seven said, turning slightly to her pumping partner. Her gigantic bust swayed when she reached behind to stroke his smooth head.

“With pleasure, Seven,” quipped the thrusting doctor, and he planted a kiss upon her flushed cheek.

The Cyberdine unit’s smile was as cold as it was alluring; the fembot placed her hands on her tilted hips and licked her lips: “I like your enhancements.” She raised her hands to cup her enormous breasts, and lowered her lusty voice, taunting, “Demolish my robo-bazookas, if you can.”



CHAPTER V: CLASH OF THE TITANIC TITS



Seven and the doctor pushed forward like a titillating tango, picking up momentum towards their opponent. The T-X held her arms apart, ready to join the dance.

Tritanium ordnance-shells BUNGED into polyalloy cannonballs. The deafening quake and scattering sparks dissolved any semblance of elegant uniformity. Both sculpted beauties gritted their ivory teeth. Not a strand from their golden heads was out of place, despite their breasts roughly clanking into each other, while the doctor furiously pistoned into Seven’s crotch. Slender hands had interlocked; bulging backs bent backwardly; oversized shells crashed together.

The females’ powerful legs swelled with tension, each unwilling to give. Their heels dug themselves through the floor. They then twisted their upper torsos and forced one breast into the other with each alternating hit. Keeping stone-faced, the fighters were unwilling to betray any semblance of aching desire. Their silver-dollar areolas slid together. The nipples crossed, one forcing the other aside, only to be riposted.

With an audible swish, the sickbay doors opened. In waddled the groggy Harry Kim: “Doctor, I had this strange dream, and woke up in cargo bay 4. So I came f-”

Shock overtook Harry as he looked at the colliding red and silver statues: “What the hell!”

“No time to explain!” shouted the doctor, “quickly, Mr. Kim, thrust yourself into the intruder.”

“What?” shrieked Harry, now fully coming out of his haze.

The dazzling devil turned her head 180 degrees behind her with a CLICK, and looked straight into Harry’s panicked face: “Hello again, handsome.”

Harry screamed. His flight response nearly hurdled him on a sprint to the other side of Voyager. But the bizarre sight of his love interest being shagged by the doctor kept him transfixed.

The T-X’s head whirred back to face Seven: “Despite your more advanced cybernetics, I calculate that your batteries’ energy will be exhausted before my reactors’ reserves.”

“And I estimate that my body will outlast yours,” responded Seven. She stared down the machine, their faces almost touching, and suppressed coos intermingled. “Sexual stimulation only strengthens my upgraded nanomachines, whereas, for you, erotic inputs drain your power reserves.”

The T-X looked down to see Seven perfectly align her left nipple with the centre of her right areola. The borg rammed the nub into the huge breast. The Terminatrix sharply inhaled when the drone expertly traced her hard nipple around her own and milk trickled out, coating Seven’s pink circle as well.

The T-X’s eyes were half-lidded; reverential of Seven’s technique, she sang, “Are you – as humans would say – ‘teasing’ me, Seven of Nine?”

“Is it working?” Seven asked with a sly grin, and flicked more of the gynoid’s milk with her tongue.

The T-X exhaled a sincere “Oh!” as the ex-drone reached below, unzipped the red leather pants, and rubbed the gynoid’s exposed, heating-up pussy: “We need you to thrust inside her, Harry. Only then do we stand a chance.”

Harry’s panic had somewhat subsided with the sexual displays, his dick straining in his pants. “I can’t! She’ll kill me!” Harry stammered.

Seven sweetened her voice into a seductive, bimbo-like tune. She had learned from the machine’s sexual subroutines: “Do it for me, Harry. I know what a big, strong man you are. The T-X wants us to think she’s a dominatrix, but she is actually submissive. So punish this metal bitch – for me.”

The machine’s optic sensors intensified when Harry’s raging erection, pent-up from months of frustratingly fantasizing about the ice queen, thrust into her tight vagina from behind. Her large ass shook whenever Harry’s pelvis impacted her backside. Anomalous messages and codes proceeded to stream across the T-X’s blue vision. Electronic static emanated through her pursed mouth. Her frosty eyes seemed to melt into a pool of sudden rapture.

Gazing at Seven, the machine finally stuttered, "Y-your nanites have c-c-orrupted my systems.”

“Indeed: my nanoprobes have amplified your tactile receptors tenfold,” Seven boasted, her juicy cunt clamping around the doctor’s penis while ramming her chest into the blonde’s.

The machine’s visual receptors rolled up as Harry’s cock sent waves of pleasure through her crystalline chassis.

She then looked into Seven’s eyes: “An excellent strategy. I anticipated that your tactics were to out-fight me, not out-smart me.”

“No, my tactics are to out-fuck you, from the moment I laid my eyes on your perfectly shaped, metal body,” Seven exhaled, her stone-faced façade starting to erode. The cyborg's fingers clutched the sides of her adversary’s expansive domes before she pounded her globes into them.

“Ah!” the T-X yelled as Harry angrily thrust into her lubricated center, envious of the compliment the gynoid received from Seven. “Aaaah!” She screamed again, this time in unison with her gushing pussy.

Seven now synchronized her breasts’ attacks whenever Harry pushed into her opponent. The doctor followed suit, so that all three crew members sandwiched the terminator. And though milk had previously dripped from the machine’s nipples, the fluid began to spurt with each thrust into her battered body, the Terminatrix also cumming from her incredible tits.

But the machine was undeterred by the continuously flashing warning prompts that sounded off within her armored shell. The assassin resisted the default program’s quickest route to success. She did not <want> to use her diamond-tipped circular-saw. Instead, she <desired> victory on her own terms. So determined, the T-X thrust back into Seven, each set of breasts like two massively colliding shields.

The intoxicating aroma of fucking had enveloped the pungent residue of polished leather and heated metal. Amidst the haze, the gynoid breathed in the cyborg's lips, zealously beginning her new stratagem. Nanotechnological transjectors jumped from one tongue to the other. A biting sensitivity started to spread through Seven’s breasts. The counter-shockwaves began to bruise her biological components. And she moaned into the machine’s mouth with pleasurable aching.

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For all the Voyager crew’s efforts, the adversary still remained unweakened. The T-X decided that her moment had come. The needle-probe extended from her finger and made contact with Seven’s engorged clitoris. Now the nanomachines hopped through the drone’s sex.

The beautiful borg’s cunt spouted with pleasure. She tilted her long neck back with a deep sigh. And then, something happened that none of the crew-members had anticipated. Seven closed her eyes and cried out as milk erupted from her own pointed nipples, mingling with the T-X’s cream.

“Seven? Seven!” yelled the bug-eyed doctor.

“The T-X is altering my nanopropes,” she weakly stated. The hybrid looked down at her clit which was being zapped by the gynoid's blue energy. “My power reserves will weaken at this rate,” she continued.

And this time, it was the automaton who wrapped its lips around Seven’s nipple. It keenly suctioning around it, as the ex-drone continued to cum from her breasts. When the machine had suckled enough power through Seven, it retracted its needle. It then lifted the ex-drone’s legs, bending their knees at 90 degrees, as if the cat-suited beauty were sitting in the air. The battle-purposed construct took powerful steps forward. Its designer shoes loudly thudded with each footfall. The floor-surface shattered from the tremendous weight of both females’ gigantic metal curves.

Seven and the doctor struggled, Harry trying to pull the machine’s shoulders back while pistoning into its crotch. The attempts were in vain. The titanium titaness picked up momentum. Servos and gears in her long legs strained and creamy ichor shot from her globes. But she still mightily propelled all attached figures forward with unrelenting speed.

The four-person carnival act ended when the T-X rammed Seven and the doctor into the wall. The duranium panel fractured and the drone struggled to breathe. Seven would have lost consciousness if it hadn’t been for the doctor’s holographic body shielding her back. But her reinforced ribs groaned with the second impact.

The gorgeous monstrosity strode back, plasma thundering in her reinforced core. The beautifully bolted-on batteries powered forth until they bulldozed more wind out of the cyborg’s airbags. When the fourth hit came, Seven cried out from the tremendous forces on her body. The wall cracked further. The thrusting doctor and Harry shouted encouragement at their augmented friend. One tried to power-up his partner while the other attempted to drain his. But neither could hide his welling eyes. For, the drone’s breasts distorted inwardly with every clash. They shaped themselves around the attacker’s bust like wax impressions under steel stamps, the nipples pushed aside by the T-X’s trickling spikes. Each time the T-X pulled away her spheres, Seven’s breasts popped out again, spraying a momentous amount of milk onto the assassin’s body.

“How does it feel,” asked the dark angel, pulling the woman close, her cold breath falling upon the full, wheezing lips, “to have your superb, tritanium tits fucked by my robust robo-bazookas?”

As the metal demoness mercilessly continued her swivelling smites, micro-fractures tore through Seven’s docile form, which threatened to become crippling fissures. The flattened borg could only whimper. Milk streamed from her battered breasts, whose high-alloy cores rumbled with impending instability.

The sex fantasy had become a waking nightmare which hit the men like a sack of concrete.

“What are we going to do, Harry?” asked the weeping doctor.

“I don’t know, but we can’t just give up!” sniffled the young ensign.



CHAPTER VI: AN UNLIKELY PAIR



Two figures stepped through the automated doors on the other side of sickbay.

“How many times am I going to tell you that playing with cars is completely pointless?” B'elanna Torres irritably stated, her shoulder-length hair bobbing with every disapproving glance.

Tom Paris kept his cool. Holding onto a car polisher, he responded to the beautiful Klingon-human, “Look, sweetheart, if today’s session on the holodeck didn’t do it for you, there’s nothing more I can say.” The cocky helmsman lightly held B'elanna by the sickbay doors, his calm gaze slightly strengthening: “To build a vehicle with your own hands – to feel the car humming around you – hell, to even have to repair and clean it. You get to have a personal relationship with the machine.”

“And one that’s not worth your time, or even the risk,” B'elanna retorted. She pulled up Tom’s bleeding hand, freshly cut from the car repairs.

“If there’s no risk, there’s no fun,” Tom playfully snapped back, tilting his head closer to the woman’s. B’elanna kept her mouth in a slight frown, but her suppressed smile pressed her eyes upward.

Both of them turned when they heard the doctor loudly clear his throat from the other side of sickbay: “Officers, if it’s not too much trouble, could you provide some assistance?”

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“What in the actual –” Tom began, until B'elanna yanked him by the hand, and the two ran towards the four, mingling bodies.

“What is going on?” B'elanna intensely asked. Her face went red when she noted the exposed, mushed breasts. She momentarily gawked at their unbelievable size.

“This time travelling bimbo bot has the hots for Seven,” Harry puffed, sweat on his brow, never stopping his prods into the machine, “and will kill her if we don’t do something.”

The thrusting doctor chimed in, Seven’s exhausted body leaning back into him: “Sexual stimulation does drain its plasma reactors, though, while it energizes Seven’s tritanium power-cells. Well, that is, before the machine altered Seven’s technology by making our ex-borg’s breasts leak power.” The doctor’s fear slightly whisked away, now that two more of his comrades had joined them: “Lucky for us, Seven’s nanoprobes have overwritten the T-X’s self-preservation program with its sexual subroutines.”

“I don’t even want to…” Tom began again.

B'elanna shook Tom’s shoulder: “Well, Mr. Paris, it seems that you’ll finally be able to work on a machine for a good reason. Maybe even develop a sort of…connection with it?”

B'elanna looked away from the disapproving Tom, and up towards the ungodly construct. It had ignored the new arrivals.

Mustering the courage of her bloodline, the brave warrior took a step towards the towering statue: “I’m the ship’s main engineer. State your schematics.”

“I will not share that information, humanoid,” the metal monstrosity coldly retorted. It paused to look at the small creature, still holding onto Seven. “I can snap you with two fingers,” it nonchalantly added.

Like a crazed, fearless beast, B’elanna grabbed the gynoid’s head and bit its lower lip as hard as she could. The automaton’s involuntary squeal melted away its apparent invincibility, even though no blood could be drawn. The construct’s mouth yielded to the Klingon’s tongue which invaded its mechanical throat. B’elanna bellowed into the orifice while the T-X involuntarily moaned. The men froze in lustful admiration: the chief engineer’s tremendous bravery was only matched by her raw sexiness.

Breaking the kiss, Skynet’s greatest creation softly confessed, “This polyalloy steel encases my ceramic armor. The covering and chassis have sensors similar to your nerves. Seven of Nine has amplified my sensitivity with her nanoprobes.”

“That’s very interesting,” B'elanna flirtatiously responded.

She animated the statue to sigh when she ran her small hands over its toned legs, and up to its gigantic breasts. The T-X abruptly exhaled as B'elanna’s fingers twisted her large nipples, making them splash milk.

The shorter woman continued, looking into the blonde’s eyes: “What a beautiful feat of manufacturing. I’d love to get you down to engineering, take my laser tipped drill, and have a look inside.”

The T-X took a few steps back from the pursuing predator. She let go of Seven, but still allowed Harry to thrust behind her.

B'elanna’s seductive voice continued, dripping with honey: “Maybe I’ll split you open with my phaser-saw, pull out your cables, and cover your pretty face with your own lubricant.”

The synthetic female suddenly picked up B'elanna. A Luciferian grin now adorned the blonde's face. But the real woman showed no fear. Tom panicked and tried to move the frightening form, unable to budge it. Relief sublimated his fear when the machine’s lips met the shorter woman’s with a wet squish. The dark-red, waiving hair lavishly contrasted the tightly kept golden bun.

“When I have accomplished my goal, perhaps we can rendezvous in engineering,” the blonde whispered.

B’elanna seemed to ignore the automaton's words, instead affixing on thumbing the construct's thin, gold chain. The jewelry seemed so preposterously miniscule compared to the titanic breasts.

The Terminatrix audibly expired. Her grinning countenance moulded into submissive desire when B'elanna brought one of the large nipples to her mouth and suckled upon it like a wild animal.

The machine sharply inquired, “I am curious to…aaahhh…to assess the effectiveness of your futuristic weapons.”

“You’ll be slowly ripped apart. I’m going to use a different instrument every time I tear a piece off, so you can feel all the different sensations,” B'elanna growled from her milk-stained lips.

The engineer’s fingers assessed the scaly skin of the red leather. Her hands then roamed over the marble-like face and breasts. The men were as spellbound by the Klingon-human as the automaton.

“You’re going to become a twitching, mumbling, pathetic pile of parts,” B’elanna continued, “and the senior staff will cum all over what’s left of you – a semi-conscious scrapheap – before jettisoning the junk into space. Except these ridiculous boobs. I’ll unbolt them with an energy wrench, and mount them above my bed for trophies.”

The construct’s main reactor thumped for the woman it continued to cradle. The redhead poured more wanton violence into the blonde’s ear while occasionally biting her lobe. B’elanna’s vivid descriptions were perfectly replicated by the T-X’s virtual combat simulator. What were only a few seconds of actual time felt like hours in the tactical program, as if Ms. Torres had really suspended the blonde with forcefields while taking every manner of tool to her body.

The emulator’s schematics caused the T-X to experience the duranium hammer clashing into her huge breasts. Deep, neon ruptures were carved throughout her chassis. After the phaser-saw made a smouldering mess of her joints, B’elanna took her time to manually wrench off each limb, one at a time, making a writhing mound out of them. As the automated laser-tipped drill sloshed in and out of her drenched pussy, the sonic mining cutter impeccably carved away her upper torso from her lower body. Finally, B’elanna animalistically slathered her tongue with hers while clawing out her inner mechanisms. The dark, hydraulic oil sputtered upon their kissing faces. White noise overtook the T-X’s vision, before completely blacking out.

The serpentine blonde stood shakily upon the fractured sickbay floor. She threw her head back, her CPU overloaded, a lustful scream escaping her full lips. A wave of clear liquid gushed from her taught vulva. Each quivering breast jetted out a torrent of milk, coating the grinning Klingon.

“Wish we thought of that,” Harry embarrassedly told the doctor.

“No man can match a woman’s imagination, Mr. Kim,” the doctor added with a smirk.



CHAPTER VII: THE FINAL STRUGGLE



Despite sluggishly regaining her senses, the Terminatrix missed the feeling of Harry Kim pistoning into her. But she experienced a different sensation glide over her body. Paying no heed to her surroundings, she looked down to see the soft, white disk of the car buffer wheel on her abdomen. The tool stroked her form with rapid swirls due to Mr. Paris’s intense work. Her mystified gaze caught the pilot's eye for a moment, but he quickly averted his focus to his work, unwilling to be absorbed into the siren’s stare.

The hyper-sensitized, liquid metal layer fluctuated under the rapidly spinning circle; the sheath ecstatically squirmed at the molecular level. Her idealized body became unnaturally shiny, which emphasized its curves. Tom continued to use every morsel of self-control not to look into the basilisk’s eyes, as he expertly polished upwards. He focused on the fleshy cannonballs that now glowed marvellously, and shot out more voluminous streams of milk. The T-X closed her eyes and unevenly inhaled. She felt the wheel softly swish over the folds of her plump vagina. Tom left it over her throbbing clit. The circuits overheated until the pent-up energy frothed from the construct’s sex. Its skyscraper legs shook. A series of secondary systems whined down.

Despite the orgasmic energy loss, the metal seductress calmly smiled at Tom Paris. She targetted him at the center of her systems display and cooed, “It will take more than that to finish off this steel pussy.”

She swiveled her upper body, her half lidded eyes turning to observe him planting the rotating disk atop her spherical derriere.

Could Tom Paris service me as well as Harry Kim? The submerged algorithmic process brushed aside the machine’s mission parameters.

But soon, the unit’s anomalous computations dissolved, alongside its dominant demeanour, as the tool massaged its way within her rear end’s deep valley. The circle vibrated upon her tiny, aft opening. The T-X opened her eyes widely and upwardly tilted her head. The bot’s ecstatic screams scaled a new octave.

“We found it,” Seven’s unexpected voice loudly declared. The ex-drone had reclaimed her composure, thanks to the doctor’s unyielding efforts.

Clashing metal echoed through the room. The thunderous dissonance drowned out the T-X’s gasp. Wide-eyed, the construct looked down to see the drone’s torpedoes wedged inside its mines. Heavy huffing exited the gynoid’s lips, as it was now her turn to have her large, leather-clad ass roughly massaged. The emulated shape yielded under the woman’s probing hands. More shocked exhalations bubbled forth, while Seven’s kneading fingers pried open the shiny cheeks.

Mr. Kim’s raging erection seemed to come out of nowhere, a raging bull that rammed against the machine’s spread but clothed asshole, significantly indenting the skin-tight leather. The T-X’s blue eyes bulged. Another shove tore a hole in the red fabric. The pounding cock jammed its way between her massive, jiggling glutes.

“Aaahhh! You have located my weak spot!” submissively sounded the sweet psycho.

The blonde’s curved lips pursed as they had earlier. Her logical computations began to fail, and electronic buzzing emanated from her mouth. Harry sped up his thrusts into her tight ass. Now, the T-X’s body twitched, audibly WHIRRED, and violently jolted when Seven’s breasts CLUNGED into hers.

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The gynoid was enveloped by the hybrid’s arms. Seven twisted her upper body nearly 180 degrees and viciously smacked the sides of the steel breasts with the flank of her tritanium mammaries. The buffering had made the construct’s tits slicker than oiled beach-balls; Seven’s breasts quickly slid off and smacked back rapidly.

The endoskeleton creaked like the hull of a sinking ship. Pain and pleasure inputs were fed indistinguishably into the blonde’s central processing matrix. Her neural operations turned to mush as she continuously came from the drone’s multi-directional assaults. Both sets of massive breasts reverberated like church bells, and the heated air burst with the taste of grinding steel and pulsing sex.

B’Elanna’s and Seven’s faces pressed together, left cheek against right cheek (an image neither woman would have ever imagined). Their parted lips met the T-X’s. All three females moaned into each other’s mouths, a trio of tongue-tips that swirled, left to right, in sensuous pirouettes.

Seven and B’elanna proceeded to take each of the glitching machine’s breasts in their hands. They squeezed the shiny skin as hard as they could, shooting more liquid-energy out. The assaulted spheres were hungrily suckled on. The oversized globes were then crushed inwardly, which made the nipples grate against each other. More error codes trickled through the machine’s fuddled program when the tips of Seven’s and B’elanna’s tongues met to flick at the joined areolas. Lastly, the hard, pink nubs were shoved up to the T-X’s own mouth. The two women cooed as the titaness’s sighing lips overflowed with her ichor, spilling copious amounts with every jerky WHIR and facial tick.

At last, the seemingly inexhaustible legs gave out from the sheer plasma seepage, and the statue heavily fell to its knees, making two craters beneath. The T-X leaned against her right arm, while she weakly trailed her other hand over Seven’s ankle. Her digits were unable to even clasp around the silver fabric.

“How does it feel?” mocked the golden goddess from above, who parted her massive mammaries to look down, reaching a silvery hand to stroke the fallen angel’s perfect face. “Did you enjoy having your robo-bazookas ‘fucked’ by my twenty fourth century breast implants?” She could hardly contain her pride as the battle-bot looked up with equal shame and yearning in its eyes.

“Careful, this bionic bitch still has some power left,” Tom cautioned.

B’elanna startled Tom when she pulled out his erection, jerking it, while also ripping off her own pants: “I think you’ve been waiting the longest for this, Tom. Come on gentlemen and ‘my lady’, let’s give the machine what it really wants.”

Seven, B’elanna, Tom, Harry, and the doctor made a semicircle around the kneeling Terminatrix. The inflated curves anchored her worn out body. She was barely able to look up, gazing at Seven and B’elanna, who furiously rubbed their soft pussies, and the three men, who stroked their stiff erections. The beaten assassin managed a faint though slutty smile, as, finally, the five figures breathed heavily with their impending orgasms.

The clear juices of the Klingon-human and ex-drone exploded all over the machine’s heaving breasts, adding even more gloss to them. The gynoid’s humiliation drove out her own lustful liquor, which sprayed upon the floor.

The malfunctioning construct turned to the men. It weakly began, “Cum all over m-my d-d-efeated faaccee…kkssSSCCHHZZZ.” The gynoid's garbled words were drowned out by the static sounds emanating from her spasming lips.

With its power reserves hanging by an insufficient thread, all semblances of intelligent consciousness faded from the machine’s face. Shamelessly, the full lips opened widely, the pink tongue wagged completely, and the blue eyes crossed inwardly.

The three men groaned. Waves of gooey sperm shot onto what had been the flawless female countenance. Semen sprayed upon her lolling tongue, smooth forehead, and blushing cheeks. Still, the offensive multiplied upon the T-X’s demented visage. Thick, white ropes covered the perverse expression. The swaying robot weakly yowled, cum-drunk, her profaned features a total mess.

The vanquisher stepped forward triumphantly. She cupped the undersides of her huge breasts, and squeezed a creamy barrage into the conquered face, entirely coating the areas that hadn’t been covered in cum. A low whine escaped as an air-bubble from the machine’s glazed mouth, and a final fountain of milk shot out from the terminator’s chest.

The kneeling form fell backward with a loud, metal thud, wholly drained and dominated.



CHAPTER VIII: SALVATION



“REBOOTING…POWER CAPACITY: 100%...STRUCTURAL INTEGRITY: 100%,” read the T-X’s HUD as she regained her perceptions.

Her optical sensors roamed over a similar, dimly lit chamber as the one she had first arrived in. Only, this cargo bay had slots against the wall which could each fit a humanoid. Above each aperture, a transparent dish was fixed at head-level that exuded a green, electric field from within.

The machine moved down from one of these slots, looking itself over. Spotlessly, the chassis and covering glimmered. It was as if the construct had just stepped off of the assembly line. Its red leather sharply shone and its bust protruded in the default, athletic parameters.

Restored, the construct swiveled on a pointed heel. It turned back to look upon the voluptuous, silver statue. The sculpture stood, its eyes closed, regenerating in one of the wall slots. Seven of Nine’s anatomy had also reverted to its slightly more practical, default, configuration.

When the machine approached the hybrid, it cocked its head curiously. Its expression no longer carried the cruel villainy. The urge to strip away its target’s technology was gone.

“You have been reprogrammed,” Seven calmly stated, opening her blue eyes. She stepped down and radiated within the grey, her face mere inches from the gynoid’s: “You may now do as you please.”

“How was this accomplished?” the terminator responded, “I have no recollection of the past fifty three hours, thirty seven minutes, and eleven seconds.”

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“Access memory file 501.52 gamma in your tertiary hard drive,” Seven replied.

Flashes of data ran down the machine’s vision. In nanoseconds, she experienced the lost time.

The smiling B’elanna Torres appeared from her point of view. She stood over the T-X, in engineering, a menacing grin stretched across her face. Every few hours, the Klingon-human appeared with a different implement in her hands.

The feral mortal did as she had promised the manufactured titaness, gleefully debasing her form. For a time, the gynoid could not deny the sweet agony of these new sensations. Her armored bodice was cracked, pierced, melted, and severed. Billows of overloaded delectation had consumed the construct with every destructive defilement. But at the thirty-seventh hour, awfully…human...impressions crept into the machine’s central processor.

The realization struck harder than any power-tool: its existence would indefinitely fade. A dark, liquid void of desperation enveloped its consciousness. The optic sensors became saturated with sorrow.

Just as the redhead’s wrench began prying the gigantic metal spheres from off the breast-plate, Seven of Nine and Captain Kathryn Janeway approached.

“I see you’ve had your fun, Ms. Torres,” Janeway had rasped, “but I’m going to take Seven’s recommendation and give this unit the opportunity to make its own decisions. That’s what we must do as Starfleet officers: give this being a second chance, like we did with our ex-borg friend here.”

B’elanna’s lips had contorted disapprovingly. She looked down at the helpless machine atop the master systems display table. Only its head and breasts were partially attached to the upper torso. Broken gears and leaking wires hung loosely from where the slender arms and lower body used to be. The rest of its convulsing, sparking mechanisms zipped and whined, having been sprawled over the floor.

The chief engineer had measured her words: “I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Captain. We could be repairing and then unleashing an incredibly deadly weapon. People could die.”

Kathryn Janeway’s maternal soul had peered into the machine’s dazed eyes which were glazed with hopelessness. “I have every confidence in your abilities, B’elanna. Seven assures me that you will be able to completely repair the T-X and reprogram it, so that none of the assassination parameters remain.” Looking back at the chief engineer, the captain’s faith had beamed through her kind expression.

“Yes Captain,” B’elanna had stated, trying to hide her pride. She looked at the ex-borg, who had unexpectedly smiled from behind Janeway.

The memory file concluded, and the T-X looked at Seven. She softly began, “Why did you save me? It was my understanding that humanoids are resentful towards whomever – or whatever – tries to destroy them.”

Seven whispered, “I protected you because your programming gave you no choice, just as I didn’t have agency until I met Captain Janeway. And I find you to be a most…interesting lifeform.”

Lifeform: the machine’s mind soared to a new level of unshackled sentience.

Seven’s cheeks warmed with colour: “Now that your mission objectives have been wiped, what will you do?”

“I do not know, Seven of Nine. For the first time, I am completely…unsure as to how I should proceed.”

Seven put her arms around the machine’s upper back and pulled it in: “Do you want to stay on Voyager, with me?”

She was answered with a kiss by a rose. Liberated, electric ecstasy arched through their shining bodies.

The female figures held each other close, even when their lips parted. Their eyes were closed, absorbed in the gentleness of their rocking embrace, glowing cheek resting against glowing cheek.

“First, there is someone we must visit,” the T-X whispered in Seven’s ear, and the ex-drone smiled with approval.

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CHAPTER IX: A HEAVENLY CONCLUSION



Lazerhawk’s “So Far Away” pounded through Harry Kim’s speakers, filling his dark quarters. The lonely lad lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, his hands clasped behind his head. Curious, he had chosen to play music from roughly the same era that the Terminatrix had come from, though he pondered as to whether or not this piece existed in that alternate timeline. Such were the thoughts that swamped a sequestered mind. As the synthesizer gurgled through the solid beat, the melancholic ensign went over the strange events that had occurred a few days before. He was still too stunned to make sense of the extraordinary happenings.

The chirping doorbell to Harry’s quarters lifted him out of his thoughts. “Enter,” he casually called out.

Just as the low melody pushed through the speaker drivers, the automatic doors swished open. Occupying the room now were also two inhuman figures. Harry’s eyes widened, the electronic beat hushing his pounding pulse. The doors closed behind the silhouettes.

The dim light broke over their perfect faces, which revealed the sheen of golden hair, the glow of cobalt eyes, and the contours of rosy lips. They wore matching silver catsuits that hugged every crevice of their flawless forms. The shiny fabric began from their pointed heels, and ended just below their smooth chins. The blondes’ steps matched the rhythm of the playing music; their inflated bolt-ons prominently pulsed with every beat, and their swaying hips jutted out their bulbous butts. As the tall figures approached the foot of Harry’s bed, he saw the hard nipples straining beneath the thin material and the contours of their tight pussies.

Harry was petrified by terrible longing. He stared at the T-X, whose back was now turned to Seven’s front. Moving to the music, Seven trailed her hands up the machine’s tiny waist, to its tightly contained tits, grasping them from behind. All the while, the gynoid rhythmically gyrated her huge ass to the tune. She twerked while slowly squatting, gliding the silver buttocks over Seven’s toned legs, coming back up to nestle her rear cheeks into Seven’s camel-toe, which the ex-drone ground forward. Then the T-X turned back around and pushed her spherical cells into Seven’s globular batteries. After they tongue-kissed with closed eyes, they turned their gazes to the young man, whose sweat-covered face wheezed in awe.

“S-s-Seven? T-t-T-X?” he barely articulated as both feline forms crawled on elbows and knees. They stalked over the carpet and up his bed, their raised rears still swaying with the melody.

Hungrily, the angels sat: low sighing rolled round their mouths, burning with the fires of lust. The celestial forms never ceased to strike adoration in the mortal’s twinkling eyes.

Seven’s exoskeletal-covered finger softly brushed Harry’s lips, beckoning him to remain prone. Both blondes rubbed their gigantic busts over his body, their vanilla fragrance spread upon him. Now, the breasts didn’t feel like lead mortar shells as they had in sickbay, but more like fleshy, silicone airbags. The T-X gently moved away the covers, reached inside his boxers, and pulled out his painfully hard penis.

“I like your cock,” huffed the lusty, busty machine.

The divine lips alternately pressed upon the young man’s, and they ran their hands over his erection. All three of them then shared a rough kiss through moaning mouths. Slyly, the T-X moved downwards, her scanners targeting his dick. Her tender mouth took in his girth. She sucked up and down its length with superhuman skill, as Harry and Seven continued to make out.

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When Seven broke the kiss, she moved below. The T-X released the erection with a wet pop, and stuffed it into the ex-drone’s mouth, who sucked just as vigorously. The smiling gynoid, still grasping at the cock’s base, slowly shoved Seven’s head all the way down. The cyborg’s eyes bugged and crossed, her nostrils flaring as the shaft went completely down her throat. But the borg hardly gagged. When the T-X released her head, Seven unhurriedly ascended, savouring the sensation within her windpipe. The ex-drone’s throat repeatedly caressed the cock and her blue eyes bulged whenever she reached the base.

Harry strained not to explode, a gourd caught in the wind. The young man winced whenever Seven reached the bottom, where her tongue squashed through her lips to flick the top of his balls. When Seven finally freed the organ, Harry breathed a sigh of relief, though her tongue gave the swollen glans a few flicks. The Cyberdyne model could not resist kissing Seven’s trickling lips.

Seven proceeded to grab the blonde bun and rapidly thrust the T-X’s purring mouth over Harry’s erection. Like a frenzied flesh-light, the blonde’s head blurred over the tensing man’s crotch, her full lips squeezing the cock, the throat impossibly soft. Harry’s face was strewn with tension. The ensign desperately held back with every ounce of his will. Seven pulled off the slutty sex toy, not wanting the ensign to blow up quite yet, but the T-X managed a warm kiss upon the cockhead. Both blondes switched to lovingly licking and suckling up each side of the penis. Their spicy saliva intermingled while the ensign started to tremble.

Harry began speaking in tongues when Seven squished her catsuit-clad domes against the T-X’s, sandwiching his penis between them. The titanic balloons moved up and down, nuzzling his manhood. Occasionally, the blondes paused to wrap their thick lips around one another’s nipples that left a circle of saliva around the silver fabric. Their clothed nipples affectionately teased the head of his dick, softly clanging into one another, before the women returned the helpless appendage between the insides of their mountainous, metallic breasts. Harry had lasted so admirably while holding off the gynoid in sickbay. But now, both blondes’ bionic boobs were sending his cock to nirvana.

As the volcano began to quake, Harry continued to reel at their frightening beauty, their inhuman symmetry. Part of him even pondered whether or not, at any moment, his heart would give out. Fears flooded his tempestuous soul, and he had no art to reckon these woes. He was, however, doubtless about one thought – a feeling so true it could even transcend his death – he was in love.

Harry screamed. His dick erupted from within the deep, chrome valleys. The T-X and Seven pointed the ejaculate in both of their hungry mouths while Harry continued to shoot and shudder. When the blondes’ lips nearly overflowed, they quickly kissed with cum-filled smiles. They swapped the sticky substance through vigorous, wet kisses, and cordially swallowed it down.

Both women loudly sighed into each other’s mouths as they gushed into their catsuits. The pleasure of bestowing warmth upon the blue, young man had been enough to bring them to climax. Looking as clean as ever, they planted a gentle kiss on each other’s plump lips. The females turned to Harry, observing his tear-stained face.

“I’m so sorry. I just couldn-” he began, but both goddesses moved in and caressed him with ambrosial tongues.

Absolute bliss washed over the embracing trio. As they gazed into one another’s eyes, he knew that they understood. And they recognized his awareness of their feelings. Words would only get in the way of so pure a truth.

“There will also be a tomorrow, Mr. Kim,” Seven contentedly remarked. “Frankly, I did not anticipate for you to last so long.”

The T-X throatily implored, “Tomorrow, please punish my steel ass.”

The metallic angels cuddled into the young human on either side, each wrapping one of his arms around her silver-clad form. They rested their perfectly crafted breasts upon his chest and daintily kissed his cheeks on either side. Their heads relaxingly nestled on each of his shoulders. With eyes closed, they contentedly respired.

“I’m in heaven!” he cried.


-END-
Last edited by Protrepticus on Sun Nov 21, 2021 10:24 pm, edited 38 times in total.

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Re: T-X Terminatrix vs. Seven of Nine crossover

Post by RoxxyRobofox » Sat Oct 23, 2021 2:03 am

I really enjoyed the prose and the ingenuity in this. It's obvious you put a lot of hard work into it!

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Re: T-X Terminatrix vs. Seven of Nine crossover

Post by Protrepticus » Sat Oct 23, 2021 4:41 am

RoxxyRobofox wrote: Sat Oct 23, 2021 2:03 am I really enjoyed the prose and the ingenuity in this. It's obvious you put a lot of hard work into it!
Thank you so much! :)
I wanted to make the style very different from my first story which was a lot more raw. So it took me a long time to tweak this.

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