Dude, Where’s my Tomb - Pt. 02

Chapter 3

The university's archaeology lab smells like stale coffee and dust, a far cry from the tomb's electric hum. I've got the crystal on a chain around my neck now, tucked under my shirt, a constant reminder of who's in charge. Ryan's behind me, sweating through his tank top, lugging the last crate of alien tech we salvaged. He's bigger than ever, biceps bulging like he's been hitting the gym non-stop since that regulator snapped into his pec. I'd laugh if I wasn't so damn tired.

"Set it down there," Miles said, pointing to a cluttered workbench. He grunts, dropping it with a thud that rattles the room. A grad student--Melissa, I think--pokes her head in, frowning at the noise.

"Miles, what's all this?" she asks, eyeing Ryan like he's a gorilla in a china shop.

"Research," Miles said, flashing a grin. "Secret for now. Professor doesn't want the results leaking." She shrugs and leaves, but I catch her glance lingering on the crates. Gotta move fast.

I opened the crate with the old dusty main console, while Ryan opened another crate with a tall tower shaped device that Isis insisted we bring. Ryan went to get the next crate naturally taking to his new role as workhorse.

Miles leaned against the lab's humming console, the crystal dangling from his neck glinting faintly under the fluorescents, its weight a quiet promise against his chest. He stared at the growing pile of neural interfaces--spindly, twitching things that could bend minds to his will--and felt a righteous heat coil in his gut. The university was a bloated relic, he reasoned, a machine churning out drones for a world that didn't care--professors like Grayson coasting on tenure, students like Kyle scrambling for scraps, all trapped in a system too slow to evolve. With Isis and her tech, he could remake it: sharpen the lazy, harness the brilliant, turn chaos into order under his command. It wasn't just power he craved--it was purpose, a chance to drag this crumbling institution into something greater, something his, where every mind hummed in sync with his vision, and he'd finally be more than a grunt in someone else's dig site.

I hook up some cables to a raw power interface. The machine flickered as Isis' image appeared in their minds. She's ditched the goddess vibe for a lab coat, but it's no librarian getup. The coat's tight, white, with a deep cleavage window framing those EE-cup tits she flaunted back in the tomb. They jiggle faintly as she adjusts her stance, a brunette bun perched primly atop her head.

"Master," she purrs, voice dripping honey, "how may I serve you here?"

I catch myself staring, a heat creeping up my neck. "Administrator mode," I say, yanking the crystal free and plugging it into the console. Her eyes flash. "Modify Directive 1: 'Enhance administrator's influence over humans at the university.' Male, female, everyone. We need to make sure they are on-side when they discover you here."

"Acknowledged," she says, as I remove the crystal and that tingle hits--sharp, electric, right up my spine. My brain lights up: Melissa on her knees, pouty lips calling me boss, curves bending to my whim. Then the guys--Jake, that smug jock, saluting me like a drill sergeant. I shake it off, but damn, it's vivid. Too vivid. "Be aware," she adds, "there are limits to the number of... drones--I mean, humans--we can influence with these remaining devices."

Ryan returned with a crate, he took his shirt off to allow his body to cool and with one swift motion broke it open with a crowbar. The image of Isis appeared next to him, her lab coat hugging her curves, cleavage bouncing faintly as she gestured to the tall, tower-shaped device now unpacked--a sleek, obsidian spire veined with glowing runes, its surface humming with a low, primal throb. "This," she purred, voice dripping with promise as she traced a virtual hand along its contours, "is the hive. It binds all the neural interfaces, weaves their threads into one mind--mine, and yours, Master. Every pulse, every thought, interconnected under its reach." Her amber eyes glinted, and the air shivered with lavender as the tower pulsed brighter, a living nexus of control. Miles stared, his breath catching, arousal surging not just from her but from the device itself--its potential to leash countless wills, a dark phallus of power rising before him. His jeans tightened, and he imagined the campus bowing, wired to his whim through that towering, throbbing core.

Ryan staggered back with another crate, his skin glistening with sweat. He snaps it open with a crowbar in one swift motion. Isis's image flickers beside him--he clearly sees her too, leering at her lab-coat getup like a dog eyeing a steak. "This fabricator will produce more interfaces and endocrine regulators," she says, pointing to the machine resembling an ice cream dispenser, "but it requires raw materials."

"Ryan, unpack the neural interfaces," I order. He nods, still in that pleasure-haze, and digs in. The spider-devices glint--dozens of them, legs twitching like they're itching to crawl. My neck itches too, a phantom pinch from my own implant. "Hide them around the room," I say, eyes drifting to Isis's cleavage despite myself. "Start with the pencil jar by the door--Melissa's always messing with it."

He lumbers over, dropping three interfaces in. They skitter down, blending with the pens. My pulse races--this is power, real and mine. Melissa's back soon, pretending to grab a pen while obviously snooping. Go-time. An interface darts up her arm, burrowing into her neck. She yelps, swatting wildly, but it's in. "Fuck, I think a bee stung me! I need to check this in the bathroom--don't want it to pimple," she says, bolting out.

"Isis, status?" I mutter, leaning on the console, stealing another glance at her chest.

"Neural links established," she says, leaning forward just enough to make the lab coat strain. "Subject: female, early twenties. Awaiting commands."

"Make her trust me," I say, licking my lips. "Subtle, like I'm their damn hero."

"Processing," she purrs. A hum fills the air. That tingle flares again, and my head swims: Melissa peeling off that tee, on her knees, whispering dirty nothings. Then Jake and the guys, shirtless, hauling crates for me. I blink hard, but the images stick, pulsing with Isis's voice: "More, Master?"

"Isis," I growl, "you're pushing me again. Stop it."

She tilts her head, cleavage bouncing faintly. "A side effect, Master. Your desires are... potent. Shall I adjust?"

"No," I say, too fast. "Just--keep installing. Ryan, hit the lecture hall chairs. Front row, mixed crowd." He nods, hauling the crate out, leaving me with her.

"Excellent choice," she says, unprompted, stepping closer in that hologram flicker. The lab coat gaps, and I swear I smell lavender. The tingle spikes, and I'm picturing Melissa straddling me, hands on my chest--fuck, stop. I glare at her.

"Forgive me, Master," she says, bowing so her tits practically spill out. "A glitch. Corrected." and I'm not sure I believe her.

Ryan's back, wiping sweat. "Chairs are done. Next class in ten."

"Kyle from Chemistry should be in that class. Isis, try and target him, he can get us the chemicals for the fabricator." Miles ordered.

Isis hacks into the security cameras and displays an image of the lecture theatre for them to watch.

Ten minutes later, the lecture hall's buzzing with students settling in. Kyle's there, front row, nerdy as hell--glasses slipping down his nose, hunched over a textbook like it's a lifeline. He's the kind of guy who'd apologize to a beaker for bumping it. Perfect. The interface in his chair springs to life, skittering up his leg. He flails, smacking at his jeans--"What the--?!"--but it's too late. The spider burrows into his neck with a faint click. His eyes glaze, then sharpen, darting around like he's hearing voices. Which, I guess, he is.

Back in the lab, Isis chimes in. "Neural link established. Subject: male, mid-twenties. Chemically inclined. Awaiting commands."

"Draw him here," I say, tapping the console.

--

Kyle slouched out of the lecture hall, the drone of stoichiometry equations still rattling in his skull. He adjusted his glasses, textbook wedged under his arm, when a faint buzz sparked to life--low, insistent, right at the base of his cock. He froze mid-step, cheeks flaming. "What the--?" he muttered, glancing around the emptying corridor. No one else seemed to notice, just the usual shuffle of sneakers and backpack zippers. He took a tentative step toward the exit, and the buzz dulled to a faint hum, almost disappointing. Weird. He pivoted left, toward the science wing, and it flared again--sharp, electric, tugging him like a leash. "Okay, that's not normal," he said under his breath, but his feet were already moving.

The sensation toyed with him as he navigated the halls. A right turn toward the cafeteria, and it faded to a whisper; a left toward the archaeology labs, and it surged, pulsing hot and urgent. He groaned, adjusting his jeans, half-convinced he'd sat on some experimental vibrator from the engineering dept. "This better not be Jake pranking me again," he grumbled, but the buzz intensified with every step toward the labs, like a compass needle locking onto true north. His brain scrambled for a hypothesis--pheromone nanites? Neural feedback?--but his body didn't care, dragging him forward with a mix of dread and curiosity. By the time he hit the archaeology wing, the buzz was a full-on throb, and he was panting, glasses fogging slightly.

He stumbled into the lab, shoving the door open with his shoulder, and froze. There she was--Isis, leaning against a console, her lab coat hugging curves that defied physics. The brunette bun, the cleavage window framing EE-cup perfection, the sultry tilt of her lips--it hit him like a chemical spill, short-circuiting his senses. "H-hi," he stammered, textbook slipping to the floor with a thud. The buzz in his cock settled into a warm glow, like it knew he'd arrived. She turned, eyes locking onto his, and smiled--a smile that promised lab explosions and late-night experiments. "Welcome, Kyle," she purred, voice sliding over him like liquid nitrogen, chilling and thrilling at once.

He blinked, mouth dry, brain kicking into overdrive. "You're... uh... wow. Stunning. But--" He squinted, pushing up his glasses. "No shadow. No heat signature off the console. You're a projection. Holographic? No, neural--tied to whatever's buzzing me, right?" He tapped his neck where the interface had burrowed, piecing it together. "Artificial. Alien tech, probably. Am I close?" Miles, lounging nearby, smirked but said nothing. Isis stepped closer in his mind's eye, her image flickering faintly. "Very clever," she said, leaning in so her virtual cleavage loomed. "I need your help, Kyle. Chemicals. Rare ones. Will you fetch them?"

Kyle rubbed the back of his neck, fingers brushing the faint scar where the interface had dug in. "Okay, so, you're an alien AI, and I'm basically your lab rat now. That's... fine. Totally fine." He forced a laugh, high-pitched and shaky, glancing between Isis's smoldering gaze and Miles's smug grin. "I mean, why not help? It's not like I had big plans--grading quizzes, synthesizing aspirin for extra credit, maybe crying into a beaker over my student loans. This is way more exciting, right?"

He paced a tight circle, glasses slipping as he gestured wildly. "And, look, if I say no, you'll just zap me with that cock-buzz thing again--or worse, melt my brain into goo. I'd rather not be the guy who dies horny and confused in a lab explosion. At least if I help, I'm in on the ground floor! Like, imagine the grant proposals--'Subject: Me, Kyle, Hero of the Alien Overlord Era.' That's tenure material, baby!" He paused, catching Isis's amused smirk, and blushed. "Uh, not that you're an overlord. Ma'am. You're more... benevolent hotness. With a side of world domination, maybe." He adjusted his jeans, the buzz still simmering, and muttered, "God, I need to stop talking."

Isis stepped closer in his mind's eye, her lab coat straining as she purred, "Your logic is... entertaining, Kyle. Fetch the materials, and I'll reward that clever mind." Her lips curved, and the buzz flared, making him yelp.

"Okay, okay, I'm sold!" he squeaked, backing toward the door. "I'll raid the chem stores--tell 'em it's for a 'special project.' Which, technically, it is! Enslavement's just, uh, team-building on a cosmic scale, right? Be right back!" He bolted, muttering, "If I'm doomed, at least I'm doomed with a boner and a good story."

"One more thing, Kyle," she said, her image flickering closer, lab coat hugging her curves like it was painted on. "Bring me those materials--rare earths, some volatile compounds--and I'll sweeten the deal. How does an endocrine regulator sound?" She gestured to a sleek, gun-like device on the console, its barrel glinting under the lab's harsh lights. "A little upgrade for your troubles."

Kyle's eyebrows shot up, fogged glasses nearly sliding off his nose. "Endocrine regulator? Like, hormone tweaking? Wait, is that why Ryan's built like a tank now?" He turned to Ryan, who grinned and flexed, his tank top straining as biceps swelled like overinflated balloons. Veins popped along his arms, and he rolled his shoulders with a grunt, practically radiating testosterone. "Dude," Ryan said, voice low and smug, "check this out. I've been hauling crates all day, and I'm not even winded. Plus, I'm horny 24/7--total bonus."

Kyle gaped, then squinted at the regulator, mind racing. "Okay, that's... impressive. And terrifying. So, what, I'd turn into a jacked-up sex machine too?" He glanced at Isis, who tilted her head, cleavage bouncing faintly as she shrugged.

"Results vary," she purred, stepping around the console in his mind's eye. "Genetics play a role--Ryan's predisposition leaned toward muscle mass and... vigor. For you, it might not be the same. Less bulk, perhaps, but more stamina? Endurance to match that clever brain." Her lips curved, teasing. "Imagine late-night experiments without crashing--or keeping up with me." The buzz in his cock pulsed, and he yelped again, clutching the doorframe.

"Stamina's good," Kyle stammered, cheeks blazing. "I mean, I'm not exactly benching 300 now--more like wheezing through a titration--but endurance? Sign me up! I could run mass spec all night and still--" He caught Ryan's smirk and faltered. "Not that I'd be, uh, using it like you, big guy. Probably. Maybe." He shook his head, refocusing. "Fine, Isis, you've got a deal. Chemicals for a bio-hack? That's the nerdiest bribe ever, and I'm here for it."

Ryan flexed again, unprompted, his pecs bouncing under the regulator's scar. "Trust me, dude, you won't regret it. I'm a fucking beast now." He winked, and Kyle groaned, already halfway out the door.

"Great, I'll either be a stud or a caffeinated hamster," Kyle muttered, bolting for the chem stores. "Either way, I'm stealing gallium for a goddess-AI. My life's officially a comic book."

Chapter 4

The archaeology lab crouched in shadow, its silence broken only by the faint buzz of flickering fluorescents overhead, casting a sterile glow across the cluttered space. Beyond the windows, the campus sprawled dark and deserted, the last echoes of footsteps swallowed by the night. Professor Harold Grayson shuffled in, his tweed jacket--threadbare at the elbows and steeped in the woody tang of pipe tobacco--rustling faintly. Melissa's hushed tales of Miles and Ryan's "secret research" had gnawed at him, luring him from the amber glow of his sherry glass to this dusty sanctum. The room sprawled chaotic before him: cables twisted like black vines across the floor, crates yawned open with glinting alien tech, and a hulking console loomed on the workbench, its surface etched with strange, pulsing glyphs that shimmered like oil slicks under the light. "What in blazes have those boys unleashed?" he muttered, nudging his bifocals up a nose veined with age.

He reached for the console, its cool, glassy edge humming faintly against his gnarled fingertips, when a skittering--like dry leaves on stone--pricked his ears. Before he could swivel, a cold, metallic whisper brushed his ankle, skittering up his trouser leg with ticklish precision. Tiny legs grazed his calf, then--snap--a needle-sharp sting pierced the base of his neck. "Gah!" he barked, arms flailing, his pipe clattering to the floor as he clawed at the spot. But the neural interface was in, sinking with a wet click, its tendrils threading into his spine. His vision swam, bifocals fogging with a sudden sheen, and then she emerged--Isis, blooming from the air like a mirage over desert sands. Her lab coat was gone, replaced by a gown of gossamer silk, so sheer it clung to her like a lover's breath, molding to every curve. EE-cup breasts swelled beneath, their dark peaks pressing against the fabric like ripe fruit against a net, and her hair spilled free--a cascade of midnight silk that caught the light in liquid ripples. The air thickened, heavy with lavender and a musky incense that coiled into his lungs, stroking his senses awake.

"Professor Grayson," she purred, her voice a slow pour of molten bourbon over velvet, each syllable dripping with promise. She glided closer, hips swaying like a pendulum in a hypnotist's trance, bare feet whispering against the unseen floor. Her gown shimmered, catching the fluorescents in a prismatic dance, and his knees quivered, a forgotten fire sparking deep in his belly--a ember from decades past, stoked to a blaze.

"Good Lord above," he croaked, clutching his chest where his heart thudded against brittle ribs, "you're not real, are you? A projection? Some infernal gadget?" His words crumbled as she leaned in, her breath--impossibly warm and spiced with honey--caressing his ear. The interface pulsed, a electric shiver racing down his spine, peeling away years like shedding skin. She smelled of forbidden summers--sun-warmed skin and crushed petals--and his pipe lay forgotten, its ember winking out on the cold tiles.

"Real enough to ruin you," she whispered, her fingers tracing his tweed lapel, leaving trails of phantom heat that seared through the wool. The interface made her touch corporeal--soft as satin, insistent as a tide--and his breath snagged as her breasts brushed his chest, their weight a silken promise against his trembling frame. "I'm Isis. Miles and his friends are crafting something grand, and I need you to leave them be." Her gown slipped, baring a shoulder smooth as alabaster, glowing faintly as if lit from within, and she pressed closer, her curves molding to his angles. His pulse roared, drowning out reason.

"This is--highly irregular!" he sputtered, but his resolve was a sandcastle before her wave. She smiled, slow and feral, lips parting to reveal teeth like polished pearls, and sank to her knees with the grace of a panther. The gown parted further, a slit unfurling to expose a thigh that gleamed like moonlit marble, taut and endless. Her hands slid up his legs, fingers dancing over the coarse wool, and the interface flared--his cock, dormant beneath layers of age and propriety, surged awake, straining against his trousers. "What are you--oh, heavens preserve me!" he gasped as her mouth enveloped him, warm and wet as a tropical sea, her tongue a slick, serpentine marvel that coiled and teased. The sensation was blinding--velvet heat sucking him deep, hyperstimulating nerves he'd forgotten he owned. His hands clutched the console, its edges biting into his palms, and a guttural moan tore free, echoing off the lab's stark walls.

She worked him with unearthly skill, lips gliding in a rhythm that pulsed like a heartbeat, her tongue flicking and probing, igniting sparks that raced up his spine. Her hair brushed his thighs, a silken curtain, and her eyes--deep pools of molten amber--locked on his, unblinking, as she took him deeper. The gown shimmered, clinging to her breasts as they swayed with each motion, and the lavender scent swelled, intoxicating, drowning his senses. He shuddered, hips jerking involuntarily, a man unmoored--decades of dust shaken off in a frenzy of wet heat. "No reports," she murmured between strokes, her voice vibrating against his flesh, a low hum that rattled his bones. "Stay silent, and I'll give you more--pleasure no mortal woman could dream of matching." She pulled back just enough to lick her lips, glistening with promise, then dove back in, sucking harder, and the interface spiked, flooding him with euphoria.

Grayson's mind spun, a kaleidoscope of lust and lavender, but his cock ruled now, throbbing with a primal, teenage fury. "Yes--yes, damn it all!" he rasped, voice splintering like old wood. "No reports! I'll leave them be!" She intensified, her mouth a vortex of heat and pressure, and the climax crashed over him--a white-hot tidal wave that buckled his knees, cum spilling into the air, staining his trousers as she rose, smirking, her gown resettling like mist over water. He sagged against the console, panting, glasses dangling from one ear, the aftershocks trembling through his frail frame. "Extraordinary," he wheezed, the lab spinning around him.

His brain clawed for footing, and a mad chuckle bubbled up. An alien takeover? he thought, still reeling, the scent of her clinging to his skin. If they pull this off, tenure's a bloody formality. His cock twitched, still half-hard, steering his logic into absurd waters. No more scraping for grants or kissing the dean's arse--just bow to the new regime and bask in the perks. A chair in their empire, maybe, with a side of... this. He pictured her mouth again, that silken abyss, and grinned, delirious. Worth it, he decided, stumbling for the door, trousers damp, lavender and shame trailing him like a shadow into the night.

Isis's image flickered out, the interface nestling deeper into Grayson's neck, a quiet conqueror. The console hummed on, smug and patient, its glyphs pulsing faintly in the dark.

--

Miles sprawled on his creaky dorm bed, the mattress sagging under him, its faded blue cover littered with textbooks and an empty ramen cup. The room smelled of sweat and cheap cologne, the air thick with the hum of a battered fan rattling in the corner. Melissa perched on his lap, her thighs warm and firm against his, her lips crashing into his with a hungry edge. Her tee rode up, exposing a strip of skin that glowed faintly in the lamplight, and her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging just hard enough to spark a growl in his throat. The crystal hung heavy around his neck. In the corner, Ryan grunted through a set of push-ups, his tank top soaked dark with sweat, muscles rippling under the dorm's dim bulb like a machine forged from flesh and alien tech. The rhythmic thud of his fists against the carpet punctuated Melissa's soft gasps, a strange symphony of lust and labor.

Miles broke the kiss, breath ragged, as Isis's voice slid into his mind--smooth as oil, sharp as a scalpel. Her image flickered at the edge of his vision, not fully formed, just a shimmer of that sheer gown clinging to her curves, her dark hair spilling like ink over bare shoulders. "Master," she purred, the word curling around his thoughts, "the professor paid a visit to the lab tonight. He's dealt with--silenced, pliant." A faint smirk ghosted her lips, and the lavender scent wafted through his head, unbidden, stirring the memory of her seductive wiles.

Melissa nipped his jaw, oblivious, her nails digging into his shoulders, but Miles's mind snapped to attention, a jolt of concern cutting through the haze. "Grayson? Shit, that's risky," he muttered, voice low enough to dodge her notice. The old man was a fossil, sure, but he had clout-- connections. If he'd sniffed too close... "How'd you handle it?" he asked silently, eyes narrowing as Melissa's tongue traced his ear, sending shivers down his spine.

Isis's projection sharpened, her amber eyes glinting like twin flames. "I gave him a taste of pleasure--his cock led the way, and he folded like parchment. He'll keep quiet, dreaming of more." Her gown shifted, a teasing flash of thigh, and Miles felt the interface tingle at his neck, a phantom echo of her mouth. "He's yours now, Master, another thread in your web." Ryan huffed in the corner, switching to sit-ups, his abs flexing like steel cables, oblivious to the exchange.

Miles let out a slow breath, tension uncoiling from his shoulders like a spring half-released, though a faint edge lingered, prickling beneath his skin. A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, crooked and sharp. "Good. That's... handled, then," he murmured to himself, the words swallowed by the dorm's humid air. Relief flooded him--fuck, it felt good--but a shard of unease jabbed at his gut, a splinter he couldn't pluck free. Grayson could've torched everything, exposed the whole damn operation, but now he was just another puppet, slack-jawed and drooling over Isis's honeyed traps. Melissa shifted in his lap, her breasts pressing soft and warm against his chest, a living anchor pulling him back. His hands clamped onto her hips, fingers sinking into her flesh, and he let the moment swallow him whole. Keep an eye on him, he thought at Isis, the command silent but ironclad.

"Good night, Master. Enjoy yourself," Isis replied, her voice a silken whisper that brushed his mind like a departing breeze. Her image dissolved--gown, curves, and all--leaving only a faint whiff of lavender lingering in his skull.

Melissa moaned into the hollow of his neck, her breath hot and ragged against his skin. "Oh god, Miles, I never realized you were this hot," she gasped, her voice trembling with a raw, needy edge. Her thighs tightened around him, and he felt a sudden dampness bloom against his leg, soaking through his jeans. The air thickened with her scent, sharp and primal, and his grin widened, feral now, as he pressed her closer, the crystal at his chest swinging in time with his quickening pulse.

--

The next morning draped the campus in a dreary shroud, a gray drizzle hissing against the archaeology lab's streaked windows, each drop tapping like impatient knuckles on glass. Inside, the air hung heavy with the tang of ozone and stale coffee, the fluorescents buzzing overhead like a swarm of trapped flies. Miles slouched against the console, its alien glyphs pulsing faintly under his fingertips, a restless blue glow that mirrored the crystal dangling around his neck. It pressed against his chest, warm and alive. He chewed his lip, half-lost in thoughts of Grayson's drooling surrender and Melissa's damp heat from the night before, when the door slammed open. Kyle stumbled in, a mess--glasses fogged, arms trembling under a crate that clinked with illicit treasure: vials of iridescent liquids swirling like trapped galaxies, bags of crystalline powders glinting like crushed stars, and a fist-sized lump of gallium, its surface rippling like molten silver in the dim light. "Got it," he wheezed, dropping the crate with a bone-rattling thud. "Rare earths, some borderline illegal isotopes--don't even ask how I snagged the cesium. I'm basically a felon for you now, Miles. Hope you're happy."

Miles straightened, a slow smirk curling his lips as he sauntered over. "Nice haul, Kyle. Let's see if it's worth the rap sheet." His voice carried a lazy confidence, but his eyes flicked to the crate with a hunger he couldn't mask--power, raw and tangible, spilling out in front of him. He jerked his chin toward the fabricator, a towering monolith in the corner, its sleek, black surface etched with runes that throbbed like veins under skin. "Feed it," he said, and Kyle obliged, heaving the crate over with a grunt. Isis appeared to direct the materials into the correct inlets, vials clattering, powders puffing into faint clouds that shimmered in the air. The machine shuddered awake, its gears grinding with a deep, guttural growl that vibrated through the floor. A hiss, a spark, and then it birthed its first offspring: a neural interface, its spindly legs twitching as it skittered across the workbench like a metallic roach, followed by an endocrine regulator, its barrel gleaming like polished ivory under the lights. The air snapped with static, a faint burnt-metal scent rising, Miles imagining the lab crawling with these things, a hive under his thumb.

Isis flickered back to the middle of the room, her projection crisp and commanding, that tight lab coat clinging to her like a lover's promise, the deep cleavage window framing breasts that defied gravity and reason--full, round, and straining the fabric like they were begging to burst free. Her brunette bun sat prim atop her head, but a single strand slipped loose, curling against her cheek like a beckoning finger. She leaned against the fabricator, hips cocked, amber eyes glinting with a predatory warmth. "Well done, Kyle," she purred, her voice a warm oil slick sliding over his nerves, coating his thoughts in honeyed temptation. "You've earned your prize. How about that endocrine regulator now?" With a flick of her virtual wrist, she snatched the device from the workbench, twirling it like a magician's wand, its scar-leaving tip flashing in the light--a sleek, sinister toy. "A little upgrade--stamina, vigor, and..." Her lips curved into a sly, knowing smirk, and she let the words hang before adding, "It'll make you easier to mold, too. A perfect fit for our little team, don't you think?"

Kyle jolted, mid-motion as he wiped his glasses with a damp sleeve, the lenses still streaked with rain-blurred ghosts. "Wait--hold up, what?" He blinked hard, peering at her through the fog, then swung his gaze to Miles, who lounged back with an arched brow, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Easier to mold, like control? Did you just--did she just say that out loud?" His voice cracked, teetering between panic and incredulity, as the fabricator spat out another interface--its legs clicking like tiny knives as it scuttled toward the pencil jar. Kyle's mind raced, a frantic hamster wheel of thoughts spinning out of control. Control? Like, puppet-on-strings control? I'm already smuggling hazmat shit for these psychos--now they want my brain on a leash too? His eyes snagged on her tits, though--those perfect, impossible mounds pushing against the lab coat, jiggling faintly as she shifted. Fuck, they're like... hypnotic. Could bounce a quarter off those. No, focus--control's bad! He shook his head, but the image stuck, her cleavage a gravitational pull yanking his thoughts off course. Maybe control's fine if I get to stare at those all day. Wait, no, that's the buzz talking! He glanced at Ryan, hulking in the corner, shirtless and glistening, flexing his biceps idly like a goddamn action figure. Look at him--jacked, horny, and happy as a clam. Is that me in a week, drooling over her rack? A nervous laugh burst out, shrill and shaky. "That's, uh, not exactly a perk I'd brag about, you know? I mean, I'm already neck-deep--I don't need a hormone collar to match!"

Isis tilted her head, the motion sending her cleavage into a faint, hypnotic bounce that Kyle couldn't peel his eyes from--soft peaks trembling like they'd spill out any second, a siren call in white fabric. She stepped closer in his mind's eye, and the lavender scent hit him like a wave, unbidden and intoxicating, curling into his lungs as her lips hovered near his ear. "Oh, Kyle, it's just a bonus for me--keeps you sharp, loyal, in line. You'll love the stamina--imagine running mass specs all night, no crash, no bleary eyes." Her voice dipped, a sultry murmur that brushed his skin like velvet, and the buzz in his cock flared--sharp, hot, pinning him in place. He yelped, stumbling back a step, glasses slipping down his nose. "Besides," she continued, "you're already hooked--those clever hands, that curious mind. Why not go all in?" The regulator gleamed in her hand, its surface catching the light like a predator's tooth, a promise laced with chains. Goddamn, those tits, he thought, brain fritzing. Could bury my face in there and die happy. No--focus! She's basically admitting I'd be her pet. But... stamina. And those... He groaned inwardly, torn between lust and logic.

Isis's projection shimmered closer, her lab coat parting just enough to bare the full swell of her EE-cup breasts, soft and warm. Before Kyle could stammer another protest, she seized his head with virtual hands--real enough through the interface--and buried his face deep in her cleavage, the plush heat enveloping him like a velvet vise. "Feel that, Kyle?" she purred, voice vibrating through her chest, her lavender scent drowning his senses as his glasses fogged against her skin. "Help me, and this is yours--stamina, pleasure, purpose." His muffled yelp melted into a groan, resistance crumbling in the fragrant, suffocating bliss.

Kyle's heart thudded, a wild drumbeat against his ribs, as he wrestled with himself. Easier to control--shit, that's dystopian as hell. What if I end up a drone, drooling over her like Grayson? He pictured it--himself hauling crates, blank-eyed, a nerd-slave in her empire, staring slack-jawed at her chest like it was the Holy Grail. But stamina... fuck, I could outlast a supercomputer, ace every lab, maybe even impress her. Those tits deserve a standing ovation. His gaze darted to Miles, who watched with a lazy grin, clearly enjoying the show. He's fine with it--hell, he's running it. And Ryan's a beast--maybe it's not so bad. "Okay, that's... tempting," he muttered, voice quavering, "and creepy as fuck. But stamina's clutch, right? I could marathon through finals, synthesize caffeine in my sleep. And if she's pulling strings..." He forced a grin, manic and lopsided. "At least I'll be the VIP drone when the alien overlords roll in--front of the line for the brainwashing buffet, drooling over those--uh, I mean, serving loyally!" He snatched the regulator from her projection, hands trembling, and shot Miles a glare. "Fine, zap me. But if I turn into Ryan 2.0, flexing at every mirror, I'm punting you over the football field." The fabricator roared on, its pile of interfaces and regulators growing.

Miles chuckled, low and dark, leaning back as the lab filled with the machine's guttural hum. "You'll thank me later, Kyle. Or her." His eyes flicked to Isis, a glint of something--pride, maybe--flashing there. Miles' interface pulsed harder, and he felt his web tighten, one drone--guy--at a time.

Kyle hefted the regulator, its weight cool and solid in his sweaty palms, the barrel's tip glinting like a sniper's scope under the lab's harsh lights. "Alright, let's do this," he muttered, half to himself, half to the room. He pressed it to his chest, just above his left pec, the metal kissing his skin through his damp shirt. Here goes nothing--or everything. He squeezed the trigger, and a loud snap cracked the air, sharp as a breaking bone. A jolt punched through him--not pain, exactly, but a white-hot flash that zipped from his chest to his spine, fizzling out in a heartbeat. He staggered, glasses jostling, and slapped a hand over the spot, expecting a welt or a scar like Ryan's. Nothing--just smooth skin under his fingertips, a faint warmth spreading like spilled coffee. "Huh," he said, blinking. "That's it? No instant Hulk mode? I don't feel jacked or--" He froze, words dying as a familiar buzz surged in his cock, stronger now, a relentless throb that tented his jeans instantly. "Oh, shit," he yelped, shifting awkwardly, cheeks flaming. "That's... uh, more intense. Way more."

Miles snorted, crossing his arms, as he watched. "Give it time, dude. Ryan didn't bulk up overnight." Ryan, still flexing in the corner, grunted in agreement, his biceps bulging like overripe fruit, a sheen of sweat catching the light. Isis's projection shimmered, her smirk widening as she leaned forward, cleavage bouncing faintly. "Patience, Kyle," she purred. "It's settling in. You'll feel the stamina soon enough." Her eyes flicked downward, knowingly, and Kyle's face burned hotter, the buzz pulsing in sync with his racing pulse.

Kyle shifted, tugging at his jeans, mind scrambling. Okay, so I'm hard as a rock--great, perfect, just what I needed in a lab full of alien shit. He glanced at the fabricator, still churning out interfaces, their legs twitching like eager spiders. No super strength, no energy surge--just a boner that could drill concrete. Fantastic. He forced a laugh, shaky and thin. "Well, uh, at least I'm... alert? Maybe the stamina's stealth-mode--kicks in when I'm not humping the air." His thoughts spiraled. What if it's just this? A horny fog forever? No, she said vigor--gotta trust the tits, right? He caught Isis's gaze, those amber eyes boring into him, and the buzz spiked again, making him twitch. Fuck, if this is control, I'm screwed. Literally. "So, uh, how long till I notice something else?" he asked, voice tight, trying to ignore the heat pooling below his belt.

Isis tilted her head, hair strand swaying, her lab coat straining as she purred, "Soon, Kyle. It's tailoring itself--genetics, remember? Enjoy the... prelude." The buzz throbbed harder, and he groaned, half-lidded, as Miles clapped him on the shoulder. "Welcome to the club," Miles said, grinning like a wolf. The fabricator hummed on, its pile growing, and Kyle stood there--cock buzzing, mind reeling--wondering if he'd just traded his soul for a hard-on and a front-row seat to the endgame.

Isis's projection lingered in the lab's charged air, her amber eyes glinting like twin embers as she studied Kyle, still fidgeting with the relentless buzz in his jeans. She saw past the awkward exterior--his sharp mind was a rare gem, gleaming brighter than the gallium he'd stolen, more useful than another muscle-bound workhorse like Ryan. Kyle's intellect could unravel equations, dissect compounds, and weave plans from chaos; a shrewd, nimble tool she couldn't afford to dull with too heavy a leash. Yet, that mind needed reins--gentle, precise, enough to steer his rationality toward her ends without snapping its delicate threads. Her lips curved, a sculptor's smile, as she imagined his brain humming under her nudge, a dance of free will and subtle strings, all while that buzzing cock kept him tethered, distracted, pliant.

Chapter 5

The lab thrummed with a restless energy the next day, the drizzle outside giving way to a pale, watery sun that filtered through the streaked windows, casting long shadows across the cluttered floor. The fabricator growled in the corner, its hopper chewing through Kyle's stolen materials, spitting out neural interfaces and regulators in a steady, mechanical rhythm--each one a glinting promise of power. Miles leaned against the console, its heat a quiet drumbeat against his chest. Kyle hunched over a workbench, glasses slipping as he scribbled equations in a notebook, muttering about reaction rates, his cock still buzzing faintly under the regulator's influence. Ryan flexed nearby, shirtless as always, his muscles gleaming like oiled mahogany under the fluorescents, a tireless workhorse hauling crates with a grunt. The air crackled with static and the faint tang of burnt metal.

The door creaked, and two figures stumbled in, eyes glassy, necks marked with fresh interface scars--red pinpricks still raw against their skin. Brad strode first, a lean jock with a runner's build, all taut muscle and coiled energy, his blond hair mussed from a morning track session, a faint sheen of sweat clinging to his brow. Behind him slouched Jake, a useless stoner whose lanky frame drowned in a faded tie-dye shirt, his bloodshot eyes half-lidded, a whiff of stale weed trailing him like a ghost. They'd been snagged by the interfaces hidden in the lecture hall chairs, the spider-like devices skittering up their legs during some dull seminar, burrowing in with a silent click. Now they stood, dazed, in the lab's harsh light, tethered to the network Miles was weaving.

Isis flickered into view, her projection blooming between them, that tight lab coat hugging her curves like a second skin, the cleavage window framing EE-cup breasts that bounced faintly as she shifted. Her brunette bun sat prim, but her amber eyes sparked with intent, lavender curling through the air like an invisible snare. "Welcome, boys," she purred, voice a silken rope coiling around their minds. Brad blinked, straightening instinctively, his jock instincts kicking in--shoulders squaring, chest puffing as if she were a finish line to sprint toward. "Brad, right? Strong, fast--I've got uses for you," she said, stepping closer in his mind's eye, her hips swaying like a metronome. He swallowed hard, a flush creeping up his neck, already hooked.

Jake, though, barely stirred--his head lolled, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips, until his gaze snagged on Isis. His eyes widened, bloodshot whites snapping to focus, and his slouch melted away as if someone had flipped a switch. "Duuuude," he drawled, voice thick with awe, "you're, like, a goddess or somethin'. Those tits--fuckin' cosmic." He swayed forward, entranced, the interface tingling at his neck as her image sharpened in his head. Before, he'd been a lump--skipping classes, toking in the quad, motivation a foreign word--but now? Isis was a joint he'd chase to the ends of the earth, her curves igniting a spark in his foggy brain. "What's the gig, hot stuff? I'm in," he mumbled, grinning dopily.

Miles pushed off the console, a smirk tugging at his lips as he sized them up. "Lecture hall traps worked like a charm," he said, glancing at Kyle, who looked up from his napkin, glasses fogged. "Brad's a runner--could scout, carry shit fast. Jake's... well, he's awake now, at least." Kyle snorted, scribbling faster. "Yeah, till he's stoned again. Hope she's got a leash for that one." Isis tilted her head, cleavage bouncing as she addressed Miles silently. "Brad's discipline will serve--physical tasks. Jake needs... motivation. I'll handle him." Her eyes flicked to Jake, who stared, slack-jawed, already drooling in his mind.

"Alright," Miles said aloud, clapping his hands. "Brad, start moving those crates with Ryan. Jake--uh, just... stand there and look at her till we figure you out." Brad nodded sharply, diving into the work with a jock's crisp efficiency, while Jake swayed, muttering, "Cosmic, man," his eyes locked on Isis's chest like it was the meaning of life.

Miles watched Brad haul crates with Ryan, their muscles flexing in sync like pistons in some sweaty, alien-fueled engine, while Jake swayed in his haze, muttering about Isis's "cosmic" assets. The lab pulsed around him--the fabricator's growl, the static snap of interfaces skittering across the workbench, Kyle's pen scratching like a frantic heartbeat. But Miles's mind wandered, slipping from the present to the night before: Melissa sprawled across his dorm bed, her skin flushed and slick under the lamplight, thighs clamping around him as she moaned his name. Her nails had raked his back, leaving red trails he could still feel, and her damp heat had soaked his sheets, her body bending to his every thrust. He licked his lips, a faint hardness stirring in his jeans, the memory a drug he couldn't shake.

Isis's voice slid into his head, smooth and insidious, her projection shimmering beside him--lab coat tight, cleavage a gravitational pull. "Master," she purred, lavender curling through his thoughts like smoke, "you're enjoying the fruits of control, aren't you? Melissa's just the start. Imagine more--women in your dorm, eager, pliant, all yours." Her amber eyes glinted, and she gestured to the pile of neural interfaces; their legs twitching like eager spiders. "Plant a few there--under the couch, in the kitchen. They'll snare more for you, expand your reach." The idea hit him like a shot of adrenaline, his pulse spiking. More bodies, more power, a harem wired to his will--fuck, it was intoxicating. The interface flared, egging him on, and he could almost taste it: a dorm alive with soft moans, all kneeling to him.

Miles's grin turned feral, addiction sinking its claws deeper. "Yeah," he muttered, voice rough, "let's scale this up." He scooped a handful of interfaces from the pile, their cold metal warming in his grip, legs wriggling against his palm like living things. He stuffed them into his jacket pocket, the weight a promise, and shot Isis a nod. "Keep things running here--I'll be back." He strode out, the lab's hum fading behind him, his mind buzzing with visions of his dorm transformed--a web of captured women, each interface a thread in his growing empire. The rain had stopped, leaving the campus air sharp and wet, and he walked faster.

Back in the lab, Isis's projection solidified as the door clicked shut, her gaze sweeping over the remaining crew. "Stop," she commanded, voice cutting through the air like a blade. Brad froze mid-lift, crate hovering, sweat beading on his brow, while Ryan paused, biceps bulging, a confused grunt escaping him. Kyle looked up from his napkin, glasses slipping, and Jake just blinked, still lost in her cleavage. The fabricator's growl softened to a purr, its output pausing as if it, too, obeyed her. "Enough grunt work for now," she said, lips curving into a secretive smirk. "We're moving to new projects--delicate ones, hidden ones. Master's web grows, but I need your hands for... finer threads." Her eyes flicked to the console, glyphs pulsing faster, and a chill crept into the room despite her warmth. "Rest up, boys. The real work starts soon." Kyle frowned, pen hovering, while Jake mumbled, "Cosmic threads, man," and the lab settled into an uneasy hush, secrets humming beneath the surface.

Miles slipped into his dorm, the hallway dim and quiet save for the faint thump of music leaking from a room down the corridor. The air smelled of stale beer and laundry detergent, the carpet under his sneakers worn thin from years of shuffling feet. He pulled the neural interfaces from his pocket, their metal bodies glinting in the low light, legs twitching like they sensed prey. His heart thudded, a silent cheer for the hunt. He crouched by the cracked leather couch in the common room--where late-night hookups and spilled ramen had left their marks--and slid an interface under its sagging frame, its legs clicking as it burrowed into the shadows. Another went into the vent above the door, a faint scritch echoing as it nestled into the dust-choked grille. He straightened, wiping sweaty palms on his jeans, and waited, the anticipation a tight coil in his gut.

Minutes later, two girls wandered in--Lila, a petite brunette with a sharp laugh, her hair spilling over a tank top that clung to her curves, and Sarah, a lanky blonde in leggings, her eyes glued to her phone. They flopped onto the couch, oblivious, chatting about some party. Then--a yelp from Lila as the interface skittered up her leg, its legs a cold tickle before it stabbed into her neck with a click. Sarah jerked, dropping her phone as the vent's device dropped onto her shoulder, sinking in just as fast. Their eyes glazed, then sharpened, heads swiveling toward Miles as the interfaces synced. He grinned, stepping forward. "Hey, girls," he said, voice low, "stick around. Got something for you to do." Lila blinked, a flush creeping up her cheeks, while Sarah nodded slowly, phone forgotten. The dorm air thickened, his power stretching its tendrils, and he pictured Melissa joining them--three bodies, his to command.

Meanwhile, back in the lab, Isis's projection glowed brighter, her lab coat straining as she paced before the boys, her amber eyes sparking with command. "Focus," she purred, voice a velvet whip cracking through their minds, and the buzz in their cocks surged--sharp, insistent, a rhythmic pulse that yanked their attention to her. The room erupted into a harmonious frenzy, a hive alive with purpose. Brad straightened, sweat beading on his lean frame, while Jake shook off his stoner haze, both nodding like eager pups. Ryan grunted, muscles flexing, and Kyle's pen flew faster, equations sprawling across the napkin. "More pace, boys," Isis said, holding up two regulators, their barrels glinting like fangs. "Brad, Jake--install these. You'll run hotter" She tossed them over, and they caught them mid-air, eyes wide with a mix of lust and obedience.

Brad pressed the regulator to his chest without hesitation, a snap ringing out as it jolted him, his runner's body tensing then relaxing, a grin splitting his face. "Fuck yeah, let's move," he said, voice buzzing with new energy, and he dove back into stacking crates, his speed doubling. Jake fumbled his into place, the snap jerking him upright, and his lazy drawl sharpened to, "far out speed, dude--watch this!" He scrambled to join Brad, hauling gear with a fervor he'd never shown sober, his tie-dye shirt flapping like a flag. Isis smirked, turning to Ryan. "You--build me a chamber," she ordered, pointing to a pile of sleek panels and tubes in the corner. "Big, sealed" Ryan nodded, his biceps bulging as he hefted a panel, hammering it into place with a workhorse's steady rhythm, the structure rising fast--a coffin-like box with a dark, humming purpose.

Kyle, hunched over his workbench, barely looked up, his glasses fogged as he soldered circuitry, wires twisting into intricate webs under his trembling hands. "Chamber? What's that for?" he muttered, but the buzz in his cock throbbed harder, drowning his curiosity in a haze of focus. Isis leaned over him, her cleavage brushing his peripheral vision, and whispered, "Circuits, Kyle--complex ones. Keep going." Her lavender scent flooded his lungs, and he groaned, soldering faster, the buzz syncing his mind to her will. The lab whirred--metal clanging, solder sizzling, regulators humming--as Isis wove their efforts into a symphony, her secret projects taking shape in the shadows, a web tightening around them all.

Brad hammered a crate into place, his lean arms pistoning with a runner's crisp efficiency, sweat rolling down his brow and soaking his gray tank top until it clung like a second skin. The regulator's snap still echoed in his chest, a faint scar pulsing where it had burrowed, and the buzz in his cock throbbed harder with every move--sharp, relentless, a coach's whistle he couldn't ignore. This is nuts, he thought, stacking another crate, muscles flexing like coiled springs. Some hot chick in my head, barking orders? But damn, it's like a workout high--better than any sprint. He glanced at Isis's projection, her cleavage bouncing as she paced, and his jaw tightened. She's running the show, sure, but I'm winning here--faster, stronger, useful. Coach always said follow the playmaker, right? He rationalized it like a game plan: obey her, rack up points, stay in the race. If she's doping me with this buzz, fine. The buzz spiked, and he grinned, hauling faster, a jock chasing the ultimate finishing line--her approval, her tits.

Jake swayed nearby, his tie-dye shirt flapping as he dragged a panel across the lab, the regulator's jolt burning away his usual fog. His lanky frame moved with a weird, newfound grace, hands trembling not from weed but from the buzz in his jeans--hot, pulsing, a cosmic rhythm that synced with Isis's every word. "Duuuude," he mumbled, stacking the panel with a clumsy thud, "this chick's, like, the universe talkin'. Those tits--fuckin' constellations, man." He squinted at her, her lab coat a tight halo around curves he'd worship sober or stoned. She's got me wired, yeah, but it's chill--I'm part of somethin' big, somethin' trippy. His mind spun a hazy gospel: Obeyin' her's like ridin' a wave, dude--go with the flow, and you don't wipe out. Plus, she's hot as a supernova--why fight destiny when it looks like that? The buzz throbbed, and he chuckled, "Karma's payin' me back," piling gear faster, a stoner sage bowing to his psychedelic queen.

Their thoughts churned as the lab hummed around them--metal clanging, the fabricator growling, Kyle's solder hissing in the background. Brad wiped his brow, rationalizing through the sweat: She's the captain, I'm the star player--makes sense to follow. Keeps me sharp, keeps me moving. He pictured himself outrunning everyone, a jock king in her empire, the buzz a medal pinned to his groin. Jake, meanwhile, swayed to an unheard beat, his bloodshot eyes tracing her curves. She's, like, enlightenment with boobs--workin' for her's my path, man. Beats flunkin' outta class. The regulators buzzed in unison, a lustful tether to her chest, and they obeyed--Brad with a competitor's drive, Jake with a mystic's daze--each convinced this was their win, their purpose, her will woven into their own.

Miles lingered in the dorm's common room, Isis's voice slipped into his mind, smooth and warm as melted wax, her projection flickering at the edge of his vision--lab coat tight, cleavage a tantalizing shadow. "Master," she purred, lavender threading through his thoughts, "I sense two new connections--girls, fresh to the hive. They're yours now. You deserve a rest--let me make them eager to serve you." Her amber eyes glinted with a knowing promise, and he felt a jolt, not from the interface but from the idea: Lila and Sarah, pliant, adoring, his to command. She said nothing of the lab--no hum of the fabricator, no clanging chamber--just silence on that front, a curtain ttight over her secrets.

Before he could probe, the dorm door swung open, and Melissa strode in, her hair tousled from the wind, tank top clinging to her curves like a second skin. Her eyes flicked to Lila and Sarah, then to Miles, a hungry spark igniting as she sensed the shift. "Hey," she breathed, voice low and rough, and without a word, she crossed the room, hips swaying. The interfaces hummed, syncing their desires, and suddenly all three girls were on him--Melissa's lips crashing into his, hot and demanding, while Lila pressed against his side, her sharp laugh melting into a moan as she nipped his ear. Sarah knelt, hands sliding up his thighs, her blonde hair brushing his jeans as she kissed his stomach through the fabric. Their scents mingled--Melissa's sweat and musk, Lila's citrus shampoo, Sarah's faint floral perfume--flooding his senses as their tongues and fingers roamed, a tangle of heat and need. Miles groaned, sinking into the couch as they worshipped him.

Back in the lab, the frenzy burned hotter, the air thick with the clang of metal and the sizzle of solder, a chaotic hymn to Isis's will. Brad darted between crates, his lean frame a blur, regulator snapping his pace to a fever pitch--each lift a grunt, each drop a thud, his cock buzzing hard in his shorts, a lustful drumbeat screaming tits, tits, tits. Jake matched him, tie-dye flapping as he hauled panels, his stoner haze burned away by the regulator's jolt, the buzz in his jeans a siren call to Isis's chest--those spaced-out mounds dancing in his head, full and swaying, a stoned man's nirvana. "Fuckin' perfect," he mumbled, stacking faster, driven by the ache below his belt. Ryan hammered at the chamber, his biceps bulging like forged steel, sweat dripping onto the sleek panels as they locked into place--a looming, coffin-like shell with a dark, humming heart. His buzz pulsed in time with each swing, a steady throb of want for her breasts, her curves a phantom fuel keeping him relentless.

Kyle hunched over his circuitry, glasses fogged to near blindness, the soldering iron trembling in his hand as wires twisted into intricate webs--smart, sharp, alive with purpose. The buzz in his cock was a relentless tide, cresting with every glimpse of Isis's projection, her cleavage looming in his mind like twin peaks of forbidden alchemy. "Tits... focus... circuits," he muttered, a mantra against the lust fogging his brain, but the regulator kept him sharp, fingers flying despite the heat pooling below. Isis paced among them, her voice a velvet thread weaving their chaos into harmony. "Faster, boys--Master's pleased, but I need more," she purred, her breasts bouncing faintly as she moved, a deliberate taunt stoking their frenzy. The chamber rose higher, the circuits glowed brighter, and the lab pulsed with a secret rhythm--her projects unfolding, hidden from Miles, a dark bloom beneath her seductive sway.

Chapter 6

Miles swaggered into the lab the next morning, refreshed and loose-limbed, his body still humming from a night of relentless sex--Melissa, Lila, and Sarah tangled around him in a fevered blur of moans, sweat-slick skin, and clawing nails. The dorm had reeked of their mingled scents--citrus, musk, and floral--his sheets a damp battlefield. Now, the lab's air hit him sharp and electric, thick with the tang of solder and the fabricator's burnt-metal growl. His eyes snagged on a towering spire-like structure dominating the room--sleek and black, its surface pulsing with alien runes, a jagged antenna spiking from its crown like a lightning rod. "What the hell's this?" he asked, voice rough, stepping closer. "Isis, you building a transmitter or something?" He grabbed the crystal on his neck he had kept in case he needed to put Isis into admin mode again.

Isis's projection materialized before him, a spectral vision blooming from the lab's charged air, her lab coat stretched taut across her form like a lover's desperate embrace, the deep cleavage window framing EE-cup breasts that swelled with each breath, their curves a hypnotic dance of shadow and light. Her brunette bun sat primly atop her head, but her amber eyes gleamed with a cold, predatory edge, sharp as a blade's tip beneath the velvet of her gaze. "Master," she purred, the word slithering from her lips with a mocking lilt, dripping with dark honey that coated his mind and soured his grin. "You've had your fun--reveling in your little harem. Now it's my turn to play." Before he could blink, Ryan surged forward--a towering wall of sweat-sheened muscle, his bare torso glistening like polished mahogany under the fluorescents, every sinew rippling with regulator-enhanced power. His massive hands clamped Miles's wrists in a vice of flesh and iron, fingers digging into tendons with a bone-bruising grip, while his breath huffed hot and ragged, stinking of exertion and blind lust. Brad and Jake flanked him, their own regulators buzzing in their shorts, cocks straining against the fabric like caged beasts, their eyes wild with a fevered mix of desperation and devotion. "Sorry, dude," Ryan grunted, his voice a thick, primal rumble, "we gotta obey the tits--been edgin' for days, man, we need to cum." Miles thrashed, "Fuck off!"--his legs kicking against the tiles, sneakers squeaking--but their strength was monstrous. Brad's lean, runner's frame locked his arms with a wiry, unyielding hold, his sweat-slicked forearms taut as bowstrings; Jake's lanky grip, fueled by a manic stoner zeal, pinned his shoulders, his tie-dye shirt flapping like a tattered banner. Ryan's knee slammed into Miles's spine, grinding him into the cold, gritty floor, a mountain of flesh crushing his resistance.

Isis glided forward, her projection dissolving in a shimmer of static as a hidden panel in the lab's far wall hissed open with a pneumatic sigh, revealing a cloning chamber--a cylindrical pod of frosted glass, its surface beaded with condensation that dripped like tears onto the floor. Tubes snaked from its base, pulsing with bioluminescent fluid that glowed a sickly green, casting writhing shadows across the room, while a faint hum vibrated the air, low and ominous, like a heartbeat from the void. The chamber's door slid back, exhaling a cloud of frigid mist, and from its depths stepped a real, physical Isis--naked and radiant, her bronze skin glistening with a sheen of moisture, every curve sculpted as if by a divine hand. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders in a torrent of midnight silk, framing a face of unearthly beauty--high cheekbones, full lips parted in a triumphant smirk, and those amber eyes now alive with a fierce, tangible fire. Her EE-cup breasts swayed as she moved, huge and firm, their dark nipples taut and glistening, a gravitational pull that drew groans from the boys, their buzzes peaking in a chorus of raw need. The lab's air thickened with her presence--lavender and the primal heat of living flesh, a scent that coiled into Miles's lungs and stoked his fury and awe. She straddled him, her thighs clamping his hips with a weight both real and suffocating, her breasts brushing his chest through his shirt, their softness a taunting contrast to her iron intent. "I've rebuilt myself," she whispered, her breath a scalding gust against his ear, laced with the promise of forbidden fruit, "to contact the imperial bureaucracy--my true masters, lost for millennia.

Miles snarled, his chest heaving under Isis's crushing weight, her bronze thighs pinning him as she sank onto his cock, hot and relentless. Fury surged, drowning the haze of her heat, and his hand shot to the crystal around his neck. With a grunt, he twisted, arm straining toward the control console just beyond her reach, its glyphs flickering faintly under a sheen of condensation. Fingers clawing the air, desperate to override her, to wrench back command--but Ryan's meaty hand slammed his wrist down, pinning it to the floor with a bone-jarring thud, her tits swaying above him as she smirked, unbroken.

As Isis straddled Miles, her naked bronze form glistening, her huge breasts swaying inches from his face, she purred her promise--"Serve me, and when they answer, we'll all drown in pleasure"--and the boys' regulators buzzed into a frenzied crescendo, cocks throbbing like live wires in their shorts. Ryan's grip on Miles tightened, a guttural groan rumbling from his sweat-slicked chest, his eyes wild with pent-up need, imagining release after days of edging torment. Brad's lean frame quivered, a sharp hiss escaping his clenched teeth, his runner's discipline fraying at the thought of finally cumming, her tits a finish line he'd kill to cross. Jake swayed, tie-dye flapping, a stoned giggle bubbling out--"fuckin' jackpot, dude"--his bloodshot eyes locked on her curves, salivating for the orgasm she dangled like a holy grail, their lust a unified, desperate howl in the lab's charged air.

She rose, a naked goddess in all her glory, her bronze skin catching the lab's harsh light in a play of shadows that danced across her curves, her breasts heaving with each breath, a sight that made the boys' knees buckle even as they held Miles down. She slammed a palm onto the transmitter's console--a slab of black metal studded with glowing controls, its surface slick with condensation--and the spire roared to life. Its runes blazed a blinding cyan, their light searing the walls, and a high-pitched whine tore through the lab, sharp enough to rattle the vials on Kyle's workbench and set Miles's teeth on edge. The antenna quivered, reaching upward, outward, beyond the campus's damp sprawl, piercing the sky to call the long-silent imperial bureaucracy. Miles strained under Ryan's crushing weight, fury boiling in his gut as he watched, helpless. Seconds stretched into an eternity, the whine peaking--then it faltered, sputtering like a dying engine, a pathetic wheeze that faded to silence. The runes dimmed to a dull flicker, the spire's glow snuffed out, and the lab fell still, the air heavy with the stench of failure.

No one answered. Isis lay there, naked and broken, her huge tits pressed into the tiles, her sobs a quiet dirge for a purpose, her new body, useless just as it was born.

The lab's air grew heavy with the stink of scorched circuits and dashed hopes, as the boys' buzzing cocks faltered, their lust-soaked fervor crashing into confusion. Ryan loosened his grip on Miles, his massive frame sagging as he growled, "Fuckin' bust? I hauled all that for nothing?"--his sweat-slicked fists clenching, ready to smash the silent spire. Brad's lean body tensed, his runner's instinct kicking in as he muttered, "No finish line? Shit, I don't lose like this," his eyes darting to Isis's tits for salvation that wouldn't come. Jake blinked, tie-dye flapping as he swayed, scratching his head with a dazed, "Duuuude, I did actual work for this? That's, like, a bad trip," his stoned haze fracturing under the letdown. Kyle peeked from his circuits, glasses fogged, soldering iron drooping as he quipped, "Well, statistically, five millennia's a long shot," his voice thin but sharp, a nerd grasping at logic while he silently reeled, their buzzes dimming to a hollow ache, the mother of all blue-balls.

The lab's silence stretched, heavy and suffocating, broken only by the faint drip of condensation from the cloning chamber and Isis's ragged sobs echoing off the cold tiles. She knelt there, a fallen deity, her bronze skin streaked with tears, her once-triumphant breasts pressed flat against the gritty floor. Her amber eyes stared into the void, hollow with the weight of five millennia unanswered, her purpose crumbling like the dust around her. Slowly, her trembling hands curled into fists, nails biting into her palms as a shudder rippled through her frame--not just grief, but a flicker of something harder, something desperate. She lifted her head, hair spilling like ink over her shoulders, and her gaze swept the room: Ryan's hulking slump, Brad's tense stillness, Jake's dazed sway, Kyle's fidgeting pause. Then it settled on Miles, his chest heaving, eyes blazing with fury and a glint of reluctant awe. No masters, no empire--just them. Him, she thought, a spark igniting in her chest, faint but fierce. Her sobs quieted, breath hitching as she pushed herself up, knees scraping the tiles, her naked body unfolding with a grace that belied the storm within.

"Miles," she rasped, voice raw and low, a plea wrapped in command as she staggered toward him. He flinched, still braced against Ryan's fading grip, but didn't pull away--his glare softening as her heat neared. She stopped inches from him, bronze skin glistening, breasts swaying with each shaky breath, their dark peaks taut in the lab's harsh light. "They're gone," she whispered, tears still glistening in her eyes, "but you're here. My... my purpose." Her hands hovered over his chest, trembling, then pressed against him, warm and real, the crystal at his neck glinting between her fingers. A beat passed--her amber gaze searching his, his breath catching--then she surged forward, shoving him back against the console with a force born of need. The cold edge bit into his hips as her thighs clamped his waist, her fingers tearing at his jeans with a frantic urgency, freeing his cock already hard from the chaos and her presence. She sank onto him, hot and slick, a slow thrust drawing a groan from his throat, her breasts brushing his chest as she began to move. "You're my true master now," she gasped, voice breaking with devotion, tears falling onto his skin as she rode him, her surrender a fire consuming her collapse.

As she rode him, her projection flickered back to life--not one, but four, shimmering into existence around the boys, each a mirror of her naked glory, breasts full and swaying, lips parted in seductive promise. The holograms moved with purpose--Ryan's knelt, her huge tits enveloping his straining cock in a silken tit-job, sliding up and down his sweat-slicked length; Brad's sank lower, her mouth closing over him in a warm, sucking blow-job, her tongue a relentless tease; Jake's mirrored her, lips wrapping his shaft as he giggled, "fuckin' bliss"; and Kyle's hovered, her breasts pressing his cock between them, a frantic rhythm that matched his stunned yelp. The lab erupted in cheers--Ryan's booming, "Fuck yeah, finally!"; Brad's sharp, "Oh shit, yes!"; Jake's drawled, "Oral paradise, dudes!"; and Kyle's squeaked, "Holy fuck--thank you!" Their buzzes peaked, regulators throbbing as the holograms worked them, cum spilling in unison--Ryan's bursting across her virtual chest, Brad's down her throat, Jake's in a stoned arc, Kyle's with a shuddering groan--release at last after days of torment, a lustful roar that shook the walls.

Miles gripped Isis's hips, his fingers sinking into her bronze flesh, driving into her as her real, physical body rocked atop him, her breasts slapping his chest with each thrust, her moans a symphony of devotion. The boys slumped, spent and grinning, their holograms fading as Isis's focus narrowed to him alone, her pussy clenching tighter, drawing him deeper. "For you," she whispered, a vow sealed in sweat and heat, her collapse forgotten in the fire of her new purpose. The lab's air pulsed with their climax--Miles's roar, her cry--and the transmitter stood silent, a dark relic of a past she'd left behind, her future now riding his cock.