Chapter Text
My head… it feels like I had been hit over the head with a brick. No… it had been something potentially even more harmful than that- I had drunk an entire vial of that experimental medicine, so perhaps I should count myself as “lucky”? We’ll go with that; I’m lucky that all I’ve got is a pounding headache and numbness in my arms.
It’s clear when I open my eyes that I’m in one of the academy’s classrooms despite the lights being off and the blinds drawn.
“And just how are you feeling, my little guinea pig?”
A menacingly sweet voice echoes from behind. The clack of her Uma-shoed loafers approaching is like pins and needles into my head, her light touch on my shoulder as she circles around me anything but reassuring. My trainee, Agnes Tachyon, leans in closer with eyes wide -maniacally wide- as she tilts her head, making the single curled strand of chocolate hair atop her head twist like a question mark.
Mouth dry, muscles achey, my pulse high and painfully short of breath… when I tell her my woes, she simply nods along while rubbing her chin, as if pondering some grand mystery of what could have caused this. No, the real mystery isn’t what sort of side effects the medicine had, it was what had compelled me to do it in the first place.
Tachyon leans in to get a good look, and that’s when I notice that she’s flushed red. Even in the dim light of her “lab” I can see there’s a sweaty sheen to her skin; had she been overexerting herself to haul me here from the track?
“What about you, Tachyon?” I’m suddenly compelled to ask.
She’s taken aback, eyes wide and each rapid blink is like she’s trying to make sure that I am actually real. Ears drooped and tail restlessly swishing, she scrutinizes you further, like my absurd question came from a place of feverish delusion.
“You could be suffering from phallic myocardial infarction… and yet your first concern is if I am okay?”
“You’re my trainee, Tachyon. Of course you come first… wait what’s phallic myocardial infarction ?”
Tachyon cackles, shaking her head in utter disbelief. When she finally looks me in the eyes again, she’s smiling- an honest-to-goodness smile… for about a second, then that gentle upturn in the corner of her lips curls into something far more devious.
“Hmm? You want to know how I am? Well, you’ve been rutting me the last hour or so. I had to tie you down to keep you calm.” she shrugs. “It’s been excellent data on both human physiology and my Medicine Beta!”
She shrugs. Like it was no big deal?
“What!?” I reflexively blurt, lunging forward… only to hit the aforementioned restraints- specifically my hands tied behind the back of the chair. It’s only when reality comes crashing in that I get a good look at my trainee. Being honed-in to her wellbeing is my job, and I can easily see that she has been exerting herself. Her cheeks slightly flushed, the mess of her short-chopped chocolate hair clinging to the sides of her face, the sheen of sweat on the bits of her thighs exposed beneath the ruffled pleated-skirt and hastily pulled-up thigh-highs, the sweet exposed skin of her neck where her school uniform has been pulled open at the collar... Tachyon hasn’t been lying. As if my pulse couldn’t go higher, the consequences of a trainer daring to lay hands on their Uma has my heart nearly pounding itself out of my chest.
It also has the unintended consequence of pumping the blood to somewhere else. My self-consciousness is in a 1200 meter sprint against several hundred-thousand years of human biological instinct.
It’s a complete blowout.
“ Ohh? It’s still not out of your system yet?” Tachyon rubs her chin while eyeing my… instrument rising beneath my unbuckled pants . I know that look- it’s like she’s weighing some sort of decision that I don’t quite think is going to be her letting me go home.
“Tachyon,” I huff, trying my best to ignore how, when she leans in, I can glimpse down her blouse, “Can you let me go, please? We can pretend like this didn’t happen-”
“I can take the restraints off, but letting you go home is not an option- not while the medicine is still working! You need to be observed.”
“For your data?” Though I often do my best to hold back my expressions during Tachyon’s more eccentric moments, I can’t conceal how my lips pull into a thin line of exasperation.
Tachyon counters with her own deep sigh, tilting her head to stare long and hard at me. There in those dulled red eyes is the same steely seriousness she gets before a race. She answers simply, “Yes, but also because you need to be monitored for your health. Please leave the EKG attached.”
She comes around the back of the chair, fiddling with something until the pressure on my wrists releases. Relieved, I rub the red divots in my wrists- clearly I had been struggling against them to have rubbed myself raw like this. Reflexively I move to remove the little suction cups on my chest until Tachyon forcibly stops me.
“Now that you’re awake, I can get a whole new data set!”
“And what might that be, Tachyon?” I answer while tugging my shirt more around myself, feeling suddenly more naked when her gaze drags across me.
“I told you…” she says low and huskily, voice tinged with a mischievous madness as she tugs the ends of her skirt. Little by little, she teasingly raises that white curtain up her thighs. “You’ve been rutting me the last hour or so, to the point where I could barely stand anymore! I had to tie you to the chair just to catch a break!”
“I… wha?” the words I had to reprimand her dribble out of my mouth like drool, pooling at Tachyon’s feet. Perhaps I shouldn’t have looked down to see just where they fell, because I catch a glimpse of Tachyon’s “evidence”. The more of her shapely thighs she exposes, the more obvious the remnants of dried stains are clinging to the succulent skin of her inside thighs.
The pleated folds stop just shy of the place between her thighs though, teasing the silhouette of something scandalous beneath… and Tachyon’s knowing chuckle sends a shiver down my spine. She and I both know that I haven’t blinked the entire time. She slowly backs up, and like a sailor drawn to the crashing rocks by a siren, my body responds, standing to clumsily follow in her mad wake.
“So now that you’re awake… I wonder what kind of data you’ll give me now, my guinea pig?”
Tachyon sits on the edge of a desk, raising one of those powerful legs of hers up to her chest, giving a full view of how she’s wearing nothing beneath. For a woman more concerned with her experiments than even eating, it's obvious that trimming and keeping things standard down there is even lower on her priority list. Chocolate colored strands set tick like a tangle of barbed wire but all forcibly matted down with what I’d assume was, at first glance, some sort of product… but that would require effort on her part. It is most likely from sex- further proof that she wasn’t treating this as some sort of practical joke, but I should have known better. This woman is Agnes Tachyon, and as her trainer I know better than anyone else that beneath the flights of fancy, she is unrelenting once she’s locked in.
She shifts slightly, tilting her head and hiding her mad grin behind her knee, presenting herself in a way that is seductive in her own exclusively Tachyon way. Her womanhood is flushed and pink, hood engorged, her syrupy stickiness revealed in how those prurient petals peel apart to expose Tachyon’s glistening opening.
And my urges gnaw at my self control like a stallion chomping at its bit. She is an absolute beauty, a mare of the finest bloodline, and still I must resist until I am absolutely absolved of my own conscience. She might have no qualms in breaking ethical lines, but I… I wish I were as free as she.
“Are you sure, Tachyon? I’m your trainer…”
“-You’re my guinea pig” Tachyon interrupts with a sharp frown, like I had just said the stupidest thing in the world to her - and it’s not the first time I’ve seen that expression . “It’s your job to attend to me with all of your being.” Her answer is succinct, expression flat and tone unquestionable all before she tilts her head upward and taps her cheek thoughtfully. At first I think she might be second guessing this “experiment” of hers, but she glances from the corner of her eyes, grinning mirthfully. “Well, I suppose right now you’re my guinea pig and my stud.”
“S-Stud?” I try to wrap my head around her choice of words when she grabs me by the collar of my shirt and yanks me face-to-sweaty face.
“Now, attend to me with all of your being.” she says succinctly, eyes wide, unblinking, irises trembling with an unnerving excitement. Her tone… while it is absolutely demanding, there’s something else in there. Expectation? Like Tachyon saw this as an inevitability?
Meaning she wants me?
Something inside boils over- and somewhere in the back of my mind, the starting gate swings wide. Freed from the restraints -both physical and moral- I charge straight at her, easily overpowering my Uma trainee. She falls back against the desk, arms pinned at the wrists- though she makes no attempt to break free.
Because Agnes Tachyon is smiling-
-a knowing, daring smile-
-an unhinged, wicked smile.
“Tachyon!” a desperate and hungry growl rumbles up my throat. A voice that is mine yet not, or maybe it’s my truest self when faced with a desire as immoral as laying hands on my trainee?
Excitement at being able to lay hands on a woman like Agnes Tachyon?
-or maybe it’s being desired by a woman as spectacular as her?
“Mind the machines, guinea pig.” Tachyon throatily laughs, stretching a leg to reach past me to drag something closer by her foot- a crash cart with an EKG meter? Before I can dwell on it, she wraps that very same leg suggestively around my waist, hooking it so that her heel taps against my hindquarter with the same restless buzz coursing through the rest of her. “Now… are you going to rut me again? Just think of how it will feel when you’re conscious? ”
Her obscene words tunnel my vision, heighten my senses, tune me to her in ways that I never could imagine. These fine thighs, shapely and luscious, hiding within them the inexplicable power of an Uma… They are her fixation- her very obsession, but Tachyon’s in particular have been mine.
Just how difficult would it be to spread them if the mare was unwilling? Well, Agnes Tachyon’s wrap around my waist with absolute certainty as I drop my hips, maneuvering my pole into position against her sweltering gate. I can already feel how she’s burning up with that rutting heat, her pussy petals parting ever-so-slightly so that I can rest my girth between their plump, pulsating heat. She’s leaking honey along the underside of my length, a substance that is a mind-boggling paradox of both sticky and slick as I instinctively pump my hips. Gliding up through that soft, silky slit sends a shiver though my spine, every instinctive impulse screaming at me to slip between them.
I defy nature for just a little bit longer, reaching down to stroke Tachyon’s lower abdomen, thumb tenderly circling through the tangle of her unkempt tuft until I find the tender mound of her clit. She fidgets slightly, a look of impatience clear in the way she casts that sidelong glare, but I’m her trainer, and I have to do things right. It might be the only chance to make my intentions and desires known to the -headstrong- Agnes Tachyon; to have her see the things I see in her- the fascination that had captivated me from the very beginning…
“Curious… the subconscious stud in you just jammed it in me and rutted until spent. Your heartrate is much higher than then as well. How will this you perform?”
Her analysis is abrupt, and that makes my confidence falter. It rips my focus sharply from where we are about to connect and back up to her scanning gaze that’s obviously darting between the EKG, my face, and then back down to where our bodies are pressed together. I half expect her to pull out a notepad and start jotting her observations when her ears twitch and she smiles up at me.
Instead she easily breaks her hands free from my unsure grip to reach up and touch my face. Tender… at first- then she pulls my eyes open so that I can’t blink.
“Pupils dilated, but expected of low-light conditions, though I can’t rule out side-effects…”
“Tachyon…”
“-am I in focus for you, guinea pig? Can you not see me clearly? Is the specimen provided not sufficient anymore now that you are cognizant?”
I can easily hear how false her concern rings; the teasing tone running through her words like frayed wires even as her fingers trace my jawline down to my neck. She loosens her blouse with the other, drawing the hem of it up to expose more and more of her abdomen. The curve of her hip sweeps to a tight waistline and her belly is flat and toned with the hints of tight-packed muscles beneath creamy skin. She has a figure that she always seems to hide with her baggy, ill-fitting clothes, and it’s proof that, for an Uma who didn’t seem to take her training seriously… she is undeniably fit. In her own words, a perfect “specimen”.
A reflexive jerk of my hips pulls an excited breath from Tachyon; one that raises her deceptively full chest and encourages her to pull her blouse up that little bit more to tease the soft undersides of her clearly unsupported breasts. As one last stimulus to try and catalyse some reaction, Tachyon moves alongside me, flexing her belly and raising her hips with my movements until both ends of this experiment properly align.
And suddenly I’m enveloped in feverish heat unlike any other. Humid and sticky, tight and constricting even as I part her with my engorged instrument until I’ve fully seated. Her deepest reaches are velvety and creamy while the entryway clamps as tight as a vice- almost like it had been passed down by the Goddesses to keep everything inside. My groan is completely involuntary; the pleasure of hilting Tachyon is more mind-numbing than some of her experimental medicines.
My trainee arches her back just then, tail swishing against my legs, hands flung out to the sides of the desk to grip tight as I poke and prod the base of her belly from within- a more intimate and pleasurable reflection of what she’d do during her own tests. Those naturally luscious eyelashes flutter, her bottom lip parted ever-so-slightly as if to say something…
So before she can say any other damn thing to try and mess with me, I grab her by the hips and really drive myself into her. It is a quick and ruthless rutting, the frantic and hungering desire that makes the desk groan in protest beneath our crashing bodies. This is what she wanted, right? This was why she was teasing me?
I know that if she wanted to, Tachyon could either kick me off of her or pin me inside of her with those powerful legs of hers. All she’d need to do is put the spurs of her heels into me to lock me down, but instead she rides along with my movements, hands tight on the open folds of my shirt like she’s trying to hold me in place. Her breathing is deep and controlled despite the crazed sprint-pace that I’m running inside of her, her gaze calmly glancing between the monitor that must be behind me and then back to my face. Those amber irises, illuminated by her desire for some sort of elucidation, dart around every feature of my face, like she’s hunting for some detail that would answer one of the countless questions..
Tachyon’s mouth moves like she’s going to say something- and I wholly expect her to say something teasing or troublesome to test me…
But instead Tachyon gasps a needy, whiny “Trainer-kun” instead. It’s dripping with an almost… affectionate resonance, but it’s gone with her next sharp breath as I strike something inside of her. Her folds constrict just then, tightening to a point where they quiver pleasurably against my manhood. Her whole body tenses for an instant, like that suspenseful moment just before the starting gate swings wide...
Oh, I definitely found something, all right.
Eager to catch that lightning again, I repeat the movement, trying my best to recreate the hip angle, the thrusting vector, even the same damn cadence of breath to draw out that honest reaction once more. Tachyon’s ears twitch and there’s a sudden clarity in her eyes as she silently chuckles.
“Experimenting on me now? Interesting…” she manages to gasp before arching her back to thrust her now exposed chest into the air for my viewing pleasure. Her head rolls back off the desk, dangling and bouncing to each fleshy impact. “... most interesting!” she laughs, deep and lost in her own little mania.
“Do you… like it… like this… Tachyon?” I huff, punctuating every few words with another thrust.
She groans incoherently instead of answering which, I suppose, is enough of a response. Sharper, more upward pistoning, my full length gliding in and out of that tight, constricting entryway and deep into flesh that seems all the more eager to gobble up whatever I give. Her breasts bounce with such energy as I fuck her, or is that her whole body trembling?
Pulse thundering in my ears, a sharp keening drowning out the moans of pleasure and the obviously wet and sticky claps of my crotch to hers. Lost in this rush, I can’t fixate on any one part of her once my eyes start to lose focus. She is radiant- either the sheen of her sweat reflecting what little light there is, or a trick of my eyes. My brain hyperfixates on that image of her the snap-second before crossing the finish line: the sweat of exertion dripping from her body, the purity of her purpose, the moment where madness and passion intermix into an explosion of emotion. Everything is reaching such a feverish pitch that I can’t help but think- is this what the Uma’s feel when they are making that last charge toward the finish line?
Frantic.
Hungry.
Passionate-
“So tell me, guinea pig! How do you feel?”
Tachyon’s voice is muted, but her tone is like being plunged into an ice bath. My body tenses instinctively, slammed straight into a sobering wall just a hair’s breadth from the finish line.
“You… feel amazing.” I manage to hiss through clenched teeth, letting the high of near-climax slowly leak from me. Tachyon frowns -of course she frowns, I didn’t answer her actual question- but it’s swiftly replaced by a look of smug certainty.
“ Oho… I wonder if your lack of stamina is because you had insufficient time to rest, or that your conscious mind requires more energy?” Tachyon cooly smiles, lifting her head enough to let me see the mischievous glint in her eyes.
And it’s then I notice how, despite the confidence, she’s quivering. The muscles in her legs are so finely honed, so overwhelming in their physiological power, that she can’t disguise the tiniest of trembles.
She’s bluffing, she’s trying to divert attention away from herself. She’s trying to outlast me by pacing chasing with these little teasing breathers that she gets more out of than I do. I yank her by the hips so that her back is supported by the desk before I fall atop her, hands slammed to either side of her head like blinders, forcing her to look me dead in the eyes.
And I fuck her.
I grind into her as hard as I can, making sure that she sees me and only me. This woman… so caught up in her own world... I want her to see what I see.
That passion I saw in her on the day I scouted her. The beauty and obsession that drew me to her like a stellar body pulling in a wayward comet. Despite everything she’s put me through -and will continue to- I can’t escape Tachyon’s gravity.
I put those feelings into her tenfold, chasing after the wild, unhinged spirit I witnessed unfolding that day. A pace to keep up with her frightening speed, a devotion to match her deranged ambitions, a desire that burns as hot as an atomic split…
If this is what she needs, then I’ll do it. I’ll stop pretending to be dignified and above the base and instinctive desires I have for her, I’ll descend into Tachyon’s madness alongside her, hand-in-hand so long as she’ll have me.
We both gasp and groan as we clear the final bend and make the mad dash for the finish line- but who would take the gold? I fall atop her, holding her tenderly in my arms while she cinches her legs tighter around my hips. She digs her heels into my flank, yanks at the back of my head like a rein, trying to drive me across first with untamed grinding… but I am her trainer. There’s no way I would steal the pleasure of first place from my trainee.
“Tachyon.” I say firmly, unintentionally pulling out the tone she knows from when I put my foot down on her antics… and it flusters her. Her legs cinch tighter than a belt around my waist, and it makes her subconscious wants even more apparent.
“Yes… my guinea-pig?” she pants with a curling smile, putting on that aloof and distinctly false coyness.
“Cum for me.” I demand with the seriousness meant for redirecting her moments of whimsy rather than this. A misuse of my authority, perhaps, but we are well past that now when my tip is prodding the entrance to her trembling womb. Her answer is to throw her arms around my neck and yank my face down into her chest. No snarky snipes at my lapse of morals, no insult that I’d dare demand of her, just her whole body trying its very best to coil around every single part of me in what feels like an attempt to join our atoms together…
There’s a whimper, a soft and weak little thing… and of all the times for Tachyon to actually listen…
Her reaction is electrical, like I had just put a thousand volts through her body. A convulsion that seizes her muscles, walls that clench and coil, writhing around my length in an attempt to spur me across the finish line too…
The thought of what would happen if I let my control slip… If I gave into her lunacy and filled her tight, quivering cunt full of seed…
Well, I’d be lying if I said impregnating a thoroughbred woman like Tachyon wasn’t a twisted fantasy… but right now, in the middle of her racing career it had to remain that- a fantasy .
So I hold on, fighting for my dear life to hold back that aching desire to just let go and splurt it all inside of Tachyon. Just to be doubly sure I don’t make any unwanted regrets, I slowly and carefully withdraw my inseminating instrument from Tachyon… and Tachyon’s body protests. Her entryway is as tight as a vice against my retreat and, though she maintains the aloof expression, I can see the flustered blush across her cheeks in the dark.
I had, once again, defied her expectations.
“Well, Tachyon? Did that disprove your hypothesis?” I gently tease, wiping the sweat from my brow as I bear witness to my hard work. Tachyon’s still gasping for breath, harder than she would after a session of butterfly strokes in the pool, suddenly covering her face with one arm while her other hand reflexively rubs out a few more tremors from between her legs.
“There… was no hypothesis… guinea-pig.” she huffs before another shudder piques her voice. “This was… -ah- an observation…”
“You still want more data?” I huskily ask, still hungry for more of my beautiful trainee- and getting more ravenous seeing her pleasure herself in front of my very eyes.
Tachyon hesitates, still hiding her face. “Your vitals are abnormally high… but if my guinea pig wants to continue, why would I stop him?”
Her words are confident, but her voice is still trill and quavering from the climax that she doesn’t want to admit. A strong front, but one that can’t hide the breathy excitement.
“Bend over the desk.”
A trainer’s demand, the kind that she’s ignored hundreds of times before, but Tachyon does as instructed this time, gingerly slipping off the desk to then turn and bend over it. Skirt flipped up to put her perfect hind on display, tail instinctively twitching as I reach down to place a reverent hand on one of those cheeks. Rounded and firm, contoured with a perfection only an Uma’s Goddess could create. An appreciative pat yields a tiny, yet energetic bounce and a firm handful displays the depths of her springiness.
“Studies show that this position is more suited for quick and thorough rutting...” Tachyon absentmindedly says, glancing back from the corners of her eyes. “So you must be nearing the end of your endurance? Eager to finish?”
“More like I want to appreciate my trainee’s hard-fought-figure.” I muse back against her taunting, choosing instead to play with her cheeks and stroke her trail. Despite the sweat, Tachyon’s skin is still silky and smooth despite the fact that I know she doesn’t take care of it to the same degree as other girls. Is it part of her genetics, or is it my own personal biases towards her? I study her body through my fingertips, doing my best to remember the minute details of her body- for scientific and research purposes only, of course.
“Once more with these unnecessary touches…” she huffs, but I can see how her ears twitch with far more frequency as I glide my hands from the alluring contour of her surprisingly feminine hips and up her idol-thin waist, all before tracing her deftly arched back downward to gently urge her to lay flat on the desk. There’s a soft, almost longing sigh, and whether or not that’s a planned provocation or natural reaction, I still take my time to "unnecessarily" caress Tachyon with the care that no one else has given her. Maybe she’ll notice my efforts, feel the emotion that I try to put into my touch, acknowledge the emotional connection that she so flagrantly derided as "unnecessary". As illogical and insubstantive a thing as “hope” is, there is part of me that clings to the ephemeral belief that, someday, she’ll come to see how much I earnestly care for her beyond just a trainer and his runner.
And with that impossible wish held in my breast, I once more ease into that pulsating opening, surprised at just how welcoming the warm pressure is. Her pussy hasn’t fully forgotten my shape yet, and when my full length is engulfed in her flesh, it's like her womanhood is giving me a welcoming embrace. Maybe her body could speak in ways that she just couldn’t bring herself to? A theory to chew on while deciding the pace I want to run this particular race with. Slow and steady until I’m sure of a tempo that won’t end this run early. I hold Tachyon in place as I saw my hips for our pleasure, swaying and grinding whenever my tip smooches her cervix, hypervigilant for any changes in my trainee as if this were just another practice session.
An intensely pleasurable, immeasurably scandalous practice session.
Tachyon remains mercifully quiet, panting humid vapors against the desk instead of attempting to test my patience. Each thrust is answered with a sharp gasp, the rutting heat having gotten to her. Every inch of my manhood that slips through her tight gateway slams into the finish line, eager to dive further beyond… and the rough treatment forces a worrisome, guttural groan from Tachyon.
I… don’t stop. In a moment of selfishness, I chase the pleasure that her body gives. I grab her, pulling her from the sweat-and-sex stained desk just so I can hold her tight against my chest, embrace her with a love tainted by unadulterated lust as I mercilessly hump myself against that bit of resistance at the end of her.
Holding Tachyon this close… there’s a sweet and familiar musk that clings to her. I can tell the lingering mix of day’s old shampoo, sweat, but there’s also something more primal and raw… teasing a new tincture to get addicted to. I can’t help but bury may face into her hair, lips brushing the nape of her neck to feel the shivers from each slow and purposefully rough hump I take. I hear a mewl, a gasp, a whimper… and all I want is Tachyon. More Tachyon. More Tachyon-
I nuzzle her head, brush her soft, velour ear with my lips and-
“Don’t touch my ears!” she suddenly snaps, twisting to roughly shove me back by the chest as she collapses back on to the desk. Harshly ripped back into the waking world, I must be staring at her like an idiot. With a long, drawn-out breath, Tachyon hisses, “Don’t touch my ears or my forehead, understand?”
“Sorry, Tachyon.” I’m quick to profess, even while inches of my length are being wrung in protest by her crushingly clenched walls. So there were lines that I couldn’t cross- fair to make a mental note of in case this “experiment” of hers lead to something more. Ah, but thinking about it, distracting myself from her is exactly the sort of controlled input Tachyon would have done to test my devotion, isn’t it? Maybe my throbbing desire inside her had flagged, or maybe she noticed just how her outburst had shaken me, but Tachyon’s expression suddenly softens.
“A proper rutting now?” she asks knowingly, looking over her shoulder expectantly at me.
With a deep, clarifying breath, I smile back at her. “A proper rutting.” I reply, standing tall and proud while mounted atop her. Hands on her hips, winding back, I drive into Tachyon with renewed purpose. I pick up where we had left off, the cadence of this run only building in intensity the more relaxed and natural Tachyon’s reactions become.
“S-Stamina… exceeded expectations. Speed… sufficient…” Tachyon huffs between the wet claps of our bodies, still managing to maintain a strong front. “Power… could use work. Wouldn’t you agree, Trainer-kun~ ” she flashes a grin back at me...
Even when she’s not calling me her guinea-pig, she’s refusing to call me by my name? After all of this?
With an indignant snort, I grab Tachyon by the long, ungroomed yet naturally beautiful tailhairs… and yank her back down my length while I drill forward with every ounce of strength I have left. She wants more power? I can do that, at the expense of speed and stamina…
The impact is harsh and wet, and the only response Tachyon has to such brutishly uncaring treatment is a deliciously sinful shiver up her spine. In her own damn words, “If the input stimulates a desired response, continue with that stimuli-”
And -oh- do I stimulate her. Each yank of her tail and thrust of my hips makes Tachyon tense up, her back arching like a beautiful bow being drawn, only for the tension to release as I pull my proverbial arrow back out of her notch. Her flesh pulls at mine, to the point where I can feel every crease and bump that’s squeezed desperately against my girth.
She’s close, but I’m closer.
“So… this you -ah- ... has some merit…” Tachyon admits, dragging her cheek across the desk. Once again, she’s trying to call a time-out to regain some composure… so I humor my dear trainee.
I pause, but with my cock throbbing eagerly against her womb, gingerly grinding as I knowingly ask, “...and?”
“It… is an unexpected… -Nnn- breakthrough…”
“Caring for you instead of fucking you?”
“You’re saying… emotions yielded this?”
I mold myself to her back, face beside hers, wanting to see her honest admission… our lips brushing and sparking away from each other like two live wires… but never daring to complete the circuit.
“Finish the experiment… my assistant.” she whispers, lips teasing a kiss that never comes.
And so, with my heart in my throat, I hump at her like a fucking stallion eager to sire. Tachyon’s moans are sweet, her blush cute enough to squeeze at my chest, her lips trembling…
I cross the finish line first, letting all of that tension, all of that adrenaline and emotion be expelled from me… and into Tachyon. Heat that floods her and coats the walls as I furiously try and screw my cock as deep as it can go. That last impact, still spurting uncontrollably inside of her, flips a switch, completing the circuit of pleasure inside of Tachyon.
She wails, singing out a moan of both pleasure and despair… like Tachyon had realized something in the last moment of the experiment that had rendered it all… pointless.
It feels like my heart is about to explode… and I yank myself free from Tachyon’s cloying walls to stumble back into the machine she’s hooked me up to, still twitching and splurting my seed onto the floor. I manage to catch the handle of it, bracing myself as my legs turn to jelly- far worse than anything she’s ever exposed me to. The world swims with a woozy mix of euphoria and exhaustion, but I can still see her clearly.
Tachyon, tail standing-on-end, spasming on the desk as that electricity I put into her body continues to course through her nerves, the shallows of her pussy pulsing out the white I had put into her.
I came inside of her… and that… shit that could be bad.
“Sh-shit… Tachyon… I couldn’t…” I stammer, drunkenly fumbling around for something to help clean the sum out like it was some kind of toxin. Tissues are the best I can scrounge, but I soon find out that, without something to hold onto, I wind up pathetically collapsing onto the floor beside the mixed stains of our lovemaking that had leaked down from between Tachyon’s legs.
I think I hear her say something- probably something along the lines of mocking my physiology or my lack of stamina training... but before I have a chance to let the self-doubt sink in, Tachyon descends like an angel to sit beside me.
Disheveled and near naked, sweaty, still bright with a fulfilled lust and a wicked grin… no she’s more a devil… but she gingerly lifts my head into her lap all the same.
“I’ll take responsibility.” I rasp, mouth and throat dry. Tachyon scoffs at my offer, reaching for a bottle of water to swig from before pouring some into my parched mouth.
“What makes you think you’re responsible for the results of my experiment, my little guinea pig? Don’t tell me you’re one of those lab assistants that takes all the credit?”
“But I should have pulled out.”
“Please, guinea pig.” Tachyon rolls her eyes at me before smiling wide and mockingly. “You get ahead of yourself… quite literally. You’ve ejaculated inside of me four times this evening. I never got the chance to test your sperm count, but the chances of you inseminating me are almost zero.”
“I… what…?”
“Athletes such as myself always have a Plan B . Do you understand, my guinea pig?”
I close my eyes and sigh in relief… though it’s not quite a good look considering I just swore to take full responsibility for my actions and then instantly bend the very next second. Still, Tachyon strokes my head in a very… un-Tachyon display of affection.
“I usually take medication to lessen the impact of my rutting period… though I must admit this experiment has yielded a fantastic alternative.” Tachyon is suddenly lost in thought, eyes darting around a chart that only she can see. “I had attempted to simulate a rut before with inanimate objects, though they were far less effective than simply taking medications to suppress it. In fact it often left me with an ache afterwards, like when you yearn for coffee early in the morning.”
“Maybe it’s because I feel connected to you- a-as a trainee of course!” I propose, still unable to even muster the strength to push myself off of her lap- not that I wanted to, but if only to give the illusion that I’m trying to be her dignified trainer once more. Actually, it might be more dignified to stop struggling and just accept what I actually want...
“Emotional connections…” Tachyon taps her chin thoughtfully, “An interesting hypothesis, guinea-pig, but I don’t think research into it will yield any tangible results. Too vague and unquantifiable of a stimuli. Unscientific.”
The hand that had been curling my hair between her fingertips suddenly stops, like Tachyon suddenly became very aware of her actions the moment she derided my poor attempts at a confession.
“... But…” she interrupts my thoughts, “Considering how there appears to be no discernable risks to your body, I will note that use of Medicine Beta on you during my rutting heat is a sufficient solution than handling it myself.” Tachyon smiles down at me with a fondness that I must be imagining. “Is that an agreeable arrangement… my stud?”