The Iron Castle: Dragon Attack & Selfsuck Debrief (Story)

Hi! Remember Leaf? Yeah, she likes writing. Specifically, sci-fi action. But also! Lewd smut.

I thought I'd try something out. The first part of this story is fun, but not lewd. Then a lewd follows. In my head, the lewd is only semi-canon to the rest of the story. The story itself can be taken whole, without the lewds, and not much is lost. Or I hope so, once there's a coherent narrative being told through these tiny story chunks.

So I don’t really have a massive plan or expectation for anything. I just started writing what I want to read about. If I add more parts to this story, then that’s okay. If this is just an exposition-heavy standalone, that’s fine too. All I really want to do is have a place to write sci-fi stuff fighting fantasy stuff, and also people getting fucked a lot.

This story is half giant robots shooting at dragons, half a catgirl using her heat-boosted pheromones to encourage her boss to suck herself off.

Look, I can stop anytime I want.

*** 

“Here they come again!” Sgt. Zulie “Tomcat” Kwol shouted into her mic while bringing her mech’s weapons on line with the towering figures in the sky. They were the largest animals she’d ever seen, but that record continued to be beaten on a weekly basis on this planet. Dragons, they were called by the humans in the crew. They did indeed look like giant lizards, but the ones from the historical record looked dignified. Regal. Monarchs of the Sky. These were...savage, feral things. Huge, razor sharp talons. Large wings that swept back in a strange, yet somehow aerodynamic pattern. They attacked without hesitation, eating any animal in their path, and for some reason they homed in on the ICS Widening Gyre. They did not at all evoke the figures of Terran myth to her, besides the giant wings and the row upon row of jagged, pointy teeth.

And the whole breathing fire thing, of course. 

But she was used to the strange comparisons that humans would make. They called her race the Felinid, for instance, because of their very loose resemblance to their household pet animal known as the cat. Sure, they had fluffy ears on the tops of their heads and a long, wiggly tail. But there was nothing feral or exotic about their faces. They didn’t have paws, only the same five finger to a hand blueprint that the humans had. And while they did have a natural rival in the Canids, that was only due to centuries of interstellar war that ravaged both sides to the point where they Had to agree to the Articles of Interstellar Confederation. 

She opened up with her mech’s slug thrower, magnetically accelerating depleted uranium cylinders into the air. Though each was only the size of a beverage can they still weighed over 25 kilograms. At 5 rounds per second, they were devastating to unarmoured targets. The slugs tore holes the size of fists in their leathery wings and bit deep into the scaled armour that covered most of the creatures’ bodies. Some of those tiny plates popped off like kettle corn upon impact, soon followed by spurts of dark red blood that sizzled when it hit the ground.

Their position was precarious. Five mechs on the dorsal section of their crashed starship. There was little cover on the dorsal section of the ship. One of many, many assignments for the Engineering department was to move the broadside ion cannons to the top with them and rig it to the ship’s targeting system. That would likely save them from having to come up every time there was an air attack. That would mean, however, acknowledging that they won’t be getting the Widening Gyre up into space again anytime soon. That was not something many people in the crew were willing to face. At least, not yet. Until then, it was just Zulie and the rest of Rho Squad defending their crew from the terrors of this bizarre world.

The first dragon to fall was brought down by Kate, Zulie’s second in command and the only human mech pilots in the squad. Despite her disadvantages, she was the unit’s sharpshooter. She used a heavily modified version of the standard issue slug thrower, kitted out with a longer barrel and three times the sensor package. Even with the enhanced detection equipment and linkups to the fine motor controls of her mech, no one else on the squad could have made the shot that saw her put a tungsten rod through the eye of a creature three kilometres away, moving at speeds approaching that of an internal combustion airplane. It spiralled downward, emitting faint bellows of outrage before crashing into the trees.

“Target down,” Kate, callsign “Kelvin”, reported with all the excitement of receiving a bill. Hollers and shouts of approval from the others in her squad roared over the local net.

Zulie hit the commkill button for two seconds before resetting the channel. “Cut the choir and keep up the fire! Swing right, next target. Hit the big one.”

She didn’t like stamping on the high spirits of a successful take down, but if she didn’t, they’d lose focus and there would be casualties. Three more of the dragon creatures to go.

Concentrated burst fire from Zulie and Golem, callsign “Golem”, cut through one of the wing bones on the nearest beast’s right wing. It flapped it frantically as it lost altitude. Unfortunately, it had just enough speed to make it to the ship before smashing itself into the ground. That amount of mass moving that fast could potentially harm the ship, no matter how much tritanium armour was in the way. All five mechs pour their ammunition into the flying deathball, hoping to take out something vital. A stray round managed to puncture the naphthane gland in the beast’s neck. The high pressure fluid ignited the instant it touched air, immolating the creature’s throat and mouth from within.

While its comrade transformed into a pyre of scales and cooking meat, the third and smallest dragon fled the scene. That left the fourth beast. Though it was not the largest, its scales looked darker, more intimidating. Dozens of scars on the plates implied it had been in several battles before, none having taken its life. Even its face, such that it was, seemed to snarl at the mechs.

That was as good a target as any. The squad’s fire tore the air apart. Without soundfilters, the constant decibel level would render someone deaf after only a few minutes of fire. But for every slug that plunged into the beast’s hide, two more bounced off or plinked harmlessly against the curved scales. It was laughing off rounds that could turn a 21st Century Main Battle Tank into pancake batter.

They were running low on ammo, however. Having spent their enormous jacket magazines, they’d have to quickly slot in new ones. Their withering rain of DU rounds slowed to a trickle. Whether the dragon could tell that it was now or never, Zulie couldn’t say. But it chose that moment to strike.

Starting from the rear, it swooped low, swinging its claws down like scythes to reap Zulie and her squad to the next world. One caught Kitha before she could clear the flight path. The talon dug into the metal, carrying her for a hundred feet down the length of the ship before she managed to unwedge herself from the hole in her mech. It skidded to a rest near the forward section of the hull. Zulie was closest. She stared up in terrified fascination. 

It was a truly majestic creature. 

Too bad she’d have to kill it.

She dropped her slug thrower. With a twist of her wrist, the modified manual control unleashed a pair of heavy shards of bulkhead forged into crude blades, one on each wrist. Once locked into place, she ran at the monstrosity with all the speed her powered armour would give her. She dodged a bite. The beast yowled in protest.

“Keep bitchin’,” Zulie said through grit teeth. She stabbed her right fistblade in with as much force as she could translate into mechanical motion. It bit into a dozen separate scales around the beast’s neck, each absorbing and diffusing the energy of the blow until it just barely reached the dragon’s skin.

“Fuck.” She was hoping the new edge she’d had the engineers put on the weapons would do the trick. The farthest thing from standard issue, she’d had them rigged up on the realization that almost everything dangerous in this world inevitably closed to close combat. That, combined with the fact that their ammunition was finite, meant that they had to start getting used to economical alternatives.

A clawed foot swept towards her. She tucked and rolled, one of the hardest things to do in a mech suit incidentally, with only one of the talons making contact. It scratched her armour, which was an impressive enough feat considering the tritanium it was armoured in. Zulie wasn’t about to let a giant galgatch, a species of lizard-analogue native to her own world, get away from her.

Pouncing from her ready stance, she dodged the flailing of huge limbs and the flutter of wings. She sprinted with the machine until she had enough momentum, then Baseball Slid the suit underneath the dragon. Her mech jabbed both fistblades into the soft underbelly. Soft still meant incredibly thick hide, in this case, but she was using a metal used in the scalpels wielding for use in Thoraxian autopsies.

Both swords sliced into the beast, causing it to roar in outrage. It tried to crush down upon the wound to pin her underneath thousands of pounds of lizard, but she was already out and ducking its barbed tail. With a heave, she forced her arms to complete the arc, bringing the blades down to her front and watching as her external camera feeds were temporarily distorted by the boiling blood these creatures seemed to use. It screeched in protest. It hobbled on three legs while the fourth felt around for the wound on its neck. Seeing what the damage was? Maybe these giant iguanas are smarter than they look, she wondered. 

It took to the air. There were many tears in its wings, making flight incredibly difficult for the great beast. Kelvin raised her rifle to take a final shot at the beast. Perhaps it something vital by targeting its fleeing profile. Zulie put her mech’s hand over the barrel.

“No. It’s on the run. I’m sure it’s already plenty pissed off.” She keyed her commlink for the C&C of the Widening Gyre, deep within the heart of the silent monolith upon which they stood. “Tomcat to Gyre Actual. Any more contacts.”

“Radar’s clear, Rho Squad. Help Omicron clean up the stragglers, then you’re clear to dismount.”

***

Major Valla Jericho had never, in her life, been accused of being indirect. She minced psyches, not words. When she was upset, you heard it then and there.

“Seven thousand rounds?!” she half-asked, half-shouted. She tossed the tablet onto her desk and leaned back in her chair. It had once belonged to the Security Chief of the Widening Gyre, but he was killed when the Iskander class frigate crash landed on this world six weeks previous. Chief Trendle had barely ever sat in the thing, so it looked like it had come straight from Requisitions.

Right now, it strained to accommodate Valla’s large size. A combination of a low gravity upbringing and the harsh physical therapy she had to endure to get up to speed on Earth Standard Grav had given her an impressive physique. She stood nearly two metres tall when standing, towering over all of her subordinates. Even through the stodgy deck uniform she wore, the outline of her powerful arms and shoulders could be seen.

Across the desk sat Zulie, fresh from the cockpit. Two feet shorter and a hundred pounds lighter, she checked her nails. Flux, servo grease again. She’d have to wash her hands or get a bunch of gross polymer goo all over her food. She sat with one foot on top of the opposite knee. Behind her, a long, skinny tail waggled back and forth.

“We had to take them down, Major,” Zulie said. “Of course, you’d know that if you were up there.”

Major Jericho’s right eye twitched; a powerful omen not to be ignored. “I have the defence of this entire ship to manage. You just had dorsal section.”

“Killing titans is a bit more than ‘perimeter guard’ or whatever Omicron Squad has to do. You know we almost lost Kitha today? Dragon nearly scissored her in two.”

“Omicron deals with less airborne threats, that’s true. That’s why they have all the mech-compatible close combat weapons and you all have slug throwers. That doesn’t explain why you had your weapons on autofire! Every DU slug is another removed from our arsenal. We can recover them, sure, but each takes a while to find, reseat in a sabot, and placed back in a jacket mag. We only have so many people to do projects like this, Sergeant Kwol. Time and Resources are not infinite.” The Major didn’t need to point at the whiteboard on the side which had inscribed on it the rough time and cost in resources of several (frequently destroyed) or expended pieces of equipment. The top was, of course, the single round of 0.885 mm slug from the MPR-44 Magnetic Slug Thrower.

Zulie leaned back in her chair. Still in her sweat soaked black tank top and khaki cutoffs, her small breasts and tiny nipples poked out obviously and nigh transparently. She didn’t look like she belonged in the military, let alone the prestigious Mechanized Infantry. Her dark blue hair went far beyond military regs all the way down to her nose, forming a ragged curtain over one of her eyes. Mech pilots, forced to endure ungodly temperatures in their nuclear powered armour, were given certain leeway regarding their appearance. Zulie regularly brought that indulgence to its limit.

“I understand that,” the mecher said with a roll of her eyes. “I’ve eaten at the cafeteria since we got stranded, believe me, I understand. But it’s a little difficult to rely on semi-auto when you have a giant, horrifying monstrosity coming at you and your weapon is having little to no effect on that fact.”

“Your squad no doubt wasted many of those rounds, I’ll note. Guncam is still going through its performance routine but your accuracies are all floating below the 40% mark. And that’s WITH an AR reticle to aim at. God only knows what you’d be doing with a weapon that used optical scopes like my grandmother used in the War of Terran Aggression.”

“We splashed two, heavily injured a third. What more do you want?”

Valla fumed. Zulie just wasn’t getting it. Mechers always held themselves above the rest. Sometimes that was right. They had the best reflexes, the best spacial acuity, even the best heat tolerance in the Interstellar Confederation fleet. They were also often rude, obnoxious, and a pain in the ass of any officer not able to please egos and avoid ruffling feathers. Major Jericho did neither of those things.

But something was drawing her attention more than the frustrating lackadaisical attitude from her subordinate. It was a scent in the air. She sniffed for it unconsciously. A spicy, tangy sensation in her nostrils.

Her whole head started to swim in a gentle warm current coming from within. She rocked back and forth, trying to assess and explain what the sensation is but having no success. “What...what is going on?” she asked, though in a very drowsy, unfocused tone of voice.

“You may have noticed I’m rather sweaty. Comes with the territory of riding a nuke into battle. Only problem is, I’m a Felinid. When we’re in heat, our sweat is dosed heavily with pheromones. And everyone knows that humans are the most sexually compatible race in Known Space.” She walked around the desk to see what she expected. The Major’s cock was massive, easily 18 inches. The kind of thing they only make sextoys of back home. But hers was just a quirk of biology from the planet she grew up on. It currently pressed hard against the fabric of her uniform pants.

“This...this is...unsubordination,” she muttered, fidgeting with her hands. Zulie grabbed one and placed it on the throbbing shaft. That was all the permission the Major needed to pull out her massive meat and start stroking.

“Just ignore me for now,” Zulie suggested, yanking up her tank top to squeeze her hardening nipples. “Focus on your own pleasure.

Valla did just that. She used both hands to rub her massive prick up and down. Thin precum soon spilled from the tip, spattering the screen on her desk and forming as a cute lubricant. 

“Feels so good~” the Major purred.

The enthusiastic handjob her superior was giving to herself made Zulie rub her thighs together. She wasn’t lying when she said she was in heat. Most of the time she could control it with a series of injections to maintain an artificial hormone level. But she’d missed a few in the last week intentionally, specifically the ones that controlled her external pheromone release. The level of control she had varied between crew members. AIs and crew wearing breathers were obviously unaffected. But humans, felinids, and even canids were falling over themselves to cool her reactor if they stayed in proximity. Always mischievous, she enjoyed playing with other race’s biological imperatives.

She dipped a finger into her pants. Sure enough, there wasn’t just sweat in her shorts. She hooked a finger inside to see how bad the situation was. The sensation of intrusion made her squeak, but only for a moment. Ultra-sensitivity being one of the main symptoms of your body craving deep, hard insemination. She pushed her pussy juice slathered fingers into Valla’s mouth, making the barely coherent woman slurp them clean. That only pumped more mind-addling pheromones into the poor human’s bloodstream.

“Aaaah~” moaned the Major. It was so strange to see such a powerful woman reduced to a horny slut. But Zulie, the rascal, had every intention of abusing this discovery.

“What do you want to do, Major?” she asked innocently. 

“Fuck...wanna fuck...” she replied in a low, bestial tone. Her hips jerked up spasmodically, as if trying to fuck the air.

The felinid pretended to take pity on the woman who could, if she was thinking straight, smoosh her like a bug. She pushed Valla’s head forward, toward her own cock. There was some resistance, but not much. Drool slid down her chin before she was even within licking distance. To sweeten the pot, Zulie fingered herself vigorously for a minute. In her state of heat, fluids flowed freely, and her panties were soon saturated in girlcum. It only took a moment to slip those off and use them as a rag to wipe as much pheromone-soaked fluid on the fecund phallus. 

Once the Major got a whiff of that, she was trapped. She whimpered, but it was a pitiful amount of fight in her as her mouth sank onto her own tip. The shameless moan she emitted told Zulie everything she needed to know.

“Wow, the Major’s a selfsucking slut. Who would have known?” she teased. Valla, of course, was too busy fucking her face to make much comment. She slurped her own prick, receiving the pleasure of giving oral with the joys of receiving, all at the same time. At no point did she notice that the mech pilot was taking pictures with her tab. Her whole world had been reduced to a single length of flesh eighteen inches long.

Zulie fingered herself for a while at the sight of such depravity. Due to her condition, however, she was not able to fully orgasm without a load of fertile cum inside her. Such was the quirks of her species’ mating. So as good as edging to the boss making a complete whore of herself, there was only so far that she could follow.

The Major’s actions grew more frantic. Her pace would slow, then speed up three fold. Her fat balls retracted inward. Zulie figured out what was about to happen.

“Go on, pump a load into your mouth,” Zulie suggested with a casual shrug. “I don’t mind. It isn’t like this is the first time you and I have done this particular dance. You always seem to forget to apply the rules to me. And when you remember, I’m always happy to make it pop from your mind once more. If you want help, why don’t you imagine how embarrassed you would be if the rest of the ship saw you sucking yourself off like a premium New Utah seedslurper.”

The moment the last syllable left Zulie’s lips, she saw the Major’s fat cum vein bulge outward. She grinned and pushed her head as far down onto the prick as possible before the first jet of semen blasted outward, coating the back of her throat. She had no choice but to swallow. She moaned around her own cock and swallowed obediently.

“Good girl,” the pilot chanted, “Such a good girl.”

Spunk spurted out past the seal her lips made, coating her enormous shaft in a mix of spit and seed. Zulie let her pull back to get some air. A few watery ropes splattered over her face as she panted for breath. Her prick oozed out the rest. A dazed, dreamy smile sat on the Major’s mouth.

“You still there?” Zulie asked.

“Yesssh~” The CO’s words were slurred, but she could understand.

“Alright. Forget this meeting ever happened. Only remember that you had a pleasurable masturbation session at your desk, as you are wont to do. And quit hassling me or my squad. Got it?”

Valla nodded. “Of course...oh I love my own cum...”

Zulie chuckled, picking up her pair of panties before leaving. “Make sure to clean up, boss. I think you have an important meeting in five minutes.” Before she left, however, she took a moment to pounce over, lick some of the mess from the Major’s face, and swallow. “Mnf...fluxing heat always makes me a cumslut. Now maybe I can cum later...in my barracks of course. I don’t masturbate on the job like some COs I know~”