Joy was doing what she liked the best: orgasming on a hard cock. Jim, a big black man, was one of her favorite clients. Now he was mercilessly penetrating her ass, going deeper and deeper with each thrust. “Aaahhh ... Aaahhhh...” Joy gasped for air as she felt his thick glans reaching her bowels. He was a good twenty centimeters in length, and they both knew he would eventually go all the way in. “Mmmm...” Joy squinted as the sweet convulsions cramped her legs and bottom. “Ohhhh ... So good ... Don’t stop, don’t stop, please don’t stop...” And Jim was not going to stop. He pushed another five centimeters deeper, and Joy screamed. In pain, though it was the pain of delight.

Jim pumped her again, again, and again. She was crying tears of joy. He slapped her face hard a few times, and then she could no longer form any coherent sentences; a mind-bending orgasm made a writhing mess out of her. After her orgasm faded, she felt him going even deeper. Oh god, he was almost reaching her stomach! At least that’s how it felt. She arched her back, standing on her four, and shook her hips, inviting him to impale her deeper. And finally, his big, tight balls slapped her dripping wet pussy. “Aaahhh! John, John...”

He growled and began fucking her for good. Fast, deep, strong thrusts shook her whole body. Her arms gave out. Crying, she fell face down on the sheets, shivering from the feeling of that enormous, thick, hot thing rubbing her insides. Then she felt a warm stream filling her. A flood of sperm. Whimpering, she succumbed to another orgasm.

Jim rested a bit, and then she cleaned him with a hungry blowjob, sucking the last droplets out of him.

“Oh ... Jim, you are fantastic ... Come tomorrow...” She gasped when her mouth was freed.

He raised her chin and put a long kiss on her trembling lips.

“You are the best, Joy, but tomorrow I’ll be busy. The day after. I’ll tell my friends to take care of you tomorrow.”

“Ohh ... Yes, yes, yes! Jim, I love you...”

He dressed up and left, throwing several crumpled bills into the open box by the door. Joy did not bother counting them. It was her rule: no fixed price, men just paid as much as they liked. Given her enormous sex appetite, she still made a fortune. Her main goal was the orgasms.

She stood up, feeling a pleasant throbbing as her intestines contracted back to their original tightness. She headed to the corner and crouched over the bidet. She could not help but moan when hot jets of water hit her bottom, washing the sperm out of her. She would not mind keeping it all inside, but most men preferred her clean, as if no other client had left her five minutes ago.

Joy was a nymphomaniac. Official diagnosis. She had her first orgasm at a fairly young age, after which everything else imaginable followed. At fourteen, she was tall, with a delicate frame, small, pert breasts, narrow hips, a flat stomach and a perfectly round, small bottom. She had a pretty face with big dark eyes, full lips and light brown curly hair. She loved her looks. Her clients seemed to love them, too.

Her parents had a hard time accepting that their beloved daughter wouldn’t have a respectable career as a doctor, lawyer, or accountant. Clearly, her only purpose was sex, and that would remain so until the end of her life. But they loved her and accepted the inevitable. Joy was grateful for that forever. They even used their connections to arrange her sterilization, not waiting for her to get pregnant. Since she turned fourteen, her small body welcomed hundreds of cocks, in every hole and in every way. Joy had her fair share of female clients, too, but nothing could match the feeling of a hard, throbbing penis stretching her tight insides.

She stretched. Life couldn’t get any better! With any luck, she had maybe fifty more years of everyday fucking ahead of her, and she wanted nothing else.

The door opened without a knock. Joy smiled at a big, strong man with a square jaw. She didn’t know him, but that didn’t matter.

“Anything you’d like, sir! I’m ready for anything! Don’t spare me!”

The man’s expression didn’t change.

“Joy? Joy Driscol?”

“I am!” She smiled widely. It was odd. Most clients did not bother about the name of a young eager slut.

He reached into his pocket and presented his police ID.

“I have to ask you to come with me.”

Joy shivered, but only a little. This certainly wasn’t her first time interacting with the police. Each time, they merely confirmed that she was working legally and with her parents’ full permission. Often, that was followed by nice sex with some of the policemen.

“Am I in trouble, officer?”

“Not this time. A government project needs your expertise. We would be grateful if you agreed to help us.”

Wow. A government! Her mother told her to obey the government. And also the police. So she did.

“Of course, mister!”

She locked the money box — Clara, the madame, would hold on to the money — and ran after the officer.

“Um ... put something on, please.” His expression did not change. Oh, what composure! She already longed to see his face contorted in an orgasmic grimace.

“Of course!” She laughed, threw on a loose dress, slipped on her flip-flops, and followed him.

The building was dull and unremarkable. Why does the government always focus on boring things, Joy wondered. They have all the money; they could at least use some fancy colors to paint the walls!

She followed the officer down the cool hallway and into a small room.

“Wait here. It won’t take long.” He nodded and disappeared.

Joy looked around. It was a dull room with a desk and a wall-mounted screen, as well as several armchairs arranged in a semicircle. Two of the seats were occupied by girls her age. Joy grinned and approached them.

“Chloe!”

“Joy! So they got you, too!”

They laughed.

Chloe, a freckled redhead with green eyes, pulled a smoking stick out of her mouth, and the two girls kissed.

“Who’s that?”

The slender blonde popped a bubble of chewing gum. “Name’s Zoe.”

“Oh! My pleasure! I’ve heard about you!”

“Same here.”

The loose community of sex workers and addicts relied on rumors and gossip, so everyone had at least heard of everyone who was even a little remarkable.

Chloe and Zoe were teen nymphos, just like Joy. Different stories, different personalities, but their addiction to sex and pleasure made them sisters-in-arms—well, sisters-in-cunnies—instantly.

Joy took a place by Chloe, borrowed the stick, and lit it. She did not do heavier drugs, as many older prostitutes did—she did not want anything to spoil her sensations from sex—but she liked smoking. It reminded her of sucking cocks.

“Anyone knows why we are here?” she asked, puffing out smoke.

“Nope.”

“No idea. But they were in a hurry. Nearly pulled me off the client’s dick!”

“As if they had a chance to pick us up from anything else,” remarked Zoe.

They laughed. Joy began liking Zoe’s attitude more and more.

An older man with gray hair wearing a formal suit came in. He waved to them. “Stay at ease.” The girls looked at him curiously.

He stood before them, took a remote out of his pocket, and the screen behind his back lit up. The splash screen with the government logo, then some map.

“I’m Winston Burry, the lead of the emergency research team,” he started. “You may call me Wyn, but no Winnies, please, I don’t like it.”

The girls exchanged glances and chuckled. No way! From now on, he was Winnie to them, and nothing else!

“I’ll try not to bore you with the minor details,” he continued. “Straight to the matter. Did you hear about the Blight Area?”

The girls exchanged glances again and shrugged.

“Yep.”

“Kinda.”

“Fuck moonsteers!” Zoe exclaimed, raising her hands to her ears and wiggling her fingers.

Actually, they knew nearly nothing, like everyone else. That thing was classified. An area somewhere to the south, where nobody could get in or out. Rumors about people missing. Lots of videos, claiming to be true but obviously generated, full of sick gore and snuff sex, with ugly giant monsters raping screaming women and men, and literally tearing them apart with their giant dicks. Joy felt nauseous from them but secretly kept watching them. The fantasies of such brutal rapes aroused her, and she masturbated fiercely with the biggest dildos she had, until it became really painful.

“Exactly,” nodded Winnie. “What we have is a roughly circular area, about fifty kilometers in diameter, full of alien life,” he said, pointing at the map. “We don’t know how it got there. No landings have been spotted at the site. Maybe it’s a breach of a parallel dimension. Who knows? One day, it was just there. The three villages it covered went silent at once. We never saw or heard from anyone who escaped them.

“The ‘fucking monsters’ is the right name for them. They aren’t too predatory, as far as we can tell, but they are quite ... um, active with each other. And with anyone who gets closer.” He clicked the remote. “Here’s the real footage, not the crap from the net. We paid a high price to get it. At that time, we thought our hard protective suits were enough. They weren’t.”

The girls stared at the video. Some dark-green thing with dozens of long, thin but quite sturdy tentacles writhed slowly across a clearing. A soldier in protective armor, heavily armed, fired at the alien’s huge head or something resembling a head. That only made the alien interested. The tentacles grabbed the soldier and pulled him closer. His armor crumpled like a tin can. Some other limb, bright red and very thick, started to tear the armor away. The alien seemed to get a bit of resistance and used an acid spray. The metal quickly melted away, revealing a man inside a lighter suit. That went the same way, though faster. Finally, a muscular, terrified soldier was exposed, completely naked, struggling hopelessly. He screamed.

“I have to warn you: what you will see is extremely graphic and disturbing,” said Winnie.

Another limb, this one with a pointed head, approached the soldier’s ass. “No, please, no,” the soldier kept crying. The pointed limb simply entered him, as hard as Joy’s clients used to do to her, but it looked much, much thicker.

“Aaahhhhhh...”

The alien then lifted the soldier, impaled him on another limb, that one even thicker, covered with spikes. The limb simply went through, coming out of his mouth. The body convulsed and went limp. The picture changed to a woman soldier running away from entirely another thing, this one looking like a purple insect. She didn’t run far, of course. The insect pinned her to the ground, and dozens of writhing cocks of all sizes and shapes found every hole she had. The armor peeled away effortlessly, as if an iron maiden with razor blades was closing on her. When she was dead, her body still twitching, other insectoids ran over to join the fun.

Joy felt a familiar mix of nausea and arousal. She felt Chloe stirring at her side and looked. The girl’s hand was between her thighs, moving slowly. Zoe lifted her feet to the seat and was masturbating openly.

“Well,” Winnie continued as the video ended, leaving the girls with a grim view of a torn body, “I see that we weren’t mistaken in choosing you ... But I must remind you that being torn to pieces by the monster dicks might be a hot erotic fantasy, but in real life, it is a horribly painful death.

“We can’t use robots,” he continued, “the area is covered by a sort of static field that fries complex electronics. Our flyers also tend to drop there. The best view we have comes from the satellites.” The picture has changed to a satellite image. “But it’s lacking details.

“The reason we are in such a hurry,” he finished, “is because the Blight Area is expanding faster and faster. We have to stop it before it takes over all of our land. Nuking the large territory in the middle of populated areas would cause immense damage to property and public health, but it’s a risk we’re willing to take as a last resort. That is, if our project fails.”

The silence fell.

“Okay, we got it,” Cloe nodded. “And, as it involves fucking monsters, I guess that’s why you’ve brought us here. But how? You are right, they will just tear us apart on the first steps, and that’s all.”

Winnie smiled at her. “We’ve managed to take the flesh samples. Their biology is similar to ours, but using another sort of genetic code. Entirely incompatible with Earth life. We believe we’ve managed to create several strains of the alien viruses, possibly deadly to them. The bad news is that they are all purely sexually transmitted.

“That’s where the next part comes in.” The screen showed a naked girl who was about their size and shape, but with slightly bigger breasts and hips, and an anime face. “It’s not 3D hentai. We took the concept of a real sex bot and pushed it to the edge of technology.”

Click. The next video, though, showed what looked like the sickest and kinkiest 3D hentai. The same girl on the screen was stretched by some monster, with the cock nearly three-quarters of her body length pounding her dripping, overstretched cunny. She was mercilessly impaled in her ass, too. She was being suffocated by the third leg-thick cock, which was down her throat. Her belly was stretched out like a pregnant woman’s. Her limbs were bent at unnatural angles.

Chloe whistled.

“She took it like a pro. Or a toy,” Zoe added.

“You don’t say,” Winnie smiled again. “What you’re seeing isn’t generated. This is an actual, working field test. The girl-bot was still far from her limits when the footage was captured. This monstrous cock, nearly the length of her entire body, is stretching her, but still not to the breaking point. The internal sensors registered pressure at just 15 percent of her absolute structural tolerance.

“You’re seeing her orgasm. At this extreme level of pressure and damage, her artificial nervous system registers every sensation as the highest possible pleasure. Blinding pain, mixed with mind-numbing ecstasy. She climaxed at this point for about ten minutes non-stop, and was not wearing down.”

“So ... Are you planning to send the sex bots to the Area?” Joy guessed. “Spreading alien STIs? But still, what’s our purpose? Do you want us to train them?” She chuckled. “I would love to!”

“Yeah, I know a few tricks that will stun those monsters!” Zoe giggled.

“Yes and no,” Winnie stopped the video. “Sex bots are dumb. They don’t have to be smart. And the smarter brains will be fried by the statics. That’s where the secret technologies come in. We’ve equipped the bodies — while enhancing their capabilities, too — with the synthetic nerve tissue that withstands the statics. All we need is a smart mind to populate it. Someone who loves sex and is interested in monster fucks.” He paused and looked at the girls. “We want you to pilot three sex bot bodies to the Blight Area.”