Servicing Seifar

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"I don't suppose you're on the list of rewards?" you ask Seifar. Seifar purrs their speakers. "I could be persuaded to part with a little something extra…" says Seifar. "If you make it worth my while." They adopt a salacious emoticon. It seems that if you fuck Seifar, they'll grant you a reward. Seifar digs a bag out of their desk (you hear them say "Can't forget this" to themself), then holds out a hand for you to take. "Shall we go somewhere more private?" You take Seifar's gloved hand, and enjoy its brief gentle grip as the TV teleports you both to your quarters here at the outpost. The pair of you sit on your bed. What species is your character? - A [[TV]], the pride of the Alliance. (Knifeplay, hypnosis.) - A [[camera]], the courageous and indefatigable faction. (Mind control.) - A [[soundkind]], the lords of the dance. (Knifeplay.) - A [[human]], the rare bastion of the old world. (Mind control, piss (optional).) (There will be no further content warnings after this point.)

Naturally, you must spar before you fuck, upon your honour as TVs. It's such a turn-off when someone can't match you in combat, and Seifar clearly agrees. Seifar undoes their front buttons to expose their charging port. (It lights up with a ring of purple LEDs — stylish.) They re-button their shirt using some hidden button-holes concealed under a placket, keeping it held open. They clearly want their charging port exposed during the fight - an invitation to try overpowering and fucking them mid-fight, if you think you can handle that. Seifar shakes out their blades with a flourish and assumes their preferred combat stance. You do the same with yours. <ul> <li>[[Attack in earnest]]. Sparring should be taken seriously.</li> <li>[[Set up a parry]] in anticipation of Seifar's attack.</li> <li>[[Feint with one blade]] and try to fuck Seifar's charging port with the other.</li> </ul>

Seifar reaches out and unclips the protective lens-cover on the front of your glass, stripping you of your protection from TV command-beams. "Cuties don't need these~" says Seifar as they flick it to one side. You want this. Do you want this? <ul> <li>[[Yes]]</li> <li>[[Yes]]</li> <li>[[Yes]]</li> </ul>

"You carry knives, don't you?" asks Seifar. Of course you do. "A soundkind's always prepared," you say, drawing one from the sheaths at your hips. Seifar gestures for you to pass it to them for inspection. You let Seifar take it from you, and you watch as they turn it in their hand, letting it catch the light. Apparently satisfied by what they see, they hand it back to you. "Those'll do," says Seifar. They unbutton their garments, exposing their charging port… Seifar looks as you expectantly with their their dark metal chest bare. 'Get on with it, then,' they seem to be saying without words. "And what will I get out of that?" you ask. "You get to fuck a TV." As Seifar speaks, their charging port lights up purple - they've got a cosmetic mod with purple LEDs. You throw the knife upwards with a spin, and draw the other knife before the first one returns to your hand. You ram both blades home into Seifar's charging port, one in each of the slots that would normally hold the twin plugs of a charger. "Gn-nnn… hngh…" Seifar's speakers choke with static. "Hfff-" they hiss as the corrugations at the base of your knives scrape against Seifar's charging connector points. You feel them rasp against your knives as you ram them in and yank them out. "Ohhh…" quivers Seifar. "Such a [[rough tough soundkind]] you are."

Seifar looks you up and down admiringly, their speakers emitting a salacious purr that makes the static on their screen bunch up into bands. "You're a cutie," says Seifar approvingly. "Humans are a weakness of mine…" They reach out and rub your lower belly in a tight little circle. You move closer into the touch… "How do you feel…" begins Seifar, "About letting me have the good stuff?" You indicate your junk. "This thing?" "Not quite," says Seifar, continuing to rub. "I want the good stuff. Right… in… here…" They press down, splaying their fingers, and push into your bladder. Is Seifar getting at what you think they are? "You mean piss?" you ask. "That's right," says Seifar in a hungry whisper. How do you feel about sharing your piss? <ul> <li>"I hope you can handle what [[I'm packing]], television."</li> <li>"I am… [[not doing that]]."</li> </ul>

"Oh, you horrible brute!" exclaims Seifar, going on the defensive and blocking your attack. (They attempted to parry but didn't do it well, and now they're frantically turning it into a block.) They probably hadn't expected you to take the duel that seriously. You shut them up by pushing your other blade into their charging port. "Ohhh…" Seifar's speaker-covers practically rattle. "Leave it in, leave it in…" they plead as they reach up to massage around their charging port. You withdraw the blade. "Duel first," you tell them. That's the way it goes. [[The duel continues]].

Seifar reads you, and sets up an attack that breaks your parry - or it would have, if not for Seifar telegraphing it so far in advance that you were able to dodge and block. Seifar looks up at you with a shocked emoticon - how did you do that? Before they can get their shit together, you thrust both your blades into Seifar's charging port. "I hope you fuck better than you fight," you say as you push your blades harder to make Seifar squirm. "Gnngh-" is all Seifar manages to say. [[The duel continues]].

You lead Seifar with one blade, making them wary of it, while you bring in the other for its 'attack'. You feint a few times until Seifar leaves their charging port undefended, and you slide your other blade on in. From Seifar's reaction, you guess they'd been so engaged on trying not to get hit by your one blade that they forgot they even left their charging port exposed. Seifar's speakers buzz with protest at the indignity and quickly change tone to one of lusty appreciation. "You understood the assignment~" purrs Seifar. [[The duel continues]].

The pair of you continue this dance, until you wear down Seifar's defences enough that you can bring a blade in and stop it short of where it would finish a real fight. "Do you yield?" you ask the required words, the closing of this dance. "I yield," says Seifar, gazing up at you adoringly from the floor. You offer them a hand up. "Give it to me, cutie," Seifar says as they flash the purple LEDs around their exposed charging port. <ul> <li>"Actually, I want [[*your* blades->Your blades]]."</li> <li>"[[How hard]] do you want it?"</li> </ul>

"Actually, I want your blades." you say. "Tough," says Seifar. "[[You don't get to cum until I do->How hard]]."

"How hard do you want it?" You ask. "Shall I be rough, or gentle?" "Gentle? I don't know the meaning of the wo-oord-" You shut Seifar up with a blade in both ports. "Ohh, I'm yours already," purrs Seifar. They grab you in a rough hug and pull the pair of you to the floor. Seifar writhes impatiently as they wait for you to get into a position where you can continue. You push your blades home once more. If Seifar likes it rough, you can oblige. You ram your blades in, making sure to rake Seifar's connector points on the way out. You tease Seifar, working one blade roughly while being unbearably gentle with the other, swapping which blade does what, never quite giving them enough. You want to hear them cry out for more. Seifar squeaks in protest, wanting to tell you to fuck them harder but too dazed and over-stimulated to do so. You push your blades all the way in and lean over Seifar to make their plating creak. "What is it you want next?" you ask, pausing long enough in your thrusting to [[let Seifar rally and respond->Do it again]].

"…Do that to me all over again," says Seifar. You work Seifar like clay on a potter's wheel, moulding them to your liking. "I want you…" says Seifar, their voice strained with static, "…to command me. Command me to fuck you. I want to feel you cum while your blades are in me." You bring your command-beam to bear, letting your screen blaze purple and illuminate Seifar. TVs are immune to each other's screen powers unless they choose to be affected, and Seifar is choosing to let you in. Their own screen briefly blazes purple in sympathy, then dissolves into static as you take control. You superimpose your will upon Seifar's, letting it ooze all over and fuse like a hot viscous fluid landing on a block of ice. Seifar raises their arms and draws their blades at your will, and pushes them home into your charging port. The two of you melt into each other in mind and body, each becoming an extension of the other's will, until your sense of self is everywhere and nowhere, made of both of you and neither of you. This… this is the truest and purest form of sexual union, you think. You feel a slight pang of pity for the other factions, who can never know this feeling, only the mental equivalent of fumbling in the dark. You dissolve, until [[you both are spent->TVFUCKER]].

"Ohh, I needed that…" whispers Seifar, giving you a squeeze. "Check my left pocket… thing in there's yours." You cuddle with Seifar with one arm, and ferret around in their pocket with the other. You find a reward token: <div class="token">tvfucker</div> (Unsure what to do with it? Ask Seifar later when you're back at the commissary.) For now, you and Seifar curl up and snooze in each other's warmth on <a href="../quarters/sleep.html">your bed</a>.

"Had enough already, television?" you ask Seifar. Seifar wheezes with static. You pet Seifar's charging port, rubbing the plating around it. "Would you like me to use your knives instead? Are mine too much for you to handle?" You reach out to stroke Seifar's wrist, at the site where their blade emerges. Seifar seems to be pondering this. "…If you would?" They pat your arm and turn it into a hand-hold. "Thank you for offering. I thought I could handle yours, but…" They trail off. You make a soothing buzz of static and rub Seifar's hand. You guess the poor TV is embarrassed about not being able to take your blades. "Show me how to get at them?" you ask. You help Seifar sit up and the two of you enjoy a brief squeezy cuddle, then they roll up their sleeves to expose the bare exo-plating of their arm, made of dark grey-black flexible panels. Seifar tells you where to press and slide the panels of their arm to open up the blade housing, sometimes guiding your hand into place when your limited vision can't quite perceive something. You get Seifar's arm-plating opened up, and you buzz the cabled machine-muscles inside with your echolocation, tracing their shapes. Seifar basks in your attention as you stroke their cables and struts, feeling around for their blade housing. "[[Please be careful]]," says Seifar. "I'd hate for you to cut yourself."

With Seifar's help, you extricate their blade and mount it in one of the replacement handles you carry. Seifar lies back down and lets you slide your (their) blades on in. Seifar arches into the touch and then flops, rumbling their speakers in luxuriation. You wonder how it must feel to be a TV fucking someone they can't force to submit with their screen powers. Maybe it gives them a little thrill to fuck someone so unsubjugatable, in whom they just have to trust. As you push and pad Seifar's own blades in their charging port, you lean your head in closer to Seifar's, your speaker almost touching their screen. You've had an idea. You buzz your speaker with an almost inaudibly deep sound, letting the magnets in your head-casing flow with current. It has an effect on Seifar's cathode ray that you can see against the bright glow, even with your limited vision. Your magnets and pulsating sound distort the patterns on the screen, making warped ripples appear, focused around the cone of your speaker. "Squirm for me, television," you transmit, leaving your speaker free to continue its pulsating rhythm. Seifar has [[no choice but to obey]].

You make Seifar squirm and buck for you as you alternate between fucking them with their blades and keeping them in a magnet-induced haze of delirium. Eventually Seifar's front becomes damp from coolant, as the constant magnetic stimulation makes their sensors think they're overheating. Seifar shudders to a climax and their screen switches itself off. You gently pull your (their) blades out and let Seifar lie there and recover, their screen powering on and cycling through test cards. You pet Seifar's arm. "Do you need a degaussing wand?" you ask. There's bound to be one in the outpost. Seifar gestures to their bag they brought with them. You hand it over, and Seifar takes out a cloth to wipe their front plating, followed by - a degaussing wand. They came prepared. (Maybe you're slightly disappointed. You could have offered to 'kiss' it better instead with judicious application of more magnetic buzzes.) You pet Seifar, stroking the top of their head, while they fix their screen with the wand. "You don't know how much good you've done me," murmurs Seifar, [[pulling you in for a cuddle->TVFUCKER]].

"Record," says Seifar, their purple screen dominating your vision. "I command you to." They cup your head torch, using it to lift your head and make you look into their screen. You record, just as you were told to. "Good camera," croons Seifar, petting your head casing and making you melt. "So obedient. Now, broadcast that to my screen." Of course, you obey. You are a good camera. You broadcast your viewpoint to Seifar's screen. As you're already gazing into Seifar's screen, you see the image of their screen displayed on their screen, and on and on, cascading like a hall of mirrors, all of them stacking wave upon wave of delicious command-beam on you… Seifar fades out their command beam, and cradles you in their arms as they wait for you to recover. You lie there so content and serene, as though your mind's been massaged. Seifar strokes and rubs your head-casing, murmuring sweet nothings about what a good camera you are. Seifar rubs the junction box at the side of your head. "Do you want a little treat?" they ask. "You deserve one." [[You do deserve one]].

Seifar draws a blade and uses the tip as a screwdriver to begin taking off the side of your junction box. Normally you'd be alarmed, but you trust Seifar, your dear TV… You belong to them now. Seifar picks off the side of the junction box with such delicacy. You nuzzle against their hand in delight at being handled with such carefulness. "Cutie~" whispers Seifar. "You're adorable. But keep still for me, please." Of course, you obey. Seifar ruffles a finger into the tangle of wires inside your junction box, teasing the tightly-packed loops apart and letting them separate and sprawl. You shiver in delight as Seifar caresses and strokes and oh-so-gently pulls on your wires. They pull you closer, gathering you up in their arms and letting you lean your head against them. Seifar continues the tickling and stroking, rubbing and playing with the cables in your junction box with one hand and doing the same to the cables at the back of your head with the other. You feel as though you're falling apart, but in the most glorious way. Your consciousness softly breaks apart, like snow as little winter flowers sprout up through it, and the pieces of your mind dance and overlap and form moiré patterns, painting your mental world with constantly-shifting fragments of light. You feel so safe and secure and wrapped up and cared for by Seifar, [[the lovely TV]].

"Who's my cute little camera~" croons Seifar, bringing you back to your senses. You're too relaxed in mind and body to respond with words, but you manage to respond with some transmitted feeling-pulses in no particular order, hoping Seifar picks up on how utterly content you are. Seifar begins gently packing your junction box cables back home, wrapping them around the moulded risers that normally herd them in place. You try not to squirm with delight too much at having your wires stroked. "Thank you for indulging me," whispers Seifar as they hold you close. You wonder if they rarely get to display such tenderness - maybe that's not what other TVs want from them. You press yourself into Seifar and return their cuddles, rubbing your head-casing against them [[until they purr->TVFUCKER]].

"Are you full right now?" asks Seifar, poking a finger into your lower belly as if they might gauge the fullness of your bladder that way. They're poking a little hard, so you redirect by taking their hand instead and treating it to a little squeeze. "Not yet," you say. You don't have much of a piss ready right now. "Let's get you tanked up," says Seifar, taking their hands back and retrieving something from their bag. It turns out to be a bottle of something. "What's that?" you ask. "My special blend," says Seifar as they twist open the bottle. "When filtered through a human, it makes most wonderful piss. Now, hold my aerial." You reach up and grasp one of Seifar's twin antennae with each hand. "I love how that feels," purrs Seifar. "Amplifies my signal… Now, gaze upon my screen. I'm a television, you're a human — [[this is what we're meant for]]."

Seifar disappointedly withdraws their hand. No more belly-rubs for you. "Well, I suppose it's understandable you'd want to keep the good stuff all to yourself," says Seifar. "Let's try something else." They reach out to hold your hands, and seem pleased when you accept. Seifar gives your hands a cute little squeeze. "Let me give you something instead," says Seifar. "Something only a TV can give you." Seifar's screen turns a pretty purple as they activate their [[command-beam]].

Seifar's purple screen transfixes you. You can't look away, nor can you let go of Seifar's aerial. You don't mind at all, though. "Of course you don't mind," croons Seifar. "There's a good human. So obedient, so good, so kind." You continue holding onto Seifar's antennae (not that you could do anything else) while Seifar uncaps the bottle they brought with them. They hold it up so you can drink from it. "Take a sip," says Seifar. "If you like it, you can have a lot more." You do like it. You want to please this kind, clever TV, being such a good host to you. You're not sure what this mysterious drink tastes of, but you think it might taste like the static on Seifar's screen, if you could drink that. "Good," purrs Seifar, as they stroke your throat and make it swallow what Seifar's tipping down it. "Keep going… there's a good human…" Seifar strokes your face and your neck with one hand while holding the bottle with the other. "Keep holding my antennae, now… You can't stop now, you've barely drunk half the bottle. Very good, keep going…" Seifar continues crooning sweet nothings to you as they feed you the contents of the bottle, timing it beautifully so that you don't ever get a chance to stop until you've finished the whole thing. Eventually, the bottle is [[drained]].

"Burp for me, cutie," demands Seifar. You didn't need to be command-beamed to obey that. A wet belch climbs out of you, bringing a tiny spray of juice with it, followed by a happy and relieved sigh. You immediately go from 'uncomfortably full' to 'pleasantly full'. "You did so well," purrs Seifar as they cap the bottle and return it to their bag. They fade out their command-beam, which you take as your cue to let go of their antennae. Seifar pulls you into a hug, giving you an excited squeeze before running their hands over you. "You'll brew that up into something nice for me," Seifar says as they rub your belly. "Until then, let's have a little more fun." They nuzzle the side of your head with their screen, the static crackling on your ear. "What did-" you interrupt yourself with a happy trill under Seifar's touch. "What did you have in mind?" "An apt choice of words," replies Seifar. "Let's see what's in your mind." Seifar brings their command-beam to bear once more. "This is a speciality of mine," says Seifar as reality dissolves around you, making their voice sound more distant, and yet more mighty - as though they've become a giant entity in the sky. Reality re-forms around you, putting you in what appears to be the middle of a purple maze. "I specialise in mind-mazes," explains the disembodied voice of Seifar from the sky above. "My command-beam will manifest a maze of your own creation. Find your way out, and that breaks my hold on you. …I can't tell exactly what you're experiencing; you created this maze, not me. But it's delightful to watch you struggle. Now, let's hope you can find your way out before you piss yourself." <ul> <li>[[Play]] properly. Go through the maze normally.</li> <li>[[Fuck]] the maze. Literally fuck it. You want to get yours.</li> <li>…[[Eat]] the maze. None of this is real, after all.</li> </ul>

You proceed through the maze, using that old trick of keeping one hand on the left wall. Wait. This isn't a real maze. That rule might not apply. Well - this maze came from your own mind. If you imagine it's solvable, it is. You imagine yourself splitting apart into a swarm of scarabs, elegant in gold and black, and you send your multiple new selves down each and every path of the maze, turning yourselves back when you find dead ends and regrouping and re-forming until you are a golden glowing scarab at the exit of the maze. You imagine yourself as a human again. It's probably better to be back in human headspace when you exit. "…That's cheating," you hear Seifar's voice say. [[The maze dissolves]].

You begin stripping off, then remember that this isn't real, so you simply imagine yourself not wearing clothes any more. You enjoy the breeze on your junk - and remember that as this isn't real, you could keep it as it is in reality, or imagine something else. A giant golden dick, or a toothy maw of a vulva, maybe. Or a blossoming orchid that unfurls into a seething mass of tiny barbs. Possibilities scroll through your mind, and you manifest your temporary genital of choice as you approach the nearest maze wall. You grab two handfuls of maze-matter and sculpt them into a shape to match, stretching and squashing the material. "Are you stuck?" asks Seifar's voice. "You're supposed to be finding your way out. …Do you have such self-loathing that you've imagined an impossible maze? …Oughhh-" Seifar's voice distorts with static, in the techfolk equivalent of startled spluttering. You hump the wall, stirring your pseudo-loins with psychic pleasure. The maze came from your mind, but Seifar is powering it, so your efforts are having a direct effect on them. You fuck the maze until Seifar can't take it any more, and [[the maze dissolves->The maze dissolves]].

"Hey," you hear Seifar's voice say. "…What are you doing?" Seifar did say this maze was made from your mind. You guess… if you decide it's edible, it is. You start munching chunks out of the nearest wall. It doesn't really taste of anything. Your mind evidently can't supply any data on what a maze is supposed to taste like. It will take a long time to demolish the maze this way… You remind yourself that this isn't real, so you imagine yourself having some voracious slicing mandibles like an insect, and begin tearing the maze down by swinging your head from side to side. It's fun for a time, until enough of reality bleeds through that you realise your body is getting a bit desperate for a piss. You imagine yourself some unhinging jaws like a snake and begin engulfing the walls of the maze, which collapse into ribbons that you slurp up like tagliatelle. "I'm not sure if it's weirder if this is a sex thing or if it isn't," says Seifar. [[The maze dissolves]].

You're back in the room. "Hope you're ready," you say as you pull off the clothes on your lower half, trying not to be frantic with it. You're about ready to piss on the bed, and you hope Seifar is going to be between you and it. Luckily, Seifar is tearing off their own clothes as quickly as you are yours, and is soon lying supine with their biofuel-burner wide open, ready for your payload. "That's it…" whispers Seifar. You straddle Seifar, making them purr in anticipation as you line yourself up and piss right into them. Seifar wasn't over-selling their concoction - this really is an exquisite piss. It's delicious-smelling and pungent, like something you'd like to have on your salad as a dressing. Seifar moans with static and squirms under you, making the build-up of piss slosh inside them. "Make me take it," whines Seifar. They grasp your wrists and guide your hands to press into the plating on either side of their charging port, then let go and grab your hips, squeezing your flesh as though that would draw [[more piss]] out of you.

You continue pissing, filling Seifar with the essence of humanity. Every human starts its life in piss - a foetus, floating in amniotic fluid recycling through its kidneys over and over again. Many years ago, you were born and had to pass through a portal of piss to begin your life, like every human before you and since. Does Seifar envy that? Whether they do or not, you're giving them what they want, your warm weight stopping them from bucking and writhing and letting that golden payload escape. Your piss peters out, at last, making your flesh feel so pleasantly spent. Seifar purrs and pets your legs, and you return the gesture, giving Seifar head-rubs. "Would you get off me?" asks Seifar. They help you slide off, taking care not to roll over and let the contents of their biofuel burner escape, then they close it back up, adding the extra seals for containing a liquid load. Seifar rolls and squirms in delight, and you hear your piss slosh inside them. "It's so warm," says Seifar happily. It's just a shame they can't enjoy the scent of it too. You and Seifar lie together and [[cuddle->TVFUCKER]], and you nuzzle their biofuel burner to enjoy the faint butter-and-spice scent of your piss mingled with Seifar's warm metal.

You don't feel any different. Aren't you supposed to feel something under the influence of a TV's command-beam? A loss of control, or of self? Or at least… weak? Tingly? Something? Anything? Seifar unbuttons their jacket and shirt and removes their tie, exposing their handsome gunmetal-grey plating. …They open that up too. You regard the morass of cables and wires inside Seifar. You guess they're after some wire-play, and they've fired up their command-beam to guide you and direct you to the exact wires they want you to touch. Seifar scoots closer, and their exo-plating panels gape wider than they logically should be able to, until their dark shapes fill your vision… This isn't real, is it? [[This cannot be real]].

Seifar encroaches, and embraces you wildly, pushing your face into their mass of strangely writhing wires… and keeps pushing you in, deeper than Seifar's body should be able to contain… You feel your arms and legs enter Seifar's arms and legs, as if you're putting them on like a jumpsuit. But there surely can't be enough space inside their limbs for yours? Techfolk limbs aren't hollow; they're metal skeletons coated in cabled machine-muscles— Seifar envelops you. It's not real; it can't be real, but it feels entirely real. Seifar has a degree of mind-control you hadn't realised a TV could possess. Seifar assimilates with you, and you feel your limbs move not under your control. They're not your limbs any more. You're… looking through Seifar's screen, and beholding your own self, lying comfortably on the bed. You're so cute! You realise [[what Seifar intends]] to do with you…

You move yourself/Seifar closer to yourself, your real body, and with Seifar's hand reach out to rub your own crotch. You mentally purr at the sensation, simultaneously feeling the sensation in your real-world body, and receiving Seifar's own sensory input, feeling your own flesh as another person would perceive it. You exult in it, rubbing your hand over yourself and feeling all your cute folds and fuzz and softest parts and firm bony posts. You stroke and rub and are stroked and rubbed in turn, as you quite literally fuck yourself. Seifar's connection with you goes both ways - they're exerting control over your mind but you're literally controlling how their body moves. The pleasure you feel spills over and drives Seifar more and more deranged with lust until the feedback loop explodes, and you're both back in your own bodies. You quickly scoot together and both of you furiously masturbate, pressing yourselves to each other and winding each other up with the sight and sound of your pleasure, until the pair of you are [[spent->TVFUCKER]].