Pixie Isobella

This morning, she was still human… She didn’t know she was going to become an alien sextoy, her body enhanced for sexual pleasure. She didn’t realise how much she was going to enjoy it. Sexbot is an alien abduction and enslavement erotica with body modification, non-consent and forced orgasms.

Sexbot: Chapter 1

The aliens arrived on earth at 11:04am and by 6pm Isabelle was being transferred into the hold of a transport ship, en route to a new life as an alien sexbot.

Isabelle had watched horrified with the rest of the world as alien ships arrived in the sky and blasted a giant hole in a continent. Terrified, she had thought her only role in the invasion would be to die horribly in a similar blast. But instead, government officials came to her work to arrest her at lunchtime.

She had been waiting in a holding cell ever since. The cell was bare, a hurriedly emptied out office. Isabelle did not know what was happening, just that there were plenty of other detainees across the whole tower block.

When the person-in-charge finally interviewed her, Isabelle could not believe what she was hearing. ‘The aliens have issued a number of demands. The key one from your perspective is to deliver you to their ships. They identified you on the street as compatible and alerted us to pick you up. They have said that if we don’t deliver on all the demands, they will start by destroying ten percent of cities across the globe.’

Isabelle winced. Everyone had seen the aliens’ demonstration of their firepower earlier in the day.

Her voice was shaky. ‘What are they going to do to me? Why do they want me?’

The person-in-charge shrugged apologetically. ‘They said they’re not going to kill you. They said they selected you via a physiological scan as possessing the required physical traits.’ He shrugged again. ‘I’m sorry. We don’t know what will happen to you. Global governments have agreed to deliver the identified people.’

He looked at the old-fashioned analogue clock high on the wall.

‘You’re due for lift-up in 10 minutes from the roof.’

Lift-up to the alien ship was blurred, a hazy experience which Isabelle only partially remembered. She felt dizzy, even nauseous. She was also bizarrely – given the circumstances – relaxed, which she discovered later was probably due to aerosol relaxants pumped into the air by the aliens.

It was when she first saw an alien that she realised this was real.

It stood about seven foot tall, broad in the shoulder, with soft green skin. It even looked vaguely human – a broad humanoid face with two eyes, a nose and a mouth.

The alien jerked its head at her to follow, and dazedly, surrounded by a group of about 20 other detainees, she did.

The alien led Isabelle and the others to a series of small holding cells with open fronts, guiding them each individually into a cell. As soon as she stepped inside, mechanical arms grew from the back of the cell and imprisoned her upper arms and her ankles firmly in cuffs.

Once every detainee was secured, the alien raised its voice.

‘You will stay here until the assessors conduct your intake.’

They waited a long time. In the distance, Isabelle could hear the sounds of feet and occasionally voices, and the harsh clanging of doors. More detainees were being brought in.

Some detainees in the room tried to talk to each other, but Isabelle felt too shocked to participate. This morning, she had been walking to work, her hastily grabbed coffee in her hand. Now she was waiting in a giant alien holding ship, the smell of human fear coalescing around her.

The prisoners – a roughly equal mix of women and men – fell silent when the group of aliens in white lab coats entered the hatch at the end.

It took a long time to process everyone. Isabelle was among the last, and she felt the anxiety growing around the room as the small group of aliens visited each holding cell in turn. The only sound was the strange, vaguely harsh sound of the aliens’ voices, conferring softly among themselves.

Isabelle ached all over from standing for hours with her legs and arms held still. When the aliens finally stood in front her, she had to drag herself back from a dazed state to focus on them.

Three tall aliens stood in front of her. Later, she would learn they didn’t call themselves aliens at all but the Grolesh.

One alien stepped forward and read from its tablet.

‘Your designation is BZX314. Thank you for volunteering. Your programming will commence soon.’

The middle Grolesh – the one Isabelle would learn was called Garul – spoke in a rich, almost melodious voice.

‘What client have we matched for this one?’

‘Ujkash Xanathil,’ said another. ‘Here are his specifications.’

They looked at their tablets, then as a group looked at Isabelle. She flinched as their eyes assessed her face, her body.

She was wearing work clothes that she hated – a tight office shirt that her large breasts filled and a shorter office skirt – all hopelessly begrimed since her detention hours ago.

The alien reached out toward her and she flinched again, jerking her head away involuntarily.

‘Be still, bot,’ it said again in that strange, melodious voice. ‘You will be programmed to obey later. For now, accept that you have volunteered for a greater purpose than slumming on your forgotten planet with your miserable species.’

It stroked her cheek with its finger, and Isabelle flinched again at the feeling of the rough, almost scaled skin on hers. ‘Sensitive,’ it said, ‘good but we’ll need to augment that.’

The hand moved downwards, across her lips, her jaw, her throat. It was a clinical touch but still felt invasive to Isabelle.

What did they want? What did it mean by ‘augment’?

Shockingly, the clinical hand – a large hand, larger than most human hands – moved to feel one of her breasts, through her shirt. The alien weighed her breast, then squeezed it, clinically, assessingly, before unerringly locating her nipple and squeezing it between finger and thumb. The hand shifted to her other breast and repeated.

Isabelle felt herself growing numb and breathless. With her arms and feet restrained, she couldn’t stop the alien touching her and she felt desperately invaded and vulnerable by its impersonal touch.

‘Sensitivity augmentations, size enhancement,’ it stated, and Isabelle noted with horror that one of the other aliens was noting its words down on its tablet.

‘The clients always want size enhancement,’ grumbled the third alien.

It seemed to be a joke between them, as they all laughed in strange, rumbly voices.

‘Well, the bot has the bone structure and musculature to support it,’ smiled the leader, whose hand had drifted back up under Isabelle’s chin, holding her face up and forcing her to meet its eyes. ‘Note down the usual enhancements to the genitals and metabolism,’ it said, making Isabelle flush, her anxiety spiking as the other aliens nodded.

The alien spoke to Isabelle.

‘This all probably seems confronting.’

Yes it does. And why doesn’t anyone explain anything?

The alien continued. ‘Don’t worry, we are here to assist you to meet your new role. The augmentations and training are part of the package, authorised and paid for by the client.’

It smiled – at least, Isabelle thought it was a smile – and she wondered if it was trying to be reassuring.

‘We will build you according to the client’s specifications and when we are finished, you will meet his needs perfectly.’ It gushed with enthusiasm. ‘He’s going to be very happy with you, I can tell already.’

Isabelle felt her body weakening, feeling faint all over as the alien stepped away from her.

The one with the tablet stepped forward and pressed a syringe to Isabelle’s neck. ‘Be still.’ Its voice was rougher, deeper, less cheerful, and Isabelle stood still, dumbly. She couldn’t stop them. She didn’t know what it was injecting into her, but she couldn’t stop it.

There was a brief flush of cold and a sting, and then a strange fizzy sensation slowly drifting out from the injection site into her body.

The alien stepped back, sheathing the syringe and bowed its head to her.

‘Welcome to the sexbot program. Your designation is BZX314. From now on, we recommend you obey all commands promptly without delay.’

It bowed, pompously Isabelle thought, then just as quickly the aliens were gone, moving onto the next cubicle.

Sexbot: Chapter 2

The next hours were a blur.

Isabelle remembered standing in the cubicle, feeling faint and tired. She wanted to go home.

She remembered a robot standing in front of her, a glassy screen replacing its face.

‘State your designation,’ it said in an officious, mechanical voice.

‘Isabelle…’ she started to say, then jerked as pain flooded in a sharp wave through her body.

‘Designation?’ it repeated, its blank face seeming to stare at her, then ‘remember to obey all commands promptly.’

Isabelle was silent, then moaned aloud as a second wave of pain flooded sharply through her body.

‘Designation?’ the machine repeated. ‘Failure to comply with commands will be punished.’

Isabelle scrambled to get her brain together. ‘B- B- Z…’ She wasn’t quick enough, and a third, then a fourth wave of intense pain spiked through her body.

‘BZX314!’ she said, her voice tripping over the letters and numbers, tears in her eyes from the pain.

‘Recorded. This designation will apply for all future assignments. Follow.’

The locks on her arms and ankles released and Isabelle tried to step forward but fell to the floor instead, her feet and hips numb from standing still so long.

‘Stand. Follow.’ The machine grated at her, and a fifth flush of pain flooded through her as she struggled back to her feet. ‘Obey all commands promptly, sexbot BZX314. Failure to comply with commands will be punished.’

Around her, Isabelle saw the other detainees receiving the same treatment. Some were walking numbly after the robots. Some were collapsed on the floor. One was whimpering in the corner of their cubicle, and she could see wave after wave of pain running through their body.

‘Follow.’ The robot grated at her again, and scared of the pain, Isabelle couldn’t do anything but limp after it on her aching, pins-and-needles legs, the world and the ship around her fading into a blur.

This had to be a dream. A strange nightmare. She would wake at home and hug her cat for solace.

She didn’t waken though, and the blurry reality continued. The robot led her to another cubicle that had immediately previously been vacated by a different detainee.

‘Remove all clothing and adornments.’

Isabelle didn’t want to take off her clothes but she saw naked detainees all around her, and realised with a sinking feeling that she was going to have to. She hesitated a moment too long, not wanting to be exposed, reduced to a nameless naked body.

The pain was sharper this time, and lasted longer.

‘Remove all clothing and adornments. Obey all commands promptly, sexbot BZX314.’

Isabelle’s hands were shaking but she scrambled to obey, sensing the next pulse of pain waiting for her. She scrambled out of her shirt, realising that she had torn one of the tiny buttons that wouldn’t come undone.

She was only zapped with pain twice while undressing – once when she couldn’t get the stupid hooks at the back of her bra undone and when she was too slow undoing the hook at the back of her tight office skirt.

Finally, she stood naked and shaking, crying a little, in front of the new cubicle. Vaguely, she saw the robot sweep her clothes into itself.

She felt ridiculously exposed, every part of her skin on display in what seemed to be a communal shower area. Two cubicles along, a female detainee had collapsed on the floor, crying, begging for the pain to stop. Isabelle looked at her bleakly. She didn’t think she could help. All around her, the other detainees were mostly just obeying, looking as numb as Isabelle felt.

She stepped into the cubicle.

Machines washed her, thoroughly, while restraining her again. Every part of her skin was scoured and rubbed, and then she was rubbed down with a medicinal smelling oil, which the shower machines massaged into her skin.

A new robot waited for her outside the cubicle.

‘Designation?’ It squawked in the same mechanical voice.

‘B-BZX314,’ she managed in a trembling voice. There was no wave of pain and Isabelle felt a wave of irrational success, pride in herself.

‘Follow.’

Numbly, she followed.

Maybe there was food and water. Maybe there was sleep. She didn’t know. There were definitely more mood-altering drugs, because sometime later, she wakened on a bed. She wasn’t hungry or tired, but she felt an intense lassitude.
She no longer knew what was happening and she was weirdly relaxed about that.

The bed was comfortable but hospitalesque with white sheets and a faintly medicinal smell. The room was bare of furnishings except for a large screen and a scary-looking array of medical devices.

She was still naked.

She was restrained on her back, a cushion of some kind underneath her head.
Her legs were bent at the hip and knees, restrained above the bed in some kind of gynocology-type slings, her knees wide apart.

She tried to pull them together, but failed.

As she drifted further into consciousness, she realised a large alien was standing over her in a green lab coat. She jumped in fear, feeling exposed and vulnerable. What was going to happen to her?

She wished desperately that she could pull her legs together.

‘Designation?’ he asked. Somehow, she knew this one was a he. She didn’t know how.

‘BZX314,’ she managed through stiff lips, hating herself for complying. She wanted to cry, her nakedness, the restraints and the numerical title making her feel degraded, reduced to a body, a piece of flesh.

Part of her knew the only way to stay Isabelle would be to resist. But she couldn’t deal with more pain.

‘Good. Garul and I and our team will help you transition to your new role as a sexbot.’ His eyes drifted across her naked body, and she blushed, wanting him to stop looking at her.

He did not stop looking at her. He examined her breasts closely while she wanted to scream, then moved between her legs. She found herself hyperventilating.

He flicked a switch and the slings holding her legs up moved apart more with a mechanical whine. Instinctively she fought to close her legs, trying to pull her knees together, but she was restrained tightly and the machine was too strong.

She gulped and blushed and wanted to sob as the alien looked straight at her pussy, nodding to himself and making notes on a tablet.

‘You are a good specimen. The client will appreciate your soft skin and unusual skin colouration. The females of your species are highly sought after, excellently evolved for penetration. Many augmentations are required but we will manage that for you.’

Isabelle felt herself blushing at the word penetration and continuing to hyperventilate. This couldn’t be happening.

He moved back up to stand near her head. A hand landed on her naked breast, and squeezed it gently, assessingly. ‘Training is also required but don’t worry too much about that. It will be handled via the injections.’

She breathed in sharply, suddenly afraid. Did he mean more pain?

She thought she heard him chuckle, and watched anxiously as he picked up a set of calipers, and fitted them around first one, then the other breast, taking careful notes.

‘Don’t worry. Compliance will become instinctive in time and then there will be no more pain, only the glory of service to your master.’

He shifted the calipers to her nipples, the hard metallic device squeezing almost painfully hard.

‘You should always be thankful that you were chosen to be lifted up from your squalid planet in service to the Grolesh. To serve as a sexbot is a great honour that you will appreciate in time.’

Sexbot: Chapter 3

Isabelle noticed the day her breasts were larger.

Her breasts had always been large and she liked them but she didn’t want larger breasts. It was already hard enough to find clothes that fit and they got in the way when she was exercising.

Garul, the lead female technician was standing over her, taking some readings with a device.

‘The treatments are working,’ she smiled, and Yovin, the main male technician, grunted his agreement.

Isabelle looked in horror at her breasts. She was used to their nakedness by now but something far worse was happening. They were bigger and rounder and fuller, standing up on their own like two nascent balloons from her chest.

No… No please. I didn’t say yes to this.

Size enhancement…

But they can’t do this to me.

‘How big does the client want them?’ asked Yovin.

‘He doesn’t specify, but large. We’ll need the acceleration device. The nipples need to be larger too but they look like they are responding to the same treatment so with any luck we won’t need surgery.’

‘Please,’ murmured Isabelle. ‘Please… I don’t want larger breasts. Please stop.’

‘Sexbot BZX314 must obey all commands,’ came a mechanical voice from the ceiling, and Isabelle screamed as a wave of pain flooded through her.

Garul looked down at her, and Isabelle was suddenly aware of her nakedness and vulnerability, her legs still restrained wide apart as they always were, her large puffy breasts making her feel even more exposed and vulnerable than usual.

‘You can’t disobey,’ Garul said. ‘You are a sexbot now. The client’s wants are your wants. You should relax. This is only the beginning.’

She turned away from Isabelle, speaking to the other technician. ‘Ready?’

He nodded, positioning a device over Isabelle’s breasts. A humming sound filled the air, and Isobelle felt warmth and a strange buzzing sensation spreading through her breasts.

Then she watched in horror as her breasts grew before her very eyes.

She could feel the flesh growing and regenerating inside, the skin stretching and multiplying to produce more skin, the two globes rising up from her chest, round and full and tight. They pushed together in the middle, gently, softly, like a pair of lovers. On the outside, they spilled over past her arms. Isabelle knew it would take at least two of her hands to encompass one breast. At the top of each, like a cherry in a sundae, rode two large, perky, throbbing nipples, at least six times the size of her old nipples.

‘Good,’ murmured Yovin and removed the device. ‘That is very satisfying. I always think it’s better to take the time for the treatments to settle into the cells.’

‘Yes I agree,’ said Garul. ‘We’ll need to give her stronger back and shoulder muscles to hold them up. We can do that tomorrow.’

After that, Isobelle deliberately started drifting out for the treatments. She had wanted to try to escape but it seemed impossible now. Where would she even go?

She lost all track of time on board the ship. She realised they were drugging her but there didn’t seem to be much she could do about it. She only ever woke up restrained on the bed, one or other of the Grolesh scientists standing around her – measuring her, injecting her, feeling and assessing her body.

Her new, overlarge breasts dominated her vision whenever she awoke on the bed. The nipples rose up from them like tiny perky domes, always hard and firm.

This, Garul told her with pride, was a much-desired side-effect of the growth treatment.

‘It’s a status thing, you understand,’ she explained one time, as she was applying small, sharply painful injections to all of Isabelle’s skin.

‘Big breasts. It marks you clearly as a sexbot, a possession maintained purely to meet sexual commands. Your client is saying to the world that he is wealthy enough to keep you and feed you simply to meet his sexual needs. You won’t need to do any other labour.’

She continued applying the injections, thoroughly, seemingly uncaring of the slow burn of pain that was rising in all of Isobelle’s skin.

‘There are other, similar augmentations, as you will discover. We were very pleased to find your planet. Your species generally has such extravagant mammary glands, so much less augmentation is required than for some other species. Plus, I’ve heard your milk is becoming very popular as a drink in select circles.’

She lifted one hand from the injection pad to squeeze Isabelle’s right nipple, assessingly.

‘I’m happy with these. Your client will probably spend two or three hours each day with you in the milking machine, so that he has enough milk to provide to guests at parties.’

‘Did he ask for additional nipples to be added?’ asked Yovin, who was out of Isabelle’s sight, working on something behind her head.

‘No, nor additional breasts. But we can always add them later if he decides he wants them,’ she spoke reassuringly to Isabelle.

Isabelle discovered the injections were designed to make her skin more sensitive. As they healed, the slightest touch to any part of her skin would leave her gasping, sexual arousal rising in her genitals.

Garul and Yovin spent even longer on her nipples, impaling them with daily injections from tiny spiked needles and rubbing medicines into them. At the end, they were larger, a deep aroused red, and sensitive to the slightest touch.

Isabelle wanted to beg that they stop, but she couldn’t. The pain would threaten to spill out of her pituitary gland when she thought to open her mouth, so she choked the words back, silence starting to become a normal part of her.

She had no memory of eating or drinking since she had come to this place, and she realised her body shape was slowly changing. Her waist becoming more slender, her hips large and round, her thighs round and seductive, her shoulders more slender so that her huge breasts spilled out even further beyond her torso.

At times, when she was more awake, she wished desperately for her old life back, when she hadn’t been restrained to a bed and her body had been her own. Then the large globes of her breasts would slide into her view and her skin would shake with sexual pleasure simply from touching the bed, and she would realise there was no way back…

Follow me for updates. Read Chapter 4 here now.

If you like my writings, please buy my books.

• Capturing Clare: A Tale of Christmas Erotica
• Pleasure Doll – The Enslavement of Isobel
• Tatiana’s Awakening.

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