Saturated Vessel and Silver Silence

A mechanical shudder climbed her hipbones and rang all the way into the marrow of her skull. The vending machine's intake — that cold mechanical mouth sealed flush against Nabi's anus — split open with a wet metallic yawn. Deep in its throat, a high-pressure pump kicked to life and began to vomit up its contents.

This time it was not the blue liquid from the cans. From the machine's lowest depths, from a waste-processing tank where rotting meat scraps had steeped in spent chemical reagents, came a viscous red slime.

"Mmph!!!! Nngh!!!!!"

Nabi's eyes blew wide, straining at the sockets. Her anus was already torn and slack from the extraction of the key; there was no sphincter left with the strength to hold back a pressure like that. Resistance was impossible.

Hot, heavy fluid poured into her in a waterfall, racing up the ruptured walls of her rectum. This was no enema. It was a fire hose jammed into her ass and a dam thrown open behind it. Her colon ballooned to its limit in seconds. With a thick, gurgling roll, the red slime reversed along every coiled loop of intestine and began, greedily, to occupy every empty pocket of space inside her belly.

The problem was the front. Her vagina was already wedged shut by the Living Key, hardened into a spike. The pressure driving in from behind — from the rectum — shoved against the vaginal wall through a membrane no thicker than paper. The key, unable to bear it, tried to punch its way out, only to catch on the narrow mouth of her entrance and grind instead into her pubic bone and bladder.

Slosh. Slosh. A grinding squelch.

Her viscera screamed. There was no room. Organs shoved and crushed against one another, producing a friction that should never have been audible. Nabi's belly swelled past the grotesque roundness of a woman at full term and kept going. The taut skin stretched translucent; beneath it, writhing blue veins and red capillaries showed through like a map drawn on wet paper.

The space in which to breathe shrank to a slit above her diaphragm. Her lungs were pinned. Her breath came in scraps. The machine did not stop. Replenish whatever has leaked. That was the broken vending machine's only law. But Nabi had spilled more than she had drunk. The volume the machine had calculated to inject was a quantity that soared past her capacity — a dose that bordered on lethal.

The machine's judgment was pitiless. If the bottom was full, fill the top. A writhing tube descended from the upper housing like a snake. A mechanical arm seized Nabi's jaw hard enough to powder it.

"Nngh…!"

She shook her head, fighting it, but steel grip made the joint of her jawbone creak. Her mouth was forced open. Through that gap, a thick tube was driven straight for her esophagus.

A wet punch of insertion. Then a gush.

"Ghk! Khhk! Mmph!"

The red fluid poured in through her mouth as well. Instinct slammed her airway shut so it would not flood her lungs. What ran down her esophagus packed her stomach to the brim. Stomach and colon swelled at the same time and met in the middle, pressing against each other. Nabi's body was no longer a person's. It was a leather tube, hoses coupled at both ends, existing only to hold liquid.

The sensation of expansion passed beyond pain and into a white, ringing faintness. The terror that she was about to burst burned her brain clean.

At some point, the injection ended. The tube ripped free, but the fluid still lapped at the back of her throat. If she opened her mouth even a fraction, if she breathed too hard, she would bring it all up at once. The machine would not permit that.

From the vending machine's flank, silver packing tape issued again.

A long rip. A slap of adhesion.

A mechanical arm tore the tape and dragged it across Nabi's mouth. Over the lips, across the cheeks, all the way to the hinge of the jaw. Once was not enough. It layered the stuff horizontally, vertically, again and again.

"Mmph. Mmph. Nnnnngh."

Her mouth was sealed. She could neither vomit nor scream. Nabi rolled her eyes wildly and leaked a sound of pure animal terror. Through her nose she dragged what shallow breath she could.

What remained was the rear, still coupled to the machine. Her ass hung in the air, swallowed by the vending machine's intake.

A mechanical tone sounded, and the vending machine's vibration pattern changed. This was no longer simple injection. This was the stage at which the machine would force Nabi's body to absorb the filthy mixture it had packed into her — or to filter it.

From the chassis, slender mechanical fingers unfolded. Strange tentacles, silicone padded over cold metal joints. They began to crawl across the dome of her swollen belly.

A press. A deeper press.

"Mmph! Nnnnngh!"

Every time they bore down, the fluid inside her sloshed and struck her inner walls. Like hands working a water balloon they did not intend to burst, the fingers massaged her abdomen with methodical persistence. They compressed her stomach. They raked down the length of her colon. Torture in the shape of peristalsis, inflicted from the outside.

Another mechanical arm slid between her legs. The vagina was occupied by the key; the anus was docked. The only small hole left was the urethral opening.

The expansion-torture of the last minutes had crushed her bladder to its limit as well. She needed to piss. A bursting urgency stabbed her lower belly — and a mechanical fingertip tapped that hypersensitive mouth.

A rub. A flick.

"Hiek! Nnnngh!"

Her hips jerked. A current of electricity. The already-full bladder, stimulated, let ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠her sphincter slip, and a spurt of urine leaked out.

A thin yellow trickle ran down her thigh. The machine seemed to savor the reaction. The finger circled the urethral opening, then used a nail-tip to ease the entrance a fraction wider.

A bright, needling spark.

"Mmph! Nngh!"

The sensation of a seized faucet being forced open. Nabi tried desperately to close her legs, but the restraints had her thighs and would not yield. The mechanical finger was relentless. It pinched the urethral opening, twisted it, pressed it — as if it were mashing a remote-control button.

At the same time, another arm climbed her torso. Her breasts stood out against the thin hospital gown, the nipples hardened into points by terror, arousal, and pain. The machine did not tear the cloth. It simply set cold pincers against the fabric and pinched.

A wet crush. A vicious twist.

"!!!"

The scream broke only as a sound through her nose, stopped by tape. The pain of her nipple being wrenched upward and the stimulation at her urethra hit her brain at the same instant. A ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠mixture of pleasure and agony, electric, applied from both ends of her body. Her belly was so full it felt ready to split, and yet every nerve had been honed to a razor's edge.

Nabi's body shook. Reason went dark. Instinct remained. She wanted to void. She wanted to spend. She wanted to be empty.

The machine had already read that hunger. The pressure on her belly intensified. A long, slow stroke from the pit of her stomach down to the lower abdomen.

A deep, grinding compression.

"Nnnnnngh…!"

Abdominal pressure hit its peak. The bladder could not hold. The urethral sphincter collapsed completely.

A hard, driving spray.

A jet of piss burst from between Nabi's legs with real force. It was not simply urine. It was a turbid mixture of the red fluid that had been pumped into her, the waste of her own body, and every liquid that had been trapped inside — filth the machine had filtered through her as if she were a sieve.

Nabi squeezed her eyes shut against the shame. In front of a vending machine, held in mechanical arms, she was pissing herself like an animal. She wanted to stop. She could not. The machine kept stimulating the urethral opening, wringing out every last drop.

A dribble. A tick. A tick.

The voiding went on and on. The floor became a shining lake. The air shook with a raw, ammoniac stink.

But the machine did not grieve what had fallen to the ground. The real meal was happening at the rear.

While Nabi pissed from the front, the anal sphincter loosened in sympathy. The vending machine's docked lips did not miss the gap.

A wet suck. A seal. A swallow.

The machine began to drink the intestinal fluid and slime leaking through Nabi's anus. The half-digested red liquid from her colon — that mixture, moderately fermented and spoiled by its passage through a human gut — the vending machine gulped down as if it were sweet honey.

"Nngh… mmphph…"

Her body arched as if it would be sucked backward into the housing. The flesh inside her anus was drawn outward by the machine's vacuum. Like a juice pack with a straw driven through it, Nabi's insides were being drunk.

Voiding from the front. Suction from the rear. A double extraction. Nabi stared into empty air with emptied eyes. Even the tears at the corners had dried. Behind the tape, her tongue only rolled.

Just kill me…

The vending machine was not ready to let her go. As the voiding tapered off, a mechanical arm closed again on her wet breast. This time it did not pinch. It kneaded, as if working dough. A sadistic caress.

A heavy squelch. A sticking sound.

The hospital gown, soaked with piss, clung to her skin and made a nauseating noise. Whenever Nabi twisted with shame, the machine only gripped harder — like a child delighting in the reactions of a living toy. Or like a quality inspector testing the durability of a meat doll.

Nabi's body would not stop leaking. The bladder was empty, but the stimulation continued, and phantom piss kept beading and dripping. The sight seemed to excite the vending machine further. Its motor-note swelled, sending a vibration through the lips still locked on her ass.

"Ghhk…! Khhnnn…!"

Mouth and nose sealed under silver tape, a death-cry turned in circles inside her throat and had nowhere to go.

The sensation of her guts being turned inside out.

It was not a metaphor. The red slime that had packed her rectum began, under the pressure of a violent vacuum pump, to reverse in an instant.

A heavy mechanical roar. A long, wet suck.

The residue clinging to the walls of her colon. Half-digested matter. And the unidentified red slime that had only just been injected.

The machine used Nabi's anus as a giant straw, drank the contents of her intestines to the last smear — and then, with explosive pressure, slammed a fresh charge of waste fluid back into her. Organs that had collapsed empty screamed as they ballooned like a bladder inflated too fast.

"Mmph!! Nngh!!!! Nnnnnnnnngh!!!!"

Her eyes rolled, whites showing. Her lower abdomen swelled like a pregnancy, and the rolling movement of her viscera showed nakedly through the skin of her belly.

But the true hell was not behind her.

It was in front. The vagina, already violated past its limit.

"……!"

Between Nabi's legs, a living, writhing mass of flesh thirty centimeters long — the Living Key — was buried in her.

Already some eleven centimeters in. A monstrosity driven to the root, tearing through the thin membrane of the vaginal fornix at the deepest point of her. That alone was pain enough to make breathing impossible. The vending machine had no intention of stopping.

A cold mechanical whine. A clank of locks.

A steel pincer unfolded from inside the machine and closed hard around the shaft of the key where it jutted from Nabi's vaginal opening.

The Living Key, startled by the arm's grip, thrashed violently, raking the inner walls of her vagina.

A grinding tear. A wet crunch. A split.

"Mmphh. Hnnnnnnngh!!!!"

Nabi's spine bowed like a drawn bow. Every fold of the vaginal wall was forced flat and pulled taut.

And then.

A rising mechanical whine.

The arm began, with merciless strength, to drive the key inward.

A dead end. There was nowhere left to go. The glans of the key was already jammed tight in the mouth of her cervix.

The machine only executed its input. It would ram the key into the uterus, pry open the locked womb, and fill it.

A deep crack of yielding tissue. A snap.

"……!!!!"

The closed mouth of the uterus was forced open by sheer physical power. A nauseating rupture, like a tire tearing, rang through the inside of Nabi's pelvis.

The problem was what came next. Nabi's uterus. Into that already-packed space, a glans the size of a fist was trying to shove its way in.

The semen trapped inside the womb had nowhere to go. Enormous hydraulic pressure built.

A heavy slosh. A gulp.

"Khhnnnnnngh!!!"

A wave of semen whirling inside the uterus hammered her lower belly in a frenzy. Through the gap torn by the forced opening of the cervix, white fluid that could no longer bear the pressure hissed along the seams of the key and sprayed out in a fountain.

A tearing hiss. A sputtering burst.

Semen reversing. The key driving in. The two forces met head-on at the mouth of the womb. Pressure enough to bleach Nabi's brain white. Abdominal force enough to burst viscera. And the bright, precise agony of a cervix being torn.

For an instant, another man's semen poured down her thighs as if a levee had given way. A flicker of relief — the sense of her belly emptying, however slightly — passed through her. It was only the wind-up for a deeper hell.

A mechanical voice sounded at Nabi's ear. The vending machine had read her scream as refusal, and the reverse flow of contents as a malfunction.

A grinding of gears.

The mechanical arm twisted at the wrist. It was not a simple rotation of a joint. It began to turn the entire mass of living flesh buried in Nabi's vagina as if it were a screw.

A clank. A heavy thud.

"Nngh…!"

The arm drew back a fraction, then rammed the spinning Living Key in at a merciless speed.

A tearing grind. A hard, wet punch.

"Mmph!!!! Nnnnnnnnnnnngh!!!!"

The glans entered scraping the uterine wall and struck the fundus — the highest point of the womb. The mechanical arm did not stop. It kept pushing, driving the Living Key through into the uterine cavity until only about ten centimeters remained outside to grip and move.

A deep crack of compression. A slow, relentless press.

The sensation of the uterus being crushed and deformed inside her belly. The key's smooth columnar shaft filled the womb and still had length to spare; her lower abdomen bulged outward in a shape that did not belong to a human body.

The terror her body felt was the real problem. The moment a foreign object penetrated that deep into an organ, the defense mechanism ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠fired.

A flinch. A lock.

The cervix convulsed and clamped hard around the shaft of the key. Like a beast closing its jaws on prey, muscle contracted and bit down on the intruder.

The machine registered this as an obstruction. And tried to wrench it free.

A shriek of metal. A jolt.

"Hnnnnnnngh!!!! Mmph!!!!"

Nabi's hips kicked up into the air. It would not come out. With the cervix still biting the key, the mechanical arm began a forced piston motion — and something hideous happened.

Instead of the key coming free, the uterus that had bitten it was dragged down toward the vagina, whole.

The sensation of viscera pouring downward. The terror of prolapse — of the womb inverting and being pulled out through the vaginal opening — struck her like a spike through the brain.

A wet slap. A grinding tear.

"Khhnnn…. mmphph."

The machine did not care. It repeated the stroke. A mad piston, gripping the uterus and shaking it.

A slow, crushing drag. A sticky rip.

The process of forcing in and yanking out a key that would not release. Nabi's womb danced in her belly like a yo-yo on the arm's motion. Inner walls scoured; the cervix abused until it was ragged. Frictional heat.

That heat was more than enough to arouse the Living Key. In the center of Nabi's womb, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the veins of the living dildo swelled and stood out.

A pulse. A pulse. A heavy throb.

The key, already rigid, ran hot and put on volume. Nabi knew. She could feel it.

No. I'm already at my limit. If it comes in any further, I'll burst.

The machine made no allowance for her condition.

A twitch. A throb.

The glans of the key, locked in her cervix, expanded. Then the tip split in a cross, and the ejaculatory slit opened.

A sputtering, high-pressure burst. Another.

From the deepest point of the uterus — from the tip of the key jammed against the fundus — thick semen fired like a hose under pressure.

"Khhnnnnnnnngh!!!!"

The small space left by the semen that had leaked a moment before filled in an instant. More than filled. Semen with nowhere to go shoved the uterine wall taut and inflated it like a balloon.

A rolling gurgle. A gulp. Another long, shuddering burst.

Perfect husbandry. Both holes packed without a gap by alien fluid and solid matter, Nabi shook, reduced to a human onahole.

"Ghhhk…. hhahk….!"

The uterus that had, a moment ago, gained a sliver of room when semen escaped. Into that vacancy, the key now shot a semen thick as pulp, a direct blast.

As if she had taken a fire hose in her mouth and opened the valve. Nabi's lower belly swelled tight again in a matter of seconds. The uterine wall, already stretched as far as it could go, expanded to its breaking point; the skin over it thinned toward transparency.

At the same time, at the rear, the pump at her anus raised its output for a final push.

A deep mechanical roar. A flooding gush.

"Ooghk… oghkk…."

Hot semen from the front. Cold, heavy red slime from behind. The inside of Nabi's pelvis filled with liquids of two different temperatures, and her organs, with nowhere left to go, were crushed out of shape.

A dull internal pop.

The sensation of something bursting inside her belly was perfectly clear. A blood vessel, a muscle, the uterine wall itself — she could not tell. Only the feeling of a hot fluid spreading from deep in her gut. Once the pain crossed its limit, sensation itself went numb, and her body began to cool.

Beyond a blurring field of vision, the only thing that remained — in something like slow motion — was the sight of her own swollen belly rolling in time with the machine's vibration.

"Nngh… bleehh."

Nabi's pupils lost their focus and rolled toward the ceiling. Between vagina and anus, the thin skin of her perineum trembled, unable to bear the pressure from both sides.