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The 30′ bipedal Ribbet class mech was old, battered and ex military much like it’s pilot and owner Shelby.

It wasn’t the same machine she had piloted in the service, wasn’t even the same class or make but it was the best she could afford after her medical discharge.

She had painted the decommissioned Ribbet mech in neon pink with it’s name ‘Barbi’ stencilled across the cockpit in bright green. She was bored with the drab camo colours of her years in the earth defence force.

Inside the cramped cockpit Shelby wore only boots and her neural interface helmet. Her coveralls were stowed under her duct tape patched seat and she was sitting on a folded towel as a cushion.

As the mech rocked forwards she squirmed against the towel. Her naked thighs we’re pressed tightly together the towel caught between them. Her body moved rythmically with the jolting motion of the big mech. The close confines of the machines interior smelt of stale sweat and hot plastic. That was common enough but Shelby’s mech also had the scents of sex, of a body stimulated close to it’s peak of pleasure. Her breathing was strained and excited, barely suppressed moans whispered from her partly open mouth. The towel was warm and wet where it pressed against the swollen leaves of her sex.

She was a small woman, compact and muscular. Her tawny complexion marred by swathes of vat grown skin transplants that covered much of her torso. The new skin had a plastic too smooth quality to it which was characteristic of cheap fast synthetic graft jobs. She sweated unevenly across her patchwork flesh in the humid atmosphere of the cabin.

Her breasts heaved on her chest. They were small, far too perfectly symmetrical and firm to be natural. When the surgeons had been putting her back together they had asked her preference. It had seemed bizarre at the time. Did she want them bigger? Smaller? She had almost told them not to bother but she still had some vanity.

Her left leg was prosthetic from above the knee. It was made of robust grey polymer with a skeletal appearance. It functioned pretty well and the veterans medical plan didn’t cover a vat grown replacement so she made do. She had also been willing to get out of the hospital.

When her scout mech had been hit by one of the bugs hail launchers she had wondered it was all over. Discovering she wasn’t dead was a nice if painful surprise. Unfortunately her injuries gave them a good reason to boot her out of the service.

Everyone knew it was an excuse. She might look a little worse for wear but she could still pilot a mech better than most. She was a veteran and her synth flesh and prosthetics wouldn’t impair the neural link used to control a combat mech.

No, they had wanted her out because of her personal habits. Those were an open secret since she had been caught on security camera grinding herself to orgasm against the exhaust port of her commanders new Gazelle class jump mech. She hadn’t been able to help herself. The Gazelle jump mech was just such a gorgeous machine. Sleek and smooth with a pristine urban camo paint job.

Shelby Mechfucker they called her after that. Most people assumed she’d been drunk or high or doing it for a bet when she’d gotten caught. Mech pilots did weird stuff at all times. A few people wondered about how Shelby had never shown any interest in men or women, she was single, she never dated. She spent a lot more time cleaning and servicing her mech than most pilots did. She preferred to work on her machine alone without her ground crew. The rumours spread.

Shelby really liked mechs. All the time had done. Her earliest sexual experiences were of the agricultural machines on the farm where she grew up: The pleasure she had gotten sitting in the seat of a harvester vibrating from a poorly adjusted drive mount, the cool hard sensation of the delicate claw of a fruit picker drone guided carefully between her trembling legs and so many other experiments with the machines.

She had lost her virginity bent over the loading boom of a K43 agri-mech and her moans of pleasure hadn’t had much to do with the young farm hand thrusting inexpertly into her from behind.

Later on alone in the barn she had found a way to adjust the mechs threshing tines to vibrate at just the right pitch. She had had to gag herself with her own shirt to avoid scaring the cattle. Her boyfriends clumsy groping had seemed entirely unnecessary after that.

It wasn’t unheard of for farm workers to use the mechs in methods they were not intended for. The milking machines in particular put a few horny but unwise farm workers in hospital each year. What made Shelby different was that she didn’t use the mechs as a substitute for a human partner. On the rare occasions she was with a human she had to think about machines to get off.

Her unusual lusts meant she quickly familiarised herself with mech systems to avoid the intimate and painful injuries that accompanied some of her earlier experimentation. This knowledge of mechs and her piloting skills helped her excel in the military. Her abilities as both pilot and mechanic made her an ideal choice for long range patrol work. There her scout mech operatrd far from base and she had to service the mech herself. In return, and away from prying eyes, the mech serviced her.

The use of combat mechs gave the earth forces some parity with the bugs monstrous war forms. Shelby relished the power the mech gave her even in her light scout machine. Sadly her Roo class scout couldn’t take a flurry of hail rounds from an enraged bug war form and for once she wasn’t quick enough to dodge.

Her commanders were astounded that she survived much less made it back to base. It was a testament to her skill and the depth of her knowledge of mech systems that she managed to coax the maimed machine home. It was a testament to her own toughness that she did it with a chest shredded by bug spines.

She got a medal and an honourable discharge but they were glad to see her go. A lot of pilots she served alongside felt uncomfortable about the mysterious wet marks they found on their mechs armour after Shelby had been alone in the service bay.

After weeks in hospital and more weeks recuperating alone in her tiny apartment with a lot of painkillers and a net search history full of mech technical drawings she decided to get off planet.

The fringeworlds at all times needed mech pilots so she shipped out to colony 3j78. Based on the heavily forested continent of a fringeworld the colony was harvesting timber and bio resources but the work was being hindered by bug swarms. Nothing serious enough to require military intervention just the ordinary animal level predator types seeded into the
jungle by the bugs as a self replicating area denial munition.

Shelby was hired and spent her savings on a battered non operational Ribbet class battlemech that had been dumped by the army as not being worth the cost to bring it home or repair it.

The storage hanger was gloomy and overrun with vines and weeds. Warm rain leaked in through the roof. The humidity was oppressive. A rusted service gantry stood alongside the squat grey bulk of the six limbed Ribbet mech. Cracked oily scorch marked plascrete was rough underfoot. The roots of the forest already pushing up through the thin foundations.

Shelby had peeled off her sweat soaked coveralls and pressed herself against the cool ceramic armour of the mechs leg. Her breasts, as artificial as the mech armour, compressed against the smooth surface. She sighed straddling the rounded edge of the boot assembly, her body humped itself involuntarily against the chipped oily painted surface.

After so long away from her beloved mechs the strength of her reaction surprised her. She clawed her underwear down so she could press the hot glistening folds of her sex against the armour plate. The contrast between soft and hard, cool and hot was overwhelming.

Three, four, five frantic jerking convulsions grinding herself against the machine and she climaxed. A hard breaking sensation of ecstasy close to pain. She cried out her voice brittle in the humid air of the hanger. She came again moments later, her prosthetic leg knocking awkardly against the rigid plates of mech armour.

The other side of the mech got the same frantic treatment. She regained just enough self control to confirm that there were no cameras in the hangar.

Although she had long ago accepted her fetish she did feel a little embarrassed at her desperation and loss of control. On that first night in the hanger she got very little work done.

The remote location of the colony meant there were few people and few facilities. Shelby was alone with her mech for much of the time. The safety rules and regulations of her military days were a thing of the past.

She slept in the hanger in a survival tent, washed in collected rainwater and breathed the humid hangar air. She only returned to the main colony complex for supplies.

She got Barbi running ahead of schedule and with the mech operating at minimum capacity set about the task of clearing the forests of the bugs.

Now it was months later. Barbi was repainted and running like new. The decommissioned mech had no guns, it was illegal to fit a civilian mech with weapons. The mechs shard launchers and plasma emitters had been removed long before the military sold it as surplus.

To deal with the bugs Shelby had fitted a pair of modified laser cutters to the old shard mounts on Barbi. Thanks to Shelby’s modifications the cutters could fire a focused laser pulse powerful enough to punch through armour at a range of a mile. Despite this they were classed as civilian legal cutting tools not the military cannons they now closely resembled. Shelby made sure she had the paperwork to prove it.

Now she was taking the Ribbet class machine on another routine patrol to clear the resurgent bug predator forms before the logging teams moved in. The neon pink bulk of her mech Barbi staggered to a halt as inside the cabin Shelby shuddered with orgasm brieflly overloading the neural feedback controls of the mech.

Barbis four manipulator arms twitched in sympathy with it’s pilots erotic distress. The entire machine trembled.

Bathed in sweat and disoriented by her orgasm Shelby was startled by the radio.

“Hey there Shelby this is Log team 1, everything okay out there? Barbi looks a little twitchy. You overdue a service or something? Over.”

With an effort Shelby controlled her breathing before she responded.

“No all good here log team 1, over.” Shelby sighed contentedly “Yeah I’m definitely all good, over.”

NSFW: yes

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