I, ROBERTA

BY ECHO

Caution: This is a fictional story of bondage and strange sexual relations, strictly for adults only. If such writing or ideas offend you please stop reading at once.

I, Roberta, am a slave robot. I am a twelve year old girl, and a prisoner encased in a metal body on a planet a long way from home.

I shouldn't cry and I try not to. I try to remain positive, as I am alive and well if somewhat handicapped. The Alien who owns me has been very kind in allowing me to write this, allowing my arm joints sufficient movement and my hand joints enough leeway to grip the pen. The Alien (I don't have a name for him, as they don't seem to use them) indicated I may wish to write my story.

What he intends to do with it I have no idea. Perhaps they have a library here, or it will be conveyed to planet Earth. Or it is merely some amusement.

I say indicated because the Aliens do not use words. Instead there is a cable my Alien attaches to a socket in the back of my head and allows thought impulses to be received directly into my brain. He does this whenever I need new instructions. Also, as my mouth is sealed permanently in my robot head and my ears sealed over too, any attempt at normal speech would be lost.

I am not sure Alien understands writing as such as he does not do it but he is aware (his race would have to be after so many thousand years of watching Earth) that it is part of human culture.

Let me tell you how I came to be here first, so that you can understand better further into this account why I was abducted.

I was born Roberta Jane Stark in a small town in Surrey, England, the youngest of three children. I led a pretty normal life until the day my eldest sister, Joanna, took me out for a picnic in the woods near our home. Joanna is seventeen and at the time of my abduction, I was eleven. We had put the picnic blanket down in a clearing and were sat on it when a circular shape came overhead. I don't remember too much about it, except it was big, metallic and glowed silently underneath. Both Joanna and I were just staring at it and a beam of light like a spotlight fell on my eldest sister for a few seconds, and then on me. When it left Joanna she simply fell back on the blanket as if out cold, and then it was on me. The next thing I knew was this sort of intense tingling running through me and I was being lifted up. I remember I tried to scream but nothing came out.

I must have fainted because the next thing I knew I was in a steel room with these huge-eyed passionless Aliens looking at me and all kinds of tubes round me. I fainted away again, and the next time I woke up I wasn't me. I was in this metal suit.

When I tell you about the Aliens you will probably think this is some horror movie creation. They are small, pretty much round, with big heads and huge, almond shaped jet black eyes. Their legs are small and their arms thin. Their skin is a pale gray color, and they are all male. I know this as they don't wear any clothes and you see their dicks dangling in front. Big dicks too, that get harder and stand out when they get aroused.

I would have shown all of them how terrifying I found this if I could scream and move. I couldn't. The metal suit encased me from head to toe and like I say my mouth was sealed, as if I was gagged. Something was in my mouth but it was part of the metal suit, and I will tell you more about this later.

The metal suit was a dull, slivery metal and I could see myself in a polished surface like a mirror. I could see myself, standing upright and unable to move. At first I thought I was trapped in this like a statue, but the Alien who had taken charge of me had something like a remote control in his long thin fingers and flicked something, and my arm moved all on its own.

My Alien (though I didn't know he was my owner then) experimented with different buttons and my body moved in ways I couldn't resist: raise my arms, bend my knees, bend over, straighten, turn. Put one hand on my head and the other on my hips. I felt like I was a puppet in a show, but there were no visible strings, only electronic ones.

He made me walk and stop, even perform a sort of dance jig. I felt utterly helpless, especially when he simply left me for ages standing on one foot with both arms crossed behind my back. When he came back he made a couple of adjustments to the control device and I resumed a normal standing position.

Let me tell you about my head and helmet, as it is important you understand the function of my self as a robot and how I am controlled. My helmet is considerably bigger than a human head. Similar, I guess, to the Alien's in proportion. There are no facial features on the smooth ball and I guess I see via some optical device direct to my brain. Air is piped in from someplace though perhaps the Aliens don't breathe the oxygen we do. I wouldn't know as my helmet never comes off.

I can't speak as the front part of this metal head has a prong that goes into my mouth, which in turn is hollow. I know as I am fed through it. It took sometime for me to realize that I was in fact eating my own shit and drinking my own piss. I understand, though can't do anything to stop it, that my waste is conducted from hollow probes up my ass and in my pisshole through the suit to my mouth. The ultimate recycling, I guess.

As you can imagine I was disgusted and horrified at first and thought I'd die rather than eat my own waste. It tastes, in case you wondered, revolting, but I soon found out I have no choice. The process is automatic and if I don't swallow it all a warning must be sounded because I am punished.

Okay, you are probably saying how can I be punished in a suit or armor? Let me tell you that the suit makes the perfect punishment device. First of all electrodes inside it deliver shocks to certain nerves in my body. The whole thing is made to fit me and at any time a signal can trigger a sharp pain to wherever on my body my owner wants. He must have studied human anatomy well as the shocks are varied and prolonged at times in different places, especially to my clit or inside my ass. Or even on my small nipples.

Secondly, the suit controls temperature, and I can be made very hot (though the sweat seems to be dissipated somehow) or very cold. Again, a simple flick of the remote device.

Thirdly, air pressure inside my head can be increased. Another switch allows the pressure to increase inside my helmet and press hard, squeezing my head as if it was in a vise. This can be very painful and of course, like all my punishments it is inescapable. Wherever I go the pain goes with me.

Finally, you may be asking how come I am punished when I am controlled? The answer's easy: I am allowed for long periods a degree of free movement to perform functions which essentially come down to cleaning and polishing: my Alien resides in a complex of rooms with many surfaces and facets which he requires to be spotless.

If I fail to clean something to his liking I am locked rigid in my suit (sometimes while in the very act of cleaning something) and one of my punishments imposed. He seems to like the head pressure and the shocks equally but less so the temperature ones. Furthermore, to enjoy my suffering he attaches a tube from my suit – which must be wired into my pain receptors – to his cock and when I suffer a jolt of pain his cock is stimulated. Often he just does all this for pleasure: I have to put the tube on his big cock, pass him the remote and then stand back to endure the pain and suffering for his obvious enjoyment, watching his long cock grow stiff inside the clear tube.

Indeed, he spurts cum as a human would. Copious amounts of it and I must clean the inside of the tube. However, I understand the conventional way on Earth would be for me to use my tongue but as that is sealed in my prong-gagged mouth locked in my helmet, the technology takes over. I have to take the cum splattered tube and attach it to the front of my helmet (a small panel slides back at my owner's command) and I insert the tube. A vacuum arrangement sucks the cum out of the tube and deposits it, via my hollow prong, into my mouth. I know this as after a few seconds or so of the tube being placed there I get the first unpleasant taste. I have no reason to doubt I am swallowing the Alien's cum, and a particularly vile taste it is too, perhaps more than my own waste.

There is more for me to do too in order to satisfy him. My Alien owner has a vast collection of torture pictures from Earth and I presume other planets. There are strange creatures as well as humans in these images and they are all being hurt or tortured or perhaps punished in some way. Each day I must prepare what I can only describe as a slideshow for his viewing and I wait while he watches it, knowing if my choice of the hundred images he looks at doesn't excite him (too many purple four legged creatures being whipped raw and not enough humans being stretched out on a rack, for example) it might result in a punishment for me.

Do I scream when I am punished? I would like to sometimes, but the mouth prong gag is far too good.

There is another advantage to my being semi-free. My Alien sometimes likes to restrain me with some sort of fine but incredibly strong chain, winding it round me in complex ways. Of course trapped in my suit I can't feel this on my flesh but usually it is accompanied by some powerful and naturally painful electric shocks to make up for it. His favorite position for me is a hog tie, and quite severe it is too. I have to hope I am flexible enough to be bent nearly double with my feet drawn up to the back of my head.

But then if I cannot move exactly into the right position before being bound up, my Alien can make the suit active to force my limbs into agonizing positions. Oddly, the robot suit is then freed from rigidity so it is the bonds that restrain me and not the suit's mechanics.

Bondage then seems to be universal as a pleasure and as punishment, though I do not believe I have ever been punished by being simply bound in an awkward position. My alien has far too many options to simply leave me bound up and suffering gently when he can make me suffer harshly.

At this point in my narrative you may be feeling that my language skills, while not outstanding, may be a little ahead of a 12 year old girl from a small town in the home counties of England. It shouldn't surprise you to know that if I can receive thought waves through my head socket as instructions I can also receive an education. Curiously, my education is intense and in English. As I have said, I believe the Aliens have no language structure like we do but it seems important to them that my learning continues – and at a higher level. Certainly more intense.

I do not however know how I know things, except that my head aches after one of these education sessions.

You may by now be wondering why I have been brought here to this planet. After all, anyone could do what I do (I would think my robot suit is adjustable to any shape. In fact I suspect I have grown but the metal casing that surrounds me seems to have grown too). But then I do grow another way I definitely know the suit easily accommodates that growth.

I am here to be made pregnant and bear Alien children.

I have said before that the Aliens are all male, or at least I have never seen any that aren't. I believe, perhaps instilled by my education link, that the Aliens have problems reproducing. Many years of abductions and experiments, maybe on other planets as well as my own, have led them to conclude a young female from Earth offers the best hope of continuing to propagate the species.

When I was "swept" by the beam, as was my sister, I was taken up into the craft. Yet my sister, six years older and bigger than me in every way, was rejected. I have thought about this long and carefully, and the only two conclusions I can come to is that I somehow am more suitable for their mating requirements and Joanna wasn't. Either that or the fact that I was a virgin and she wasn't, having lost her cherry to a boy in her class the year before.

So my true function here is not cleaning and being tortured, plenty of that though there is. My function is to help the Alien race breed by carrying their babies. In this my agonies reach new heights.

if you are wondering how this can be with myself sealed so perfectly into my robot suit, allow me to explain. My robot suit has a flap between my legs which, as the suit is perfectly sealed to my hips, is the only part of me that experiences "fresh air." The flap has two functions: first to permit me to be impregnated and secondly to allow delivery of the Alien baby at birth time.

First you must understand that I am merely a host body. The seed implanted in me (yes, I am fucked by an Alien in a pretty conventional way, bent over and drilled from the rear) is self-contained. It grows into an alien, not a cross-breed, and in growing within me merely draws nutriments from my body. It appears, when I am fucked, an alien egg is placed in me at the same time. Perhaps the Alien male squirts one out with his semen, though I imagine this is unlikely. But bent over and unable to look I can only feel the Alien's long fingers on my slit, feeling up into me, and then I am fucked.

The fucking is rapid if functional: there is no attempt to give me pleasure and I sense the Alien who does this to me gets little from it, other than a cursory sense of passing pleasure as he might from light masturbation. It is usually over in less than a minute and I can always feel the Alien's huge amount of sperm hitting my cervix. There certainly is plenty of it, as I know from cleaning up my Alien's cock.

At least the Alien cocks are long and hard, so there is some sort of pleasure I can glean, however brief. If I could speak I would beg for more fucking, for pleasure of course. Even with some attendant shocks and pain, it would be better than nothing.

At this point my job is done and the flap between my legs is re-sealed. If my Alien is feeling kind, I am allowed to stand and resume my duties. If not, he subjects me to a prolonged series of painful electric shocks and head pressure. Incidentally, he is not always the father but he always stands and watches if another Alien screws me.

The gestation period is two months: the Alien child in me grows rapidly and by the fifth week I have a hugely swollen belly which I must carry like that for three more weeks. You might be interested – or horrified – to know that I continue in my pregnant state as if nothing has changed: I still toil, still suffer my punishments, still am bound up and of course continue to prepare the slideshow for my Alien each day. Inevitably this will give rise to further punishments.

In a weird way it seems my punishments increase the more pregnant I become, as if the sight of my smooth swollen belly incenses him. But as I say the Aliens appear passionless and anything done to me never brings any change to his blank look. The only sign I have that he enjoys any of this is his cock swelling to semi-erection.

The suit, my robot shell, cleverly expands at my belly to accommodate the thing I am carrying. I call it a thing as I have no attachment to it and indeed at the moment of birth it is taken from me. As I do not have breasts (I feel I should have, but I suspect I have had my breast development inhibited) I am not expected to provide milk, but then human milk is probably repulsive to these Aliens. There is no bonding between me and it. I should say he, as again I think all births are male, but I am not given the opportunity to look.

I find it strange that when I give birth my suit is not locked rigid by control, but I am actually fastened down. The birthing table has metal loops that are passed round my wrists and neck and my legs drawn up and secured. The suit flap is opened up and I am left to lie and expel the alien thing on my own. This can take between 14 and 20 hours and my waste supply food supply is cut off while I do so.

It would not surprise you that I am exhausted by the time the Alien is born, and indeed the actual contractions are long and hard while the final expulsion is extremely painful. I am given to understand the amount of pain I suffer is recorded on some sort of public display which is wired up to the birthing table, and I have been given an impression that the more I suffer the stronger the alien child will be.

I am given a day to recover before I am fucked afresh, so in a year I have delivered six Alien babies. Strange, for although I do not breast feed these things my non-existent boobs burn for days afterwards, as if they want to secrete something. Of course I cannot do anything about this pain and simply have to endure it.

The question now arises in my mind, and perhaps yours, as to whether I am alone here. I suspect not as the Aliens make frequent visits to other planets which include Earth, so I would think they have a number of young females like me are collected and transported here. I also think a robot outfit like this isn't just made for me alone.

Perhaps not all young females are suitable when they arrive here, so a ready supply line has to be maintained. It may be just how I am, but my sex actually gets wet and excited at the thought of other young girls like me in a cold, smooth robot suit like this. I presume this must be some sort of conditioning imposed on me, or it could be I just get off on the idea of other young girls in pain. Sadly I cannot do anything to relieve my desperate desire to frig myself to a climax and the panel between my legs stays firmly closed.

I also wonder at what point I cannot (or would not be allowed) to carry the Alien babies. There may be a limit to their requirements, or an age issue. Perhaps at 13 or 14 I may be too old to act as host, or after say 48 births (when I am 20) I will be deemed of no further use. What happens then I have no idea. I may even continue birthing until old age, but I have no way of knowing.

I have been instructed to stop writing now. I must resume my duties, be punished for a poor selection of torture images, and make my way to the birthing room for the next Alien to be born, the seventh I have carried. It certainly is moving a lot within me and this promises to be a really painful delivery. I recognize the signs.

I am scared, of course. But as I said earlier, I try not to cry as things could be worse. I am useful and pregnant and I, Roberta, will serve my Alien master as a robot to the best of my abilities.