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Dib had forced himself to re-construct and re-model bug after bug to finally get one to go undetected by Zim or Zim’s intelligent Irken software. Finally mastered, the piece was a medium-sized dark metal container that housed several smaller audio and visual bugs which were scattered throughout Zim’s base after the large one had entered. It was in place for a day with no signs of detection, so Dib had figured it was good to go. Dib had no sense of privacy when it came to the alien, though he probably should have. He was certainly not prepared to see what he saw.
Years of research had showed his attention to detail when studying the Irken race. The intense focus he put on Zim in particular demonstrated how much he knew about the space-sent conquerer. He knew that he was born essentially a test-tube baby with mixed DNA from unknown sources. He assumed, then, that Irkens had no need for a sex drive and that it had been obliterated along with so many other undesirable traits, just a proof of evolution. Defects, however, were exempt to the bettering powers of evolution and were susceptible to these undesirable traits. Zim was, unbeknownst to Dib, a defective.
Dib sat and turned on his monitor, noise-cancelling headphones secured around his (for your information, normal-sized) head. He had his popcorn and his notebook, ready for a long night of study. Typing quickly on his keyboard he commanded the bugs to come to life. Two screens, both angled in different positions on Zim’s main lab, were carefully moved to optimal viewing. The audio bugs were tweaked to perfection, allowing Dib to hear Zim’s dainty footsteps on the hard ground. The teen settled back, munching the popcorn and smiling at his genius.
“Computer!” shouted the insectoid alien. “Prepare for the nightly ritual!”
Dib figured a race like the Irkens would have tight, undisturbed schedules. He watched as Zim was surrounded with mechanical tentacles from his computer’s endless presence in the lab. Dib jotted down notes as Zim was dusted with an off-white powder that instantly absorbed into his skin and clothes. The tentacles retreated, leaving Zim to carefully remove his goves and set them neatly in a basket. Along with the gloves, the alien discarded his thin tunic and sleeves, leaving him in only his legging and boots. Dib tried to overlook this image, glancing up to make sure his door was indeed locked.
Zim reached his long fingers down to carefully slip off his boots. Dib noted that they must be latex or a similar material as they conformed to any shape they were placed around. He noted the three-toed anatomy of the underlying foot, the claws just as intimidatingly sharp as the ones on Zim’s fingers. Dib fought with himself to keep the monitor on, he felt dirty and voyeuristic.
'All in the name of science,' he assured himself. 'For the betterment of Earth.'
He continued to watch as Zim shimmied out of his tight (also, probably, latex) leggings and threw them into the basket, which was then hurled away by more mechanical limbs. Another dusting of chalky powder before Zim turned around. Dib instinctual turned away, shutting his eyes before returning a slow half-open gaze to the screen. Holy shit. Was Zim a girl? Furiously he made haphazard sketches of the naked alien.
“Master,” the booming computer voice declared, “Gir has been safely locked upstairs to facilitate your stress relief.”
“Ehn? Ah, yes, thank you computer,” Zim said, sitting back in his chair. “We do not want a repeat of last time.”
Dib cocked his head. Last time?
A computer wire hooked itself up to a slot in Zim’s PAK. The computer, by practised analysis, recounted information. Dib wrote it all down.
Stress levels: high
Bodily exhaustion: low
Stress threat level: extremely high
Fluid levels: high
Libido: extremely high
Dib dropped the pen and the notebook. Libido. He shut his eyes, taking a deep breath. He couldn’t watch. He shouldn’t watch. But… science. Research. All the time spent building the perfect spying systems. He opened his eyes in time to see Zim sweept onto his back in the oversized chair by the same computer’s mechanical limbs.
Two secured his legs and spread them wide, allowing Dib time to ponder the notion that Zim was female. It took four to secure his flailing arms, spreading them high above his head and out. Another took his torso, wrapping it tightly to prevent any erratic movement. A thicker one with a rubberized tip gently poked around Zim’s entrance, searching. It did not go in, opting to circle slowly with minimal pressure.
Within minutes of this near torturous teasing, Zim was leaking copious amounts of clear fluid. He was also begging the computer to quit it. He had work to do afterwards, he said, and any delay was counter-productive to the mission. Dib tried to ignore the growing strain in his own pants as wel as he was ignoring the popcorn and notes.
When the computer decided to let up the teasing, Zim let out a shrill cry of pleasure as the translucent limb slid easily inside of him. With no need to be gentle it began thrusting violently and quickly. It had managed to render Zim from being a hyperactive maniac to a moaning, drooling mess in minutes. He had quit fighting long before his tongue hung lazily from his mouth, long before his eyes became half-lidded and clouded orbs. His beginning screams had melted to gentle wavering moans as he continued to let himself be violated by his computerized companion.
Dib, cock in hand, had nearly forgotten to observe Zim’s sexual anatomy until a tendril not unlike Zim’s tongue had freed itself from just above his hole. The magenta pseudo-cock was also coated in the same translucent slime that was still dripping to the floor from Zim’s entrance with each brutal thrust. Zim did not seem to care, lost in a pleasure-driven stupor. Dib had long since lost the urge to fight it. He had always been a little curious about Zim in a sexual way, and he would be lying if he said that his rival did not sometimes sneak into his mind late at night.
Zim began screaming madly, seemingly out of nowhere. They were not screams of pain, Dib knew this as his hand stroked quicker, pre-cum dripping from his slit generously onto his lanky fingers. A final, long scream from Zim had given a strong hint to his release with the final cruel thrusts of his computer. Dib himself was allowed his own relief to the sound of Zim’s. It was a sweet and unexpected sound, to hear his name reverberated throughout the base from none other than Zim. He would never know if Zim screamed out for him any other times, because the computer clicked back to authoritative life as it unhanded Zim, plopping the weak and imp alien back up in his chair.
“Threat detected. Perimeter breach. Unknown signal broadcasting.”
Zim returned to life, adrenaline surging through tired veins. This time, Dib’s name was screamed in anger and not pleasure. This put a smirk on Dib’s face. He reached for a tissue as Zim reached for clothing. The game was back on with mutual understanding - only this time, the rules had been changed.