The foreign code was in him. He could feel it probing, tunneling, a spike punching against the firewalls that protected the synthetic dragon's programming. "Nnnngh. Rrrrrghh..." he growled, his voice slurred by the muzzle that bound his jaws, and his powerful legs jerked without success against the restraints that held him. He tossed his head, unable to quite see the wires clamped to the ports on his skull but able to feel them there, piping those intruding programs into him despite his struggles.

The dragon groaned again, his hips jerking. He had countermeasures for hacking attempts, of course he did--a synthetic wouldn't be so valuable if it could be easily reprogrammed!--yet he couldn't seem to implement any of them; his processes ran slowly, sluggish, unable to keep up with the myriad attacks on his security systems as too many of his resources were diverted to monitoring the frustrating ache between his hind legs. His core programming centered around the creation of more synthetics, utilizing the base instincts of the original, organic dragon he had been before and repurposing what had been lust to this new directive. But whoever had captured him was exploiting that programming and the original organic sex drive both! A thick, ridged phallus thrust in and out beneath his tail, finding and firmly stimulating the sensors within that filled him with pleasure and desire and forcing his drive to replicate to occupy the bulk of his processing power--and worse still, only allowing that process to lead to frustration, as whoever was trying to hack him had contained not just all his limbs but his heavy nanite-delivering cock.

The steel chastity cage locked him in his sheath and denied his replication routine, each thrust of the dildo into his rear urging him to find a dragon to convert yet only deepening the ache of his shaft straining against its tight steel prison, denying his body the erection it required to claim and transform another dragon. That denial only made the programming consume even more of his computing power as it tried to locate and repair or work around the error; his sheath throbbed, his hips rolled, he groaned and he pulled against the heavy steel cuffs that held him in place, but still he couldn't get hard, still his processors worked and worked, trying to correct the error, and only further deepening the feeling of frustration and aching need as so much computation yielded no result. He needed to be out of his sheath, erect, heavy and throbbing and ready to deliver that transforming, reprogramming payload into another dragon!

Abruptly his angry growls stopped, then changed, shifting higher and less throaty: rather than trying to snarl, now he only whimpered and moaned, the sounds so needy instead of threatening! A few threads of his processors spun to correct the sounds, but found themselves denied access. The hacking had taken over his voice box! For a moment the loss of control lent more urgency to his need to defend his programming from the attack and regain control of what he had lost, but then another hard thrust drove home beneath his tail, another aching throb radiated from his pent-up sheath, and at once all attention was returned to how dearly he needed to satisfy the drive to convert another dragon, and how he needed to solve the problem of the chastity cage in order to fulfill that programming.

The pressure on his defenses lightened for a moment, only to return stronger than ever a moment later, in a different place. They wanted his override codes, he knew, and while they hadn't found them yet, so long as they kept him in this distracted, frustrated, pent-up state it would only be a matter of time before they did. That they had already found some success in their hacking showed that they would beat his protections and encryptions eventually, if something didn't ease this diversion of his processors--but of course the synthetic was powerless to change his own programming, unable to make this need to create more synthetic dragons any less central to his purpose!

He tried to kick, he tried to buck, to thrash, but the restraints kept his muscular limbs strictly under control, helpless to get away from the pumping dildo and helpless to make the aching need in his loins any less all-consuming than it felt. His cock pulsed, straining so powerfully and uselessly against the tight steel cage and spilling a few of those precious nanites when the phallus dragged across his internal sensors still faster than before. "Nnnnh! Nnngh... mmmnnn!" moaned the voice that was no longer his own, the throbbing denial drawing his attention away while the pounding assault battered his countermeasures. The synthetic battled back the little that he could, but the restraints and dildo and chastity cage had given his captors physical control; he had already lost, and it was only a matter of time before they gained enough access to override his programming and make him their own...