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thedisabilitybookarchive · 4 months

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'Noor'- Okorafor, Nnedi

Disability Rep: Body Augmentation, Prosthetics

Genre: Science-Fiction, Speculative Fiction, Dystopia, Fantasy

Age: Adult

Setting: Future Nigeria

Additional Rep: Black MC, M/F

For more information on summaries, content warnings and additional tropes, see here:

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quirkwizard · 1 year

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So you did a post where you made a high end nomu. This time make a upper tier nomu (four quirks and general body enhancement) but your aren’t allowed to use impact recoil, transforming arms, tool arms, or wing just to keep things interesting.

I wasn't planning on using any of them anyway, but okay. I'm also not using "Super Regeneration" because saying one of these Nomu have it is just as obvious as saying they have exposed brains. That being said, as a Mid Tier Nomu, my options are already pretty limited since it can use certain Quirks as well as a High End Nomu.

Muscle Augmentation: A good, strong basis for any Nomu, especially a simple one like this. Even with the physical augments it already has, the Quirk can still help it out. Just a general improvement to strength, speed, and durability, making it a viable threat while still leaving room for other Quirks.

Rivet Stab: Since I can’t have "Wings", I will go for the next best option. It’s simple enough that even a Nomu would be able to use it to get around. Plus it works to give it some extra offense with the other options, can damage anyone that tries to attack it, and gives it some much-needed range.

Springlike Limbs: While this can add some extra mobility by pushing the Nomu around, like what we saw with Tomura, it’s more an offensive option. With "Musucle Augmentation" and "Rivet Stab" it can do way more damage and work to help it avoid certain damage by sucking in the limbs.

Hypertrophy: Now just take everything else I talked about and crank it up to eleven. By growing out the body parts, the Nomu can just both dish out and take far more damage then normal. Just imagine a massive, spring loaded punch, covered in sharp, black spikes. That’s a lot of damage.

#My Hero Academia #Quirks #Nomu #Muscle Augmentation #Rivet Stab #Springlike Limbs #Hypertrophy

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keyboardlegs · 9 months

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I just don't understand how augmentations are a mainstay of cyberpunk and any future-techy story (positive or negative) yet people cannot imagine someone wanting to voluntarily give up a limb for an augmentation

#being able to remove your limb(s) at will IS an augmentation damn it #how is there an Adam Jensen yet no ability for me to even be slightly Jensen'd

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medicalequipmentabimed · 2 months

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12-Channel Electrocardiograph

A 12-channel electrocardiograph (ECG or EKG) is a medical device used to record the electrical activity of the heart. It provides a graphical representation of the heart's electrical impulses, which are produced as the heart muscle contracts and relaxes.Real-time and continuous recording of accurate ECG waveform

#Heart rhythm #Electrodes #Precordial leads #Augmented limb leads #Digital recording

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clvric · 2 years

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❝ I feel bad for the people I see walking around with arm augmentations, I couldn’t really imagine not being able to feel what you’re touching... It might not be all that bad for those who do have augmentations, but for me? I’d rather Wish spell my arms back. ❞

#ic .#( it's funny bc my other dnd character DOES have arm augments #and feels the same way about them #but wouldn't wish back her arms #eav hasn't lost a limb [surprisingly] so wouldn't really know how it feels )

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rosiqueplasticsurgery · 2 years

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Improve the size, shape & contour of your Buttock with the best Buttock Augmentation Surgery in Brazil. We make your body fully fit. Call our experts & get genuine care.

#Buttock Augmentation Surgery in Brazil #Tummy Tuck Brazil #Dermolipectomy Lower Limb Brazil #Dermolipectomy Upper Limb Brazil #Facial Rejuvenation Treatment Brazil

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organsoutsidelovinglydescribed · 5 months

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Body Horror Week Prompts Are Live!

Welcome to Trigun Body Horror Week 2024!

We’ve set up a week of fantastic flavors of bodily horrors for you, and here is our official post sharing the prompts for you to cook with.

Body Horror Week is going to run from Feb 11th, 2024 until Feb 17th, 2024

For each set of prompts, we have an organ, two different songs, and a quote to inspire you into making the best horrors you’ve got.

The official hashtag for the week is #trigunbodyhorrorweek, and we’ll do our best to reblog your submissions the day of and whatever we may have missed during the week, we’ll reblog after. Feel free to tag us as well!

An AO3 collection is forthcoming.

There’s a copy of the prompts list below the cut, as well as links to the A-Sides and B-Sides for the music.

The art for the graphic was done by the wonderful @hashtagcaneven

Link for the music A-Sides and the B-Sides as playlists. Spotify playlist here.

Feb 11th: Eyes | Mama – My Chemical Romance | Mask of My Own Face – Lemon Demon | I hate it when humans and augmented humans ruin things for no reason. Maybe because I was a thing before I was a person, and if I’m not careful, I could be a thing again. - Network Effect, Martha Wells (Murderbot Diaries)

Feb 12th: Skin | This Body – The Dear Hunter | Hurt – Johnny Cash | Skin against skin, blood and bone / You’re all by yourself, but you’re not alone / You wanted in, and now you’re here / Driven by hate, consumed by fear – “Bodies”, Drowning Pool

Feb 13th: Lungs | Sin Eater – Penelope Scott | Between Two Lungs – Florence + the Machine | I remember seeing myself splayed across the floor of the kennel, a chimera split along a hundred seams, taking communion with a handful of dogs. - The Things, Peter Watts

Feb 14th: Heart | Love Me Dead – Ludo | Your Body, My Temple – Will Wood | The heart wants what it wants. What it wants is blood. - Welcome to Night Vale Twitter

Feb 15th: Limbs | Blood – My Chemical Romance | Body – Mother Mother | Pluck that crimson orb rusted package from the branches mother’s arms our tree you’ve chopped away at for too long with your mouth-bright ax pretty-teethed boy. - “A Brother Named Gethsemane”, Natalie Diaz

Feb 16th: Intestines | Void – Melanie Martinez | Blood on My Name – The Brothers Bright | It is a corpse rotting slowly from within while maggots writhe in its belly. - Warhammer 40k

Feb 17th: Alien | Roots – In This Moment | sprorgnsm – superorganism | To be trapped, unmoving, within the body that has betrayed her so often, feeling every sensation as it grows and warps and sprouts, never knowing what new mutation it will visit on her next. - The Magnus Archives, Episode 171, "The Gardener"

#trigun #trigunbodyhorrorweek #trigun maximum #trigun stampede #trigun 98 #trigun events #vash the stampede #fandom events

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fanaticsnail · 2 months

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Shameless: 2/3

Masterlist Here, Part 1 Here

Word Count: 6,901

(Image Source)

Synopsis: Your shamelessness has gotten you in trouble with your captain, Trafalgar Law. When he sent you to your workshop, the last thing you expected was to welcome the foreign captain into your personal space. Bonding over tinkering, you learn more about a man who you reciprocates your shameless flirtations.

Notes: And just like that, part 2 is done! Sorry for the wait, but had to ensure language was perfect. First time writing for Kid split into two parts - 12,195 words (what is wrong with me).

Themes: NSFW language, flirtatious conversation, grinding against a wall, kissing, biting, licking, mentions of missing limbs, mentions of scars, shamelessness, Kid likes you, soft moments, mostly flirting, heart-pirate!reader x captain!kid, afab!reader but can be read as gn.

Tag List: @sordidmusings @feral-artistry @writingmysanity @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @cinnbar-bun

Song suggestion: What it is - Doechii

“Gah,” you scolded yourself, kicking the leg of your workbench, “I-... I am an idiot. Why am I like this?” you clapped your hands over your eyes, dragging your skin down beneath your fingertips to hide your embarrassment. You had finally found a man who was everything you were looking for, depicting your attraction to him by flirting hard with him in front of your crew. Perhaps you had come on too strong. Perhaps he found your words too vulgar, too provocative in nature to depict your incessant need for him.

You picked up your wrench and began tightening several bolts and screws attached to your latest project, ensuring everything was ready to be examined by your captain. The heat of the office became too much for you, prompting you to unzip your boiler suit and remove your arms from the sleeves, tying them around your waist to secure them in place. Grasping your heavy, woven gloves, you tightened the straps around your forearms and scoffed at your idiocy further.

“I can see why Law wanted to hide me away,” you uttered, picking up your arc welding torch and face shield, “I am an embarrassment to him and my crew.” You flicked on your speaker, melodies and harmonies roaring to life at high volume. You sighed, flicking down your mask and igniting the tip of your tool to begin welding metals together.

The music and sparking metal disguised the opening and closing of your workshop door, the looming figure of Eustass Kid’s shadowy approach ignited its silhouette and hid it from your masked view. You muttered beneath your mask as you whipped the tool away from your project, smothering the flame while twirling the wrench in your non-dominant hand.

As the melody swelled, you sang along to the lyrics and augmented your voice while tightening your newly molded bolt to ensure it was secured in place. You raised your mask over your head, plonking it down while gathering your augmented goggles to ensure your work was appropriately executed. Without turning your focus from your project, you reached behind you and began tapping your desk with splayed fingertips to search for your hammer and wire brush.

Kid watched as you expertly twirled the tools between your four covered fingers while throwing your brush in a juggling flourish to your non-dominant hand. He was left standing dumbstruck in awe at every flex of your bare back muscles, every expert touch, every hyper-focussed gaze and how your diaphragm belted the melody in perfect time and tonality. He had every intention of taking Law up on the offer of watching you work, while he used the time to taunt you with the fact he knew he could do your job better.

As he found himself watching the rhythm you set for yourself with your expertise and precision, he was left feeling a foreign swell within his chest once again. You had been shamelessly flirting with him earlier, in such a way that initially startled and enraged him. He couldn’t believe you would risk insulting him in front of your own captain, let alone the danger that came with his own pirate crew.

He continued to watch you work with your hands to create a masterpiece of mechanical art, both dangerous and violent in nature - his attention was captured completely. You were focussed, your hands tearing through metal and sifting through bolts with practiced precision. His eyes were truly held hostage, shamelessly raking over your body and unable to rip themselves away. You were perfect.

Would you look as focussed on him as he rammed his cock in your mouth? Or perhaps your brows would elevate and lips curl in bliss while he harshly snaps his hips against yours to chase your mutual ecstasy. Would your words only get more filthy the more he fucks you? Or would they turn into mewling gasps and keening groans as he demonstrated just how many settings his mechanical arm had. At that thought, he glanced down to his metallic limb, his index finger and thumb clenching together as he thought on it further.

Did you find his severed limb repulsive? You made no complaint while his prosthetic hand was circling your neck and caging you beneath it. In fact, you looked eager to receive such a violent touch from him. Your lust was depicted all over your face, never once breaking your eyes from seeking his own. You could have anyone you want, looking the way you do. Why him? Did you want him, or were you simply using him to satiate your own unbridled curiosity?

He was so caught up in his own unhinged and perverse thoughts, he never noticed you turning around and silently gasping in shock. You become immediately lost in the fact the man you were just fantasizing about was standing in your personal workshop, distracted by his metal arm by his side. You cautiously placed your tools down on your workbench, removing the heavy gloves from your hands, and leant your hips back against your desk. You hooked your ankles, crossing your arms over your chest and allowed yourself the luxury of examining him further.

The music continued to blast over the speakers, the song switching to the next with a slow fade and swell into its crescendoed beginning. Kid slowly drew his eyes away from his arm, startling himself by meeting with your eyes baring directly into his own. You flicked off the music with your index finger before relacing your arms within each other once again. You both fell into an awkward silence, neither of you truly knowing what to say to one another.

“Here to watch the show,” you broke the silence with the flirtatious hum of your voice, “Or to make good on your threat of a good time?”

Kid continued to be held in perplexed silence, allowing you to study his body a little further. ‘Captain Kid,’ you repeated in your mind. This man was a skilled captain, one your own captain deemed worthy enough to form an alliance with. You would love to get to know him further, but all thoughts swirling within your mind were as filthy as back bog water.

“They mutually exclusive?” his smirk quirked at the corner, his vibrant lip paint decorating his lips with a partially glossy sheen, “And what happened to you calling me ‘Sir’?”

“You’re in my space,” you shrugged, pouting your lips and elevating your brows, “If anything, you should be calling me ‘Sir’ in here.”

“Ooh,” he taunted with a harsh and low growl, “Cocky in your workshop, are you?” he taunted you, his tone dripping with feigned fear. His smile only grew further up his face at your agitation rising on your features, “Apologies, Sir. Didn’t mean to interrupt your concentration, Sir.”

You scoffed, unlacing your hands and allowing Kid to get a proper look at your exposed flesh. His breath hitched, catching completely within his throat as he allowed the swell within his chest to grow deeper. Your brow arched up, allowing yourself the same luxury of ogling his body with your eyes while gripping the counter behind you.

“Gonna stop spurting filth at me, then?” Kid whispered before he could stop the words from leaving his lip, “Or are you as provocative with every Nakama meeting with your crew?” You rolled his questions over your mind.

“I’ll grant you a partial ‘yes’ and ‘no’ to both questions,” you shrugged, hands still clutching the bench behind you for support, “I am known for my vulgarity, but I do have the ability to behave when asked nicely.” Kid hummed in response, choosing to not engage with the conversation further than that. His heavy boots wove past you, his focus now switching to your project behind you.

“Wanna tell me ‘bout this?” he tapped the larger, steel barrel of the base of your project. You rotated your neck, feeling a click relieve itself within the rotation.

“It’s Project Battle-Surge,” you hummed, turning and walking away from your workbench, “Been at it for a little while now, and I’ve almost got him ready.”

“Him?” he furrowed his brows, sparing a small glance your way, noticing your focus was on his metal harm hanging limply by his left side, “Alright, Sunshine. I’ll make you a deal. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” You snapped your eyes up to meet with his, watching as he bobbed his chin to shift your focus back onto his mechanical arm.

“You’ll tell me about how it was made? Show me how it works?” You asked him, your eyes widening and smile elevating to showcase your wonderment. He chuckled at your tone, his own eyes darting over to your own mechanical project longingly.

“Show you?” he scoffed, glancing over to the project behind you, “Baby, if that thing is what I think it is: I’ll take the damn thing off for you and let you have a turn.”

“There you go again; threatening me with a good time,” you cooed flirtatiously at him, testing his boundaries by brushing your fingertips along the flesh of his right arm from his elbow to his fingers. You removed your hand from his, placing it on your project, “I’m willing to talk to you about him. He’s forged for war: hopefully going to function as both a sentinel tool, and a suit of wearable armor. Just trying to come up with a name for him that’s not just ‘Total BS’.”

Kid’s roar of laughter ricocheted around the room, pumping your chest with the fluttering wings of butterflies and a flush to rise to swell your cheeks. After he stifled his cackle, he shook his head and cradled his head in the flesh of his palm.

“No, no. That’s perfect. ‘Total BS’,” he reached up to his shoulders, removing his weighty jacket and placing it on your workbench. His bare skin was exposed to you, the trail of scars running from his face down his neck, to his absent arm, down his chest and stomach holding you hostage, “I love it, truly. A perfect name for a perfect creation. Definitely deserves a little bit of knowledge about my arm.” He maneuvered his mechanical arm, flexing the wired muscles within and he began removing the straps holding it in place.

“Didn’t expect to be doin’ this today. Don’t normally enjoy takin’ the damn thing off and on again,” his brow focussed, teeth clenching as he sucked in a strained breath while removing the prosthetic limb from his stumped flesh, “But I think you’ll get a kick outta it.”

For each spurt of ‘Total BS’ from you, Kid would reflect knowledge about his mechanical arm. As you powered your mechanical man on, Kid showcased how to use his arm; how he tended to it and kept it in top condition.

As the minutes turned into hours, your buzzed rapport continued to get more and more excitable. You felt both on edge and at ease beside him, both as passionate about this particular interest as the other was. Your brilliant and enthusiastic smiles were reflected within one anothers, both allowing the giddiness to rise within you and prolong discussion about your mechanical wonders.

All of the questions were ‘the right ones’, all of the excitement was founded in ‘the right places’. You both felt drawn into each other, leaning into each other's warmth; your bare flesh brushing with his as if you’d known him for a lifetime. As you sat with Kid’s dismembered prosthetic in your lap, fawning over the intricate designs and pieces; he was just as enamored by the large suit of armor you had skillfully created.

He snuck a few hidden and weighted glances at you, heart swelling with longing. He craved how you’d feel beneath his hand, how you’d taste on his tongue beneath his painted lips. He felt his body draw itself closer to yours in each passing moment, as a magnet collided and stuck against a metallic force. He wanted you so desperately, he could barely contain his incessant need for you.

You stood, bending over to lift the heavy arm and place it down on your workbench - Kid’s eyes shamelessly following the plump curvature of your covered ass as you stooped. The material of your boiler suit dipped seductively with every step, Kid’s dangerous swelling growl beginning to click and crackle in his chest the longer he stared at you. You hummed thoughtfully, finally completely understanding the concept of his arm, picking up a polishing cloth and shining lacquer.

“It looks like you haven’t taken it apart and re-welded the underbolts for a little while,” you added with a frown while poking at the bolt with your prongs, “Did you want me to take them off, clean it up a little bit,” you waved the towel, flicking it out to ensure it was clean and sanitary, “I could solder it back together for you when I’m done, if you want.”

Kid was startled, his loud voice no longer gracing the air with its presence. Being met with his silence, you turned around to face him, cocking your head to the side as you studied his face. His expression was not easy for you to read, vacant with a small aura of violent aggression rising in his eyes. Reading it as cause for offense from one tinkerer to another, you quickly straightened your stance, holding your hands out and frantically waving them in front of you.

“No, no, no! I didn’t mean to offend you” you attempted to suck back in your words, desperately craving to build your rapport with this tinkerer-captain you had grown to admire, “I just figured, since you’re in my workshop, I’d offer my body to be put to good use for you.” At that comment, you mentally slapped yourself for your unintentional double-meaning.

He straightened his spine, swooping forwards and lumbering his hulking form over your smaller body, caging you beneath his powerful aura. You squeaked out a small, shocked peep when he grasped your left arm within his right palm, thumb, and large fingers. Stooping forward, he forced his forehead to forge against your own and pushed your body backwards until your bare flesh met with the cool of the metal wall.

“You want me to put your body to good use?” he hissed out a low growl through clenched teeth, “You got it, Sunshine.”

Without a further word, Kid surged his face forwards and claimed your parted lips with his own. There was no subtlety, no timidness, and absolutely no hesitation to be found against his lips. His body burned with violent passion and intensity, brows furrowing and sucking in a harsh inhale of sharpened breath through his pointed nose.

His teeth bit and bruised your bottom lip, tongue pushing past your lips and dominating yours without restraint. He raked his tongue sloppily against your own, sliding it throughout every inch of your parted lips you exposed to him. You responded to his unrestrained passion by hooking your arms around his thick neck, weaving your fingers in his red hair.

Stapling your hips with his own, you felt deliciously hopeless and caged between his body and the metallic surface of the Polar Tang’s steel walls. You tilted your head up, allowing him to claim all of you he wanted to with his lips, body, and desperately grasping hand. Angling his stumped arm against the wall, he dragged his fingers harshly down your bicep and halted at your hips. He aggressively circled his arm behind your waist and violently clamped his fingers and thumb over the bone of your hip and hoisted you effortlessly within the air.

You parted your legs and hooked them over his hips, your feet joining at the ankles to anchor your body against his. He growled against your lips, nipping harshly at the corner of your mouth and jaw; before leaving a fluttering trail of crimson lip-paint and pinching bruises down your neck to your rapidly beating pulse. You gasped as he clamped his lips, teeth and tongue over your flesh - whimpering as a particularly harsh bite found purchase against your neck, prompting your eyes to flutter shut.

Crying out your desperate longing for him had a rumbling chuckle vibrating against your neck. Every action he surged against you had your craving for more of his unwithheld brutality, both satisfied in receiving his touch and longing for more he could give to you. He rolled his hips against your own, feeling the growing hardness produced beneath his leathery pants.

Your thoughts became more filthy the longer you focussed on what more he was hiding away from you, prompting you to grind your covered body against his own in response. Kid groaned, rutting into your body further by pressing you into the wall to inhibit your ability to do anything other than take what he was giving to you. Opening your eyes, you glanced down at his face as he began to nip and suck at your collar bone.

The scars reflected silver within the darkening hum of false, electrical light. His eyes were closed and brow deep in concentration as he focussed on marking you with his mouth. You followed the trail of his scar down his neck to his shoulder, mapping your way down to his absent left arm. Every part of him was beautiful to you, the lightning marks of heavy violence depicted on his flesh showcasing how much he endured in his past - and how strong he was to overcome it.

Sensing your shift in focus, Kid halted his marking and looked up into your eyes, noticing their fixation being solely on his missing limb. He sucked in a deep, angry breath through his grimacing teeth and his brow slunk lower in agitation.

“You that bothered by a missin’ arm, Sunshine?” he growled through clenched teeth, your eyes immediately snapping over to meet with his own, “And here I thought you liked me.” Your pupils were blown with lust, lips parted and panting and cheeks flushed with a rising warm heat.

Without hesitation, you slowly revealed your tongue to him and used the pointed tip to lick a long stripe up his scarred flesh. Refusing to tear your eyes away from his, you swirl your tongue against his skin and map the scar with your mouth in open and passionate kisses. Once making your way up his bicep and neck, you pressed a chaste and playful kiss against his scarred cheek quickly with a smile.

“Not at all disturbed,” you chirped happily with a flutter of your half-hooded eyelashes, “I like you,” you angled your head, brushing the tip of your nose with his own, “And I am prepared to show you how much I admire every inch of you you’re willing to share with me.” Eustass Kid gulped a dry swallow of air in an attempt to return the saliva to his mouth.

“F-Fuck,” Kid gasped, awestruck by your promiscuity and provocation alongside your cheerful disposition. You giggled at him, pressing another hasty kiss against his scarred cheek, trailing a flutter of your lips over his injured eye and back down his face again to the corner of his lips.

“If we start this,” he began, gaining your attention back on him, “You’ll tell me to stop if you can’t handle it, won’t ya?” he whispered against your lips, anchoring his hips against yours to pin you in place while retracting his hand from your waist to caress your cheek. He bore his intense auburn eyes into yours, angrily growling, “Answer me.”

Your eyes widened, lips falling apart in shock. Pulling your face away from his, you unwove your fingers from his hair and secured them against his shoulders, leaning your face and nuzzling it into his calloused palm.

“Yes, Sir,” you whispered against his palm, pressing a gentle kiss against the warm center of his hand, “But understand this,” you cautioned him, eyes turning serious as you met with his own, “There’s a lot I can take before I’d ever dream of telling you to stop.”

Eustass Kid groaned at your words, hunching forward to sink his teeth once more against your clavicle. He knit his fingers against the base of your hair, tugging it back to expose more of your flesh while rutting his hips against yours. You mewled for him, taking each violent act of unbridled passion as it came from the hulking figure between your thighs. Each cruel bite, lick, suck and kiss burnt heavenly against your skin; pumping your blood to elevate your pulse with every ministration from Kid.

As he licked a dangerous and intentional stripe along the crevice of your cleavage, tracing the curvature of your breasts with the tip of his tongue; the speakers roared to life with Trafalgar Law’s bored voice depicting orders through the powered system.

“All crews and captains return to the top deck. We’ve docked, mealtime set and are waiting. Come and get it.”

Both you and Kid groaned in frustrated unison, feeling as pent up in lust as one another. You hooked your arms over his shoulders, pulling him desperately closer to your body while pressing heated kisses against his temple and hairline. He panted, enjoying each moment he spent within your arms and between your legs.

Whether he was ready to admit it or not, Eustass Kid had not experienced such a willing and enthusiastic lover to welcome him between their parted thighs in such a long time. The way your chest heaved with panted breath, your lips hungrily seeking out more of his skin, while your fingernails raked down his exposed flesh had his breath hitching and blood rushing to every crevice of his body. He was reveling in each moment you granted him - every worshipful touch, and every kiss you peppered him with.

He could not comprehend how someone so intelligent, someone so skilled with their craft, clung to him with such lustful passion. If given enough time, he could truly see himself partnered with such a person as you. A fellow tinkerer; a person as nasty as he was with vulgar language and promiscuous expression.

“We gotta stop, Sunshine,” Kid growled into your jawline, pressing his lips to vibrate against your jugular, “C’mon, your captain’s given’ ya orders.”

“And here you were offering me an out, Sir,” you gasped, tracing his cheek with your parted lips and playfully nipping at his cheek with your teeth, “Do you want to stop?”

He groaned again in frustration at your words, eyes rolling back in his skull while he attempted to harbor his restraint. He pressed a dangerous roll of his hips against your own, testing both his and your willingness to part from one another. As you mewled a cry of his name, he truly realized he was the one that needed to break off this encounter with you, in favor of maintaining his Nakama with the two crews.

“Are you that shameless you’ll make me be the one to call off this little tryst to bring you to dinner?” He growled, tugging on your hair to withdraw your lips from their lustful attack on his painted skin.

“Yes,” you gasped out, grinding your hips down onto his hardening cock beneath his tight pants. He groaned both in frustration at your admission, alongside the fact he truly did not want to part from his place between your legs to attend something as boring as a formal dinner.

“Fucking hell, Sunshine,” he cursed at you, biting at the flesh of your neck while grinding his hips up into yours, “At this rate, I’d take you to dinner just to fuck you on the dining table in front of everyone.”

“Please,” your begging tone cried for him. His eyes widened in shock, tearing his face away from your skin to glare at you. He was perplexed, unsure if you were truly begging for him here and now, or if you wanted him to claim you in front of the three crews engaging together.

“Are you that shameless? You’d let me claim you in public like that?” he groaned into you, his grimace splitting his face in a puzzled expression.

“Honey,” you spoke, your voice cutting through the air like a guillotine with its precise clarity, “I’d likely tell Bepo to run first, but my crew already knows how much of a freak I am,” you surged forward, a playful nip pressed against the tip of his nose, “It’s your crew I’d worry about. Also, the Straw-Hats,” you confessed, pressing a trail of kisses against his temple, cheek and corner of his lips, “But I have demonstrated my incessant shamelessness to them in the past.”

Eustass Kid saw red. He, immediately, felt a surge of need to understand exactly what you had showcased to the Straw-Hat crew prior. If it was the flirty chef, that was fine by him - that blond flirts with everything that moves. He had even witnessed him flirt with a feminine-shaped tree in encounters past. If it was the green-haired swordsman who felt your touch, experienced your lips against his own - that was something else entirely.

“Who,” his gruff growl through clenched teeth hissed at you. You took your bottom lip between your teeth, feeling the ignition in dangerous passion within the taut flex of his muscular shoulders. After taking a moment to collect your swirling thoughts, too wrapped in the feeling of Kid’s scorched flesh pressing against your own, you uttered your answer to him.

“Roronoa Zoro,” you gasped, soothing your fingertips against his shoulders and holding him firmly against yourself. You felt the swell of jealousy form within Kid’s biceps, trapping you beneath them by caging you further against the wall. He thrust his body forwards, his lips colliding with the sensitive flesh of your shoulder and clamping his teeth down in a punishing brutality.

“It was only one time,” You cried out, pain melding into pleasure at his rough bite.

“And I’ll make you forget all about the one time when it’s my cock splitting you open,” he growled against your neck, his tongue darting out to soothe over the vicious mark he claimed against your skin, “You’ll likely forget how to walk, too. Gonna need to be carried everywhere.”

“You offering?” you managed to gasp, feeling Kid’s lips travel higher up your neck to trace the trail of lip paint and bruises back up to meet with your lips. As he continued to bruise you with his passionate and violent kisses, the powered system roared to life with another dictation from your captain.

“Once again: All crew and captains are required above deck for meal time. Final warning.”

Kid’s rumbled growl vibrated your skin beneath his lips, his hips pinning you completely against the wall once more as he argued with himself whether he truly desired tearing himself away from you in this moment, or claim you completely within his arms. Should he not conclude the pleasantries with the two crews, would it truly mean the end of an alliance between the three ships?

“Dinner first,” his voice reverberated its rumble against your flesh, “fucking after.” You whined at his promising confession, squeezing his hips between the firm grip of your thighs.

“Promises, promises,” you gasped your irritation, as you allowed him to shepherd your feet to the ground with his right arm. He groaned his own annoyance into your cheek, kneading the flesh of your waist once more within his palms.

He looked down at your body. He admired the art he had created on your flesh: marks of his trailing lip paint emphasizing every bite and kiss he had bruised against your skin. As his eyes met with yours once more, he witnessed the depiction of his future within their rotund irises. He found you incredibly beautiful, every aspect of you flawless in make.

“By my side for dinner?” his brow cocked up at his request, his fingertips locating his heavy coat alongside his prosthetic limb. As he equipped himself with both objects, you adjusted your uniform over your shoulders and zipped up your boiler uniform.

“Your side?” you asked him, turning to face him. Your fingertips found his collar, adjusting the fabric against his throat, “You think you could pry me off your lap to simply sit beside you?”

Although remaining stoic externally, Eustass Kid was enthusiastically screaming internally. He couldn’t believe your willingness to be by his side: A Heart-Pirate crewman showcasing their lust for a foreign pirate captain they had only just met. Although only spending a few hours together, Kid never wanted to part from you. He was already formulating bribes he could pay Law with to buy your loyalty away from him.

As your eyes once again met with his, he realized there was truly nothing he could find, buy, or create to pry you from your crew. You were theirs, but he wanted you so desperately to be his.

You drew your thumb up to his lips, soothing over the smeared paint in an attempt to fix its smudge to rejoin his lips instead of spilling over his lips. You bit your lip and furrowed your brow in concentration while joining your other hand on his face to fix his skin and hair. He chuckled at your fruitless attempt, raising his right hand to brush over your cheek in an almost loving gesture - pulling you from your concentration.

“Don’t fuss so much,” he purred down at you, raking his index finger from your high cheek bone to the corner of your lips, “Let ‘em know.” As you were about to reciprocate your desire for him back into his face, Law’s frustrated growl cut over the speakers once more to alert you of further instruction.

“Can the tinkerer of the Heart-Pirates and the captain of the Kid-Pirates return above deck for the evening meal now.”

Both you and Kid laughed while hastily adjusting your uniform back over your shoulders, his clothes and his mechanical arm to fix once more on his own bodies. As you approached the door, you were momentarily held in perplexed shock at the extension of Kid’s right hand reaching out to collect your left within. He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, desperately seeking out one more moment of your touch against his flesh.

You smiled down at the floor, bashfully smoothing the fingers of your left hand within Kid’s right and allowing him to lead you above deck. You both hoped this meal would be as brief as it could for you to find yourselves clutching at each other’s flesh once more.

As you approached the upper deck, you witnessed the amount of effort thrust into the air at the rambunctious dining experience provided for you. Rows of collaborative seats and dining settings were ornately decorated, shined silverware Law hid away for special occasions were set perfectly in front of each of the crewmen awaiting your presence. You sheepishly met your eyes with your captain’s, the swell of disappointed disdain present within the yellowed irises.

Apprehensively, Kid released your hand from his, he marched over to find his place amongst his own crew and the two other captains, leaving you to to fall in line with your own crewmen. Although words of spoken intentions requesting you by his side for dinner, as soon as your eyes met with the amber hue of Trafalgar Law’s abrasive agitation, you decided immediately against it.

Sitting between Shachi and Ikkaku, opposite from Bepo and Penguin, you felt their eyes burning into your marked flesh. You chose not to speak, keeping your eyes fixed on your captain as he elevated his tankard - relaying a long winded toast to the three crews meeting. You elected to not engage with the gestures attempting to wave you away from your concentration from Ikkaku, Shachi and Penguin. You were the picture of innocence and obedience, refusing to tear your eyes away from your captain as he continued on with his speech.

Law’s eyes met with yours, briefly trailing down your face, neck and torso to follow the bites and lip-paint from the foreign captain plastered vibrantly against your skin. You smiled up at him, the picture of angelic and sinless appearance as he stuttered over his final words of the speech.

“May our three crews find balance and harmony over these upcoming weeks,” he concluded, elevating his tankard and prompting the crews to do the same, “Now let’s eat.”

“Yes to food!” Luffy cried in glee, enthusiastically piling an assortment of meat onto his tray at the final utterance of Law’s speech. You refused to meet your crewman’s eyes, turning to Bepo and asking him to pass you the pressed, buttery, herbed potatoes; as if it was the most natural and normal thing in the world.

After you all began gathering elements of your meal on the plate in front of you, you felt multiple eyes fixed on your body from all sides: your crewmates with their questions pushing against the walls of their lips threatening to break through like water through a dam wall. Zoro, with a wide smirk showcased on his lips and eyes narrowed in on the marks, also held unspoken commentary he desired to tease you with. Your Captain’s brimming intensity fuelling the ignition of rage beneath his features prompted your silence to remain exactly that. Silence.

Whereas Eustass Kid, sitting beside his loyal first-mate and the other two captains, sought out your eyes to ask unspoken questions he craved the answers for. The one at the forefront of his mind was: “Do you wish to continue?”

In lieu of providing an exchange of words or gestures to those around you, you coyly flicked at your plate with the silvery fork; humming along to the melody formerly blaring from your workshop speakers. Seeking out a slice of the pressed potato in your fork, you slid it onto your fork before wrapping your lips over the crisped edges.

You continued to hum while eating your meal, shoulders dancing in a subtle shake in approval while you chewed your food. Aside from your upbeat humming, you consumed your meal in silence while your closest friends attempted to seek out your attention with their eyes - pleading to be privy of the happenings occurring behind closed doors.

“You’re really not going to say anything? Not even a denial of ‘nothing happened’, or a small ‘It was good’ if something did?” Ikkaku whined at you, leaning forward on the heel of her palm and pouting her lips into her skin, “After all that, nothing?” You sighed, placing down your utensils on the table and seeking out your napkin to clean your face.

“Nothing happened,” you shrugged with your lips pursing. You took a moment's pause, allowing a delightful shudder of the memory of what occurred a few moments prior. You picked up your fork and placed your utensil within your lips before removing it with a quick ‘pop’, uttering, “ And it was good,” you sarcastically reflected back to Ikkaku. She scoffed, toying with her own plate of food with her lips curling up at the corner.

“You climb him like a tree?” Shachi grunted out, mid-bite of a roasted carrot. You giggled out a string of quiet laughter while shaking your head.

“Didn’t get the chance to,” you shrugged after finishing with your laughter, “Can you pass the meat?” Penguin elevated the tray of meat, your fingers brushing against one another as he passed the tray to you.

“Gagged, choked, and flogged?” Penguin attempted to disguise his question with a gruff cough, hiding his blush from view with the shadow of his cap. Your lips cracked into a large grin, again shaking your head at the question.

“Thank you, Penguin,” you uttered, taking the tray and placing a few pieces of meat on your plate, “And I wish.” You passed the tray on to Bepo, who hungrily piled several pieces onto his plate before passing the empty plate onto the bench behind him.

“Then what did you do?” Ikkaku asked, her elevated voice woven with exasperation. Zoro’s attention never left your body, only pausing to raise his sake bottle to his lips as he read your lips of every confession.

“We talked shop,” you shrugged, your fingers grasping the tongs within the plate of fried broccolini, fishing out several pieces of the wilted vegetable and placed it on your plate, “He’s an incredibly skilled craftsman, and it was a delight to hear him speak about his passions while sharing mine.”

“Bet that’s not all he shared of yours,” Ikkaku muttered under her breath, raising her fork to her lips with a knowing smirk, “Your neck looks like an animals been at it.”

“Yeah,” you sighed with a whimsical longing falling from your lips, swooning at the amount of marks Eustass Kid had littered your body with his passionately violent embrace. Your crewmen burst into an uproar of contagious laughter, prompting Zoro and Nami to follow suit once your hushed conversation was relayed to one another.

After you all conclude with your meals, the conversations float to the next time you all get to sing, dance and drink with one another, before you witness Eustass Kid rising to his feet. The chef of the Straw-Hat crew had only just begun serving dessert for the three Nakama crews, but this did little to halt the departure of the captain of the Punk-Rock from his place at the table.

Without meeting your eyes with his, you rose to your feet and placed your silverware atop your emptied dining plate and dusted off your thighs while straightening your uniform. You turned to where Trafalgar Law was sitting on the table, giving him a low bow: wordlessly questioning whether it would be permitted to be excused. Elevating your eyes while rising from your stoop, Law’s blushing cheeks and gritted teeth shook alongside his head with a curt, and swift, nod in affirmation. You took a moment to stifle the rising squeal of joy in your chest, before turning to address your ‘brothers in arms.’

“Goodnight, crew,” you turned to wink at Ikkaku before adding, “Talk to you in the morning, if I manage to find a leg to stand on.”

As you walked over to the archway of the Polar Tang, you halted and waited for the heavy bootsteps falling behind your own. At the jangle of metal belt-chains, the weighted thump of shoes and the subtle purred growl of the captain of the Victoria Punk stalking behind you, your shoulders shuddered in anticipation. You felt the subtle pull from his metallic left arm caging your waist within its iron grip, pulling you to face him against his torso, while simultaneously leading you back to your workshop below decks.

Both of you were buzzing with giddy lust simmering within your chests, swelling with the rise of passionate desperation for one another. You giggled, reaching down to touch the cool metal claiming your waist within its circular grasp.

“Are you that keen on me that you couldn’t finish your dessert, Sir?” you quirked your head to the side, noticing Eustass Kid’s predatory grin penetrating your flesh beneath its searing intensity.

“Why would I eat something artificially sweet when I can eat you?” he purred, his head waving to the side as he leant down into your ear, licking the outer shell, before uttering, “Gotta see how loud I can make you scream while I trap your pretty cunt against my face.” He lovingly reached his right hand down to claim your left, elevating it to his lips and gently brushing his painted lips over your knuckles, “You think your neck is the only place I’d be keen on licking, biting and kissing?”

Where Kid expected to be greeted with a squeak at his vulgarity, he was met with a similar amount of crass speech. Your eyes innocently triangulated between his own, fluttering down to meet with his lips before focussing back on his auburn irises.

“You think I’d happily sit still on your face?” you sung your intentions to him with a musical tone, “Not while I’ve got a whole throbbing and hard cock in need of my attention below your pants,” you fluttered your eyes down to his belt before slowly raking your eyes up his chest to find residency on his face.

Gauging his reaction, you continued uttering your vulgarity sweetly up at him, brushing your fingers over his jawline and trailing them down his exposed chest. Your eyes followed your fingers, gleefully swooning at the elevation of puckered flesh shuddering to life beneath your gentle touch.

“The real question is: should I take your belt off with my fingers, or would you prefer I use my teeth, Sir?” you halted your touch, your eyes snapping back up to gaze longingly into Eustass Kid’s auburn eyes.

“T-The fuck did you just say?” Kid breathily gasped into your ear, truly being perplexed with his ill-preparation for reciprocal vulgarity.

“You heard, Sir,” you teased him in return, lips pulled into a sultry smirk while reaching your index finger up to trace his angular jawline, “Fingers or teeth?” After taking a moment to straighten himself, Kid leant down to your face, gazing at you through half-hooded eyes and growling his response.

“Teeth.”

#one piece #x reader #op eustass kid x reader #eustass kid #op eustass kid #heart pirates #kid pirates #straw hat pirates #zoro #nami #eustass kid x reader #shachi and penguin #trafalgar law

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cy-cyborg · 8 months

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It will never not be frustrating to me that amputees appear in fiction ALL. THE. TIME. and yet they're almost never acknowledged as such. The Cyberpunk genre is especially guilty of this: amputees and prosthetics becoming a normalised part of life are a defining part of the genre/aesthetic and yet no one even consults with any amputees about how we get represented there. Most writers in those genres don't even consider that giving your characters cybernetic arms and legs means they're an amputee.

CW: Ableism, dehumanisation

This makes it REALLY uncomfortable to engage with stories in the genre because another common aspect of cyberpunk is the idea of losing yourself and becoming something distinctly not-human anymore because you have too many cybernetic augmentations/implants. Shadowrun even has mechanics for this, which state if you get too many prosthetics, which is what cybernetics are 9 times out of 10, your character becomes a monster. These mechanics and discussions surrounding "how many robot bits make you not human anymore" are really, really uncomfortable when you remember this isn't something that's unique to a far-off future setting. Those people you're discussing the humanity of already exist. They're called amputees. If you reframe the question as "how many amputations can you have before you stop being a person" I hope you can see why an amputee like myself is not going to feel safe around you or in your fandoms.

And it's a shame, because I REALLY want to like Cyberpunk. I really, honestly do. I love the aesthetics, I love the idea of big corporations being the villains and the anti-capitalism at the heart of the genre, and I love the idea of prosthetics being not only destigmatised, but desirable. When written from a disability-inclusive lense, it honestly has the potential to be an incredibly uplifting and empowering genre. but as the genre stands right now, it's actively hostile to the very folks who are usually the stars of its stories: amputees, all because people just refuse to acknowledge us.

Cyberpunk isn't the only genre guilty of this, it's common all throughout sci-fi as a whole, but Cyberpunk is the only one where it starts becoming a serious issue due to its rampant dehumanisation of a real group of people. In other sci-fi settings, it's just kind of annoying and while it can be a form of erasure, it's not usually harmful, just...frustrating. Fantasy does it on occasion too, think pirates with a hook and a peg leg, but nowhere near as much.

If you, as an author or creator, use any of these words to describe a character or their tech in a sci-fi setting:

cybernetics/cybernetic enhancements

bionics

robot limbs

cyborgs

augmentations

You are probably writing an amputee. Please, at the very least, acknowledge it, and be mindful that those are real people who actually exist, not just a fantasy group you can speculate about.

edit:

I originally posted this article on my old Tumblr account and lot of people commented/reblogged to tell me that originally in cyberpunk, the "less human the more robot bits you have" only applied to people who opted for their limbs to be replaced by cybernetics, because it was seen as "renting out your body to corporations for money" but people who had to get cybernetics out of necessity weren't impacted. The thing is though, I really don't think that makes it better, for a few reasons. For one, where do you draw the line at "opting" to get a cybernetic prosthetic? This isn't a black and white thing, even in real life. Most amputations are done out of necessity, but there are situations where it's not the only option, just the best one. Talking from personal experience, I lost both my legs below the knee as a baby, that was a pretty clear cut case, I had a blood infection and gangrene and they had to act fast. But the infection caused lasting side effects and impacted my physical body's development and growth. By the time I got to my early 20's it was causing a lot of pain in my right leg, in my knee specifically, and when I got a bone infection in the end of that stump, I chose to have the whole thing amputated up to the knee. They only needed to take a few inches off the end of my stump, but I asked them to go higher, because of the ongoing issues in that knee, issues that would have been made worse by the shortening of the leg. I choose to remove the whole thing, knowing the joint was degrading and I probably would have lost it later in life anyway. Even if it was salvageable, it would mean much more surgery, and I've had enough of those. A boy I played wheelchair basketball with was born with a partially formed leg, it was half the size of his other leg and he wasn't able to use it al all, it was just dead weight, so he opted to get it amputated too for convenience and so he could use a prosthetic on that side. I worked with a girl who's hand didn't form properly in the womb, resulting in a normal palm, but tiny "finger nubs" (her words) with no bones inside. They weren't actively harming her usually, but she opted to get them and the top of her palm amputated after an incident at work where we were tying balloons and one of her nubs got stuck in the knot. She decided to get them amputated because it meant accidents like that would be less likely, and she could use a prosthetic more comfortably. All 3 of these are considered "optional" amputations, so would people like us be penalised in your setting? does it make sense that the technology in your setting can tell the difference, or that corporations would care about the how and why? Even stepping away from medical grey areas, if your character opts for a cybernetic arm because the corporations will financially reward her, and she's struggling to put food on the table without that help, is that really optional?

Don't get me wrong, I do think that idea could work but it would take a lot of work to do well, and most works I've seen don't do the work. Even if they did though, it doesn't change the fact that most modern uses of this trope don't mention that bit or actively ignore it. It doesn't matter in most cyberpunk works I've seen if the amputation was optional or out of necessity, they still are more prone to being seen as "less human" and in most of the sci-fi writing communities I've been part of, the authors are genuinely shocked when I ask them to remember "people with cybernetics are real people already, they're not some far-off-distant future fantasy group, they're just called amputees". Like it didn't even cross their minds. These are the people creating the works in this genre. Even if it wasn't the original intention of the genre, it's still an issue in the modern version of it. Edit 2: Elaborated a little more on why I don't think the "only people who choose it" argument works in the edit. Also, please stop telling me that old cyberpunk doesn't have this issue, I literally address that in the post lol.

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directdogman · 1 month

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hi hound, got a question for ya . kind of related to phone sex. Yippee

anyway, so i feel its kind of established in dialtown that being a phone head is equal to being amab, and being a typewriter head is equal to being afab (based on oliver and karens refusal to date types/phones respectively ofc) so i was wondering - what about people born with neither, like karen? would she be considered a form of intersex by society?

followup - how do like. Genetics work? like are they born with specific heads based on their parents (would karen be more likely to have a printer child, for example)?

Appologies for the long and strange questions, your game is rotting me as we speak

Kiiind of. It's mainly a cultural thing. Basically, the tradition is to assign heads to babies based on the gender assigned at birth. Because of this, someone with a phone head is widely considered by others to be male, and vice versa for typewriters, and this is why many trans people in-universe switch, in the same way as someone might style their hair or change their wardrobe in ours. However, because the heads are modular (and can be changed), it's best to view this correlation as more of a cultural trend rather than a rigid system that everyone follows without exception, one of which I'll explain in the next part of the answer.

what about people born with neither, like karen? would she be considered a form of intersex by society?

Karen actually HAD a typewriter head before she was given the printer. A little bit of background context here: Callum Crown, the inventor of the phone head, invented his first ever cybernetic augmentations (his revolutionary prosthetic limbs) in order to help other disabled people gain mobility and independence. He wanted to give other people the same opportunities that his technology had given him.

When he moved onto the phone head concept, he never forgot about his initial goal of using technology to help people with disabilities. Karen's typewriter head was actually a developmental adaptation. Basically, it allowed a young averbal Karen to produce images, which assisted her in communication before she could learn to speak (and helped her learn to speak sooner than if she had never gotten the upgrade.) While it's quite a modern solution for a disability that wasn't well understood in Crown's time, it's absolutely in line with his philosophies and it's an application he'd be very enthusiastic about, if he was still fully conscious.

Similarly, there are NPCs in-game who have non-standard heads and aren't trans or non-binary, like Rachel at the Dialtown News Network, who has a teleprompter head! In much the same way Karen's head was switched for utility purposes, the same is true for many people who work certain jobs where these heads come in handy. Therefore, I think it's safer to say that someone's head type more or less correlates with their overall identity, with gender, occupation, or any other relevant circumstances factoring into what kind of head they might have.

There's a few NB NPCs in-game and the cultural way many express that is by having hybrid heads, or heads with elements of both phones + typewriters. Take Curie, the curator of the DT Modern Art museum, who has a typewriter head with a phone dial added to it. Gabby (the store clerk who sells phone parts in Uptown Dialtown) also mentions that this practice is common.

followup - how do like. Genetics work? like are they born with specific heads based on their parents (would karen be more likely to have a printer child, for example)?

Genetics don't factor into it outside of the cultural tendency to give phone/typewriter heads based on the gender of the child. Basically, all babies are born with an adapter, and right after birth, the baby is given their new head. Think about how difficult it would be to give birth to someone with a FULL-SIZED typewriter head! There's more than one reason it's set up the way it is, but that's the most important thing to mention. Hope this helps!

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makuta-tobi · 10 months

Text

Nat stared at her computer screen, cursor blinking in tandem with her heartbeat, so loud in her ears she may as well have been at a metal concert. Months she had worked on her project, skipping meals, staying awake until sunrise, and then a few hours more after that. Now she was a few keystrokes away from finally testing it. Cables ran from her ramshackle computer, meeting and mingling with others attached to a bank of hard drives, all spinning with uploads and downloads. On the inflatable mattress behind her, the fruits of her labour lay eerily still. With a deep, shaky exhale, she typed in the last few lines of code into her launcher, and pressed the enter key.

The whirring of the fans pointed towards the makeshift server seemed to drown out all other noise as the program executed. Then a series of smaller fans, a sharper sound than the box fan nearby, as they all sprang to life at once. Nat pressed her palms together as her creation came online. As servos activated and limbs went from rigid to an almost relaxed state, she couldn't help but whisper “it lives” to herself. The machine in front of her made a sudden jolt, and a light on the side of its head illuminated a pale white. Online and active. She twisted from her position on the floor to check her monitors and saw that all systems were operating nominally. Neural pathways were registering stimuli, artificial synapses were firing as thoughts began to form. It worked!

Nat placed her hand on the machine's upper back and guided it to a sitting position. She had been sure to feed the computer a good handful of data about herself, and the basics of knowledge in order to train the AI and make sure it didn't immediately shut down from overstimulation.

God knows I certainly would have, she thought to herself with an eyeroll.

“Are you awake?” her first question was more of a way to test the robot's speech recognition, its self evaluation, word association, and also to ensure that the vocal modulation was up to satisfactory conditions.

“I am awake,” it responded. The robot drew its arms closer to its torso and seemed to look around the room briefly, before turning its head to face Nat.

“Do you know who I am?” she asked, once again checking its recognition and perception.

“Natalie, you created and programmed me, I believe,” it tilted its head almost as though trying to determine if this was the correct answer. The data she had fed it before it woke up had included details about herself, photos and videos of her, vocal samples, and the AI was interpreting this information and comparing it to the details in front of it. The face, the voice, it all matched. But the robot seemed almost unsure, as if contemplating whether the information it had was incomplete. Perhaps it had been told that this person, whose face and voice it knew, was the one who built it, but that did not necessarily mean the information it had was true. Nonetheless, Nat smiled and nodded, and the robot's shoulders almost imperceptibly relaxed.

“That's right. I did create you, and I programmed you to be something new, but familiar. You have a lot of potential, and I'm glad to meet you.” The robot tilted its head at the framing of the statement.

“What potential do I have?” it asked. A curious mind, or simply a rudimentary AI probing for information to expand its knowledge set?

“You have multiple functions as yet unseen. All of you, from the smallest details of your body, to your quizzical mind, all are new ways to expand the experience of everyone.” When the robot did not respond right away, and simply looked down at its form, still sitting upright on the air mattress, she continued her explanation. “Your frame is designed with limb augments and prosthesis in mind,” she gestured to the carbon fiber metal that made up its hands and arms. “Your sensor suite is expected to replace the damaged vision or hearing of someone who has lost theirs. Your AI can expand and contain the breadth of knowledge and actually learn, instead of just regurgitate answers it had received beforehand.”

“What of this?” the robot touched the gray fleshy material covering its lower abdomen, stretching down to its thighs.

“That is actually two things. The first is a synthetic skin that can be created to replace basic skin grafts and other replacement techniques we currently have. The second is that the skin is used as a mount for artificial nerves that can replace damaged ones.”

The robot ran its hands over its body as she explained it. Fine black digits ran over smooth arms and shoulders, stroking across the lighter fake flesh that extended over parts of itself. It then raised its head and looked at her again, cocking its head to the side. In the black glass dome of its face, Nat could only see her own reflection, distorted like staring into dark water. She had always taken issue with the way her nose sat, or criticized that one eyebrow was higher than the other. The self deprecation had always come easy, but looking back at herself from this angle, it was like seeing herself anew, as she really was. When she had begun construction on the robot's exoskeleton so long ago, she had wondered if this would feel like interacting with her child for the first time, but now, she realized, it was more like talking to herself. She felt love for the machine in a way that was hard to quantify, and thus, she knew, she loved herself, in some weird, roundabout way.

“My design, my purpose, is for medical research, is that correct?” the robot asked. She saw, in her reflection, the corners of her mouth turn up in a smile that she liked seeing.

“Your design, yes. You were made with the intention of looking into a variety of medical advancements all at once, to see how they might interact with each other, as well as individually. But your purpose is for you to decide, once you find it. That might take some time, but I think all living things will eventually find it.”

“Am I alive?” the robot's question wasn't exactly unexpected, but it was quick to ask so bluntly.

“Scientifically, maybe not. Ethically, I'm sure some people would take issue with me trying to say otherwise, but realistically? In my mind? You move, you think, you have the potential to imagine, and dream, and exist here. I don't see why you couldn't consider that being alive.”

The robot nodded, its hidden visual sensors scanning Nat up and down, taking in the sight of what it could consider life, based solely on firsthand experience and not a dataset provided before it had even been conscious. Her dyed blonde hair had faded quite a bit since its last treatment, with longer dark roots peaking out. Her eye mascara was smudged, but the dark rings around her eyes framed her gray-blue irises almost ethereally. Her loose tank top draped across her body and hid her shape, and her shorts were stained with pen ink. In spite of her unkempt appearance, or perhaps because of it, the robot perceived, that this was life.

They both shook off the initial studiousness of their first interaction, and Nat turned to her computer, minimizing the command prompt window and revealing a program with a split screen. On one side, an image that appeared to resemble an approximation of a human brain structure. On the other, lines of data were being written and recorded, a text log of the robots experiences made legible.

“Before we get too existential,” Nat said almost wistfully, “we need to make sure your various systems are functioning the way they are intended to.” She turned back to the robot and handed it a ball. It appeared like a gel filled stress ball, and the robot took it, turning it over in its hand. “I just need you to give that a squeeze. Use your instincts and apply enough pressure to squish it, but not break it.”

The robot looked at the ball for a moment and squished it twice in its hand. The portions of the ball not covered by the robot's palm and fingers would expand briefly with the pressure, but would relax as soon as the pressure was let off. The robot then closed its fist around the ball, with the gel-filled portions blowing up to larger size, and it held that position. Nat jotted a note down on a piece of paper with her pencil and then nodded.

“Okay, you can go ahead and release it.” The robot relaxed its fingers and the ball returned to its normal shape. Nat took it and then turned to fully face the robot again. “Now I'm going to test the artificial nerves in the skin.” She pressed the eraser of her pencil against the gray flesh on the robot's hip and turned to look at her monitor. A portion of the brain image lit up. “Do you feel that?”

“Yes,” the robot answered curtly. Nat scribbled something else down on her note paper.

“Okay, now look over there,” she gestured with her pencil. She had to be sure that the sensation registration was due to the actual physical stimuli, and not the recognition that touching the spot should produce a registration. The robot turned its head to look in the direction she had indicated, and then she pushed down on the middle of its thigh. Again, she turned her head to look at the screen, and saw the same area of the brain image glowing. “Do you feel that?”

“Yes,” the robot answered again.

“Don't look, but show me where,” she said. Making sure that it could identify the location of the sensation was also important, so its spatial awareness was also under observation. The robot slid its hand over the skin and touched a single finger directly next to her pencil. A simple example of manual dexterity, which would certainly be tested later, but good to know. “Okay, now one more,” she said. Flipping her pencil around, she pressed the sharpened graphite into a spot near its groin, where the thigh and hip met. Even without seeing the pencil, the robot reacted stronger than she had anticipated. It jolted at the sudden sharp stimuli, and the hand that was still resting on its thigh clenched into a fist. She quickly withdrew the pencil from the skin.

“I'm so sorry!” her voice seemed almost panicked as she checked the monitor. Not only had it registered the sensation, but the synaptic response on the monitor showed a lingering feeling as it slowly dissipated. “How do you feel?” she turned her head back to look at the robot, which had returned its gaze to her.

“Warm,” it answered. She looked down to see that her hand was placed over the spot her pencil had poked, stabbed really, and that feeling was helping to calm the feeling in the robot. She exhaled, and pushed her bangs back. At least that much worked.

“I'm going to log your reactions so far, just a second.” Nat spun around on the floor, selecting a portion of the text that still scrolled across her screen and saving it in a separate folder. The robot tilted its head and examined the tattoo on her shoulder while she worked. A diamond butterfly unfurling its wings and escaping a cocoon made of coal on the back of her right arm. A little on the nose, to be sure, but her friends had assured her the imagery was lovely. Something beautiful and real coming out of a period of harsh change under tremendous pressure. It defined Nat's life, growing up in a family that was always standoffish, not fitting in for so long and not knowing why. Diagnosis after diagnosis making matters worse, while she struggled to find herself, becoming sloth, and finally discovering her own truth and breaking free of the old things. She still carried parts of her from before, but she was unrecognizable and planned to live her life the way that was best for her. None of this was necessarily spoken by the art itself, but the idea was still conveyed well enough.

“What is all this,” the robot said in a softer tone than it had been using, running its hand over the inked skin. None of the photos she had trained its recognition algorithm on had included the tattoo, apparently, and the robot only had a vague grasp of what it was. Instinctively, Nat's hand went up and she placed it over the robot's.

“It's a story, etched into my skin forever. It's art, something that makes me happy.”

“Can you do that? Make changes to yourself?” Nat laughed at the sudden question. The ink was the least of the changes she had ever made to herself.

“Yes, we all have these bodies, but the beautiful thing is that they're ours. We can generally do whatever we want with them.”

“Would I be able to do that?” the robot asked. It was a valid question, and had she been talking to a person, the answer would have been obvious. But the robot had been designed in a way that was different than a human. It had a similar shape, similar features, but it was made to do something entirely different, and because of that, the question was a bit more complex.

“Would that make you happy?” she decided to answer. The robot traced the wings of the butterfly gently with one finger.

“I don't know. Maybe,” it replied. Nat nodded.

“That's part of what I meant earlier, when I said you can find your purpose. If you want to make modifications, when you are ready, then perhaps you can.” There was a longer pause between the two as Nat saved the final file. She sat facing the screen for a moment, chewing the end of her pencil in thought. Once she had made up her mind, Nat pulled her mouse cursor up to a toggle that showed OFF and clicked it.

Honestly, fuck it, she thought, once again hearings her heart race in her ears, louder than before. If every other test is going off without a hitch, might as well try the last bit. Turning around again, she faced the robot once more. The two of them sat with their legs crossed in front of them, the robot obviously at some point copying Nat's posture, though whether the choice was subconscious or not wasn't immediately clear.

“There's one more feature you were designed with that I want to check out,” she said. The robot tilted its head, studying her slightly flushed face. “For a variety of reasons, sometimes specific body parts are needed to be replaced, or built from scratch, and our current technological advancement is not where it could be. So you were also designed with this feature in mind, to see if it was possible to make one that accurately mimics the natural human body response.” Nat swore she heard a drum solo as she placed her hands on the robot's knees. From its position on the air mattress, it had a slightly higher position than her, which was more than reasonable.

“What do you need to do to test this response?” the robot asked innocently. Nat kind of wished there was a little bit more deviousness to the inquiry, but that was fine. Maybe it would learn that behaviour later.

“Just relax,” she said, pressing one hand on its lower abdomen and pushing it back slightly, which it obliged and propped itself back on its hands. “I need to see how it all works.”

Nat ran her hands from the robot's knees down its inner thighs, which seemed to tense and then relax with her touch. Though it hadn't questioned it before, the robot was suddenly aware of an extra appendage on its body, smaller and slender. But as her fingertips traced small circles across its inner thighs, the additional part began, quickly, to swell. The robot initially believed it to be some sort of error, but the slight twinkle in Nat's eyes belayed this concern, and it watched as she began to press her lips to the inner, upper thigh portions of its skin. Each kiss sent a shock of reaction up the leg, to the groin where the part had become nearly fully erect, and then up to the robot's brain. Without knowing why, the robot clenched one of its hands against the mattress.

“It does react realistically,” Nat said. The robot seemed to shiver as she stopped. “That's good news, but there's a few other things I want to make sure work.”

“Like wh-!” the robot was cut off as Nat smirked and engulfed its cock in her mouth. The skin had the same feeling as human, and the heat it produced was comparable to any person, but the rush to Nat's head was far more exhilarating than any other time in her life. Her tongue ran over the tip and the robot's leg shook. She sucked it further into her mouth and she swore she heard the robot's internal fans kick up to compensate for the increased heat. She tried to steady herself, breathing through her nose as she bobbed her head up and down slowly on the robot's cock, feeling like it was melting on her tongue. She chanced a glance up at its black domed face, which was tilting from side to side, thrashing around in ecstasy. Certainly the plan was working well. But she needed to check how well.

Grabbing the robot's hips, scooting closer, she began moving her head faster, running her tongue across the tip of its cock every time she got near the top. The robot's legs were now quaking quite a bit, and it suddenly leaned forward, placing its hands on the back of her head and bucking its hips, the loud whirring of its fans matching her heartbeat. It held her in that position for just a moment before releasing her. Nat pulled her head up off its member, relieved to be able to take a few full gulps of air.

“What was that?” the robot asked, its voice peaking.

“That was a test to see if you can orgasm,” Nat panted, “and while normally you might produce a sort of liquid material, I wasn't really able to... get anything like that for you.” Nat's face was bright red as she said the last few words. “There's a small reservoir system in your lower abdomen and a pump that would probably recreate it, but I didn't have anything to use this time around so it's empty. That said, it's good to know everything is working as planned."

The robot was still shaking minutely, and Nat watched it, pushing her bangs back and rubbing her thighs together. She had a desperate need of release, herself. It wasn't exactly part of the plan, but she felt needy, and even though she had never quite gone that far with any person before... The thought crept back into her mind, seeing her own reflection in its faceplate, loving herself. And she wanted to feel loved. Glancing down, she noticed that the robot's cock was, in fact, still fully erect. She had felt it unnecessary to reproduce a refractory period, and thus the robot simply could wait it out or, had it been aware, simply shut off the system. But she didn't want it to be aware. Not yet.

“Hey, come here,” she said, getting up and holding the robot close. Even the carbon fiber felt warm and lifelike to the touch. Not as soft as skin, but comforting. The robot reciprocated, wrapping its arms around her waist and pulled her close. She held that position for a second, then pulled back from it. “Now to check endurance, is that okay?” Nat almost feared a response that was unsure she would even get.

“Of course, if that's what's needed.” The robot's blunt answer betrayed its appearance as it looked her up and down. She stripped off her shirt, and touched the robot's stomach. It mirrored her behaviour, splaying its fingers over her skin and dragging them across her body. As it felt her, she knew it wasn't able to truly experience the sensation, but hoped that perhaps it was perceiving it. She undid her shorts and dropped them as it explored her chest, her head tilting back. She slid her underwear down as well, and knelt in front of the robot completely naked. She couldn't hide her face, she knew it, and the robot would likely not understand the concept of shame, but she still felt compelled.

Its hands trailed down her hips and thighs, and one cupped her own cock. Nat felt like dying as it ran the soft fingertips over her, but she couldn't ask it to stop. She wanted more, her body felt like an inferno. It stroked her cock, and ran its thumb over the tip, mimicking the way she had licked it, and she let out a squeak. It pumped her a bit more, before she felt like collapsing backwards.

“Wait, wait, hold on,” she panted. The robot immediately released her, and she slid up onto the air mattress. Laying on her side, she brushed away a few cans and bottles strewn on the floor, and tossed a pair of older underwear to the side, finding a small bottle. The contents were crystal clear, and glinted under the light of the nearby lamp. She popped the bottle open and poured some of it on her fingers. Leaning forward and pressing her head against the robot's chest, she let the slick digits coat her ass in the liquid, probing her own hole, which gave way easily to one of her fingers. She then poured some more of the lube onto the robot's cock, and it shook slightly as she stroked it up and down, coating it in the shimmering liquid. Nat then laid herself on her back, legs spread, and gestured vaguely from its member to her ass.

“Use your instincts and apply pressure,” she said, trying to go off her own script, “and be careful.”

The robot slid up between her legs, pressing down on her ass. Nat bit her lip as it pressed against her, but when it placed its hand on her cheek, Nat suddenly felt completely at ease. Almost effortlessly, the robot slid into her asshole. Nat arched her back up, suddenly feeling very full. The robot hadn't been designed to be abnormally large in any aspect of its anatomy, but right now, it felt like she was stuffed to the brim. Her legs settled on either side of the robot's hips, and it took over. Slowly it moved back and forth into her, small unintended gasps escaping her mouth every time it did. Her body was melting, and the robot seemed to sense it. As she loosened, it took some bolder moves, increasing its speed ever so slightly, or giving a few stronger thrusts, which caused Nat to toss her head back. The robot pulled her up, one hand on her lower back, the other behind her head, and it began to move harder and faster. Nat's mouth fell open, a string of expletives tumbling out in high pitched squeals and moans.

Any time she had ever played with herself like this, Nat had only gotten a little bit of pleasure. Enough to enjoy, surely, but she could never reach higher levels of ecstasy without touching her cock. Now, it felt unneeded. Her whole body was hot and tense, her brain felt on fire. It stroked against her prostate with every thrust now, sending fireworks blooming behind her eyes. Her moans drowned out the sounds of the box fan, and the hard drives, and the robot's internal fans, racing to keep up with the increased activity.

“Fuck, fuck, oh fuck,” Nat could barely squeeze out, “oh fuck I'm almost there, please don't stop,” the robot's legs were trembling as well, the same as before, but it obliged, going from a slow to a faster pump, moving its hips in tandem with her own partially involuntary movements as she tried to fill herself up with the robot's cock more and more. “Oh, ffffuck-!” Nat's legs pulled up as the buildup intensified, like a coiled spring pressed down to its limit, before finally releasing. The sound from her mouth was less like a moan, or a cry, and more like an old computer screeching as it processed its next action. Her hips thrust up and down as she came, only pressing her down further on the robot's cock, filling her stomach while she rode the wave of her ecstasy. As she finally came down, legs trembling, the robot placed her back down fully on the mattress, and she pushed softly on its abdomen, indicating for it to pull back and out.

Nat laid on the mattress, stomach splattered with cum, legs too weak to even stay with knees bent up. She panted, trying to catch her breath that had escaped her long ago. The robot sat at her feet, head tilted, hand raised towards her as if contemplating how to help her, if she was in need, did she need medical assistance or anything? But Nat just laughed, and pushed herself up.

“That... I needed that more than you know. I think more than I knew, thank you.”

“Was the testing successful?” the robot asked.

“It was, you should be able to access a um...” she wondered exactly what she wanted to say, “a flaccid function, if you can find it. To keep it down,” Nat glanced down at the gray cock, still slick with lube. The robot nodded and sat back, accessing its own functions, and she watched as the member began to shrink down to a standard size.

“I'm glad you were able to find what you needed,” the robot said.

Nat shook her head, “I knew you had it all. I'm just happy you could experience everything the way I can.” Forcing herself up, Nat sat upright and pulled the robot closer, kissing the faceplate.

“I do have one more question, if that's okay,” the robot said.

“Of course,” Nat pushed her disheveled bangs up, “anything.”

“Earlier, when you first woke me up, you asked me if I knew you, and I identified you as Natalie. But you failed to identify me in the same instance.”

“That's because you never had a name,” Nat smiled, “not everyone has one they like right away. Is there something you would like to be called?”

“I think... I would like to find that out,” the robot said, placing its hand over hers.

“Well,” she turned her palm up and held its hand in her grip, “you have time to find that, too.”

#original fiction #oc x oc #robot oc #smut #robot fucking its trans girl creator #Tobi writes #robots #nsft

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adaginy · 4 months

Text

The Big Guide to Humans: on "Most Humans"

Throughout this guide, whenever we say "humans," we are almost always referring only to "most" humans. "Most" humans have two feet with 5 toes on each. It is entirely possible for a human to be born with more than 5 toes per foot, or two, or none. This may be due to irregularities in genetics or due to mishaps before birth. Humans may also lose toes to injury or disease. Humans can, in fact, lose entire limbs to injury or disease (or pre-birth issues or genetic irregularities) and continue life with far less trouble than most species would. This also extends to their sensory systems and, to a lesser extent, their internal organ systems. "Most" humans are made entirely of their own organic flesh, other than cosmetic additions (see body art). Although humans do not have a mechanical or artificial life stage, it is possible for them to replace missing pieces with mechanical or artificial parts. A human with a non-standard external construction may not consider it important to bring their body to standard, but most humans with a damaged or otherwise poorly-functioning sense or internal organ system replace or augment it with artificial parts. In human medical history, and occasionally still today, poorly functioning parts may also be replaced with the flesh of another human. Some parts grow back or provide their own spares and may come from living humans who offer their own flesh; others are removed from healthy humans who died to reasons unrelated to the organ's functioning (usually a fatal accident). Humans (all of them) do actually have something called a microbiome which is something of a symbiotic relationship, but for the most part you can treat each human as a single entity, not a colonial organism or hivemind. "Most" humans will not expose their external genitalia when not expecting to mate. One of the contributors to this guide was surprised to learn this, as xe has seen a lot of humans' external genitalia. It turns out that xe is from a warm planet, and a species that does not cover their bodies, and so the humans who move to xer planet do so because they prefer not to cover their bodies. (Xe has contributed heavily to descriptions of the human body and its external variations, and also on human flirting, since xe has experienced it without the benefit of exposed genitals being a sure sign of hope to mate.)

In short, when meeting a new human or humans, expect surprises even if you are well-read or well-experienced with humans. Some things surprise even other humans! Where possible, we will attempt to describe and/or quantify exceptions.

#addie writes #Big Guide to Humans #humans are space orcs

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bigmsaxon · 2 months

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can augmented humans have more than 4 limbs?

If they've been good then yes, as a treat.

#ask

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