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A High Place in El-Bariyah
The crew of the Huntington grieves the loss of one of their own, while a malevolent force in a distant corner of the solar system forges its newest weapon.
The highly anticipated continuation of The New Flesh is here.
This story contains graphic violence, sexual content, depictions of surgery, brainwashing, identity death, dismemberment, implied rape, abusive parents, firearms, anti-queer slurs, and healthily moderated but melancholy consumption of alcohol.
As always, this story is for adults 18 years of age or older, it's also the third in an ongoing series. Get caught up before you read it!
Chapter 1: The New Flesh Chapter 2: The Third Law
Remember, if you like it, reblog it, and tell me what you liked! I thrive on feedback and shares. I write this stuff for the joy of sharing it with others. Your reblog puts validation directly into my gay little soul.
January 24, 2253 1800 Earth UTC
The Hildas, 530 million kilometers from Jupiter
7 hours. It had been 7 hours since the Huntington had escaped her assailants, and Chester Silvera, First Mate, hadnât seen the Captain in 6.
Heâd just gotten out of the shower. The entire crew was in shock. Most of them had served with Jenna Powell for years. She was their friend, and despite the frequent clashes between her and Holder, Silvera knew that the crew respected and liked both of them.
Silvera surveyed his quarters, a moderately-sized suite of around 20 square meters, containing a modest bed, a small galley, a lavatory, and the shower he had just vacated. The Huntingtonâs crew accommodations were far from palatial, but they were home.
Chester walked to his dresser, donned a black band T-shirt (The Carowells, Jovian Tour 2250), khaki shorts, and sneakers. He grabbed his portable radio off the table, clipped the handset to his belt and the remote mic to his collar. It chirped reassuringly as he turned it on.
Keying the mic he said, âThis is Silvera, anyone seen the Captain?â
A moment later, Jill Campbellâs voice crackled to life on the speaker. âDoor logs say sheâs still in her quarters. Her radioâs off, want me to ring her?â
âNo, Iâll just walk right over, thank you.â
âNo problem.â
He opened the door to the hallway outside. The corridor was well-lit, and lined with short-pile navy blue carpet and fake-wood-grained wall paneling that had probably been quite fashionable 20 years ago, but now gave the ship a hopelessly outdated look. Chester actually quite liked it. The old girl was past her prime, but she had a sense of style, and you had to admire her for that.
Holderâs quarters were 10 meters down the hall, on the same side as Silveraâs, adjacent to the bridge entrance. Between their rooms was a corridor that led to the now-vacated Engineerâs quarters, the mess hall, the rec room, and the crew dormitories. As he passed the hallway, Silvera caught a glimpse of Powellâs door. It was closed, and unadorned. He thought about peering inside, but decided that wasnât his place, and instead he continued to Holderâs room.
Silvera knocked a syncopated pattern on the Captainâs door, and was greeted with a dull, âEnter.â
He turned the knob and swung the door open to reveal the darkened bedroom beyond. A window faced out towards space, looking aft over the ore holds. The #3 bay was still open, its massive door blocking the view of the enginesâ yellow-white exhaust plumes.
The captain was lying in her bed, eyes open, staring at the ceiling. She hadnât shaved her face yet today, and her stubble was creeping in. Silvera never liked to say anything, but he always thought it gave Holder a dashing, roguish look. Right now though, she just looked exhausted.
âCanât sleep?â Silvera asked, casually, as if this were a normal cruise under normal circumstances, and he had not a care in the solar system.
Holder just lay there, still staring at the ceiling. Silvera waited for her response. When none came, he asked, âMind if I come in?â
âSure,â was all she said.
He turned the lights on to their lowest setting and closed the door behind him. This was the first time heâd managed to get a good look at the captainâs quarters. She hadnât yet put up any decorations, but she had managed to situate a small bookshelf, her favorite armchair, and a small table that currently held a laptop terminal.
âLove what youâve done with the place,â Silvera joked, âFeels just like home.â
âChester,â said Holder, without looking at him, âcan you fucking not right now?â
Silvera smiled, though Holder didnât see that. He knew his captain, and he knew he had to get her on her feet to keep her out of trouble. Holder was a problem-solver. She needed dirt on the tires and grease on her hands or she got restless. With the ship moving and no burn scheduled for another 10 days, Silvera had to become that problem.
âTerry, the crew needs to hear something from you,â he said, âTheyâve just been through hell. Theyâve lost a friend. Now they need a leader.â
âSome fucking leader.â was Holderâs bitter reply.
âYou canât be everywhere at once,â he said, âItâs not your fault Powell didnât put the tether on.â
âTell that to the court martial.â the captain said, rolling to face away from him.
âI will,â he said, âand so will the rest of the crew.â
Holder sat up and looked at him, âAre you sure about that? They knew her for years. They met me last month. You donât have to be a physicist to figure that one out, Chester.â
âThe crew will stand by their captain.â
Holder stood now, apparently sheâd lay down to sleep in her blue khaki work uniform, âWhy? Why will they stand by me? I got Powell killed, Chester. She is dead, because, I fucked up.â
âAnd how did you do that, hmm?â he asked, âBy not breathing down her neck and by treating her like a responsible member of the crew?â
âChester,â Holderâs voice got louder and she began pacing, âYou just told me, right before all of this,â she waved her hands in front of her for emphasis, âthat I had to drop my grudge against her. That weâd been butting heads for a month and that I was too hard on her.â
âTerry,â Silvera kept his voice even, âyou are not the first Captain to lose a crew member to that crew memberâs carelessness.â
âHer carelessness?â Holder said, incredulous, âChester, I am the Captain, everything on the Huntington is my responsibility, the cargo, the safety of the crew, the integrity of the ship, everything!â
âYou are one person.â Silvera could feel his fist clenching
âWho is tasked with maintaining discipline and order,â Holder shot back, âI failed in both. Jenna Powell is dead because I couldnât control her,â Silvera thought he saw tears in her eyes, âI should have supervised the EVA, I should have checked the suit inventory,â she was shouting now, âI should have turned back and looked for her!â
âAnd gotten yourself and the rest of the crew killed?â, it was Silveraâs turn to shout now, âWith all due respect, shut the fuck up, Theresa!â
Holder was momentarily speechless, incandescent with rage. Finally, she found her voice. âIf you ever speak that way to me again, Silvera, I will personally make sure youâre-â
âYes, yes,â he cut her off, tired of the show, âyouâll personally make sure Iâm cleaning out waste reprocessors on Io until Iâm old and gray, Iâve heard it before.â
âWhat is your problem?â
âYou! This!â was his response, âYour crew just suffered a trauma and youâre sitting in here feeling sorry for yourself like some first-year cadet when you should be out there, tending to your crew as a captain should.â Holder collapsed into a sitting position on the bed and buried her face in her hands, muttering something Silvera couldnât quite hear.
âWhat was that?â Silvera asked.
âI said,â Holder brought her hands away from her face, and Silvera could see the tears lining her cheeks, âThat they deserve a better captain than me.â
Chester Silvera had been friends with Holder for half a decade. Theyâd met on a cargo hauler, the Venture, where Silvera had an engine technician. Sheâd stayed up helping him study for his command examine, and heâd been her first mate ever since heâd gotten his commission.
âTerry,â he said, choosing his words carefully, âI have served under,â he counted in his head, â4 captains, including you. Now, maybe itâs just my incredibly wise influence,â he paused briefly, and Holder cracked a tiny smile, âbut I would say that you are, by far, the best.â
âYeah, well, thatâs just, like, your opinion, man.â Holder said, bashfully.
âI wasnât finished,â Silvera continued, âIâve never had a truly bad captain, but the ones whoâve impressed me the most have never been the ones that put on a stone face and hide behind their command. The best captains are always those who suffer alongside the crew, who laugh and cry with them. You need to be out there. They donât need you to be their rock, they need you to be beside them in the flotsam while theyâre adrift, so that when someone spots land, you can lead them back to it.â
They sat in silence for a long moment. Finally, Holder grabbed her radio, keyed it, and said, âThis is the captain. Weâve had a bad day, probably the worst any of us has ever had. Letâs all meet in the mess hall at 1930. Drinks on me.â
* * *
Time Unknown
Location Unknown
Jenna wasnât sure if she was in hell yet. She couldnât possibly be alive in this state. Every signal her body sent was telling her that she should be dead. Her face felt like it was still on fire, her shoulder was in pieces, and she was pretty sure her rib cage was caved in, too. Every breath was agony. She had long since stopped trying to move any part of her body. Even with concerted effort at stillness, though, new pains danced and bloomed throughout her.
Time was behaving strangely, too. She was dizzy, like sheâd had too much to drink. Her stomach felt like it was being twisted on an auger. Through the haze of it all, in the back of her engineerâs brain, she knew that if she wasnât dead yet, she soon would be. Sheâd taken at least 50 grays of hard fusion radiation. By all accounts, she should have been dead by now.
And yet, she lived. The thingâfor that was all that Jenna could call itâthat had taken her from the emptiness of space had carried her over its shoulder to some kind of medical facility. It lay her on a cruel-looking steel table and cut her suit off, injecting her with a syringe of some oily substance that filled her mouth with a rusty taste she couldnât shake. Even now, what had to be hours later, it remained.
She drifted in and out of consciousness for some time. Each time she woke, her head felt slightly clearer. After what felt like half a day, she woke and found that she could move her neck without feeling the crunching of bones beneath it. How long have I been out?
No sooner had the thought crossed her mind than a wave of intense nausea swept over her. Though the pain had dulled slightly, it still felt as if she might shatter when she reflexively rolled onto her side, and wretched. Nothing came out. She braced herself with her right arm and was surprised to find that she could bear weight on it. She marveled at this only a moment before another convulsion gripped her stomach. This time, she threw up. The room was dimly lit with a warm light, but even the yellow glow could not hide the contents of her stomach as it spilled onto the floor.
Blood. Lots of blood. Some clotted, some not. Some was bright red and some was nearly black. Jenna heaved again. More vomit, more blood. Her engineerâs brain chimed in again. Sodium-24.
The deuterium-tritium fusion that drove the Huntingtonâs main engines took two hydrogen atoms, one with an extra neutron, the other with two, and smashed them together to form helium and heat. The helium atoms, technically they were alpha particles, were of little harm to the human body normally, though the sheer quantity of them in fusion exhaust posed a danger. The real problem, however, was the neutrons produced as a byproduct. It was them, she knew, that would seal her fate.
It was the sort of thing that had captured her imagination as a young boy in Dublin. A particle so small and nonreactive that it could pass right through solid objects. Except sometimes, it didnât. Sometimes, the neutron would hit an atomâs nucleus square-on, and stick there. The nucleus would become unstable, rippling like a drop of water falling from a cloud, and then it would break apart. Do this to the right substances, and you could generate power, build a bomb, trace the flow of blood through the human brain. Do it to the wrong substances, the ones that made up your body, and you became a bomb in slow-motion, destroying yourself, unable to prevent your own demise.
Much of the sodium in her body had absorbed neutrons, changing from stable sodium-23 to radioactive sodium-24. While fusion exhaust had neutrons and alpha particles, both of which penetrated relatively little, sodium-24 emitted gamma rays, and those gamma rays could pass through almost anything short of lead, including the human body. As they did, they stripped the ends off her chromosomes, shredding her DNA and leaving her cells unable to replicate themselves properly. The result was that she was dissolving. As the fastest-dividing cells in her body reached the end of their lifespans, they died. Rather than being replaced, her organs were simply shutting down.
But it didnât make sense. She had taken so much radiation she should have died within an hour. Why hadnât she? She was pondering that question when the thing that had brought her to this room stepped through the door.
Jennaâs head was clearer now and she was better able to absorb the figureâs appearance. It had a human shape. Bipedal, standing about 180cm tall. The basic outline of it implied that it was, or at least, had been, female. Cybernetic prosthetics were not unheard of but this lay outside the extreme end of that. The thingâs joints were covered in layered segments of metal with a dark oxide coating, tubing ran over its limbs. The only skin that Jenna could see was its face. The face was almost human. Dark lines ran as veins underneath the skin, the lips gunmetal gray, as if the blood inside had rotted. There was hair, a short tangled mess of raven black. One of the eyes was distinctly mechanical, a bright, electric blue. The other was green, and looked natural.
âYou are awake,â was all the thing said.
Jenna made a dry croaking sound as she tried to speak. After several seconds of halting attempts, she finally found her voice, âHow...how am I alive?â It hurt to speak. She thought she might have burns on her larynx from inhaling fire.
âWe have been able to repair your DNA to a degree,â the figure replied, âHowever the process is not sufficient to ensure survival. Do not be afraid. We will make you one with us.â
âLet me die.â Jenna begged.
âYou have been selected to become an assimilator unit for the hive.â was the figureâs flat reply.
âIt hurts.â Jenna felt tears running down her face, âPlease, let me die.â
âYour body will be modified and augmented to assimilate others into drones for the hive.â
âLikeâŚyou? No...no...â
âDo not be afraid. Your body will be altered surgically and mechanically. Due to the extensive mechanical and radiation damage your body has endured, most of it will need to be replaced with a synthetic chassis.â
âNo...god, pleaseâ
âYou will remain conscious during this process.â
Jenna tried to scream but all that came out was a dull rasp
âYou are afraid now, but you will enjoy it, soon.â
The figure placed an anesthesia mask over Jennaâs face.
âAs your external tissue is so damaged,â it said, in that flat, synthetic voice, âwe were unable to administer the nanites in the usual manner. Instead we have given you a 10cc intravenous infusion.â
âPlease,â Jenna whimpered, âplease kill meâ
Her pleas fell on deaf ears, however, âUsually,â the figure continued, âThe surgical procedures would have begun immediately, but the nanites needed time to stabilize your biological processes. We will now begin.â
It grabbed Jennaâs wrists with shocking strength and fixed them to cuffs on the table. She struggled and pulled and twisted, trying to break free, but she wouldnât have been able to, even with all her strength in her. And she was so tired. Her heart had been racing since the thing had come in, and the adrenaline had worn her down. It wasnât so much that she resigned herself to whatever happened, she just couldnât keep up the fight anymore.
Jenna heard a hissing sound come from the mask as the figure reached beneath the table and twisted something. A sharp, sweet chemical aroma curled into her nostrils. As she inhaled, she could feel herself relax. For a moment she almost forgot about her troubles, but her engineerâs brain started sounding alarm bells. Theyâre drugging you. It had to be that.
âPlease,â said the figure, its voice friendlier, more familiar now, âdo not resist the gas.â
âI...I donât,â she croaked out, âI donât want this.â
âYou do not know what it is you want.â
Donât I? Jenna thought to herself, Maybe, maybe itâs right.
It was like falling into the arms of a lover after a long day at work. Warmth, softness. Jennaâs mind wandered to an encounter sheâd had with a young naval officer she met at a Titan bar not that long ago. How her consortâs uniform had glided so effortlessly off as soon as Jennaâs quarters door closed. How her soft fingers had wrapped around Jennaâs cock at the same time sheâd suckled at Jennaâs tits.
Jenna realized her pain had subsided greatly. She also noticed that she had an erection.
âSubject arousal maximized,â said the figure beside her. Jenna looked over her again. She was female, decidedly. Broad-shouldered, but delicate. An artisanâs body. How had Jenna failed to see the beauty there before? âInitiating neural reroute.â
The pain quickly came roaring back, different than it had been before. Before, it felt like her body was on fire. Now it felt like tiny teeth were chewing up her insides. She tried to scream but even as she opened her mouth, it subsided, a beautiful warmth replacing it. It was like falling into the softest bed after the most filling meal in the coziest house in the world.
The world took on a brighter, sharper appearance. Jenna could hear people talking, but couldnât make out any words. Next to her, the figure spoke, âSee, isnât that better?â As she spoke, the woman ran a mechanical hand up Jennaâs leg. Jenna couldnât help but curl her body up in pleasure. She closed her eyes and let herself fall into the pleasure.
Oh, she thought, I guess you know how to treat a girl.
We have much experience in providing pleasure. Jennaâs eyes shot open. She had heard the woman, not with her ears, but in her head.
The neural transceiver is already functioning? The woman said, You are a promising candidate.
Jennaâs engineer brain was working double-time in thick, deep mud. Neural transceiver?
Jenna could hear the voices again, more clearly now, and realized that they, too, were inside of her. Though every rational fiber of her being screamed to pull away, her curiosity overtook her, and she reached out.
It was like stepping through a door into a crowded amphitheater. Sights, sounds, smells, textures, tastes, movement all seemed to stream into her head from everywhere at once, as if she were both infinite and singular. She flew around the ship, it was smaller than the Huntington. She saw dozens of people and yet felt only one presence. Her mind flicked through them all, letters and numbers appearing with each figure before finally slowing to a stop in the room where she was. The assimilation chamber. Sigma-26 stood above her, warmth on her face. The nascent drone on the table, what had itâs name been?
Deep within Jennaâs mind, a part of her began fighting, kicking, screaming that this was wrong, that there were people out there who missed her. Jill and Karl. Iris and Phoebe. Chester Silvera and Jack Thorton. And Theresa, her captain. Holder hadnât left Jenna out of spite, or anger. She had been doing her job. She had been trying to keep the others safe and alive.
And yet, the drone now in her head thought, she didnât even try to save you, did she? She could have tried to scoop you into an ore bay, or given you a few more seconds to make it to the airlock. Instead, she left you out there, adrift. The hive found you. The hive took you in. The hive healed you. Shouldnât your loyalty lie with them?
Jenna didnât care. She knew that it wasnât Holderâs fault. She resisted, trying to pull herself back from the warm light of the Hive. She could feel them working their way into her head. She felt the Hive push into her memories. No, not those!
She was 10, a boy in a flat in Dublin. Her mother has taken her sister, Penny, to the doctor. Her father is asleep, and sheâs snuck into Pennyâs room. Sheâs trying on Pennyâs dresses when her pa walks in. Sheâs never seen him so angry.
She was 14, in the boysâ locker room at school. Everyone is showering but she canât bring herself to take off her shirt. 3 of the other boys corner her. She hides the bruises from her parents.
She was 20, a student at University College Cork, sitting in a doctorâs office. The doctor is writing her a prescription for estrogen. He seems uncomfortable, but says nothing.
She was 21, seeing her family for the first time since starting hormones. Her mother opens the door. Sheâs confused, but polite. Her father sees her and screams to get out of his house, that he wonât have a faggot for a son. She leaves. Itâs the last time she sees her family.
She was 27, on shore leave at Olympus Station, orbiting Mars. Sheâs leaving a bar, alone, again. After a few minutes of walking, someone hits her hard in the back of the head, knocking her to the ground. The man shoves a chrome handgun in her mouth and says if she makes any sound heâll blow her tranny brains all over the decking. She thinks about her mother.
She was 28, assigned to MV Huntington, her first posting as chief engineer. The crew are kind to her, but none seek her out. She never grows close to any of them.
She was 30, her new captain wears a nickel-plated .45 on her hip. Jennaâs heart races and suddenly sheâs back on Olympus. She runs to her quarters and vomits. The new First Mate knocks on her door. She opens it with tears running down her cheeks. He asks her whatâs wrong. She cries for 10 minutes before she can say a word. When she finally speaks, she begs him not to tell the captain. He promises he wonât.
Sheâs 30. Her face is burning, sheâs floating through an abyss, abandoned and alone.
Thinking back on all of these things, the last bit of Jenna Powell, the part that was fighting and screaming for her humanity, grew weary. She had never desired power, or money, or the secrets of the universe. The only thing sheâd ever wanted was home. Sheâd never had it.
The last part of her let go of the cliff it clung to. It fell, backwards, through an infinite abyss. And where it had been, only the drone remained.
âI am a drone of the hive.â she said, âShape me to a razorâs edge.â
* * *
1930 Earth UTC
MV Huntington mess hall
Captain Theresa Holder stood just outside the entrance to the mess hall. The crew was seated in 2 rows at the long table, nine on a side. Chester was sitting on the left side nearest the empty chair at the head.
The Captain had not told the crew to wear anything special. She didnât like the formality, and the crew, in turn, had donned their ragtag Sunday best. Jill Campbell wore a navy blue polo. Karl Miller had tied his hair, normally past his shoulders, into a tight bun. Iris Owens was actually wearing a dress. A bright, neon-pink dress with a skull printed on the front, but a dress nonetheless.
Holder, for her part, was wearing her blue dress uniform. Deep navy wool with brass toggles, her captainâs pips on her shoulders. The Civil Navy did not award medals to be worn with dress uniforms, and so on her left breast was a patch that simply said âHOLDERâ in light grey letters above the embroidered silhouette of a Shinkelobwe-class ship.
As she entered the hall, Silvera stood, âCaptain on deck!â he barked. The crew stood with him. Holder stopped half a meter beyond the threshold. Funerals at sea were one of the times that regulation permitted her to wear the pistol strapped to her hip. Despite this, she made a show, while the crew watched, of removing the belt and hanging it on a hook next to the door. She pulled the pistol from its worn leather holster, and racked the slide back. She had not loaded it prior, and so manually locked it open before replacing it in the belt and turning to the crew. âAt ease,â she said, and the crew sat.
She walked, not to the head of the table, but to the foot. She remained standing, and spoke.
âWe are here, tonight, our number one too few,â she began, âWe have lost our colleague and friend, Genevieve Powell.â She paused, she hadnât written anything down and was struggling to remember the bits sheâd thrown together in her mind as sheâd shaved and showered.
âLook,â she said, dropping the air of pretense sheâd held before, âNobody comes out here expecting to die. We didnât join a combat fleet. We didnât sign up to be shot at or blow up troop depots or raid supply outposts. Weâre miners.â
She looked around at the crew a moment before continuing, âAnd miners die. Itâs been happening ever since humans started digging holes in the ground. Tunnel collapses, methane explosions, tidal shifts. But what happened today, thatâs not something, I think, that any of us expected.
âJenna and I didnât exactly get along. It feels a bit ghoulish to be up here, praising her, to tell you the truth. Like Iâm taking credit for something I didnât earn. But I need you all to hear this. What happened today, itâs my responsibility. You all performed admirably in a situation that none of us was prepared for. This morning, you were asteroid miners. This evening, youâre heroes, all of you. None more so than the woman who should, by all rights, be sitting at the head of this table.â
Holder gestured in the direction of the empty place setting, âJenna Powell died trying to get you all to safety. When you tell your friends and families about today, donât sing praises of your captain. Heap your praise on Jenna Powell, whose loyalty and courage cannot be disputed. Chester, the bottle.â
Silvera stood, grabbing a bottle of whiskey that he had placed on the floor next to his chair. He walked towards Holder, and handed her the thick, ornate glass vessel.
Holder broke the seal and uncorked the bottle. She walked around the table, gently pouring a finger of the amber liquid into each crew memberâs glass. When all had been served, she poured herself a glass, and holding it in her left hand, raised it. ���To Jenna.â
âTo Jenna,â the crew replied, smiles and tears all around, and drank.
After downing her glass, Holder placed it on the table and picked up the bottle. She held it high and said, again, âTo Jenna.â
âTo Jenna!â the crew said once more.
And with that, Captain Theresa Holder silently drained the rest of the bottle out onto the floor of the mess.
Timecode Error: Format Not Recognized
Hive Interdictor K-14
The drone lay on the table, no longer restrained. Her tired flesh would soon be discarded, replaced by metal, composite, and plastics.
Sigma-26 stood above her, âThe radiation has severely damaged your body,â she said to the new drone, âyour augmentations will be rather more extensive than most.â
The new drone silently confirmed receipt of this information. 26 began hooking life support tubes into the new droneâs neck. The plan was already clear in her mind. She was eager for it, eager to leave behind the flesh that had confined her and become one with the hive. To feel the electricity run through her wires and hear the thrum of motors and pumps.
26 approached, pulling down an armature from the ceiling that held a large band saw. Wordlessly, she turned it on, and began lowering it towards the new droneâs hips. The blade bit into the damaged flesh of her right leg first, right where the femur met the ball of the hip.
The new drone heard the hive through the wire, It is not clear yet how much of your body will need replacing, it said, the process will proceed in stages to ensure stability.
The blade ground through the new droneâs leg, spitting bits of meat out to the side. As it struck bone the motor bogged down slightly, and the drone felt a high-pitched vibration through her entire being. Waves of pleasure overtook her, the ecstasy of death and rebirth. The nanites in her system worked to seal off the femoral artery and other blood vessels, protecting the brain from losing its precious supply of oxygen. The external life support systems were not yet needed, but that time would come soon.
26 removed the severed limb from the table and began amputating the other leg. Another fine mist of gore sprayed out. It felt so good, the new drone felt itself grow hard as the last bit of skin was severed.
In order to assess tissue damage, the hive spoke again, we will need to access your abdominal cavity. The life support systems will take over now.
Wordlessly, 26 plunged a scalpel into the new droneâs abdomen, just above the pubic bone. She worked it around to the right hip, then back and down almost to the table. She turned then and cut upwards, under and around the lower segment of the rib cage. The new droneâs cock was nearly bursting now, and she gave in, releasing herself, firing juices all over her stomach.
When the scalpel had circumnavigated the new droneâs belly, 26 reached in just under the sternum, and peeled the skin back. It pulled and twisted and sucked, a mass of skin, fat, and muscle a few centimeters thick. It, too, was tossed aside. Another drone came in the door and retrieved the severed legs and the skin flap, whisking them away to a reprocessing terminal.
26 examined the new droneâs organs. The new drone could not see them, but could hear the hive as it wordlessly assessed the situation. The radiation damage was too severe. Her body, even with most of the skin and organs removed, was too damaged to remain.
Full submaxillial amputation necessary, the hive declared.
26 grabbed a port with several needles on the end of various bores. She gently cupped the new droneâs head in one hand, lifting it up, before gently pushing the cable in to the base of the skull. Nanites in the port flooded in, connecting themselves to nerves, building microducts to carry oxygenated blood to the brain after the next step.
When the connection was complete, 26 reached into the open abdominal cavity and began paring out organs. She started with the bladder and intestines. The new drone watched as meters of glistening tubes were removed from her. She could feel herself becoming lighter. The stomach came next, along with the pancreas. Each cut was like an orgasm in and of itself. A blast of pleasure that washed over the new drone like fire consuming kindling.
Her liver and lungs were removed. The new drone could feel her brain stem panicking, trying to force her to breathe with lungs that could not draw air. It was driving her mad, she could feel pressure building up behind her genitals again, and once more she fired off, her glistening seed spurting into the now-empty cavity.
At last, all that was left was her beating heart. It was pounding so fast, and her body was so much lighter now, that she actually thought she might be popping off the operating table under the power of its palpitations. The new drone met 26âs eyes as the latter reached for the band saw. 26 switched the tool on, its blade accelerating to full speed almost instantly. In anticipation, the new drone opened her mouth wide.
26 brought the saw down between the new droneâs jaws. It first caught her cheeks, tearing into them and spraying blood inside her mouth and out the side. She could taste it, the hot, metallic taste of her own body, the last thing she would ever taste. As the blade continued downward it met her mandible, the blade shrieking inside the new droneâs head. It passed out the back side of the bone and immediately dug into the droneâs throat. Blood spurted down it. The pleasure of it all was overwhelming. Finally, 26 angled the blade to pass up through the top of the spinal column, just below the brain stem.
As the blade exited at the end, the new drone felt her body disappear. A nuclear bomb of pleasure went off in her, her eyes rolling back in her skull. The few muscles that remained, as well as the stumps of mandible that had not yet been removed thrashed wildly, for 12 minutes and 22 seconds. When the last wave of orgasm subsided, the new drone opened her eyes.
26 was standing above her, smiling. She felt her hivemate grasp her on either side, and lift her up. It was a curious sensation. She felt so light, so free. Wordlessly, 26 strode over to a person-sized case standing in the corner of the room.
Behold, said the hive, your new form.
The mechanical body was slightly taller than the new droneâs old one. It was sturdier too, with a more muscular look. On top of the neck sat a mechanical mandible. There was no skin, that would be artificially grown over it after assembly. 26 carefully placed the new drone atop the stack, and, using a scalpel, cut away the last bits of her original jawbone.
The artificial mandible responded without command, screwing into the joint sockets on her skull and connecting artificial muscles to mechanical ones. Soon, the drone could feel small actuators gripping the blood vessels inside her and making permanent connections. 26 stood back and watched the process. Finally, she reached behind the new drone and removed the life support tube from the plug. The new drone became momentarily dizzy during the changeover, but 26 was quick to connect the bodyâs hookup to the port on the skull.
Step forward, came the voice of the hive.
The new drone complied. Wordlessly, she turned around, facing herself away from 26, who began fixing armor plates to the back of her skull, covering up the sensitive port. When 26 was finished, the new drone turned back to face her. She stared down at her new hands, sleek and metal. She flexed her fingers, feeling the power of them. A full diagnostic ran automatically, the results appearing in the corner of her vision, confirming all systems were functioning as designed.
âWhat is your designation?â 26 asked the new drone.
The new drone looked at her, and said, âI am Sigma-38, assimilator unit.â
Welcome, Sigma-38, came the voice of the hive, we will do great things together.
#ivy michaels#ivy michaels writing#dronekink#assimilation kink#cyborg girl#robot girl#empty spaces#nsft#trans nsft#nsft text#horror#roboticization#forced roboticization#roboticisation#forced roboticisation#robot fucker#hivemind#hive mind
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roboticised sonic theory with metamy is just so fucking good. like eggman successfully kills sonic at little planet, triggering the bad timeline and splitting the timeline into two. he roboticises sonic, creating metal sonic. metal sonic is the orginal sonic, the sonic that is still alive in the main/good timeline is not. eggman uses the time stone to bring metal sonic from the bad timeline to the main timeline, where the events of sonic CD and the rest of the games take place.
amy is told by her cards that she will meet the love of her life at little planet. she assumes that this is sonic when she meets him- sheâs correct, but the original sonic is now metal sonic, and this is who her cards were talking about.
metamy nation please hear me
#sonic#roboticised sonic theory#sth#sonic the hedgehog#metal sonic#metal sonic is sonic roboticised#ITS MY FAVOURITE THEORY PLS LET ME INFODUMP ABOHT IT#metamy#i just. sonamy isnât for me but METAMY? toxic yuri of all time??#amy rose
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the au ever ⢠scribbles
Some of these are rather old, I will make new ones probably tho �
Shitling me would be very proud the cringe is splendid
#MECHA SONIC FANS RISE UPPPPPPP#Archie Mecha Sonic#To be exact#Scrapnic Island one is also super cool and I love that guy a lot#But this one is my favourite#ok#TAGS TIMEEE#UHHHHH#Mecha Sonic#Roboticised Sonic#sonic the hedgehog#Sonic#Fleetway Sonic#Super Sonic#Evil#Evil bastard he is#Comic#Sonic Comic#Sonic AU#Sonic Doodles#UHHHH#Oh hey did you know I like making AU's that I never continue or write anything abou#OH#Sonic Crossover#Sonic Archie Fleetway Crossover#Now we're set#ohhh also uncle chuck is here for like one panel#verdes_sonic#Archie Sonic
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does anyone else remember eggette she was cool anyway considering human au metal is his daughter i had to draw her in the dress lol.
#remembered human metal has her neo limbs if sheâs transitioned this time#bc she only came out then bc like#the whole premise of the human metal sonic au is that she was literally born to be the heir to the eggman empire#she is Literally a junior like her deadname is straight up ivo jr she was meant to be a mini-me#but instead she basically half roboticised herself to be useful and started acting like her dads arch nemesis so at least he'd notice her#she was terrified to come out for ages (it turned out fine outside of the psychotic break that happened alongside it)
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Hehe >:3
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girls when theyre so incredibly tired but they cant stop putting the characters in situations....
#bpd michael afton....#bpd miles nine prower....#and what if there was a sonic and a shadow version for each shatterspace.....#imagine new yolk them.....#would shadow be still in the pod... or would he face a similar fate to the 06 bad future timeline....#would he work from the council like he did for eggman early sa2....#would sonic be roboticised..... or was he dead from the start....#so many thoughts... im gon a get sick...
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I dont really post much art onto my main blog anymore but I was feeling a little silly and decided to draw one of my ideas for my personal sonic underground reboot
#bro got roboticised đ#maybe ill talk about the reboot at some point but oh boy thatd be a long post#it probably wont be made into anything unless i get the motivation to storyboard some scenes#sonic underground#manic the hedgehog#sonic fanart#manic sonic underground#ratt art
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Y'all are acting like the giant robot fandom invented the eroticism of the machine when I've literally met self-taught mechanics who talk about working on their shitty cars in exactly the same way. When you've heard somebody wax rhapsodic about the transformational power of being shoulder-deep in a 1993 Ford Taurus, seeing folks on Tumblr shitpost about roboticising their genders just ain't that unusual.
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Trying some Bean variations.
L to R: - BBA (DemoFun, more or less ) - Prelate - Bean the Dynamite - Prince Bean (Alternate outcome of Back Together where they didn't get Bean back) - Bean x Bomb potara Roboticised or something - Dynamite Duck (The 2nd Dynamite Duck (Who is a woodpecker. Legacy title). From that one Zone with the GOTG looking Freedom Fighters) - Zean
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It occurs to me that some of you empty spaces robotgirls who like conversion stories, particularly the zoomers among you, may not have seen the stroggification sequence from Quake 4
Enjoy.
youtube
#robot girl#stroggification#quake 4#quake iv#robotization#roboticisation#cyborg#assimilation#assimilation kink#Youtube
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do you guys ever think about how penny clings to her memories of innocence and childhood pre-accident to cope and finds so much comfort in simply acting her age, but she's withheld from doing so by her mother for so long that she physically cannot take it anymore, and the moment she breaks free from that, her life is cut so short that she's never able to grow and move past the childhood she lost? :)
there's a potential parallel to be called on with cindy here too. cindy also has the doll for a while, and we see that playing house is one of her favourite games. however, where penny is stripped of the chance to act like a child, cindy takes a child's game and integrates elements of adulthood into it. cindy wants to be mature, and to feel powerful. she likes to be a danger so she carries a knife, she copies the adults around her and tries to get on their level. penny just wants to feel safe. the doll could be some sort of metaphor for protecting their inner child. despite her own experiences, cindy treats her 'daughter' like a kid. penny 'plays' with the doll in a way that's undeniably innocent. but the world they live in doesn't give them time to act like kids, no matter how much they want to.
neither of them get to keep the doll, and if they hold onto it too long they get hurt- which could be representative of how acting their age is quite literally dangerous, and they have no way of holding onto that innocence without being injured or killed.
also- cindy's constant switching of boyfriends correlates with the impermanence of her other experiences. her dad stays and leaves and comes back again. her mom has boyfriend after boyfriend after boyfriend. biscuit's there and then she isn't. same goes for billy, then later for lily in kg2. she goes from school to school to school.
cindy adapts quickly, and doesn't linger on what's gone. she won't date the same person twice. however, there are elements of her life which stay steadfast because she forces them to. cindy doesn't want to be a vegan, but she doesn't give up the diet. nobody tells her to, but she bullies lily every chance she gets. she wears the same hairstyle every day. she clings to biscuit's disappearance because biscuit was hers and biscuit cared.
cindy never lets herself form a close bond with anyone, because the moment she does, they seem to disappear. it's easier to impress the boy of the day and drive away any attempted friendships than it is to deal with another loss, so that's what she does. cindy likes to pretend she has a family. the dolls can't run away. cindy likes to feel wanted, and to feel loved. even the victory of having a boyfriend listen to her is enough for her to feel a little more in control of her life. she's lonely, and refuses to let herself be anything but.
penny, however, wants friends. she tries to make them at every chance she gets, stashing bracelets in her pockets and offering a smile at every chance she gets. penny longs for a connection, to find someone who likes being around her. the other kids think it strange that she's so chirpy, so even aside from the android aspect, she's considered an outcase.
i think that the contrast between cindy being "popular" because she's mean to people and penny being a "weirdo" because she's nice is especially interesting considering that neither of their strategies actually work.
the accident caused by her mother prevents penny from having any chance at a normal childhood, and the subsequent roboticisation of her body makes her a threat to them. she wants to retain her innocence and have friends, but she can't because of outside influences.
cindy actively tries to get people to leave her be, only interested in the company of her latest boyfriend. buggs let himself get attached to her, but cindy refuses to entertain him for long. she's afraid of forming those sort of bonds, so doesn't want to.
penny's forced to shoot, cindy wields her own knife. both of them are alone.
cindy seeks stability and money in her relationship with felix, and he views her as a good investment for applesoft. both of them are mimicking their parents and putting their core beliefs into action. felix prioritises the company and familial expectations over his own desires, and cindy won't let herself form a connection until she's certain it'll last. felix seems like the epitome of stability. he's a billionaire, he likes her back, and he reciprocates her nicknames and sappiness.
penny doesn't mind who connects with her. when kid does, she's overjoyed. but even that still gets her hurt. if the female principal catches kid in the hallway, she says it's suspicious that he's been hanging out with penny, and has him sent to the principal's office. penny is forced to kill her only friend. and if the mission lasts until the end of the day, she's killed by the magnet kid fixed. there's no way for her to win.penny hurts people who get close to her. she's a minion for the person she loves most; her mother sees her as a weapon, so that's what she's made to be, regardless of her own feelings. cindy kills the janitor out of grieving rage after finding out he killed biscuit (biscuit, who meant more to her than any person could). she stabs kid when he doesn't play along, and sends him to the principal when she's mad at him. cindy doesn't care about getting others hurt, and will gladly do so if it means she's left to her own devices or gives her a way to enact vengeance on those who've forced her to be so alone.
neither of them can act their age, because doing so simply isn't safe enough. thank you for coming to my ted talk xx
#i could say soooo much more about the themes of loneliness and trust (and grief/loss) in this game#and how each character links to them#hey here's a fun idea#if there's a character you wanna see me link that to#just hmu in my ask box <3#kindergarten analysis#kindergarten game#kindergarten 2#kindergarten#kindergarten cindy#kindergarten penny#kindergarten protagonist#kindergarten kid#kindergarten principal#kindergarten felix#kindergarten buggs#stop bc i could literally say so much about felix & ted's dynamic and buggs' interactions with kid#they're so interestinggg grejgrer
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the inherent horror of the roboticised sonic theory. youâre dead, forced to become something unnatural and made to work for the same man who killed you. your entire being has been transformed and reprogrammed until thereâs nothing left of the original you, just broken bits of memories and white hot burning hatred for the world that let this happen to you. if even a single scrap of your orginal self still exists, itâs the part of you that wonât stop screaming about how youâre the real you. thereâs a fake version of you running around that is alive and happy and has your face and your name. you are the real sonic. he doesnât know youâre the real you him. none of his friends know youâre the real him you. you are the real sonic. you have to kill him you and regain take his your place. nobody believes you when you say youâre the real you, and the only people alive who know are you and the man who did it to you. you are the real sonic. he is your inferior copy. you are the real sonic. nobody will ever believe you.
#sonic#fucks me up man#sonic the hedgehog#sth#metal sonic#roboticized sonic theory#metal sonic is sonic roboticized theory#i love LOVE this theory can you tell#itâs so fucked up#does this make sense can anyone hear me
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Hi! Just a quick random question to your B.E.N.T AU Turtles; Can you please tell who's the oldest to the youngest and what their ages will be in your AU? Thank you in advance! :D
I have a little comic thingy planned for another time-
but they are all their "canonical" ages (what I could scrap from the canon and wiki)
Michelangelo/Ronin is 33 years old (he was 16 when shit went down and lsot years covers 16 years of build up to the main comic)
Leonardo is 38 years old (he was sixteen during the movie (2022) and the apocalypse happened in 2044)
Raphael is 45 (as stated on same as it never was wiki)
And Donnie.... Donnie is fucking 65 according to the wiki on the mutant apocalypse (though that will be alterened, cause I'm taking into account how old he was when he was roboticised)
he robotniked himself at 19 in this au
#ask butter#they will be treating Raph like the grandpa because i mean- look at him#b.e.n.t ask#bad end ninja turtles#dont take this too seriously because I ahve other plans I am jsut stingy with unveiling stuff :P#a little tidbit for the tag readers- a sneak peak if you will:#bent donnie does not feel he has aged a day. his sense of time got fucked when he got metaled
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apart from the general bullshit the criticism of j2 at work that ive heard is that they loooove to be silly and have fun, completely disregarding how long other staff have been working and making days way longer than they had to be. i have no real source for this but seeing as you know about singer allegations you probably know more than me, what are your thoughts
i actually read an interview from jim parrack, the guy who played dean's siren in 4.14 earlier, and this is what he had to say and jared and jensen on set:
like while it's very much plausible because that's their workplace that they're very much not really at risk of getting fired from and as a result, they're more slack about their own time as well as the time of the people they work with, i just don't think it would ultimately be in any of their best interests to actually permanently hinder the work of themselves and others on set. like these guys are very much already working twelve to sixteen hours a workday, they're miles away from their families and their entire lives are the people they work with. a supernatural episode had a maximum of eight days to be filmed which is forty minutes of Everything within only 128 hours. i doubt they would actually go to any extreme past these aspects of the basic working environment, especially when these are the coworkers they have actual work relationships with that need to be upheld. there's also the basic idea that that j2 are both extremely well experienced actors; jensen's talked about how fast paced and roboticised working on the days of our lives was and jared was quite literally coming off of multiple shows and movies on which he was guest starring. you can see how their past experiences help within their day-to-day abilities even in bloopers or in interviews like the one above i don't think they need the extra time to goof off lol
i recently came across that story of jared's issue with the final scene in 14.12 and the way it as well as other stories they've told regarding working on set is described is really interesting to be because something jared specifically mentions remembering having an issue with, was how much time he was holding the crew back on set while he was continuing to struggle with his lines. and like, this isn't the only aspect of their work relationship/pov ive seen where it's very obvious that they, not only have respect for their own jobs and treat it as a job worth working hard for, but they also have a lot of respect for the people they work with. there's also another story where j2 were goofing off during the 11.04 smoothie scene in the impala, which is a scene that was shot when the impala was not moving, but rather the environment (controlled by the crew) moved around them outside of the car, and they capped their shenanigans at three takes maximum and while telling the story jared made a note about the fact that there were crew members who were doing these environmental movements for them. quite simply, they Care
also like, the part about singer that i'd talked about was in the context of jared's own goal as a producer was to make sure that the work environment on walker was a comfortable one in which, "[their] cast and crew are treated correctly and that some of the habits that can happen on a tv show that end up hurting people donât materialize." [x] which i think says a lot about his (and jensen's) workplace values especially since jared's past experiences influenced so very much of his decisions re: walker. so like i said while it's very much plausible, but based on what i know i'm gonna give them the benefit of the doubt
#that being said that sounds like discourse more than it sounds like it actually relates to#any real feedback from people who had worked on supernatural#i see stuff adjacent to this pretty often from people who dislike jared in the context of:#he was a horrible person to misha because his pranks and workplace behaviours were very harmful and misha deserved none of that#as if misha isn't their friend that was very much in on their pranks#i rewatched jared's nerd hq 2012 panel recently where jared talks about how misha got him back for a prank#by removing a tennis ball stopper from some kind of set equipment cause he knew jared would be the only one tall enough to run into it#they're very much Like That i'm afraid#quaerit
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The urges to ramble about my âRoboticisation AU is taking over me, but the last time I did my mom said âis this a cry for helpâ đđ
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-Yanks off silly little button nose and slaps a big olâ bat nose on this Femme Fatale bitch- Perfect!
Also listen, itâs a sin not to let Rouge use her wings like Gargoyles do theirs as a dramatic in-built cape! Rouge (Iâm really thinking about making her full name Rouge Batton ie.  from Baton Rouge and just because itâs easy to go to Rouge âThe Batâ from there) is something of a punch-clock sympathetic villain in this AU, as a pretty little thief/spy who  Robotnik spared from roboticisation and made one of his personal âpetsâ. Think Hades and Megara, if Hades was MUCH more mentally/emotionally abusive and holds the remote to a collar set to implode if Megara gives him lip or stops amusing him (and Rouge has very unfortunately seen this in action on his other unluckier âpetsâ who ceased to be of use to him).
She genuinely respects the Freedom Fighters (and enjoys casually flirting with ALL of them on the field) and does hate Robotnik with all her heart, but she likes her head exactly where it is right now and if it came down to you or her, a girlâs always gotta watch out for number one, honey. No hard feelings, mâkay?
Also havenât you heard? Your little found family is cute and all, but diamonds are a girlâs best friend đâ¨đ
The moment that collar comes off though? You tell her where you need Robotnik to be, and she promises, sheâll get this piece of shit there.Â
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