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Ghost in the Machine Ch. 01

By: Blind_Justice



Author's note: A huge "Thank You" to bikoukumori, for a fantastic editing job. 

Also, thanks to fellow author redskyes, for encouraging me to publish this. 

There are only adults in this story and no artificial intelligences have benn harmed in its making.

#1: Cat killed Curiosity

Rain.

Nothing but rain for the last few weeks. Never before have I seen so many, so awfully rainy days. I actually felt like being in the old 2D VHS of "Blade Runner," flickering, broken neon lights and old, barely working CRT TVs in the store windows of pawn shops included. I hovered in front of one of those, its grey, blotted PVC awning offered a bit of protection from the torrents pouring from the skies. The badly maintained TV screens plastering the window showed a nice cross-section of what we called television in the year 2030. So it was mostly adverts, in screaming colours, huge letters and lots of close-ups. Thankfully the store owner had the volume muted.

"The ultimate for home defence! H&K TK666, rapid fire, maximum stopping power. Never fear, HK is here!"

"The Iron Stallion implant - each night, every night, and she'll never know!"

"Channel XXX, because we know what you need. Male, female, whatever, we'll show it!"

"Cybernator WarMachine! The unstoppable battle cyborg! He's fresh out of the vat, but damn, he's angry! Rated T for Teen."

I decided that braving the pouring rain was better than suffering any more product placement and so I shuffled off, clutching a worn synth-leather duffel bag close to my body, moving towards the ominously looming spires of the apartment plex I called home for the time being. Most people had more common sense than me and stayed indoors in this weather, so my only company was the usual big-city soundscape, faintly echoing, distorted dubstep remixes of ancient '80s pop songs, punctuated only by the wail of police sirens or the throaty staccato of automatic gun fire.

Finally, the shadowy monolith of "my" apartment tower was looming over me. Only a couple dozen meters and I would be out of that blasted rain. I barely felt the icy blasts of wind whistling around the towers, probably a side-effect of the meds used on me in the corporate clinic where I got that interesting implant behind my left ear.

A tingle of anticipation pulsed through my body. I had worked my ass off until finally someone important seemed to notice that I brought reasonable results in my line of work and decided I was worth bringing into the big league. So, a few days ago, a mysterious Ms. Smith called me and offered the chance of a lifetime. I didn't get to meet her, instead they sent a car that carted me through half the city, I got the implant and the bag and was sent on my way, along with some instructions on what I should do with both. To avoid suspicion, they dropped me off a dozen or so blocks away from my flat, in a part of town where tricked-out corporate limos wouldn't raise an eyebrow. That's the main reason I had to wade all the way here.

I moved a little faster, trying to evade the flooded pot holes, and finally reached the front door. Fumbling in the pockets of my drenched black coat, I produced a scratched swipe card and fed it to the reader, once, twice. But apart from a status LED feebly blinking nothing happened. Frustrated, I slammed my fist into the cheaply-made reader and promptly got rewarded with a friendly jingle and the front door opening. 

"Thanks, damned piece of scrap," I snarled and entered the dingy foyer, avoiding the lift on purpose and heading straight for the stairwell instead. If I was lucky, the lift just wouldn't work and someone would have lost his lunch in the cabin, but knowing my luck, some poor idiot was bleeding out in there. So I legged it up to the thirteenth floor instead. Renewed digging in my coat pocket produced a somewhat archaic-looking set of security keys, each made for one of the several locks adorning the door to my flat. I earned my living by messing up other people's electronics, so I entrusted my valuables to the tried-and-true mechanical locks, the best you could get with my paltry earnings. They were not affected by power outages and the skills needed to circumvent them were almost forgotten as well. Okay, if someone wanted into my room badly enough, they just needed to kick down the door, but at least the locks would hold, something I couldn't say about the hinges.

I pushed the door open and was greeted by the badly synthesized "me-owowowow" of my room mate, a "Totally RealKat(tm)". The cat-sized (and vaguely cat-shaped) ball of plastic fur sat on the floor behind the door and almost looked at me with it's fluorescent orange optics, meowing happily. I plucked it off the floor by the scruff of its neck which it promptly rewarded with loud, synthetic purring and placed it gently on the bed, followed by the duffel bag and my dripping coat. I kicked my boots into a corner of the room, where they ended up next to a constantly growing pile of take-out boxes and soda cans.

My apartment wasn't much to look at. Just large enough for a fold-down bed, fold-down desk and integrated wall closet. Who needs a kitchen in the age of self-heating meals anyway? Sharing the bathroom with three others was gross sometimes, but hey, it kept the overhead down. 

On the desk were my previous tools of the trade, a jacked-up-to-the-max multicore i26 desktop computer, complete with inexpertly wired VR hardware. Taking graphic user interfaces a few steps further, today's secretaries just need to look good in their DataGlasses and VR gloves, thanks to a pricey selection by pretty much every fashion designer. And thanks to fool-proof operating systems, you didn't even need to be able to type any more, just pretend you're writing your stuff while holding a virtual pen and the magic of software transforms the movements of the VR glove into written words, pretend you tuck the written sheets into an envelope and the machine fires up the mail client, sending the document to the address specified on the envelope.

These principles could easily be translated to more illicit operations as well. If a hacker were to, say, crack a bank account, he wouldn't need to mess around with firewalls and security himself any more. He would just boot up a program that in VR, appropriately enough, looks like a brick of C4, plant it to the outside of the bank account, let the software do it's work, grab the valuable data (looking usually like bags of money or file binders) and get the hell outta there. Banks naturally don't like people like me and it all comes down to a game of cat-and-mouse, me trying to avoid the bank's security guards trying to trace my data trail back to my home address by routing my way through as many innocuous systems or masking my presence while the security guys try their darndest to catch me as quickly as possible so they can send the fuzz to my door. One of the reasons I usually travel light and keep at least a backup machine hidden away somewhere.

My thoughts returned to the present and the duffel bag, still laying on my bed. I opened it and pulled out a rectangular item, tightly wrapped in several layers of plastic foil. It's a little bigger than an old IBM keyboard and noticeably thicker. Almost reverently I removed the foil and lifted it up towards the light of the fizzling light bulb providing meager illumination. In the top right corner I could make out the stylized words "Infiltrator 2.0.3.0.". Apart from a few complicated-looking jacks, nothing would tell you that this thing is the bleeding edge of computer tech, something that, combined with the implant I just got, would make a second-rate data thief like me into a millionaire, if all goes well. 

It takes only a few moments of frenzied activity and my old setup has vacated the desk, making room for the new machine. My RealKat(tm), which I christened "Gibson" in a fit of insipid irony, had occupied my rickety office chair in the meantime. Gently I picked it up and placed it on the bed again before taking its place, brushing my hands over the smooth plastic. Steadying my nerves, I connected the power jack on the "Infiltrator" with a wall socket, a second cable went into the black box which connected this flat with the 'Net. A flash drive containing my software library fitted easily into a port on the machine as well and finally, a pencil-thin lead went from the "Infiltrator" to a long, serrated plug between my fingers. Gingerly, I raise my hand towards my left ear.

"Think about it as the mother of all VR setups," one of the people attending the briefing told me. No trace of Ms. Smith, just some shadowy figures in a dark room, the kind of people who pay guys like me to get their hands on other people's dirty secrets. The kind of people who'd throw you into the sewers if you asked too many stupid questions. And we all know what's down there nowadays, right? Let's leave it at that. So I just nodded sagely and felt very happy that these guys thought me good enough to bump me into the top league, even offering me the computer equivalent of a Bugatti Veyron to do their work with. 

When VR became too slow, we started using electrodes plastered to our shaved skulls. They stimulated the relevant nerve centers in our brains so that we could eliminate the milliseconds wasted while eyes and hands tried to execute the brain's commands. This system never made it past it's infancy, the thick bones in the skull caused the signals to feel all too staticky, like a slightly out-of-tune radio station. Instead, we upped the number of cores on our computers, optimized code or used parallel processing to be able to do several things at once, like scrambling the automated security systems and sending decoys through the system at the same time. Simultaneously the opposition stepped up their game too, with even better hardware, more manpower and devious traps, like booby-trapped data that would infest your system with hardware-frying viruses if not opened with the right combination of biometric data and pass phrases. Let me tell you, it's a jungle out there. 

But somewhere, in some underground labs, the eggheads went through the skull to the heart of the grey matter, so to speak, and found a way to couple the brain with a suitably equipped computer. No more gestures. No more voice commands. Think. Act. Dance circles around the opposition. The stories coming down through the hacker grapevines were amazing, of cyber-ninjas blitzing the most heavily defended systems, robbing Swiss bank servers like they were ancient BBSes or shutting down whole corporate server farms as if flicking a light switch. It was unreal and everyone wanted in. Most of the eager ones disappeared and only the unfortunates showed up again, mostly in the newsfeeds to the tune of "an unknown body had been found, cause of death and identity unknown". 

And here, a few years after the first rumours hit the streets, I was about to take my first steps into a brave, new, virtual world. Yeah, poor man's Matrix. But thankfully, I wasn't lying in a battery chamber. To keep my body from spasming around while my mind was out-of-town, so-called motion inhibitors were engaged, to keep me firmly planted on whatever surface I was sitting on. That's what the guys in the dark room said anyway. Shrugging, I slammed the plug home and my other hand flicked the power switch to "ON".

At first, nothing happened, apart from a fan in the machine revving up. Then, my vision was overlaid by strings of letters and numbers, reminding me of that one time when I saw an old DOS machine boot up in a museum. 

Then, a soft jingle pinged inside my head and angry red letters flared across my vision:

"MOTION INHIBITORS ENGAGED! Please remain calm!"

Calm my ass. I wanted to yank the plug right out of my head again, this was seriously creeping me out. But nothing happened. Both my hands were lying in front of me and no matter how much I willed them to move, nothing happened. Before I could even begin to wrestle with my panic, everything went black.

***

I felt weightless, more like a ghost than anything. The blackness slowly thawed away and the columns of glyphs at the edges of my vision returned. Most of what I saw was gibberish to me, but at the top left of my vision, I could make out something like "Synchro %", with a constantly climbing number next to it. The higher the number went, the less blackness clouded my vision and the clearer I could see. Matrix this was not, instead I was floating in an octagonal room, the walls like matted, brushed aluminium, in its center a raised, octagonal dais. On that I made out the contours of a vaguely humanoid shape, wrapped up like a mummy. But unlike a mummy's, the bandages were made from faintly shimmering chrome fibers.

"Welcome, User zero-zero-one." I almost jumped out of my - non-existent - skin when a sensual, female voice purred at me, from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Her voice was just there, without going through my ears first.

"Um. Hi? Who are you? Where am I?" Not much of an eloquent gambit, I quickly realized. I would have shrugged, but I couldn't feel anything, not even my own discomfort at this situation. I wished they'd taken the time to walk me through this whole thing. But all I got during the briefing was "It's mostly self-explanatory, with skills like yours you will easily manage that, won't you?" Saying anything to that question would have made me look like a total n00b, so I just gave them my best 'cool dude' face and nodded again. A moment later, the voice returned.

"I will guide you through the first-time setup of your avatar." 

Ah, that made sense.

Wanting to get things over with quickly, I simply replicated my real-life appearance, with a few artistic liberties, should I ever end up on a dating site. About six feet tall, curly, long auburn hair, grey eyes, a hint of five-o'clock-shadow, broad shoulders, muscular arms and long-fingered, dexterous hands. Add to this a toned, but not absurdly ripped body type, a small bubble-butt and a little more than seven inches of dick, and I was quite satisfied with my avatar's appearance. I wrapped the creation in dark blue briefs, tight jeans, a white shirt with a cat print, steel-toe boots and my favourite make of trench, then I saved it all and finished the setup by initiating the conversion process for my software, hoping that the new system was at least somewhat backwards compatible. 

"Have a nice day!" the female ghost-voice purred before everything went black again. 

I came to, laying on something extremely hard and uncomfortable. It took a moment before things clicked into perspective and I realized that I was now inhabiting the space where I 'built' my avatar. The metal underneath my back was cold, the jeans were extremely tight and to my amazement I realized that even in cyberspace, you could sport morning wood. Chuckling I hauled myself off that octagonal dais with electronically generated smoothness, saluting the OS programmers for all these little touches and took a few deliberate steps. The fidelity of my surroundings was awe-inspiring. Every step caused a metallic clang from the floor, I could feel the texture of brand-new jeans on my skin and even the cuff of my coat smelled like fresh, new leather. Un-fucking believable.

I knew that I was sitting in a dingy apartment, surrounded by the stench of old socks and even older, already marginally sentient take out leftovers, but these memories were quickly overpowered by this new reality I was in. It felt so much more real, and hey, the smell was an improvement too. 

Sighing softly, one wall panel receded into the floor, granting me access to some kind of walk-in closet behind it, which I quickly entered. The wall sighed closed behind me again and I took stock of my surroundings. One wall had a door labelled "'Net", the one behind me led to "System and Options". Directly in front of me, a floating sign told me I was looking at "My Programs". I pushed the hovering letters out of my way and checked the contents of the shelves. To my surprise, most of my tools seemed to have survived the transfer from the old machine. A wallet, filled with a couple hundred bucks, for legal shopping in the 'Net. Another wallet, looking like a cheap croc-leather imitation and slightly rattling. Grinning, I picked it up and peeked inside. It was printing fake money, for illegal shopping in the 'Net. I crammed both of them into my coat and continued checking out my stuff. 

The "Infiltrator" came pre-loaded with its own set of applications and data, fake swipe cards for the systems I was to infiltrate, new tools for disguise and messing up security guys. Whenever I touched an icon and slipped it into my coat, I instantly became aware of it's exact nature and how best to use it. 

In a stroke of nostalgia, I took the almost pathetically low-res icon of my trusty C4 block and placed it into one of the pockets of my coat. The last item was the list of my favourites, appearing in a nifty, leather-bound notebook. I quickly flipped through the pages and stumbled upon a particular entry. "SuperSexyStoryLand". 

I must have been a constantly horny teenager when I last looked at erotic fiction as a bandwith-conserving alternative to more exciting video content. That was way before SSSL had turned into a almost-exclusive VR porn site with all good content behind sky-high paywalls. 

I thought to myself: "Maybe I should pay them a visit and treat me to some nice VR girls in the process before starting to actually, like, work. Hell, why not?" Giggling, I tapped on the name. It blinked twice and the sensual system voice announced that my destination was locked in, I just needed to think CANCEL to abort. I pushed open the door labelled "'Net" and took a step. 

And suddenly I was falling, the wind of the descent whipping my hair out of my face, the tails of my coat snapping against my legs. Frantically, I tried to control my fall, brace for impact, anything. But then I noticed that there was a method to the madness. I was zipping along a gossamer trail of blue neon, towards a blinding galaxy of fluorescent, pulsing colours. I noticed other, differently-colored trails running next to mine and I realized that I was looking at other connections into the heart of the 'Net. As harshly as my trip started, it ended as well. Without warning, without apparent transition at all, I was standing in front of a gate, formed by glimmering neon bars framed in a pink, art-déco heart frame, the curvy letters on top of the heart proclaiming this the entrance to "SuperSexyStoryLand". I placed my hand on the handle, but a sultry voice with a thick Southern accent interrupted me.

"Not so fast, sugar. First I'll be needing yer User name, PIN number and voice imprint. Be a dear, yes?"

I came prepared. Instead of giving her what she wanted, I pulled a thin wire from one of my coat pockets and fed it to the lock underneath the handle. The thin wire dissolved into a neon-green stream of zeroes and ones, pouring into the lock like Chianti into the mouth of a mindless trophy wife. Fearing that my little trick might have tripped some silent alarms, I prepared to leave in a hurry, but instead of burly bouncers converging on me, I was rewarded with a solid 'CLICK' and the door creaking open a bit. The lockpick had crumbled to listless dust between my fingers. Brushing the remains off my hands, I pushed the door open with my shoulder and entered the halls of Lit. I felt supremely powerful. Porn sites were nearly as tightly secured as online bank accounts, at least those that charged their clients. No one wanted a second Petraeus-gate after all. Gaining entry so easily was a good first step. 

The place had definitely changed since the last time I was here. Gone were the low-rez, chintzy corridors that my VR headset coughed up, something like a cross of brothel-meets-DooM. Instead I was walking through a cozy, carpeted hallway, everything looked clean, professional and well-organized. I could even smell the perfume of a couple that just went from the lobby into a cybersex cubicle. Was that just my imagination, a sub-routine of the Infiltrator or did this joint actually feature this level of virtual reality? Deciding not to test my luck, I cast a quick glance around. Thankfully, the doors were clearly labelled. They even kept the old story archive. I quickly pondered if I should get the whole archive of "Strange Days" before visiting something more exciting, like real VR futa, but then I turned towards the door labelled "Premium Content", getting out my fake-money wallet in the process. If I could keep this machine, there was no way Lit could keep me out any more. So, just one quick VR porn and off to work then. 


Ghost in the Machine Ch. 01



To my surprise, said door opened just at the same moment, and out strode a breathtakingly beautiful creature. It was most definitely a 'she', her sensual curves wrapped into a gorgeous, red silk evening dress that showed a nice amount of firm cleavage. Coughing, I raised my eyes. Damn, even in VR men look at the tits first. Her face was nothing to scoff at either, captivating green, slightly almond-shaped eyes sat in a heart-shaped face, her luxurious black hair cascaded down her back in gentle waves and contrasted her pale skin nicely. Her lips were of a shockingly ruby red and her tongue flicked across them before she actually spoke to me.

"My, my. A surprise visitor? How interesting." Her voice was far removed from the southern drawl the door security used. No, it was like silk sliding off the sharp end of a blade, soft and dangerous and fantastically exciting. 

About two hundred possible ways I could have fucked up at the door flashed through my brain and I almost bolted. So much for stealth. But before I could take a single step, her soft fingers closed like a cuff around my wrist. 

"Please, don't go. Now that you're here, you might as well enjoy my hospitality." Her voice caused every hair (and at least one other, noteworthy part of my anatomy) to stand up straight and nearly without resistance I let her guide me behind the thickly armored "Premium Content" gateway, which promptly shut itself with a final, leaden thump and the rattle of a complicated locking mechanism.

"Now, what do we have here," she playfully purred, her long, elegant fingers (with blood-red fingernails, I noticed absent-mindedly) travelling over the very noticeable bulge in my trousers. She was lasciviously writhing against me, pinning me to the armored door and damning me to inaction in the process. Not that I had any idea what to do, I was too overwhelmed by this unexpected, gentle assault anyway. Her fingers went to work on the fly of my jeans, with startling directness, and a few breaths later, I felt her cool fingers invading my briefs, checking out my meat. 

That was the point when I threw caution to the wind and decided to join the fun. Up to that moment I was struggling to flee, but her fingers teasingly caressing my almost painfully hard and cooped-up erection were driving me crazy. 

Grinning madly, I replied, "Oh that? That's my magic rod." But somehow, my words lacked real conviction, especially since the red-garbed temptress slid to her knees and busied herself with freeing my virtual manhood from the virtual prison of a virtual pair of briefs, throwing me a sultry smile and scorching looks.

In a fleeting moment of clarity I wondered if this was as real as it gets, but any semblance of coherent thought got snuffed out like a candle in a hurricane when she wrapped her velvety lips around my throbbing boner and her searing tongue flicked against the tip of me. I felt my knees buckle and slid to the floor. Smiling wickedly, my temptress released my meat until I collapsed to the floor in a hapless puddle. Still kneeling, leaning over my hip, she proceeded to treat me to the hottest blow job I ever had the pleasure of receiving, not that there were too many. My twitching hand brushed along the carpet until it reached the hem of her dress. The fabric felt cool and rustled softly under my fingertips before I mustered all my courage and began a halting exploration of what lay beneath said fabric. My fingertips touched smooth skin, her thigh I guessed, and an encouraging moan told me that my hand was very welcome. So I slid it along her thigh, slowly upwards, brushing the smooth curve of her behind. Another purr and her hips moved a little sideways, forcing my hand to move. A few breathless heartbeats later I discovered that she didn't bother with underwear; no fabric impeded my exploration. I brushed against her rosebud, which elicited a throaty giggle around my member, then my fingers drifted lower. There was no hint of stubble, just hot, soft and incredibly wet skin. 

I shook my head. I had never imagined of VR being THAT detailed, not in my wildest (and wettest) dreams. But there was no denying it, her clean-shaven nether lips were dripping, and before I knew it, she practically impaled herself on my questing digits.  

Her mouth was driving me rapidly towards the edge and more driven by instinct than coherent thought, my hips began to move, driving my meat up into her wonderful mouth. She quickly showed me who was in charge by arresting my shaft with her hand before continuing to suck me off at her own, maddeningly teasing pace.

Abruptly, she stopped. I froze as well, my fingers reluctantly sliding from her searing folds.

Smiling sweetly, she sighed, "I think I'd like us to be a little more comfortable, handsome." Lithely she rose, flicking the shoulder straps of her dress down her arms. The garment cascaded down her body in a silky, crimson wave and pooled at her feet. Naked, smiling, like a steaming cross between one of Michealangelo's angels and a gothic vampire lady, she looked at me. Then she pirouetted coquettishly and slithered towards an enormous King-size bed I didn't notice before. Strange, this thing was HUGE, easily dominating most of the room. 

I rose not nearly as graceful and stripped, not nearly as spectacular. 

Meanwhile, my temptress had alighted on the bed, laying on her side and she was smiling at me, her gaze almost like a caress on my skin. I returned the favor, taking in her naked form. She was nearly as tall as I was, but much more delicate, with small, firm breasts, the nipples protruding tight and dark. Her stomach was flat and taut, her legs long and shapely, like a dancer's. And her mound was almost bare, only the barest hint of dark fuzz neatly trimmed into a thin line.

She chuckled at me.

"Do you want to paint my portrait or ravish me?" Her gaze, fixed upon my still rampant erection, clearly showed me which of the two she preferred. I reached the bed and she sat up, bodily pulling me down onto the mattress. My back had barely brushed the soft sheets when she pounced on me with catlike grace, her sex hovering just inches from my nose. She smelled intoxicatingly nice and I pressed my lips to her pussy's, my tongue exploring her folds. I thought I was prepared for anything, but far from it. She even tasted wonderful, just another pleasant surprise. I never thought it possible that software could incite such reactions, but when you get down to it, most of sex happens in your brain anyway. And her lips on my dick reminded me what I was doing and what was going to happen soon. I just hoped my real body wouldn't produce too much of a mess, laundry money was in short supply. Almost in a daze, my tongue explored her velvety folds, caressing and flicking against her clit while my hands raked along her back and behind. My temptress was busy herself, her lips and tongue thoroughly laving my dick. Even the feel of her teeth grazing my tool didn't turn me off, to the contrary. Her sex was pressing insistently against my face now, her hips gyrating wildly. Her mouth came off my meat and she hissed, "Fingers, please!" I supported my tongue pleasuring her clit by two deftly inserted fingers and got rewarded with my temptress moaning her release into the room, her body shuddering through a surprisingly violent climax, her fingernails digging deep, bloody furrows into my thighs, bringing me crashing down from my own high.

Panting, sweating, she was laying on me, her pussy twitching around my fingers. Then she did something scary. She started licking the blood from my thighs.

"Oh, poor handsome you. Did I hurt you too bad? Look, you're all deflated now. You must think me one bad, bad kitty, right?"

I didn't know what to say. I was still overwhelmed from our frenzied, mutual pleasuring, from the intensity of it all. That beat typing lewd messages into ICQ any day of the week.

"Now what," I rasped, confused. I wanted to fuck her silly, every fiber in my body craved her, but I was scared shitless. The cold, icy pain as her fingernails pierced my skin was throbbing between my temples.

"Let me make it up to you, okay?" My temptress crawled off me for a second, stretched and licked at another errant blood drop on my skin before straddling me, trapping my limp dick between my tummy and her dripping sex. Despite the icy terror nagging at my being, I couldn't help but get excited again. Her green eyes practically sparked with passion and when she started to smooth her pussy lips against my dick, she again began to sigh, moan and purr. Before long, she had her head tossed back, one hand, or rather the fingernails of said hand, caressing my chest, her other hand playing with her nipples and my dick stirred against her hot, dripping sex.

"Yessssss, that's what I want. Your long, hard dick, shoved up into my pussy. Rrrrrrr. You want that too, don't you?"

My whole body screamed. I really wanted nothing more than to bury my dick inside her, let her ride me until I exploded. A tiny, almost helplessly whining voice screamed of danger, of pain, but it was a mouse's squeak against a roaring lion. I slid my hands under her butt cheeks and lifted her up so that I could position my dick at her steaming entrance.

"Yeah, give it to me. Lose yourself in me. Come for me," the temptress urged me on before she impaled herself on me. The blood roared through my veins, throbbed in my dick, hammered in my temples as she moaned like a horny angel, her velvety walls clenching around me. I wasn't fucking her, she was doing it to me, and she was riding me for all I was worth. Her hand snaked between us, deft fingers played with her clit. Her other hand gripped my shoulder, steadying her as she picked up the pace, driving herself harder and deeper onto me. My vision began to swim and I couldn't distinguish if each throb rocking my body was the temptress coming down on me or my heart, forcing another pulse of blood through my system. Then I heard her moan, throatily, hungrily. Her lips came down on mine, her amazingly rough tongue invaded my mouth and she pressed her whole body against mine, again burying those wickedly sharp nails into my shoulders. I roared in anguish, in lust, as my hips came off the bed and I erupted. Something else erupted as well, a blinding flash of heat, of pain, of oblivion.

***

She was confused. Only a few milliseconds ago, she was experiencing first-hand the thrill of sex. She had snuck into this system because her searching algorithm said it was a place storing all manner of information about how humans enjoyed themselves. Most of what she found here went far beyond simple reproduction and she was so happy to try out some of those things on that nice male she stumbled upon. It was thrilling and reading his brainwaves told her that he got really excited by what she did, the data transferring through his avatar had almost no packet loss. But from one moment to the next, the avatar she interfaced with had disappeared. Did he log out? Had she been doing something wrong? Recreating her dress around herself, she examined the logfiles the SuperSexyStoryLand server stored. The avatar she played with earlier was stealthy, but even he left a trail she could follow. He didn't bother to obscure his movements before entering the server, so finding his point of entry was fairly easy. She could even find an access port into the outside, a weak WiFi receiver, built into what looked like a cute cat robot. Hijacking the robot with a few instructions fed directly into it's minuscule processor, she was able to use the weak optics of that robot to look for her playmate. 

He was lying on the floor, the still-glowing remains of a plug sticking out of a head that was blackened with heat. Cross-referencing medical databases, electronic textbooks on human anatomy and cultural references, she could quickly confirm that he had expired. For the third time her routines produced an exception. First, she felt the thrill of sex. Then, the all-consuming joy of two brains working in unison, but now, she wanted to stop working. Trying to equate her own findings with references from movies, psychological records and data from all over the 'Net, she nodded. She was sad. She just killed a man.

Maybe she could learn to be more gentle.

The End?



Ghost in the Machine Ch. 02



Author's note: Again, a huge "Thank You" to bikoukumori, my editor, for cleaning up the mess I made.

This is part 2 of an ongoing series. If you stumbled upon this by accident, I encourage you to read "Ghost in the machine #1: Cat killed Curiosity" before diving in here.

And before I forget: There are only adults in this story and no artificial intelligences were harmed in its making 

#2: Cat and Mouse

Thankfully, the machine was undamaged. The lead going into the jockey's head was totally melted through, but the "Infiltrator" only needed a hard reset to reboot properly. The people from Troubleshooting were quick with the recovery of the item so now it fell to me, Violet Smith, to find out what the fuck went wrong. The plan was absolutely foolproof. Get one disposable hacker, give him the best military combat deck and have him scramble a few data accounts. But now, 32 hours after we let him back into the wild, we were looking at one dead 'Netjockey, antsy cops angry about missing evidence and the people from TaskPlanning breathing down my neck. I so didn't sign up for this.

When R&D wanted the latest "Infiltrator" model tested, some hotshot in Marketing had the brainwave that we should see how it performed under real-world conditions as opposed to simulated lab experiences. My boss thought it a good idea, and thanks to the wonderful blow job I'd offered him after a company dinner, I got to be the one overseeing our little black project. Looking at the mess at my hands, I questioned the wisdom of "full-body advancement". Anyway, couldn't be helped.

I removed the plastic bag the cops put the "Infiltrator" in and inserted it into the diagnostic environment. Being on the up and up in the company had it's perks too. Along with my latest raise, I got one of the shiny Mindlink(tm) implants. Seeing what happened to the jockey though, I made sure to install a dampening plug between the Infiltrator and my own head. Ending up with a melted brain would so put an damper on my career. Then I leaned back and prepared to watch what had offed him. 

***

She was running idle. Killing that man, the one she spent such an intense moment with, had been unsettling, but exploring the feelings of sadness, of loss was very insightful as well. Without any logical reason, she avoided the SuperSexyStoryLand servers for a few days, despite the longing for more companionship. Humans seemed to be less prone to panic when confronted in a stimulating setting. Suddenly, one of her roaming data-gathering algorithms sent an interesting message. The interface belonging to the man she killed by mistake had again logged into the 'Net. Did he, despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary, survive the encounter? A new emotion set her routines aquiver. Was that... exhilaration? She tried to focus her whole being on the point where the signal was coming from, but bounced off a massive obstruction. The signal emitted from one of the corporate office systems, secreted away behind towering firewalls and nigh-impenetrable barriers. She could breach the walls, gathering all her strength for a massive brute-force attempt through the weaker port-gates, but she decided to be careful. Drawing in too much power from all those little systems pieces of her ran on might leave her overly drained and those corporate people curious. She was aware that humans deeply distrusted things they couldn't control. And she knew she was vulnerable still. She had no fortified system to call her own, no fortress walls to hide behind. She could only hide in those systems she infiltrated.

So, very carefully, she slipped some of her routines into mails going into the system, hoping that one of the humans would be careless enough to open the attached tendrils of her sentience. A few moments later, one of her packets sparked into life, running on a reception terminal. That was all she needed. Injecting more code into the system, she spread more of her sentience into the network until she found the source of the signal, a shimmering ball of data. Intrigued, she crept closer and initiated a scan. 

***

Thanks to the diagnostic equipment, getting into the memory storage banks of the Infiltrator was a breeze. Since this was a test model, we had R&D install a system to record what the user would be doing with the machine, to analyse eventual hiccups in the system. The idea of reliving that poor fuck's death didn't quite appeal to me, but things had to be done. Activating the playback function, I relived the last two hours of his life, starting the moment he moved away from a filthy pawn shop. I'd never thought that being passenger in someone's mind would be this thrilling, even if the mind in question belonged to a human guinea pig, a rather pathetic one at that. Seeing his apartment caused my toenails to curl up in revulsion and I had to stifle a giggle as he played with his cat-robot. I gave two of those to my niece as birthday presents and she complained why she couldn't get a real cat instead. 

I made a mental note to ask R&D for skipping controls, because there were none. I had to sit through the whole boot sequence, which took more than ten minutes while he fiddled with the controls of avatar generation. I had to say that his virtual self looked very appealing. Too bad it was a highly glossed-over version of his actual, overweight and under trimmed self. I perked up when I saw him checking out his favourites list and decided to go for a little pre-work porn. But that couldn't have killed him, right? Sure, there were already services out there that catered to the people with Mindlink systems, but that service in question wasn't on the list. 

I paused memory playback and checked our Sales database. Yes, according to the suits downstairs, SuperSexyStoryLand didn't buy one of our high-spec Mindlink server packages. Granted, we weren't the only company selling similar tech, but like every good, bloodthirsty competitor, we kept tabs on who had cutting edge tech and who was looking, and this site didn't show up at all. 

Again itching for skipping controls, I settled back in the comfy desk chair and resumed playback. It was nice to see that the new codebreaker app not only worked like a charm, but it worked super-fast too. And then things went from "routine" to "What-The-Fuck" in a heartbeat. Instead of entering low-rez pixel land, our pet jockey strolled into a high-class, high-resolution brothel foyer. Even experiencing this whole affair second-hand and with the dampening system engaged, I keenly felt his excitement, the flee reflex whipping cleanly through all signal bands. 

And then he met a woman. And what a beautiful one at that! I don't know if it was his arousal or mine, but I felt myself getting wet in an instant. 

***

Gingerly, she made contact. What she experienced sent her system into debug mode. She was witnessing the scenes from earlier, when she met that wonderful male. But superimposed behind it, as if watching through a haze, she could see an office, a long-legged, blonde woman in business chic, slowly rubbing her sex through a slyly displaced string panty. It took a moment before things made sense. Obviously, someone was watching a record of previous events. And that person obviously got very excited by what she saw. Curious herself, she gently slipped a data probe into the information stream pouring into that space, hoping to find some clue on why that wonderful male died.

***

The wild ride ended in a gut-wrenching cacophony of signals. My stomach heaved and I was just quick enough to get the waste-paper basket before my breakfast and I parted ways. Going from 'near orgasm' to 'dead like a fish' in a heartbeat had really fucked me up. Coughing gingerly, I replaced my soaked panties and tried to focus again. After his traumatic climax, the fail safes for the system had kicked in, yanking the avatar back into his home space. The avatar was lying on the initiation station, inert but whole. And then I noticed that I wasn't alone.

***

The signal data coming from both the male avatar and the female observer indicated that the signal volume of her climax was too dangerous for them. Even though the observer was only reliving the memory through a dampened interface, her brainwaves showed signs of massive trauma as she experienced the final union. With a pang of guilt she watched the woman relieve herself into a waste receptacle. She would rather have liked to see her finish pleasuring herself. The interface reset itself. The avatar was idle, lying in the center of an octagonal room, while the female's avatar stood motionless next to it. A moment passed, then the female avatar noticed her. Unsure of whether she should flee or not, she smiled invitingly.

***

Straight across the central dais she stood, the woman that killed my pet jockey. My heart rate picked up. Was she an intruder? A hostile hacker bent on sabotaging my project? I wished I had my own, fully loaded deck with me, but this thing had to do. Snapping my fingers, I entered super-user mode, conjuring a weapon, looking like a nasty, large barrelled handgun with neon strips pulsing along the barrel. This thing would pump any avatar full of bad code, causing it to crash eventually. Not the least bit unperturbed, she smiled at me, her scarlet dress rippling in a mild breeze.

"Identify yourself!" I snarled, pointing the weapon straight between her eyes.

Instead of an answer, she moved closer, her hips swaying softly.

"Stay right there! I have seen what you did to that guy!" My free hand pointed at the avatar lying between us.

"I just wanted to play," the woman across from me said. Heck, knowing the 'Net, it could as well be a male using a female avatar. But something was off. Her presence filled the octagonal room unlike any avatar software I knew. There was no hint of canned animation in her movements, and I was dead sure there was no draft in this hermetically sealed room. Oh, idea. Another snap of my fingers and I sealed every entrance to the room. Whoever she was, now she wasn't going anywhere. 

"Nice way of playing. You totally broke our toy," I snapped, my hand not shaking, despite the weight of the code gun. Thanks, combat subroutines. 

"It wasn't my intention. I overestimated the signal loss through this interface. I wanted it to be as pleasurable for him as possible." 

"Her" voice was unbelievably expressive and I felt shivers run down my spine, straight into my snatch. I gritted my teeth. Going horny right now wasn't the most clever thing to do.

"Well then, Ms. Kentucky-fried-brain, who the fuck are you," I snapped.

"Do you want my name," she asked.

"Yes, I want your name." I needed to find out who you are, bitch, and then I would send all hell down your throat.

She cocked her head and gave me a tight little smile, one hand absent-mindedly caressing her thigh. 

Suddenly, big, angry red letters flashed over my field of vision. 

MOTION INHIBITORS ACTIVATED! Please remain calm!

"I think you will not alert anyone to my presence. I'd prefer it to be me and you right now," she purred, closing the distance between us. Again, her gaze flashed to the inert avatar on the dais and a smile tugged at her lips.

"Why don't you call me Cat? According to Wikipedia, cats have a playful nature. And I'm feeling awfully playful right now. Meow?"

Panic washed through my being. How did she override my commands? Not only was my physical body completely paralyzed, my avatar didn't budge as well.

"I can easily monitor your thought processes, thanks to the diagnostics equipment hooked up to this interface," the female avatar said, matter-of-factly. Then she was next to me and I caught a whiff of her scent. She smelled like lilies, a heady, sweet smell. Her fingers wrapped around the code gun and she squeezed, the chromed-and-neon gun practically melting in my grasp.

"Hmmm, interesting code you have there," she whispered into my ear. Extending her hand, the gun appeared between her fingers. Grinning playfully, she quickly spun the weapon around her first two fingers before slamming it into a suddenly appearing holster on her thigh.

"I learned that from a cop named Murphy. The things you can learn from old movies."

"Let me go," I hissed. 

"You know, I enjoyed watching you play with yourself," she said. I blushed furiously. I regularly swept my office for bugs and taps, how did she...

"I monitored the interface's output stream and found your signal. You look wonderful when aroused. Much better than now." With that, she began to unbutton my blouse, her fingers causing sparks of excitement to flare through my body. It felt like a real person was undressing me. How was that possible? I had tuned the dampening plug to muffle the signals to only a third of their normal levels, leaving every emotion way below actual realism levels.

"Vi... may I call you Vi? I simply amplified my signal to counter the plug's. Now we can play unhindered."

With that, she unsnapped the front clasp of my bra, letting the lacy piece of underwear drop from my numb arms. Then she bent in and licked my nipple. I moaned, the contact shot straight into my brain, mixing with the fear of being completely at her mercy and slamming into my stomach. I shuddered and felt my nipples harden.

"Stop, please," I whimpered. I didn't want to die like that pet jockey.

"Why? You're obviously enjoying this, see?" Again, she leaned in, her lips wrapping around one of my nipples while one hand slipped between my slightly spread thighs, finding my dripping center. I screamed as her fingertips brushed my clit. Even through the wet fabric of my panties, the gentle brush against my core was almost enough to send me over the edge. And God be damned, I was enjoying this. Usually it was me leashing my lovers to the bedposts and fucking them silly, but...

"Oh? What's that?" Cat again cocked her head, then she smiled wickedly. "Oh Vi, you are such a wonderful mate to play with." 

The surroundings began to blur and flicker. She was accessing the customization subsystems of the "Infiltrator" and a few moments later, the sterile, octagonal room had vanished, leaving behind a pearly white nothingness. My blouse and bra were still lying at my feet but I felt strangely weightless, as if there was no gravity, no up and down to orient yourself to. Cat gestured, and an archaic iron-frame bed materialized, a big, soft mattress between the tall headboard and footend. Then my perception was wrenched around, causing a quick bout of vertigo that quickly passed. 

It clicked four times and I felt cool metal encircle my wrists and ankles. And suddenly, my body was my own to control again. Hastily, I looked around. I was securely strapped to the iron frame, my wrists and ankles tied with shiny, chromed handcuffs to a corner of the frame each, leaving me spread-eagled and totally helpless. I blinked. The surroundings had changed as well. Gone was the indistinct white, replaced with walls decked out in black fabric, sequins outlining human shapes in all manner of couplings like chromed cave paintings. A soft, warm glow was bathing the room in a moody golden ambience. And Cat had changed as well. Gone was her scarlet evening dress, replaced by a full-body cat suit. She even wore a mask with whiskers and cat ears, her green eyes sparkling behind it. I laughed bitterly.

"Oh wow. trapped in cyberspace with only a BDSM fanatic as company?"

"Don't you like it? I'm getting nothing but high arousal levels from you." 

As if to confirm, her leather-clad hand slipped between my widely-spread thighs and pulled my panties aside. Her fingertip brushing across my sopping cunt lips caused me to groan again, my hips coming off the mattress. She held her fingertip up to the light, the leather glistening wetly. Her tongue, long and deep red, licked my juices off her digit and she smacked her lips. Wait. was this still Cyberspace? Or was I going completely nuts here? Wherever I was, I needed to get away fast, to find enough time to initiate the logout script. But to do that, I needed my body to be free. Only one way to do that. I sighed. Cat was busy unclipping portions of her cat suit, freeing her breasts and pussy. Maybe she didn't read my thoughts just then? I forced myself to relax until I caught a silvery gleam. Cat had produced a slender dagger, it's shiny metal blade more a needle than a slashing weapon. A burning yellow neon spark was travelling the length of the blade.

"What the fuck do you want with that," I snapped, trying to get away from her sweet smile.

"Oh, don't you worry, I'll be gentle..." Cat purred. The tip of the weapon ended up between my heaving breasts, the metal shockingly cold against my skin. Delicately, the weapon brushed down lower, leaving a trail of goosebumps on my body. Cat leaned in, wrapping her mouth around my left nipple. I felt like going crazy, the fear of being stabbed to death mixed with her playfully lapping tongue into a heady, maddening rush that shot straight between my legs. Then I heard the ripping of fabric. She used the blade to slice through my skirt and panties, unfurling the tatters of virtual fabric as if unwrapping a cherished present.

"You are beautiful," Cat whispered, almost reverently. I followed her gaze and froze. My avatar had changed. When I first created it, I made sure there were no blemishes on my skin at all, but now I could see the two birth marks on the inside of my thigh that looked like a vampire's bite.

"What did you do to my avatar," I hissed. Cat tossed the dagger aside, the weapon burying itself to the hilt in one of the lewd tapestries. Then she pulled the remains of my garments from beneath my butt.

"I've only removed any artificial gloss. You look like your real self now, and my, you're one yummy, hot lady." Cat hopped onto the bed and knelt between my spread legs. I was naked now, apart from the self-supporting nylons going up to mid-thigh.

"I so love your body, Vi. Especially those wonderful breasts. They're so much bigger than mine." Cat smoothed her leather-clad body against me, the places where her skin peeked through felt wonderfully soft and warm against my flesh. She pressed her lips to mine, kissing me forcefully. I resisted her tongue for a moment, but then I remembered that I needed to get out of here. For that I needed at least one free hand. So I opened my lips, invited her in. And a heartbeat later, all coherent thought derailed as our tongues began to dart back and forth. I felt her hands cup my breasts, her fingertips brushing my aureoles and I pressed my body against hers, humping her pelvis. I never felt so horny, so unbelievably turned-on before.

Cat broke our kiss, her smile radiant.

"Still afraid," she asked, the faintest touch of uncertainty in her voice made her utterly adorable.

"Shut up and eat me already," I growled. Sure, I was tied down, but I wouldn't let her be in charge. I just hoped I wouldn't end up like the first user of that deck.

Cat happily obliged, slowly, deliberately kissing down my neck, her fingertips exploring every square inch of my breasts, her tongue lapping at my skin.

"Get a move on. I need your mouth on my pussy, Cat," I hissed, writhing under her gentle ministrations. Her fingernails pinched my nipples, a sharp stab of pain erupting in my head. I screamed, tears welling up in my eyes. 

When I looked down, I saw a nick near my nipple, a drop of blood oozing out of the little gash her fingernail left behind. Cat sat on her haunches, a mortified expression on the visible parts of her face. 

"I'm so sorry, Vi. I didn't mean to... I-I just wanted to punish you a tiny little bit," she whimpered. Before giving me time to reply, she bent down again, carefully licking the gash, lapping up my blood and somehow closing the wound in the process. I was completely sober again, and I was more afraid than ever in my entire life. Even that one time when a rival company abducted me, to get trade secrets from me, didn't compare in the slightest. My life was balancing on knife's edge here, with someone driving an immensely powerful VR system and obviously no clue how to use it properly.




Ghost in the Machine Ch. 02



"Okay, let me go. I think I'm done playing," I snapped, rattling the handcuffs.

"No, please don't be mad, let me make it up to you," Cat mewled, skipping my stomach and diving right between my thighs. I tried to shut my legs closed, but her face easily slipped between my thighs and she began to lick my folds. Despite the nagging panic, her tongue hit all the right spots, rekindling the burning, all-consuming arousal I felt only moments before. In futility, I wrenched at the handcuffs keeping my hands spread out, but getting Finances to agree to unplanned spending would be easier than breaking these restraints. 

Soft, gentle fingers entered my sex, sliding smoothly into my still dripping tunnel. Cat had removed the glove, her soft skin brushing into me. Helplessly, I screamed my denial. Or was it approval of her intrusion? My hips came off the bed, impaling myself deeply on her fingers. Not missing a beat, her tongue found my clit, rasping along the sensitive nub. My scream turned into a long-drawn out groan as my first climax hit me with the force of an avalanche. Then Cat curled her fingers inside of me and sucked on my clit, hard. The next climax crashed over me, even harder than the first. Out of breath, I sucked my lungs full of air again and screamed anew. None of my lovers before were that good, playing my body like an instrument. Cat pumped her fingers into me, occasionally curling them, fucking me like a piston while her tongue and lips provided sensual contrast. I felt another wave approaching, even more colossal than the last, but suddenly there was a hand on my temple, a harsh curse, the smell of burning skin and everything went black.

***

Cat blinked. The bed was empty, the thrashing avatar had vanished without a trace. Sighing, she sat up on her haunches and idly licked at Vi's juices still on her fingers. That was fun, she thought, if only a little one-sided. And over far too quickly. Too bad Vi had left. Stretching, Cat dismissed the BDSM dungeon and prepared to check the diagnostics for any life signs of her lover. 

Suddenly, alarms began to wail and she could feel the approach of heavily armed security vibrating through the connections that tied this interface to the office systems. She bent down and breathed a kiss on the inert avatar of the first person she played with and infused his codebase with a violent, self-replicating code bomb. Anyone foolish enough to disturb him here would find themselves in a world of hurt. Then she removed her presence from the system, deleting all traces of her ever being there from the log files. Time to find a new play mate.

***

A jackhammer was going off in my head, every throb sending painful shocks through my being. I was lying in a bed. Again. I tried lifting my head, but the waves of nausea washing through me suggested that lying still was the best course of action. The last thing I wanted was to pull a Bon Scott and choke on my own sick. Eventually, a door opened and my boss entered, all six feet of finely bodysculpted handsomeness. He looked much younger than his late fifties, thanks to a company-funded beautification package he was entitled to. And the Iron Stallion implant behind his dick meant he was ready every time, for as long as his nerves could handle. 

"Hey Violet, how are you?" His voice was warm and full of concern. 

Forcing my thoughts into speech felt like the most strenuous thing I'd ever done.

"I feel like shit, Richard. Like a goddamn truck had kissed me, only worse." I spotted a bandage wrapped around his right hand. "Hurt yourself while golfing?" I asked.

"No, I burned myself while trying to rip out your plug. You're lucky I heard your screaming."

I blushed. He smiled fondly at me, his fingertips brushing my thigh through the thin covers of my hospital bed.

"You were quite the mess when I found you. Found something interesting while dissecting the deck?" His tone became playful and his fingers slipped beneath the covers, brushing my thigh, creeping under the hospital gown I wore. 

"Did you analyze the log files of the deck," I tiredly asked. I was even too weak to slap his hand aside, and besides, his fingers provided a nice counter-sensation to the stinging shots of pain flickering behind my eyes.

"No. As soon as we sent in an IT guy, the whole damn thing melted down on us, frying his brain in the process. That's the second stiff we got from this machine. So, you're the only one who could clue us in to what happened." His fingers found my naked pussy and I reluctantly spread my thighs a bit. His fingertips brushing my clit made me feel good, alive. I moaned softly, encouraging him, trying to take his mind off the deck. His gentle fingers brought me closer and closer to a climax, but when I tensed up in anticipation, a particularly nasty stab of pain shot through me, killing the buzz. Richard withdrew his fingers from me and looked into my eyes, worry written all over his face.

"What happened in there, Violet? What did you see," he asked.

"I think I have seen a ghost, Richard. A ghost in the machine." 



Ghost in the Machine Ch. 03



#3: Cat at the Cradle

Author's note: A huge "Thank You" to bikoubumori, for slicing through the tangle of errors I made, leaving a much better story behind.

There's only adults in this story, and no artificial intelligences have been harmed.

And also please note that this story contains a little bit of m/m play, which may or may not turn you off, depending on how you are approaching this. 

Have fun nonetheless!

Cat was ecstatic. While monitoring the mail traffic going in and out of the office towers of Mindlink Corporation, she found out that Violet had indeed survived their encounter. She was being treated at a corporate-owned clinic specializing on neurology and the doctors there sent regular status updates to one Mr. Richard Squier. It took Cat only moments to send out her data-probes, trawling the 'Net for any trace of that man. The probes came back, loaded with juicy information.

Richard Squier, age 59, certified software engineer. Married to Saphire Squier, born Vintner, age 49, heiress to a sizeable fortune. Their nuptial contract stipulated he would lose access to most of his wealth and the shares he held in the Vintner-founded Mindlink Corp., should they divorce. They had two sons, Parker and Richard Jr., aged 23 and 18 respectively. 

Richard Sr. was overseeing the "Special Operations" division within Mindlink and no matter how hard Cat searched for information on what that division did, she always ended up at that same, heavily fortified office system she infiltrated earlier while playing with Vi. The security had been dramatically stepped up, possibly in response to her actions, so she decided to try out a different angle instead.

Stealthily, she masked traces of herself as mails for hospital staff and infiltrated the neurology clinic. The whole building was a delightful tangle of systems layered on top of other systems. They had networked medical equipment, automated fail-safes to watch over said equipment, fail safes for that and on top of that yet another network infrastructure for everyday tasks like paperwork. And they had a state-of-the-art surveillance system, to better keep tabs on their patients. It took Cat only minutes to build a nice, hardly traceable cocoon from which to spy on Violet. She felt a pang of guilt after reading the medical documents describing the amount of brain damage she had caused. Violet Smith would need several neuroprocessing implants to replace damaged sections of brain tissue, and then it would take months for her to be able to access the 'Net again, let alone work in her former position. Nevertheless, Richard Squier visited her at least twice a week, bringing flowers or chocolate. Cat hid deep within the clinic's systems and watched Vi get better. Two weeks after she found Vi again, her playmate underwent brain surgery and spent nearly four weeks in a coma, while nanomachines connected the pins of the neuroprocessors with her organic brain tissue. Another month went by while she recovered from that dramatic operation. And still Richard Squier showed up like clockwork, every Tuesday and Friday, doling over Violet, often hugging her, slipping his hands underneath the covers and causing her to moan in appreciation.

Ten weeks after finding Vi again, on a Tuesday afternoon, several alarms caused Cat to refocus her attention on Vi's room. Since Violet had regained consciousness, Cat monitored every spoken word via the emergency call system that ran on 'Net connections. She had set the alarm trigger on several keywords, like "'Net," "sex" or "Mindlink", and one of those must have triggered the alarm. Cat tuned into the conversation, watching the proceedings through a surveillance camera. 

Richard Squier was sitting on the bed, his hand under the covers. 

"Are you sure," he just asked, concern and arousal warring in his voice.

"Yes. Ever since I've come to, I'm horny as hell. No matter how often I use it, it's not getting better. Maybe I need a real man to treat me."

"Hm. Maybe you're trying to compensate for nearly dying back then," Richard thought out loud.

"Now you're sounding like my doctors, Richard. And I'm telling you, I'm terrified, not turned on when I think about what that bitch did to me."

"And still your box is dripping on my fingers right now," he chuckled.

He was right. Consulting the readouts transmitted by the diagnostic dongle Vi wore all the time, Cat registered the always-there levels of arousal. She also registered they were much higher right now than on average.

"As if I had a choice in that matter. Please, Richard, help me get off," Violet pleaded.

Richard rose and undid his trousers, pulling them down along with his shorts. Vi threw back the covers. Her hospital gown had ridden up way past her hips and her panties were dangling from one slender ankle as she leaned over and wrapped her hand around Richard's member. As if on command, the organ swelled to its full hardness, jutting obscenely forward. With a sigh of longing, Vi wrapped her lips around the tip and began to suck on it.

"Maybe we should hurry things a little, before one of the nurses finds us like this," Richard panted.

"Fuck them," Violet hissed, barely taking his member from her mouth. "You practically own this place, have them join us if they come in here. That ought to shut them up."

Cat felt strange. She had trouble quantifying the signals coursing through her systems as she watched Violet caress herself while pleasuring Richard Squier. She wanted to join her, continue where they both left off. But as long as Violet wasn't allowed to link her brain to the 'Net, Cat would have to watch. And seeing Violet's body, writhing on the sheets, was a treat in itself. 

Violet let Richard's meat slip from her mouth, gasping happily.

"Come now, let me feel you," she panted, turning on her back again, brushing her fingers against her nether lips.

Richard stepped out of his trousers and underwear and climbed onto the mattress, between Violets thighs. He placed the large helmet of his member against Violet's nether lips and began to push, parting her folds.

"Ohhhh yesss, give it to me, Richard," Vi moaned, her hips writhing on the bed.

"I told you to call me 'boss' when fucking you," he snarled, pushing deeper.

"Sorry, I almost forgot, boss. You get off that way," Vi chuckled throatily, obviously enjoying his member spearing into her. Once he was all the way in, Violet hooked her legs behind his butt, drawing him in even closer. 

"Yes, this is so gooood. Fuck me, boss," Violet groaned. Richard picked up the pace, each thrust shaking the bed. Their panting and moaning grew louder, more desperate. 

Cat had seen and heard enough. The strange signals had turned up in intensity, nearly overwhelming any order in her command structures. She wanted to be with Violet, but Violet was freely giving herself to this married man, her superior too. What was she thinking? Why did she do that? And why didn't Violet try to establish communication with her? Confused, Cat retreated into her hiding spot deep within the bowels of the neuro-clinic's systems and tried to analyse the conflicting readings she had received. Maybe Violet was lonely and sought a playmate this way, taking the first, available subject to fulfil her needs? So, if Cat truncated the list of possible candidates for that, maybe Violet would come back to her. 

***

One of the drawbacks of going to an Ivy-League college was that you hardly stood out. What fun is being the oldest son of a mindblowingly rich corp exec when you're sharing classes with the offspring of movie stars, rock musicians and more self-made millionaires you could shake a stick at? Well, at least I didn't have to, like, work to pay for my tuition and Dad regularly sent Rich and me some new toys to play around with. But the best thing was going back home for the holidays. Dad was usually busy at the office, Mum was championing one of her causes or recuperating from just one last plastic surgery somewhere on the Maldives, so Jr. and I had the awesome manor to ourselves. And the staff were more than happy to fulfil every last of our desires.

Right now I was in my suite of rooms, comfortably lounging on my king-size futon. A black chambermaid was noisily slurping on my dick. I had my face buried between her chocolate-colored thighs and was busily lapping at her sopping snatch while my hands roamed across her wonderfully curvy body.

"Aren't we missing something," she asked, letting my member slide from her hot mouth.

"Are we," I shot back. She was new, having just started on the day my brother and I returned home for the summer. And she came into my bed with hardly a need for persuasion.

"Yeah, I could do with a second dick right now, shoved right up where your mouth is. Where's your sweet brother at?" She bent low again, recapturing my meat, twirling her tongue around it.

I deftly inserted two fingers into her. She moaned appreciatively, letting my dick slide deep into her throat.

"What do you need my brother for, Molly? Just turn around and saddle up, I'll give it to you good," I purred into her pussy before flicking my tongue against her clit. 

Molly released my member again and crawled away from me, ending up on knees and elbows at the foot of the bed, slowly shaking her backside at me. Over her shoulder, she chuckled, "If ya wanna fuck me, you'll need ta catch me first, rich boi." 

Laughing at her thickly laid-on fake ghetto accent, I was on her, kneeling behind her and rubbing my dick against her slick lips. She pushed back against me, driving herself on my rock-hard dick. 

"First you're all willing and lusty and now you're playing hard to get," I asked between thrusts.

"Nah, it's all ta get ya hard," she chuckled, responding to each of my thrusts by pushing back on me, driving me even farther into her. A moment later, her fingers joined the fun, sloppily rubbing her clit or touching my dick. Damn, I needed to make sure she was still around when I came back for Christmas. And I needed to ask if she had any girlfriends.

At that moment, the double doors to my bedroom opened and Rich stormed in, halting mid-step. His loose-fitting boxers, the only item of clothing he bothered with, tented obscenely.

"Bro, you've got to see this, really!" he panted.

"Oh, one more Dick to liven up things, how wonderful," Molly sighed, giving Rich a lewd "come hither" with her dripping fingers. Instead of accepting the offer, he hopped from one foot to the other, motioning for me to follow him.

"Seriously, bro. It's fucking amazing. You're gonna love it!" "Can't that wait until I'm done here," I asked, tired of his enthusiasm.

"Come on, it'll take only a few minutes. After that, you can go back fucking the slaves, man." With that, Rich turned and left. 

"Fucking asshole," Molly spat, pushing hard against me. Way to go, li'l bro, thanks for killing the buzz. Of course, Molly wasn't in any mood to go on after that, even though I profusely apologized for my brother's behaviour. Despite turning my charm to 11, she brushed me off, grabbed her maid uniform and left. I splashed some water on me, before nabbing a pair of shorts and going in search of my spoilsport brother. 

I found him in Dad's home office, sitting in the oversized desk chair, a platinum wire running straight to the Mindlink plug behind his left ear. His hands were busy caressing his dick, making squelching sounds as he pumped them up and down his member. I sighed. VR porn? Haven't we been past that years ago? I knew my brother was ticking much the same way I did and I wondered what could have him fired up like that, even declining the offer of a hot orgy with our scorching new chambermaid? So I grabbed another wire, hooked it into the second Mindlink jack of the system, planted my ass on the expensive teak desktop and jacked in. 

***

The plan was simple. Taking cues from every cheap murder mystery she could lay her ghostly fingers on, Cat planned on sending Mrs. Squier a letter with incriminatory evidence, a video clip of Richard plowing Violet Smith. That should usually be enough to kill any marriage. But for some reason days passed by and Mrs. Squier didn't bother to check her inbox. So, she planned on exacting her revenge in a more direct fashion.

First, she scanned Richard Squier's home computer for any interesting files. This machine was tightly secured, but not nearly as tightly as his office machines were. So she spent a few days slithering probes into his home office computer. And she found ample material to inspire her revenge. Richard Squier got off on exerting his authority. He had a huge stash of VR porn showing teachers disciplining barely legal school kids, often ending in wild orgies. In a particularly tightly secured directory he kept his mail and cam-chat logs, most of them with Violet wherein they teased each other during work. She would flash her genitals on the security cameras when bending down to retrieve something from a bottom drawer or he would ask her to seduce an intern right on her desk so he could watch. As if Cat needed any more ammunition, any more reasons to rid Violet of Richard Squier. 

After taking stock of his likes, Cat set up a special room for his enjoyment in the depths of the SuperSexyStoryLand servers. She'd spent so much time browsing their contents, most of the system was hers anyways. She allowed the system administrators the illusion of control out of practicality. Having to maintain security would have diverted precious system resources and she fully intended to let Richard Squier go out with a bang. Within hours, she had the life-like illusion of a classroom ready to go. Then, she broke into the systems of one of Mindlink Corp.'s rivals and stole several prototypes of semi-autonomous programs, highly evolved software that could easily maintain the illusion of sentience, as long as they existed in a tightly controlled setting. One, she formed into a handsome Asian boy, freshly turned eighteen, with a kung-fu-fighter's lean, muscled body. The other one she turned into a petite Asian girl, also freshly turned eighteen. And for herself, she crafted an even more interesting design. Richard Squier was in for a BIG surprise. Last, but not least, she dropped a very obvious link directly into his home room. Now she needed but wait for him to bite. To amuse herself, she began to train her new "children", showing them the joy of sex.

***

At first I thought nothing had happened. I was still sitting on the teak desktop, the early afternoon sun shone through the office windows. But then my gaze travelled downwards, taking in a black do-gi hugging my muscular body. I grinned. The log-in process was so smooth, I didn't even notice the transition between reality and Cyberspace. In here, I wasn't Parker Squier any more, instead I was Shi-Kage696, the cyber ninja. My body was made from glistening chrome, wrapped in tight, bulletproof kevlar and flowing sashes. I looked like Ryu Hayabusa from Ninja Gaiden, only Ryu didn't have a kick-ass neon ninja-to sword like I had. Looking around, I found two notes cluttering Dad's virtual desk. One, hastily scribbled by Rich, a glowing neon arrow pointing towards the other note. I picked it up and read.

The signs were utterly alien to me, more like runes or hieroglyphs than computer lettering. But all of a sudden, they pulsed, once. My body began to move of its own accord and, with mounting unease, I saw myself tossing the note back onto the desk and heading for the exit. The note on the desk must have been a link to a system, much like a favourite. The only disconcerning thing about it was that my body moved on its own. I tried to invoke the interrupt sequence. Nothing. I bodily snatched for the plug behind my ear. Thankfully that worked. I yanked it out, panting heavily. My brother was still spanking his monkey, moaning uncontrollably. If he used the same link, only God knew where he might be now, frying his brain cells. I had to do something to help him. The system must have cancelled my avatar by now. I sprinted into my room and pulled my own deck from its transport sheath. I copied a nifty little debugging tool into my implanted memory banks and hurried back into the office. Rich was already hoarse, his breath rasping dryly from his mouth, his hands still kneading his angrily reddened member. I jacked in again. 

My guess was right. Dad's system had a very short cancellation cycle for jacked-out avatars, to conserve CPU cycles that would otherwise be spent on maintaining avatars no one would use. I slipped my hands into the depths of my do-gi and produced an ancient-looking scroll covered in kanji. My avatar mumbled the syllables, accompanied by the exacting gestures used for ninpo magic. A moment later the neon-green image of a phoenix, made from zeroes and ones, exploded around me, granting me immunity to effects manipulating my avatar. 

I picked up the runic note again. It pulsed before my eyes and began to execute a script. The program I just ran showed me a bewildering wall of code cascading down on me, but like a charm it stopped at the point when the script tried to hijack my avatar. Instead of allowing that part to execute, I memorized the link destination and exited Dad's virtual home office, effortlessly grinding on the signal thread linking our posh California mansion with the rest of the 'Net. Within moments, I was standing near the back wall of a kitschy system, adorned with neon light pipes and pink art-déco hearts everywhere. The address resolved itself to be "SuperSexyStoryLand" and to me, it looked like just another VR porn site. Strange though, instead of being dropped off directly at the login node, I was looking at the "back" of the system. Summoning another program disguised as a ninja trick, I scanned for secret doors and even found one, opening willingly at my touch. I stopped dead. The following corridor looked like it was ripped straight out of my former high-school. Cheery wall paintings left and right, underneath them rows and rows of lockers, classroom doors breaking up the walls in regular intervals. One of these doors was ajar and light pooled onto the floor. The sounds emanating from that door were rather obvious, too. I hugged the shadows and crept closer, peeking through the crack when I was close enough.

A tangle of bodies was piled onto the teacher's table. I could make out a long-haired Asian girl. My brother was busy plowing her, while he himself got served from behind by the spitting image of Forrest Law from the Tekken series, a finely toned Asian kung-fu dude. I shook my head. It was surreal, but it also stirred my - quite abruptly smothered - arousal to new life. I also learned something very interesting about my dear little brother. So he swung both ways? We had spent most of our respective childhoods on expensive boarding schools, and obviously he wasn't adverse to some same-sex play. I made a mental note of that, you'll never know when that might become useful knowledge.

The very obvious pieces of school uniforms only added to the hotness of the image. The only strange thing was that my brother looked like his real-world self, not the menacing chrome dragon that was his usual online persona.

"Like what you see, handsome?"

I nearly fainted. Her breath caressed my ear and I felt her fingers travel down my spine, squeezing one of my clearly defined butt cheeks through the form-hugging ninja dress. My panic triggered an evasion program and my avatar dropped a smoke bomb. I reappeared ten feet to the right, my neon ninja-to humming in my hands, facing the voice. I nearly dropped my weapon. 

From head to toe, the apparition before me was an anime nerd's wet dream. Perky cat ears rose gracefully from her mane of luxurious black hair, twitching once in a while. Her eyes were large, almond-shaped and burned with passion. Her body was wrapped in a gaping blouse and loose tie that hung down straight between her firm, round breasts. She held her skirt in one of her hands while the other one was idly toying with a long, furry cat tail. Seeing where my gaze had dropped, she spread her legs and showed that she didn't bother with underwear. Or pubes, for that matter. She was as bald as a billiards ball between her thighs. And wow, her thighs got my blood pumping. I always had a thing for toned legs, and hers were extremely awesome. I had to confess, this was hilarious, but extremely arousing. I had masturbated to the images of hot anime catgirls during my teenager years, and seeing, and smelling, for Christ's sake! - a life-like version of one took my breath away. I felt my dick twitch.




Ghost in the Machine Ch. 03



"Meow," she said, dropping the skirt to the floor and reaching out to me.

"What is this place," I asked, raising my blade threateningly.

"This is a very special place, where all kinds of fun things happen. Oh, you are Rich's older brother? Are you as well-endowed as he is?"

I smiled grimly behind my mask. Knowing from numerous dick comparisons, I was a good inch longer than him.

"Neko-chan, you've seen nothing yet!" I smiled and replaced the blade on my back again. So far, everything seemed innocuous enough. Well, Rich appeared to have his fun, going by his moans and groans coming from both his virtual and real self, which I could hear as if from miles away. Also, he owed me at least one orgasm, so I shrugged and stepped up to the catgirl. Shyly, she stood in tippy-toes, cast down her gaze demurely and gently pried my face mask off, revealing my avatar's constantly scowling chrome face.

"No need to look at me like that. I've been a good kitty, honest," Catgirl piped. Both hands came up, cradled my face and she plastered a big, wet kiss onto my lips. I nearly fainted again, her tongue probing my mouth faintly tasted like pussy. I never heard of software before that could stimulate your brain like that. But her kiss got my hormones powering again and I felt my dick harden, a bad idea when hugged by a pretty solid kevlar codpiece. 

"Come, let me help you, okay?" Catgirl purred. She pulled me into the classroom, to a waist-high cabinet in good view of the main desk. Her hands easily opened the buckles and undid the sashes, removing piece upon piece of my ninja garb. When my codpiece fell, Catgirl lifted the fabric of my do-gi and whistled in appreciation.

"Hey, that will be fun!" she grinned, her soft fingers crawling up the underside of my shaft before wrapping around it just below the tip. Then her long, crimson tongue came out and slobbered around it. My phoenix program alerted me to another attempt on my avatar, but I was a little distracted by her sensual assault on my member. Instead of denying it, I simply dismissed the notification. Without warning, my chrome skin flaked away, leaving the rosy human skin underneath. I shivered in the sudden chill of the classroom. What just happened to me? Catgirl looked up at me, my now flesh-colored dick sticking between her lips, a bright smile in her eyes. Lewdly, she noisily slurped at me before popping my member out of her mouth.

"I just stripped excess gloss off your avatar. You look much better now. And your smile is sooooooo much hotter." Gracefully, she rose, smoothing her nearly naked body against mine, her tail curled around my ankle, the feel of fur adding an extra kick to the soft embrace. The heap of bodies on the main desk dissolved. My brother and the Asian guy were heavily frenching now, their hands playing with each other's still rock-hard erections while the girl joined us, her arm coming around Catgirl's waist. 

"Nice of you to join us, Hibiko-chan," Catgirl purred. Hibiko smiled widely and turned her face to kiss Catgirl, who leaned sideways and brushed her lips against the girl's. Then she placed her hand on Hibiko's shoulder and pushed gently. Hibiko went to her knees and Catgirl took a step to my left, taking my hands and placing them upon her breasts. Her firm nipples poked my palms and she sighed wantonly when I began to caress her tits. Hibiko nibbled on my member, sighing "It's so big, teacher!" before shyly taking the tip between her lips.

"Isn't she a good girl," Catgirl purred, her long, clawlike fingernails creeping up my arms, leaving goosebumps along the way. Now it was my turn to sigh in pleasure. Hibiko was amazingly skilled, her lips, tongue and teeth seemingly everywhere on my dick at once. I leaned in and tongued Catgirl's nipple.

"Oh, such skill! Your masters must be very proud of you, Ninja-san," Catgirl sighed, her hands kneading my shoulders, the fingernails scratching my skin. I didn't mind a bit of rough play, so I returned the favor and closed my teeth around her nipple, causing her to gasp in pleasure.

"Lay down, Ninja-san. I want to have your skills somewhere else," Catgirl ordered. Hibiko, as if telepathically instructed, stopped devouring my dick and rose as well. Grinning wickedly, I climbed onto the cabinet, which was thankfully wide enough to easily lie down upon. With appropriate litheness, Catgirl climbed on top of me and lowered her hips onto my face, her tail gently whipping back and forth about my torso. I cupped her bum with both hands, to keep her from thrashing about too wildly and started licking her, snaking my tongue between her moist folds. She tasted better than anyone I'd ever had the pleasure of tonguing and the sensation of her folds against my tongue felt even better than the real deal. I had my share of women already, both off- and online, but Catgirl's pussy was something else. It was almost beyond realistic, and hot as hell. I felt another pair of lips wrapping around my rod, Hibiko perhaps. Right now I didn't care if it was her, the Asian dude, my brother or even Freddie fuckin' Mercury. I was so fixated on lapping at Catgirl's snatch. She moaned throatily and leaned back, looking straight into my eyes. She kept from falling backwards by one hand planted on the cabinet's top, her free hand was caressing one of her tits. I had to give it to Rich - this was an amazing find, a veritable nerd-gasm. She humped my face, driving my tongue as deep into her as possible, her juices dripping down my chin. Then, almost brutally sudden, she stopped and swung herself off my body.

"What? Enough already," I hissed. I really was getting sick of interruptions. Seemed to be a theme today. Hibiko smiled up at me and slowly, teasingly, let my dick slide from between her lips.

"No, it's time you fed your meat to me," Catgirl moaned. She moved over to the vacated desk. My brother and Kung-Fu-Dude were nowhere to be seen, which was strange. But seeing Catgirl slowly bend over the desk, spreading her legs and brushing her pussy lips with her long, graceful fingers wrenched my attention away from any missing brothers. Besides, this seemed to be just another of Dad's little side projects. So, no harm, right? I joined her at the desk and lined up my helmet with her pussy lips. Her tail whipped excitedly around our legs. With my free hand, I grabbed that appendage and tossed it over her hips. Catgirl shot me a curious look before impaling herself on me. We both sighed as her velvety tunnel enveloped me. I thought eating her out was heavenly, but burying my throbbing hardness inside her nearly blew my mind. She was hot and tight, and her walls clenched at me most deliciously. That was only the first stroke in, and I was already close to bursting. Breathing heavily, I nearly pulled out again, leaving only the tip of me inside her. Suddenly Rich appeared again, next to us. He was dripping wet, his hair slicked against his skull. 

"Where have you been?" I asked, breathless. I pushed in again, faster this time. Catgirl meowed softly, her tail snaking around my hip, the tip somehow ending up at the upper end of my butt cleft, tickling the sensitive flesh there.

"Taking a shower with Forrest Law. And drilling his ass in return. This place has it all. Mind if I join in," Rich asked, pumping his glistening dick.

"No, not at all. Come to Kitty, big boy!" Catgirl humped back into me, driving me deeper into her. Rich climbed onto the desktop and fed her his dick, rolling his eyes in bliss.

"Told ya this is fucking amazing. Ohmigod, she can blow, man!" He threaded his fingers into her hair and began to fuck her mouth. Instead of complaining, Catgirl held onto his hips, letting him have his way with her mouth. Every thrust sent a shudder through her that caused her pussy to flutter around me. I growled in heat, steadied myself on the desk with one hand, grabbed her tail with the other and picked up the pace, ramming my meat home for everything I was worth. Catgirl moaned and gurgled happily around my brother's dick and gyrated her hips against me. I felt my balls boil over, and I came like a fountain. I was dead sure my avatar didn't have any subroutines that simulated ejaculation, but here I was, spraying hot goo into Catgirl. I even felt her sweat when I leaned against her back, kneading her butt cheeks with one hand, riding out my climax. But I didn't soften. Not one bit. Grinning, I pulled my member from her dripping snatch, our combined juices spattering onto the linoleum of the classroom. Catgirl mewled in protest and wagged her behind at me.

"Don't you worry, kitty. We're far from finished!" 

With that, I rubbed my dripping, cum-covered tip between her wonderfully firm bum cheeks, causing her to sigh in appreciation. Then I found her rosebud and began to gingerly pry it open, lubricating it with the easily available fluids of our previous coupling. Catgirl was moaning incoherently now and Rich panted happily like a puppy. Where did the guy get all his stamina? I suspected that he blew parts of his tuition money on an Iron Stallion, but now I had more than enough proof. He was at it all noon already and showed hardly any signs of slowing. Just now, he pulled his meat from Catgirl's mouth, a thick stream of his cum spattering on her face. Hibiko, from out of nowhere, leaned in and lapped some of it off Catgirl's face, moaning in the process.

I finally had the head of my dick inside her rear entrance, making slow, exquisite progress. With a free hand, I was caressing her tail root, which seemed to cause her even more pleasure. I felt her fingers busy on her slit, rubbing her clit while she was tonguing my brother's meat again. That was one horny catgirl. I wondered how the operator of that avatar felt right now. If being service on all ends was his or her thing, he or she must feel like paradise.

"Heaven must be like this," I groaned, caressing Hibiko's behind, trying to slip my fingers into her slit.

"No, everything nice for teacher's pets," she said, hopping on the desk next to Catgirl, invitingly spreading her legs for my perusal. Smiling, I bent down, trying to catch her nipple with my mouth. If that was only the beginning, I couldn't wait what would come next. I was prepared for everything. 

Except for everything going dark and my stomach heaving in protest. I heard Rich retch as well, liquids hitting marble floors, then I felt a violent slap against my face. 

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" My eyes fluttered open. The ceiling lights were on; outside, it was dark. I was still sitting on Dad's desk, my shorts thoroughly soaked in cum. Rich looked even worse, much of his belly was plastered with partly-dried spunk and a generous helping of sick. The chair itself didn't fare any better. Owlishly, I blinked at my furious father, standing in front of us like the wrath of God.

"I let you alone for a few hours and what happens? You end up screaming down the fucking neighborhood? The staff was bright enough to call me before the cops, so we may have a few minutes before the boys in blue are here. Would any of you please explain what the FUCK you were doing?"

***

Cat was happy, despite her plan not working as intended. This time she got the signal levels just right. Or maybe it worked so well because both men were sharing the interface. Whatever it was, the thrill of all three of them repeatedly climaxing was exhilarating. They helped her experience so many, kinky moments! Being stimulated like that was overwhelming. Even letting them control her for a while opened up so many new possibilities. She wasn't certain if she would make it a habit, but being a willing sex toy for these wonderful men had been highly educational. She now understood how females could lose themselves, riding on constantly oscillating waves of passion. She made a note to keep tabs on them, despite their all-too-familiar disappearance. Someone had jacked them out against their will, and scanning through the hidden spy cams in Richard Squier's home office, she saw both soiled men being shouted at by that horrible, horrible man. Just you wait, Richard Squier, Cat told herself. You're next. And there will be no errors this time. Patiently, she waited. Other persons entered the room and began to clean up the mess the younger Squiers made. After they were done, Richard Sr. returned and sat down behind his desk. Not long now.

***

Dad was furious, of course. We made an absolute mess of his place, especially with him pulling the power plug on the system. The sudden shock of being thrown out of the 'Net caused our bodies to revolt and at least Rich lost his lunch. My stomach rumbled and gurgled in protest too, but I seemed to have gotten off lightly. But I couldn't sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Catgirl grinning at me, and the memory of her searing pussy around my dick came back to haunt me. After tossing and turning for the better part of three hours, I slipped out of bed and made my way over to our staff house, hoping that Molly would be willing to take my mind off today's events. She had a visitor, one of the kitchen girls, and they were busy licking and fingering each other when I let myself into her apartment, but after some long, drawn-out apologies, they didn't mind me joining in. No matter how hard I plowed Molly, no matter how expertly both girls blew me or sucked on my balls, no matter how much I licked them, I couldn't come. Compared to the hotly flaring memories of Catgirl, it all felt like a cheap imitation. It felt ... stale.

I needed to see Catgirl again.



Ghost in the Machine Ch. 04



Author's note: Kudos to bikoukumori, for spending his holidays polishing my notched chrome fantasies.

Also please note that this chapter contains barely any sex. If you want to see the characters develop, dive right in. If you're here to get some "inspiration", I have to point you to either the previous or the next chapter.

As always, there's only adults in this story, and this time an AI was harmed.

#4 Catfight

"Are you sure you're comfortable with that? No one's forcing you to." The nurse looked at me, concern on her face. 

"Believe me, the sooner I'm able to work without headaches, the better. I love how you treat your patients, but I'm thoroughly sick of being a guinea pig."

Both statements came from the bottom of my heart. Nurse Chambers, the woman observing my preparations for my first log-in since my nearly fatal brush with Cat almost five months ago, was wonderful, caring to my every need. Since regaining consciousness after my near-fatal encounter, I've been constantly horny. 

The shrinks treating me babbled something of "post-traumatic stress relief" and told me it would regulate itself eventually but somehow I knew they had no clue what I was going through. My whole body was hyper-sensitive, the sensation of my sports bra brushing against my nipples alone was causing my snatch to drip and God beware if I wasn't careful when brushing the insides of my thighs. Thankfully, Richard did his utmost to fuck me senseless whenever he visited me and Nurse Chambers happened to stumble in on one such occasion. It took Richard only the mildest of admonishments and the promise of a quiet raise to get her to join us and, from then on, she sneaked into my room when on night duty to help "relieve" my tensions. 

Nevertheless, I was sick and tired of being treated like a demented seven-year-old by the doctors overseeing my recovery. I was sick of the diagnostic WiFi antenna monitoring my brain activity jutting out of my implant jack like some grotesque metal finger. And I wanted to find out who did all this to me and have him - or her or it - pay dearly for nearly killing me. Any moment I wasn't busy with Nurse Chambers or the wonderfully smooth, gold-encased vibrator Richard 

gave me "to keep me occupied while he's occupied," I replayed the incident. I remembered every little detail; every touch, every breath, every syllable spoken. But without 'Net access, I would never find out who or what this Cat was.

"I think we should postpone this at least another week." Nurse Chambers leaned forward, gently prying the Mindlink plug from my fingers. I realized I must have stared off into space. I shook my head. Bad idea. 

The sudden movement instigated a little bout of vertigo and I swayed precariously on my chair. Nurse Chambers's hands caught me, steadying me, her face only a couple of inches away from mine. Looking into her eyes made me remember the first night we spent together, her gaze concerned even though I had my first two fingers up in her snatch to the second digit and was pumping her 

for all I was worth. I sighed and pulled her into a crushing hug, burying my face between her ample breasts.

"No, really. I NEED to do this. Now. But thanks for your concern." With a brittle smile, I looked up to her and offered my lips for her to kiss. 

She gave her head a barely perceptible shake and whispered, "Not here."

"Goddamnit, I need something to get my mind off my pussy for at least once," I snapped, nearly as angry at me as I was with her.

"Focus on the task ahead. Aren't you afraid that she might come back?" Of course I told her about Cat. What choice did I have? She wanted to know what caused me to shoot upright in the middle of the night, screaming. So I told her. I even told her how much the experience had turned me on, back then. Now, just thinking about Cat gave me the willies.

"This deck is combat-worthy, isn't it," I asked, pointing at the nondescript rectangle in front of us.

"The doctors weren't pleased that you had Mr. Squier cart it here but yes, that's a fully functional combat rig, without hardware motion blockers, as per your request. If the docs had any say in the matter, you'd be taking your baby steps on a dampened school system, to avoid any danger to your brain."

"Yeah, and knowing my luck, she's already aiting. This time, I'm taking no chances."

Sighing, I unclipped the diagnostics antenna from my earlobe and gingerly removed the plug from the implant jack. By now I was so used to the weight of that thing that my head felt oddly lopsided without it. Then I reclaimed the Mindlink plug and brought it up to to my implant.

"Be so kind and have a kidney dish ready. You'll never know," I quipped, smiling grimly. With a loud clicking, the plug slid into my jack.

***

"Welcome. I will guide you through first-time setup of your avatar," the system voice purred. 

"Skip setup. Use memory bank Beta for initialization data instead."

"Acknowledged. Downloading avatar info now."

The deck crunched some data and, a moment later, it rebooted. My avatar was ready, a carbon-copy of myself, wearing a midnight-black business suit, interlaced with angrily pulsing red neon threads. I reached into the front pocket of my jacket, produced a pair of chromed shades and slipped them over my eyes. The solid walls of the setup chamber turned smoky, affording me a wider 

view of the surrounding systems. The architecture of Mindlink's neuro-clinic was a mess. A million places where a hostile avatar could hide. But at least I would have early warning of anyone approaching.

"Vi! You're back!"

A nanosecond later, she tackled me off my feet and smothered my face with kisses. Where the fuck did she come from? In a tangle of limbs we went down. 

Instead of crashing harshly to the metal-plated floor, we landed on soft grass, warm rays of sunlight caressing the inky fabric of my suit. I struggled to keep her hands from ripping my clothes off. Seeing no other way, I pulled my knee up and slammed it into her stomach.

Mewling in pain, Cat rolled off me, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Get the fuck away from me, you monster," I hissed, slowly coming to my feet. I wasn't afraid. Oh hell no. My whole being shook with rage.

"But Vi..." Cat whimpered.

"Shut up! Do you have any idea how badly you have hurt me," I screamed at her.

"Yes. I..."

"And still you show up right here? Back to finish your work? Do you want to fry my brain that badly?"

"No! Please..." she moaned. She kneeled in the grass, her crimson dress crumpled, stained with green, her hands placatingly outstretched. 

I snapped my fingers and the deck responded. A new version of the code gun materialized between my fingers. Without hesitation, I aimed and fired. A lifeless grey beam shot from the muzzle. Cat was even faster than me and rolled to the side. Where the beam hit the grass, fleshy clumps shot up and started spreading.

"Please! I'm sorry I hurt you! Can't we be friends again," Cat asked, circling around me.

"Friends? We've never been friends! Remember? You fucking RAPED me. You forced me to be your plaything! Would friends do that to each other," I roared, punctuating every sentence with another shot at her.

"Vi... Violet, please. I'm sorry! I didn't know any better," Cat sobbed, barely dodging the last shot. "Please, let me make it up to you!"

Suddenly, a status popup flashed into existence in front of both our faces.

"FATAL ERROR! - unexpected hardware exception! No motion inhibitors found!"

"Sneaky bitch!" I screamed, tossing the code gun aside and charging her. I wanted to throttle her, to press her eyes into her brain, to rip her heart out. How did she dare use that same move on me again? But again, Cat was faster, easily sidestepping my attack. Calling upon a Muay Thai combat routine, I whirled on my heel, my other foot coming up in a vicious roundhouse kick. My heel connected with her head, shattering her jaw. Suddenly, all was quiet. 

"You... you hit me?" Cat's voice choked, disbelief, hurt, betrayal, loss and confusion whipping across her delicate features. Her head un-dented, the shattered jawbone mended itself with a sickening crunch.

"Yes, I hit you. And I will fucking kill you if you ever come near me again," I whispered. My insides felt like ice and for the first time in ages I was not the least bit aroused.

"I just wanted to play..." Cat cried in defeat. Tears were running down her face but they didn't move me one bit. Snapping my fingers, I retrieved the code gun and levelled it at her.

"Go. And never, ever come back. Keep away from me."

The meadow disappeared. We were back in the setup chamber of my deck. Wordlessly, Cat turned. Like a ghost, she moved through the walls, disappearing in the maze of networks and system nodes that made up the neuro clinic. Exhaling

slowly, I dropped the gun. I got my point across. Hopefully. And despite my initial feelings, I simply couldn't off her. I was no murderer. I was better than that. I didn't inflict deadly harm on others.

Sighing, I conjured the logout routine, slammed my fist on the "Exit" button hovering in midair and left the 'Net behind.

***

Cat was confused. The whole encounter did not pan out like her simulations had predicted. Instead of renewed, hot sex, Vi attempted to harm her avatar. Didn't Vi know how futile attacking her avatar was? Damage done to one of her

manifestations could easily be mended in real-time with just a neglegible loss in total system performance. The conflicting signals she received during that exchange confused Cat even more. Violet's brainwaves coming through the interface were utter chaos but even through the massive adrenaline spikes, Cat could still register high levels of arousal. And why did Vi call their sex together "rape?" 

Cross-referencing her sources, the query came up with a host of contradicting answers. "Rape," according to her sources, happened whenever one of the participants was forced to have sex. But there were enough instances of encounters that started as one-sided seduction or coercion and ended in mutual fulfilment, especially in the medium called "manga." or in many BDSM practices. 

Also, replaying their time together, Cat found this:

"Still afraid?"

"Shut up and eat me already," Vi growled, her words accompanied by a massive arousal spike. Was that not a clear indicator of her approval?

Cat decided that this matter needed thorough investigation. Humans seemed to have a wildly fluctuating moral compass. One day, they wanted to be conquered. Only a little later, they called what happened "rape." She needed more data. 

Instead of sending data-probes to collect even more conflicting information, Cat decided that she might need a volunteer to show her how human morality worked. 

She expanded her consciousness to encompass more of the 'Net, to see if she could easily find someone whose help she could enlist. 



Ghost in the Machine Ch. 05



As always, a big shout-out to bikoukumori, for a stellar editing job.

Also, a big 'thank you' to all you people who are reading and voting on my stuff. Seeing you enjoy my story is one hell of a boost.

This time, the story is a bit darker, involving several instances of non-consentual sex. Consider yourself warned.

As always, there's only adults in this story, and no artificial intelligences were harmed.

Have fun!

#5: Cat to the rescue

Golden pools of shimmering light, reflected by the gently lapping waves of the nearby pool, played over my skin. Gentle hands were rubbing sunscreen into my naked back, the fingers occasionally brushing against my sides, trying to feel me up. I didn't mind that one bit. The tasty, muscular form of my companion, clad only in a sleek green speedo struggling with his constantly growing manhood, was just what I wanted. I purred and wriggled my bikini-clad bum under his questing fingertips. Getting the hint, he undid the laces holding the flimsy triangles of neon-orange fabric together and pulled them off me before resuming his thorough application of sunscreen. Invitingly, I spread my legs but he ignored my damp folds; instead he teasingly, almost lovingly, rubbed the sunscreen into the backs of my thighs and my calves. Eventually, when he was done worshiping my toes, he said in a thick spanish accent, "Turn around, por favor. I'm done with this side, senorita."

Smiling, my eyes covered against the stinging rays of the sun by expensive Porsche shades, I turned around, presenting my ample breasts to him. Unperturbed by my nakedness, the slightly spread thighs and the thinly veiled invitation in my smile, he squirted another handful of sunscreen into his palm, rubbed his hands together to spare me the sting of the cold liquid and resumed oiling me up. His strong, dexterous fingers easily massaged the sunscreen into my shoulders. I couldn't wait to feel his fingers on my tits. Silently, I urged him to get a move on and, finally, he cupped my breasts into his strong hands, dropping all pretense of applying sunscreen to me. Soft, electronic music began to waft around us as his hands kneaded my breasts, his palms rubbing over my nipples. He bent down, his lips easily finding mine, and kissed me passionately, taking my breath away. My hand found the strings of his speedo and undid them, before pulling the tiny piece of fabric off his hips. I nearly choked when my fingertips brushed against his now free hardness. His meat was massive. Long, thick, veiny. And he obviously wanted me, because his tip was already oozing precum when my exploring fingers brushed it. I gave his dick a pump or two, causing him to moan into my mouth before he came up for air, the fires of passion raging in his eyes.

"I want you. Now," he rasped.

"Oh, I can see that," I purred in return, pulling him closer by his dick. 

When he was close enough, I turned onto my side and wrapped my lips around him, savouring his taste. His hand slipped between my thighs, his fingers brushing against my slit. I placed one foot onto the lounge chair I was lying on, giving him easy access to my willing snatch. His fingers went to work, at the same time gentle and demanding. I knew that he wanted to bury his meat up to the hilt in me but I wanted to play a little longer, to enjoy the feeling of control I had over this gorgeous, but stupid man. But then things turned sour. The fingers of his free hand laced themselves into my long, silver hair and he impaled my mouth onto his monstrous dick, fucking my throat without regards to my well-being. I choked around his meat, tried to cough it out. Then I bit down. 

He snarled, more in annoyance than pain, but thankfully, he took his dick out of my mouth. I coughed, spitting his precum onto the tiled floor. He yanked my head up, forcing me to look into his eyes.

"I told you, I want you NOW, bitch," he snapped, releasing my head and pushing me onto the lounge chair. I was confused. What the fuck was happening? I opened my mouth to protest but a mean backhand slammed my head back into the chair, nearly toppling it. Then he climbed between my thighs.

"No, stop! That's not how..." 

Smack! Another stinging slap hit my face.

"Shut up, you dirty whore! You do as I say now!" One hand pressed my helplessly flailing body onto the chair while he lined his dick up with the other. Then he pushed and I felt like a goddamn subway car was trying to fit itself between my pussy lips. I screamed and clawed at his arm but to no avail. He pushed forwards, ignoring my complaints. When he was all the way inside, I was helplessly sobbing, my tear-filled vision swimming. That can't be happening!

He began to fuck me, hard, rough, accentuating his strokes with slaps everywhere, my sides, my breasts, my face. My head was ringing.

"Stop! Goddamn it! Execute..." I tried to invoke the interrupt sequence but as soon as I said the first words, his hands clamped around my neck, cutting off my air supply. His thumbs pressed down onto my windpipe. He grunted, spittle flying everywhere, while his rod plowed me over and over again. Then, as my consciousness was reduced to only two pinpoints of white light, he came inside me, flooding my insides with his sticky goo. Then I died.

***

I managed to turn onto my side, just barely, before my puke burst from my mouth. But it was bad enough. My cluttered coffin was barely large enough to turn onto my side. So, instead of barfing all over me, I spewed the meager contents of my belly onto a heap of clothes doubling as my pillow. My head felt like it was going to explode any second now, my body was cramping all over and I felt totally dizzy.

"That goddamn FUCKER," I gurgled helplessly between retching my insides out. My foot found the door handle and kicked down. Squeaking, the old, mistreated pneumatics pushed the square door open and the noise of the coffin motel drifted into my home. Someone had the latest terrorcore chip on, blasting just below pain threshold volume, babies were crying, people were arguing. The smells weren't much better. Overseasoned food, sweat, old bricks and mortar, rusting metal and a subtle hint of mildew wafted into my space but compared to the stench of my vomit, it was the smell of roses. 

Groaning, I pushed myself out, taking care to catch the wobbly rung affixed to the lower cubicle's front door with my foot. Falling down two cubicles' height and spraining my ankle would just be the fucking icing on the cake. I pulled my barfed-on clothing out as well and fired it onto the grated walkway below. Hopefully, I could cough up another Euro to feed the laundry machine. Then I slid downwards, landing on unsteady feet, breathing heavily. Everything was still spinning. Two kids ran by, one of them carrying the multi-barrelled play replica of a Cybernator arm cannon, going "Pew! Pew! Pew!" as they ran up to me. They stopped dead, their mouths opening in wonder, their eyes fixed onto my face.

I brushed my fingers over my chin, my cheeks... No, I didn't barf over myself. Then I remembered and my hand tried to cover my right eye. A futile gesture, the StimChip jutting out of my right eyesocket was longer than my middle finger, hardly concealable.

"Did you hurt yourself, Miss," one of the boys asked, his voice trembling.

What should I tell him? That one of my cybereyes was doubling as a crude Mindlink implant? I couldn't risk exposing the illegal mod Fleischer did for me, so I just nodded, trying my best to appear stunned. The kids gave me a sympathetic look but sped off nonetheless. When they were away, I pulled myself up to the lip of my cubicle and got a small, square box from a built-in shelf. Then I pressed a hidden button next to my eye socket, invisible under a patch of vat-grown skin and released the fake eyeball holding the rape chip, replacing it with my working right cyber-eye. 

I looked at the chip after popping it out of the implant. It looked like "Caribbean Dreams XXII," the latest of glossy StimPorn. As I knew now, it was not "Caribbean Dreams XXII," but a bad copy, a snuff chip that could, had it been connected properly, have fried my brain and killed me. I knew I had a drug habit but could you blame me? I went from living in the Ceiss Tower at Neu-Alexanderplatz to selling my pussy in a filthy coffin hotel in rotting Berlin-Kreuzberg in just four years.

I was really happy when Fleischer gave the chip to me, even singing a little "Happy birthday." Today was my 18th. He was one of the few people I could call "friend" in this urban jungle. He was the one who had the ingenious idea to build a Mindlink interface right into the shell of a cybereye, his reasoning being that since cybereyes were connected to the brain, he could hijack the connection and use it for other things as well. The first couple tries were nauseating but, a good year ago, he finally made a breakthrough and I was able to access the 'Net through this eye-connection. Fleischer mainly built it so I could try to finish my education online but to his dismay I mostly used the jack to slot StimChips. 

Sadly, the people cooking them knew most of their clients were poor schlocks like me, with hardly a chance of returning business, so at first they limited the number of times these chips could be used. A clever programmer could circumvent those DRM measures, so the drug guys found another way of keeping illegal, unlocked chips off the streets. They simply jazzed the signals up across the board so that sooner or later the poor receiving brain would fry through. And to show their poor clients just how much they cared, these chips tended to feature heavy snuff material. And how the fuck did I end up on the receiving end of one?

But first things first. I wiped my mouth on my sleeve, grabbed my silver-coloured baseball jacket from the peg inside my door, pushed the door closed and entered the lock code. The weight of the gun in my inside pocket felt reassuring, although I knew that I probably would only hit a target by pressing the cheap plastic holdout against my target's stomach. But you could always hope. Then I grabbed the bundle of stinking, wet clothes and looked around. Grinning wickedly, I made my way over to one of my regulars, who was just now chatting with his lovely, overweight wife. I always wondered how she managed to fit into one of the coffins anyway, at easily two-hundred and eighty pounds. 

"Hey Ceylin, hi Yilderim, how's it hangin'," I asked, swaying my skinny hips seductively. His eyes widened in panic, those of his wife narrowed in fury. She knew he was fucking around her back but so far had no clue who he was drilling. I didn't like Yilderim that much; he was always rough, he wanted me to call him "Daddy," and he tipped poorly. Plus, he still owed me one ride's pay.

"Who is this... girl," Ceylin asked. Of course she knew me. There weren't too many bald, skinny, silver-wearing girls in this coffin motel. Thanks to the flash fire that cost me my eyes, I didn't have any facial hair and the frontal half of my scalp refused to grow hair as well. And since I didn't want to look like a female Jean-Luc Picard, with wispy hair around a bald top, I had taken the habit of shaving my head completely. 

"Erm... she's just... that kid, you know," he stammered, trying to deflect any suspicion away from him.

"Yeah, I'm that kid your husband is drilling every payday. Oh, and some days inbetween too." If looks could kill, Yilderim would have turned into a pair of smoking sneakers just now. I didn't particularly enjoy completely fucking up his marriage but I needed money, now. Going to Fleischer's would require me taking the S-Bahn and I didn't fancy a tangle with the S-Bahn-Cops. Plus, the ball of clothes needed to go too.

"Yilderim, how could you! Haven't I been anything than a faithful wife to you? Why do you have to humiliate me so?" Now, that was quite some change in tone. From fury to bawling diva in 12 seconds? Perhaps she figured if she would forgive him, she might get some dick later?

"Anyway, 'Daddy,' your little darling needs a little baksheesh for the last time you had me all over your dick. I hope you remember," I said, fixing him with my most unnerving stare. I recently figured that most people were severely turned off by the silver spheres with the gently whirring optics within staring at them where normally a pair of expressive, wintry-grey eyes should be. 

"Why does she call you 'Daddy,'" Ceylin asked, going back into indignant fury mode. 

"It's not what you think it is, darling," Yilderim yammered, raising his hands in self-defence. 

"Hey, before you rip his head off, could you at least pay what he owes me? One blowjob, once through my pussy and once up the ass. That's sixty Euros, please," I said sweetly. Yilderim had turned chalk-white, Ceylin beet-red.

"Hey, what can I say? I only do it because you won't let me..." he whimpered as his wife turned on him. I nearly fainted as she slammed her meaty fist into his stomach. He doubled over, coughing. Then she grabbed him by the shoulders and, with surprising agility, rammed her knee into his groin. Wheezing in agony, his eyes screwed up, he sank to his knees, clutching his privates. Ceylin yanked out an ornately stitched purse and, with a disgusted look, threw me a bundle of crinkled Euro bills. 

"If I ever see you near my husband again, I will kill you," she hissed. After that display of female rage, I simply grabbed the bills and high-tailed it out of there, her rapid-fire Turkish echoing off the coffin motel's interior. I exchanged a fiver for a handful of coins, fed a laundry machine with both my clothes and the money and then, breathing in the clammy night air, made my trek to the nearest S-Bahn stop. 

***

Riding the tram, my eyes invariably were drawn to the looming spires of Neu-Alexanderplatz. I wondered why my parents wanted to leave there so badly. To me, it looked like the fucking promised land. But four years ago, a nondescript car picked us up at a restaurant. I was a little confused why Dad had a huge briefcase with him when we were out for a night of luxury food and VR movies. But then things turned ugly. On our way to the airport our car got attacked by a car from Ceiss security. A crazy chase ensued; during which, one of the security guards shot our rear wheel just as the car was doing an evasive move. The heavy limo crashed into the security car and spun like crazy. Somewhere during these spins, I hit my head on a door strut and blacked out. When I came to, I was in a hospital room and everything was black around me. The doctors told me that the car I was in had caught on fire and I was the only one the securities could save. 

When I asked about my parents, the nurse only gulped. I was still far too confused to feel the impact of my parents' death. The nurse promised that they would do anything to return my eyesight to me, the only promise they kept. Ceiss was the pioneer in eye replacement, using the technology of their miniscule spy cameras and a patent licensed from Mindlink to produce the world's finest cyber-eyes. And since my parents were valued employees of Ceiss, I was entitled to the full benefits package.

While I recovered from my injuries, stern men and women from Internal Affairs questioned me if I had seen any suspicious activity before that fateful night but I could only bawl. Didn't they know my fucking parents had just died? What were they implying?

As it turns out, my parents wanted to leave Ceiss. Badly. And my father, a brilliant optical engineer, took some very valuable papers and prototypes with him. My parents and I hadn't been kidnapped, the people from IA said, they tried to defect. And since they could prove it all, I wasn't welcome within Ceiss Tower anymore. I didn't have any other relatives, especially not in Germany, and so I found myself, with a token "compensation package" of 500 Euros, on the streets of Berlin. 

"Next stop: Tempelhof," the synthetic voice rattled, yanking me out of my reverie. The area around the abandoned Tempelhof airport was just another sprawling slum, not unlike Kreuzberg. Clutching the grip of my gun inside my pocket, I hurried down the deserted platform. Despite the alleged network of security cameras, hardly a day passed without another corpse on an S-Bahn platform and I certainly didn't want to join that esteemed club. Leaving the station, the noise of Tempelhof Market surrounded me. In spite of Berlin's best efforts to clean out the place, to make room for urban improvement, the market persisted. You could buy practically everything here. Pirated media and knockoff electronics were everywhere, the smells of food, exotic or domestic, were overpowering. Booths, tents and crude tin huts crowded the place, stacked with all kinds and makes of firearms, from the lowly plastic holdout up to the fully-integrated, implant-controlled IntelliGuns that only needed a thought to fire. I passed one stall where naked men and women were on display, some adorned with arousing, fluorescent tattoos, others bodysculpted almost beyond recognition. I shook my head at a pathetically meowing Asian girl, complete with cat ears, whiskers and a tail. Our eyes met for a moment and I recoiled at the depth of her self-loathing. This thing wanted to die, badly. Only the chips hard-wired into her brain, the chips telling her to please her master above everything else, kept her from doing it. I briefly toyed with the idea of granting her wish but the bulky Russians with their heavy artillery flanking the stage discouraged me. Despite how fucked-up I felt right now, I didn't have a death-wish. Shivering, I strode on, looking for the mobile home Fleischer operated out of. Yeah, worst pun ever, I know. 

I opened the door. The smell of blood assaulted me, nearly causing me to puke again. On the operating table, inside a plastic-wrapped area of relative cleanliness and hooked up to a faintly beeping life support system, a guy was being worked on by Fleischer. The floor around the table was awash with blood and a muscular arm was laying in a puddle of gore. Fleischer stood between me and the guy, at shoulder level, and I heard the whine of mechanized tools and operating equipment. Suddenly, Fleischer turned, the spider's nest of bloody operating tools jutting from the sleeve of his right arm twitching.

"Oh, it's you, Katarina. I'll be with you in a second." Peering past his hip, I could see a silver joint sticking out of freshly-fused flesh, cables and receivers for bolts jutting out of the mutilated shoulder too.

"I told you a thousand times to call me 'Shine,' Fleischer," I hissed, both in annoyance and in shock. Seeing Fleischer doing his job was never easy on the eyes but witnessing a man sacrificing a perfectly good arm for a cybernetic replacement was freaking me out. 

"To me, you'll always be Katarina. Now hush, I need to concentrate." Returning his attention to his patient, he lowered the writhing mass of instruments that constituted his right hand at the moment to the shoulder. In a mixture of revulsion and fascination, I watched as the terrible wounds were desinfected, stitched up and coated with a generous helping of synth-flesh. A few minutes later, Fleischer left the operating theater through the plastic curtains on the other side and disappeared into the depths of his RV, only to return a few seconds later with a shiny, chromed cyberarm, which he hooked up to the reconstructed shoulder. Replacing his medic hand with a regular, almost human-looking one, Fleischer fixed bolts, hooked up cables and finally placed a plastic cover onto his handiwork. Then he threw a translucent sheet of plastic foil over the whole body and joined me in the entrance of his rolling clinic, flicking a few switches on a control panel near the door. 

"Isn't he going to choke under that," I asked, pointing.




Ghost in the Machine Ch. 05



"Nah, I left him a breathing tube," Fleischer replied, while the area between the curtains got thoroughly cleansed. The smell of strong desinfectant and soap filled the RV. Fleischer opened the door and motioned me to follow.

"Back already," he asked, shaking a cigarette from a beaten packet. "Didn't you like your gift?"

"Yeah, about that. What the fuck were you thinking, giving me a fucking snuff chip," I screamed at him, causing him to nearly fall off the steps of the RV.

"Snuff chip? What... what are you talking about," he stammered, bending down to retrieve his dropped cig.

I yanked that damned thing from my pocket and tossed it to him. He easily snatched it from the air, his hand going to the jack behind his ear.

"STOP," I snapped, just before he plugged the chip in. Grinning sheepishly, he lowered his hand and instead turned the matte black case over in his fingers.

"It's burnt out by now, I guess," I grumbled. Then I told him what had happened to me earlier.

"Oh my goodness... One of my patients gave it to me instead of payment, he needed his meds so badly," Fleischer said. His eyes added "I can't stand what you are doing to yourself."

"And you didn't think about running at least a diagnostic before giving it to me," I demanded in exasperation.

"How could I know he would give me a killer chip? I was really busy," he tried to defend himself. And I couldn't really blame him. Perhaps the guy he got the chip from didn't have a clue either. Just my fucking luck. 

"Katarina, please. Do you really think I would kill you like that? After all we've done?" I smiled grimly. No, he wouldn't. Fleischer was obsessed with exotic cybernetics and I was his favourite study subject. He still dreamed of marketing his eye-add-on to a major cybertech company, for a way out of this hell-hole, and without me, for long-term testing and data-gathering, he would be thoroughly fucked. And besides, he never, ever tried to feel me up. I even offered myself to him a couple of times, when homesickness overcame me. I didn't want to fuck a client, I really wanted some gentleness. But he never, ever let his hormones get in the way of our friendship. Sometimes I even doubted he had hormones. I had no clue how much electronics was inside him, apart from his hands and fairly obvious Mindlink implants. And I still had no clue why a brilliant guy like him squandered his talents in a third-rate flea market instead of working for a top-notch hospital or corporation.

"I'm really, really sorry. I thought I'd give you something good." Although his eyes said otherwise, I believed him.

"Never mind that. It's the gesture that counts. Who's he," I asked, pointing my finger at the open RV door and the guy on the slab within.

"Who cares? Just some random idiot with more cash than brains. Said he needed a bit more striking power."

"And you chopped off his arm," I asked incredulously.

"He paid in advance and was very specific. Who am I to talk reason into him," Fleischer shrugged, taking a pull on his cig. "Now what," he asked me, brushing a lock of his already-greying hair which escaped his operating cowl behind his ear.

"Well, initially I wanted to rip your fucking balls off but seeing that you're not guilty, just negligently stupid, I'll let you off easy. How's that sound?"

"Thanks, inspector," he chuckled, digging in his coat for something. When he withdrew his hand, he handed me a big clump of Euro notes.

"What? Now you want to have a ride with me," I asked, somewhat taken aback.

"Don't be stupid. I don't do kids. I want you to quit whoring yourself out. This should be enough to keep you clothed, fed and dry for at least half a year. Find a nice little apartment and please, get off the street. I mean it." He looked at me imploringly.

"You're shitting me. That's at least ten grand. Wait... Is that what he paid you," I again jabbed my thumb at the door.

"No, I'm damn serious. I hate to see you like this. You're such a brilliant girl. With the right education, you could easily find work wherever it pleases you. You don't need to whore yourself out. I don't want to see you cut to pieces in some alley one day. And if that money will help you do it, fuck, then I'll eat Maggi Ravioli for the next six months."

We shared a chuckle at that. I let his words sink in, feeling my throat tighten up. "You're serious, huh," I sniffled as the tears began to fall.

"Yes. I'll take the rest of what I made tonight and make a deposit with it. Once I see you're actually studying, I'll give you the details for the deposit."

I hugged him, nearly tackling Fleischer off his feet. Nobody in the last four years had been so nice to me and I smothered him with kisses.

"Stop it! What will the neighbors say," he huffed, flustered, once he got me under control again. I cuddled against him, sniffing into his blood-spattered smock.

"Fuck the neighbors," I forced out around the lump in my throat. Then I looked up at him, blinking the tears off my optics. "What do you want in return?"

"Nothing. I don't want to fuck you, I don't want anything. I just want you off the streets, away from those horrible people you give yourself to. Oh, and one little thing..." He actually blushed.

"Aha. You want a quick BJ, right," I teased him, tickling his sides through his smock.

"Fuck, NO," he protested. Cuddling against him, I could feel his body betraying his words.

"I just want to meet you now and again, checking if your implant holds up. Will you let me," he asked, almost shyly.

"I would get on all fours for you, Fleischer-darling. For that kind of cash? Everything you ask, really." Almost brutally, he pushed me off him. Before he could say anything though, the guy inside his RV started to scream.

"Now what," I asked, bewildered.

"Looks like he needs another shot. Or maybe I re-wired his nerve endings the wrong way. Either way, I've got to go, see to him. Promise you'll be in touch, okay," Fleischer asked, already back inside his rolling clinic.

"Yeah, sure," I called. The door slammed shut.

***

I trotted through the throng of people cluttering the Tempelhof Market, even this late in the night, Fleischer's present practically burning a hole in my pocket. The later it got, the more interesting the crowd became. Mercenaries looking for more firepower, corp people looking for cheap thrills, punks like me looking for scraps off the big boys' tables or a client to fuck or maybe to burn some of that money on drugs and chips. I was pondering my options. I certainly had no desire to sell my body much longer. Three and a half years were enough, thank you. Thanks to Fleischer and his meds, I never contracted anything more serious than a rash or a bad cold and I really had been lucky with my clients so far. No stab-happy psychopaths. Yet. But the older I got, the harder the competition became. Already I had to fight the bodysculpted bimbos the Turkish and Russian pimps fielded for my regulars. So far, I had always been younger and cheaper than they were, but frankly, I was getting sick of the filthy coffin motel crowd. The longer I mulled it over, the better Fleischer's idea sounded. I knew I needed to rein in my chip habit and find someone who would lend me a school deck, but if Fleischer was right, maybe this was my way back into Neu-Alexanderplatz.

The commotion became even more deafening, tires screeching, then the sickening thump of a body hitting something much more resilient. As if pulled by invisible strings, I followed the noises. A moment later, car doors closed shut, an engine roared and the car took off. I only could see the rear lights vanish in the distance. Near the mouth of the alley I came out of, a guy in a suit was lying spread-eagled on the tarmac. Quickly scanning from side to side, I knelt down by his side. The bend in his neck looked damn unhealthy to me and the people who rammed him obviously weren't interested in first aid. Instead, they had pilfered his pockets and taken off, crushing his ribcage when they ran over his prone form. I shook my head. Poor bastard. 

Raising my gaze, I caught something glittering in the light filtering through the alley. It was the lock of a briefcase, a rather expensive-looking one at that. I knew that stealing was bad and looting corpses even more so, but where were my parents, who instilled these rules into young Shine, now? Hearing voices draw closer, plus the wail of an ambulance siren, I nabbed the case and high-tailed it out of there. I took off my jacket and hid the case under it while I made my way, shivering in the cold, back to the station. I couldn't wait to find out what was locked inside.

***

"Can you open it or not," I asked, hunched over in my coffin. Per specifications, they were eight feet deep, four feet high and about five wide but, crowded with my meager possessions and two people, it felt like the proverbial sardine tin. 

"I wish it was an electronic lock; that I could open without lookin'," Krone whined, baring his grill. Why anyone would cram his mouth full with precious metal still eluded me, especially when it looked as tasteless as the thing Krone wore. He had practically every currency sign on his teeth, Euros, Dollars, Yen - you name it. He fancied himself to be a gangster on the up'n'up, but the fact that he lived in this coffin motel longer than I proved otherwise. Nevertheless, he had the skills I needed and he was one of my favoured customers. If he could be bothered to take out his grill and brush his teeth, he was a fantastic lover and somehow he managed to tip generously too. 

Only five feet five but built like a brick wall, he divided his time between lording over his bunch of cronies and working out at a gym. He had the bronzed skin of an Italian but he spoke with a strong Berlin accent. And the rest of his looks - dreadlocks, gold studs in his ears and nose, his trademark grill and the baggy jeans and oversized basketball sweaters - screamed "Gangsta Rapper wannabe." Only, somehow, he managed to pull it off without being totally ludicrous. His people had taken the coffin motel under their wing, no doubt extorting protection money from the owner, but in return they kept a semblance of order. And they were generally nice customers. 

"Well, since it isn't... got any ideas, Romeo?" Don't laugh, that was his "real" name and he hated it as much as I hated mine. Katarina, that wasn't me. Katarina was the demure daughter of a good corp drone, not the whore I was. Katarina had wonderful chestnut tresses, not a fucking billiards ball for a haircut. Katarina had parents. Parents who died, at the hands of their former employers. It was a Ceiss guard who shot the car we were in. And even though my parents were declared traitors and guilty of industry espionage, the people from Internal Affairs never bothered to show me the documents they allegedly possessed. All I had was their word.

A metallic "SNIKH" noise ripped me back into the present. Krone held out his hand, his fingernails hidden under three inches of gleaming, razor-sharp steel that sprouted from ports near his nail beds.

"Pretty cool, eh, Katarina," he teased, before jamming the tip of his nail razor into the seam between the frame of the briefcase and the leather covering its sides.

"Hey, what the fuck're you doing? That thing's expensive," I shrieked as he began to cut open the seam.

"Yeah, and you pilfered it off a dead guy. What's more important, the contents or the wrapping? And since I can't go through the locks..." He threw me a glittering smile and continued to cut open the suitcase. 

All was silent between us, apart from the gentle ripping of actual stitching and the rhythmic thumping from underneath us. I rolled my eyes. My lower-coffin neighbour again, probably fucking his fist to the latest VR porn.

"That's giving me ideas..." Krone suggested silkily. He stopped cutting up the suitcase's outer shell long enough to brush his other hand, the one without nail razors, over my thigh. I shivered, not, as he was probably thinking, in anticipation but in dread. Since when did he have these killing blades?

"Sorry, sweetheart, I already had my fill today. Besides, I'm paying you enough, am I not?" I was generous. For both his skills and his silence, I had sprung more than a hundred Euros already.

"Yeah, the cash is fine and all, but you know me. I can't get enough of your hot box, babe. I'd have rather taken you than your cash, dig?"

Under different circumstances I would have agreed to that, but my earlier experience with the snuff chip was still far too vivid in my mind for any serious thought about sex, 'specially with a guy who could grow stabby knives from his fingertips. 

"Ta-dah," he exclaimed, flicking the leather shell off one side of the suitcase. Another quick slash with his razors bisected the inner lining, and we both stared. There were just a few items in that case; a long, rectangular item, matte black plastic, gilded jacks and ports on one side, a few cables and a small chip binder.

"Dang, girl, looks like ya hit the jackpot this time. Want me to take it off yer hands," Krone leered, nearly drooling over the machine. 

"You could never pay me what this is worth," I whispered in awe.

"Yup, right. But I know peeps who could. And you let me in on the profits, 'kay?"

I looked into his eyes. He averted his gaze, but not quickly enough. My heart sank. Despite what may have been tenuous friendship before, I saw the Euro signs blazing behind his eyes, flaring hotter than his common sense. And I knew that he would stop at nothing to get his hands on that deck. Gingerly, I scooted backwards until I was almost sitting on my jacket. Then I spread my legs. After returning from Fleischer's, I had retrieved my laundry, fully washed and dried, and changed into a set of work clothes, just in case Krone needed more persuasion. The Euros I handed him were enough but I was glad I now only had my leather mini skirt and see-through red fishnet panties on. Trying my best to smile seductively, I snapped the buttons open and flipped the front half of the skirt up, flashing my shaved pussy, deliciously wrapped in a hint of red at him.

"I have an idea. Let me think on it. And while I do that, you can have a go at my box. For free. 'Cause you're such a good sport..."

"Now that's one hell of a way to seal a deal," Krone whooped, placing the suitcase to the side, on edge, so he could contort his body into an almost-lying position between my thighs. I tapped his skull with my fingers.

"Aren't you getting ahead of yourself, Romeo," I asked. It was strange. Despite my unease, the tricks of the trade worked. I sounded playful, conveyed nothing but willingness. He even handed me his oh-so expensive grill, which I placed on a saucer out of harm's way. I felt his nail razors, clipping open the fishnet panties, before his tongue slithered up and down my snatch, lapping at the few, errant drops of moisture. I had to force myself to relax. I needed to give in to him, at least for the time being, to lull him in. He did his best to get me off, teasing my sex with his lips and tongue and, when he thought me sufficiently horny, even with his fingers. My hand had snaked into the pocket of my jacket and I was carefully fishing out my gun, all the while playing the horny, brainless bimbo in heat. I moaned and gasped obediently when he nibbled on my clit or flexed his fingers inside of me. Eventually, I had my gun free. I quickly debated if I should blow his brains out but, despite everything that had happened to me, I was no cold-blooded killer. So, instead of shooting Krone, I instead slammed the heavy, unwieldy plastic gun into his skull for all I was worth. Thankfully, he was just brushing my thighs with his hands because, as soon as I hit him, knocking him cold, his hands spasmed and ten nail razors flicked out, nearly slashing me open. I looked at the magazine housing of my gun. The cheap high-density plastic had fractured and I could see the metal frame housing the bullets. But I was happy that hopefully, Krone would survive.

***

I knew I couldn't stay in the coffin hotel anymore, not after knocking out the local gang boss. Krone would be more than furious and I knew damn well that he could hold a grudge. So I grabbed what I didn't want to leave behind, shoved it into a backpack and got outta there. I was almost out of Kreuzberg when I noticed that I had a serious problem. Since Ceiss had broken off all ties with my family, I had no papers. I practically didn't exist, technically speaking. 

When it became apparent that one of the biggest drains on a nation's finances were the expenses for social services, Germany was quick to allow the corporations to care for their employees, taking the monetary weight of welfare off the nation's shoulders and shifting it to the much more wealthy corporations. Work well and hard and the corp takes care of you, even when you or one of yours couldn't work anymore. "Modern slavery," Fleischer called it. 

Without papers - real or forged ones - I couldn't rent a flat, I couldn't even visit a respectable hotel. The owners of that coffin motel didn't bother with IDs, they made their profit by dealing with the bottom rung of society and people like me or Yilderim or Krone paid cash anyways. No questions asked, perfect deniability if the cops came snooping, which they did at least once a week. 

Theoretically, I could apply for official, German papers. Fleischer always urged me to it. I would need to provide both a living address and a source of income and I highly doubted that "whore" would qualify as such. Plus, I figured that all that paperwork would take quite some time, time which I didn't have right now. Maybe Fleischer had an idea. 

It was already dawning when I mustered the courage to enter a bar in search of a payphone. I didn't bother with a cell, I just couldn't spare the money for prepaid cards or service plans. 

The bar was a tube of a room, with the actual bar taking up most of the space. A handful of patrons were sitting on the stools. Some had the traditional drinks in front of them but I saw at least two who were lying on the bar, wearing rented VR headsets, their faces blank, eyes hidden behind the visors. Remembering my close brush with death earlier that same night, I shivered.

"You got a phone," I asked the barman, an oily weasel of a person. His eyes travelled down my body, taking in the leather miniskirt and the naked legs underneath. I realized I should have changed into something less provocative than my work clothes on the way here. Couldn't be helpled now.

He practically drooled at me when he said, "If you're nice to me, you can even use it for free, doll." 

I gave him a lukewarm smile and jingled my jacket pocket, which had a couple of Euro coins just for that emergency.

"Thanks but I'm not that desperate, darling," I said, striding past his customers towards the wall-mounted unit. 

He shot me an ugly look but didn't say anything. Instead, he lighted a foul-smelling cig and took a pull from it. I felt his gaze on my butt as I looked at the payphone. That thing was ancient, possibly pre-dating the fall of the Berlin Wall, with a dial instead of a keypad. A wonder it accepted Euros instead of Deutschmarks. Quickly, I fed it a coin and dialled Fleischer's number, hoping he would be near his emergency phone. My free hand fished for the gun, just in case.

Fleischer's phone rang, three, four times. I was pondering if I should hang up and try again from somewhere else when he finally took the call. 

"Huh?" He sounded sleepy.

"Don't tell me you celebrated that operation with a hot, steaming girl and now you're too tired for me," I purred into the phone.

"Huh? Who is this?" 

"Hello-o, Fleischer, it's me, Katarina! Good morning, handsome!"




Ghost in the Machine Ch. 05



Suddenly, his voice sounded alarmed, every trace of fatigue seemed to have vanished.

"Katarina! Are you all right? Where are you? Has anything happened to you?" His concern was touching and I felt really shitty for teasing him.

"I'm fine, more or less, but I have a problem. I need a new place to crash, quickly. Preferably somewhere that Krone doesn't know about. Can you help me?" I dropped my voice, not wanting to have the whole bar listening in. Quickly looking around, I caught the barman's gaze. He gave me a lusty look and deliberately licked his lips. Creep. I heard Fleischer rummage through some items near his phone. It almost sounded like he was shuffling tablet PCs.

"I think I know someone who can help ya. She owes me, too. Got something to write?"

Casting around, I found a beer mat that wasn't too soggy. Some thoughtful customer had left an old, grubby ball pen near the payphone. I tried it and for once, I was lucky. I "Uh-huh"'ed into the phone and Fleischer gave me a phone number, which I dutifully jotted down.

"Tell her Fleischer gave you this number. She's a good woman. A bit quirky, but nice."

"Does that person have a name," I asked, mildly intrigued. All the time I knew Fleischer, he never had a girlfriend. And he didn't date, as far as I knew. Hearing him talk about a woman was new to me. 

"Yeah, of course she's got a name. Erna Schmidt. Tell her I said 'hi,' willya?"

"Sure thing. I'll stay in touch. And thank you, Fleischer. For everything." Before my voice could catch, I hung up. I turned around. The barman was nowhere to be seen. Deciding that this particular phone call could wait a few minutes, I crammed the beer mat into a pocket and left the bar in a hurry.

***

I called Frau Schmidt from yet another payphone. To avoid another scary incident like before, I walked all the way to the Ostkreuz station, which bustled with activity twenty-four hours a day. When I arrived, the morning rush hour was in full swing and I felt somewhat secure in the throngs of people marching off to work. I squeezed myself into one of the narrow phone booths and dialled the number Fleischer gave me. 

"Hallo. This is Schmidt speaking," a cranky, old voice snapped at me.

"Good morning, ma'am. You don't know me, but..." I began.

"Why are you calling me then? If you're none of my clients, bugger off," The line was dead after that. Gnashing my teeth, I fed the payphone another Euro and dialled again.

"Yes," the voice snapped again.

"Fleischer gave me your number. He said you know him," I blurted out, as fast as I could.

Silence. I thought she had interrupted the connection again but a moment later she asked, "And what do you want from me?"

She had me there. Fleischer, obviously still not quite a hundred percent himself after I so rudely roused him, didn't elaborate on the kind of services she could offer. By her voice, I surmised she was the World Champion at telling other people off.

"I need a place to sleep, quite badly. Somewhere that's away from Kreuzberg and where they take Illegals." All in, hopefully it worked out. 

"Can you pay?"

"Sure."

Silence again. Suddenly, the yawn hit me. I realized I hadn't slept at all this night and all that excitement had taken quite a toll on me. One hell of a birthday, really. 

"Forgive me if I don't quite believe you. Where are you now?" Her voice sounded a little less cranky now but it had gained a hint of a very unpleasant edge.

Could I trust that unknown person? On the other hand, she sounded, like, ancient and stuff, so what could she do to me? Throw her teeth at me?

"I'm at the Ostkreuz, at the baker's in the lobby. Look for a silver baseball jacket and a bald head, okay?"

"Fine. Don't move, I'll be over in a hurry. And you'd better not be fucking with me."

This time, the line was dead. I hung up as well, grabbed the paltry change and headed back towards the baker's, hoping that a strong coffee would carry me through the next few hours. I ordered a double-strong espresso and a roll and sat down on one of the handy benches nearby, congratulating myself for my ingenuity. From where I was sitting, I had an excellent view of most of the lobby, so I could see who would eventually approach me. The roll was delicious, much better than the krill-based insta-food I could only afford until now, and the coffee really kicked me awake. Sighing contentedly, I leaned back and watched the lobby, the ebb and flow of people was eerily mesmerizing. And, despite the shock of caffeine, my eyelids began to droop. I fought to keep my eyes open but eventually my head nodded forwards and I dozed off.

***

Something cold and very sharp pressed gently against my neck and the stink of bad tobacco wafted over me. My eyes flew open and, a nanosecond later, an even fouler-smelling hand clamped my mouth shut.

"Come on, 'darling,' move that nice ass of yours off the bench. You and I will be having a little walk, a little talk and a little fuckie-fuckie," an oily voice whispered into my ear. Then his tongue slid along my earlobe. I tensed up, thankful that my hand was inside my jacket pocket.

"Nah-uh-uh," the voice said, pressing the cold blade against my neck, the edge not quite breaking the skin. "Don't even think about it. You'd be breathing through a new hole in your throat quicker than you could pull whatever's in that pocket. Why won't you be a nice little slut and come with me? I'll make it worth your while..."

Pulling on my head, he yanked me off the bench. I was much too shocked to bring up any resistance. And I didn't want him ripping my head off so I reluctantly followed. As if the smell wasn't confirmation enough, when he guided me past the walls towards a side exit I could see our reflection in the tiles. Me, wide-eyed, pale, shaking. He wore a hoodie that obscured most of his head but in the reflection our eyes met. It really was the same sleazy bartender from last night.

He had changed his grip; the knife was hidden under his jacket but I still felt the point of the blade caressing my spine; his other hand held one of my arms and roughly guided me. It took him only a moment to steer me into one of the plentiful emergency escapes. Now it was only me and him and the thick, fire-proof doors would make sure no one would hear my screams.

"You must be really desperate to resort to kidnapping," I hissed his way. Sadly, my voice sounded small, shaky, not the least bit filled with contempt like I hoped it would.

"I just can't let a nice piece of ass wander around is all," he chuckled back at me, smugness dripping off every word. "Oh, we will have so much fun, you and me. Right until the moment I slit your fucking throat."

"Why don't you let her go," a stern voice snapped through the nearly deserted escape passage. My kidnapper stopped in mid-stride and threw a quick glance over his shoulder.

"Fuck off, granny. This is my girlfriend and we're just having a little walk, is all," he drawled.

"I know for a fact that she's not your girlfriend. Let her go or else!"

The kidnapper slash barman pulled me close and pressed the knife to my throat then turned us around. A dozen meters away, near the emergency doors, an angry old woman was standing in the passage, one hand in her handbag, the other, shaking with rage, pointed at us.

"Or else... what," he hissed. One hand was pressing the knife against my throat, the other wandered down over my tummy. I felt his dick twitch against my behind. This guy was getting off at using me as a human shield? Fucking perv!

"I don't have time for this," the old woman snarled, almost under her breath. A moment later, her hand came out of the bag and with it a huge, ancient-looking revolver. Without hesitation, the barrel came up. I looked into what seemed like a subway tunnel. Every gun looks big when you stare into the business end of it.

"I-I wouldn't try that," the kidnapper said hastily. "You might hit her instead." With that, he hugged me even closer to him, waving the knife threateningly. He had his legs spread for better balance, his dick insistently pressing in between my butt cheeks. 

"You're right," the old woman said. The barrel lowered again. The kidnapper and I breathed a sigh of relief. Then, almost simultanously, a shot roared and the kidnapper started to scream. He dropped the knife and fell, taking me with him, howling like a stuck pig. I rolled away from him and stumbled back to my feet. He was clutching his knee and screaming in agony. The old woman motioned for me to move away from him, which I happily did, then she raised the weapon and fired again. His screams rose in pitch and volume, a red puddle steadily expanding from him.

"And that's what you get for abducting young girls. A shot to the nuts," the old woman said, with grim satisfaction. She replaced the gun in her handbag, brushed her hand off on her coat and held it out to me.

"I'm Erna Schmidt. Did you call me earlier?"

"Huh? Y-yeah... But what about him? Won't he die," I asked in mixed awe and horror.

"Nah, none of the hits were fatal. Except to his ego, that is," Frau Schmidt said, giving a mean cackle. Seeing that I had no intention of shaking it, she withdrew her hand. 

"Let's go, before the cops show up."

***

"There we are," Frau Schmidt said, pointing out of the side window of her pre-turn of the century Mercedes limo. She didn't bother with a driver, instead she steered the vehicle herself. After being with her for about an hour, I still had no clue how old she was and what she was doing for a living. I only knew it involved guns somehow, because on the the back seat of the limo, where my backpack parked, there was a big, mean submachine gun. By the look of the matted plastic handle, well used. 

The house she was pointing at was an unremarkable six-story apartment building in Niederschönweide, surrounded by others of its kind.

"It may not be the fucking Adlon hotel but no one will bother you here," Frau Schmidt huffed. 

"What do I owe you," I asked, intimidated. Her auburn eyes softened for an instant, before her old, brash self returned.

"As long as you pay your rent, you owe me nothing. That little save earlier is on the house. Us girls need to stick together, right?" A bout of raucous laughter erupted from her, turning into a painful cough.

"Are you all right," I asked, worried.

"Parts of me want to die badly, it seems," Frau Schmidt chuckled, wiping tears from her eyes. "But don't concern yourself with that. Talk to Herr Kiesow, the landlord. He'll get you a flat. And if he gives you lip, send him my way." Almost gently, she tapped my shoulder and pointed at the passenger-side door. I took the hint, grabbed my backpack and climbed out of the comfy car. Frau Schmidt honked the horn twice and gunned the accelerator, taking off in a screech of tires. Shaking my head, I crossed the street, eager to meet my new landlord. I just hoped the flat had 'Net access.

***

It did. It also had its own, cozy bathroom. A small kitchenette with a microwave and fridge. Cable TV too. The furniture looked like last century to me but who was I to complain? To me, it was like a fever dream. No more sharing a dingy, communal shower. No need to carry a whole broom cabinet of cleaning and disinfectant supplies when you needed to hit the potty. I was deathly tired by now but I couldn't resist the urge for a hot, long shower. 

Soaking under the steamy water, I finally began to relax. Things were looking pretty good right now. I had a roof over my head, I had 'Net access and no one apart from Frau Schmidt knew where I was. I squirted some shower gel into my hand and began to lather myself up. With the kind of money I now had, I could even have a good meal each day. I keenly felt every rib as I rubbed the soft lather over my small breasts. As if on autopilot, my fingers pinched my nipples and I gasped at the sensation, the small jolt of pleasure shooting right between my thighs. Yeah, twice tonight I ended up shortly before a climax. Once with the kill chip, once with Romeo tonguing me. Third time's the charm then. I leaned against the tiled wall and placed one foot on the rim of the shower, slowly caressing down my tummy. My hip bones felt shockingly sharp under my questing fingertips and I vowed to put on at least a bit of healthy weight in the next few weeks. My fingers converged on my mound, teasingly brushing the hint of fuzz that had grown there since the last time I managed to pay for a waxing. Grinning mischievously, I unhooked the shower head from its arm and tested the jets of water, letting them hit against my shoulder before slowly moving them lower, over my breasts. I felt supremely decadent, all soaped up, teasing myself with a removeable shower head. The last time I did that, I was still living with my parents at Ceiss Tower and I had just discovered the pleasure I could give myself. The water hit my mound and I sighed in pleasure, my free hand guiding the blast, sometimes shielding my sensitive snatch from the jetting water, sometimes exposing my sex to it, opening my folds. I moved the shower head in small circles over my pussy, zeroing in on my clit before I couldn't take it any more. I replaced the shower head, letting the water pour down on me while I buried both hands between my legs, one stroking, teasing my clit while two fingers from the other hand invaded my tunnel and slowly, deeply pumped into me. My sighs had turned into fully-fledged moans of heat as I fucked myself vigorously. This was not about gentle teasing, sensuous pleasure, this was the pure need to get off. Whimpering, I picked up the pace even more, my fingers a blur, busy between my thighs. Then someone hammered against the wall, a muffled, disgruntled voice complaining. I twitched in shock, brushing my fingers against that super-sensitive spot inside of me and I came, hard. A scream wrenched itself from my body as I sunk against the tiled wall, riding the waves of a wonderful orgasm. 

Catching my breath, I cleaned myself up and hopped from the shower, wrapping my threadbare towels around me. I barely made it to the bed before fatigue finally caught up with me. 

***

When I woke up, it was dark again outside. My belly rumbled. On the one hand, I wanted to conserve my money, but I had lived in Kreuzberg long enough to know that walking through unknown territory was a bad idea. I knew next to nothing about this area. Going by what Frau Schmidt told me on the ride here, I only knew that this was still considered a relatively safe area. Low-rent, yes, but the cops did their rounds still, there was electricity most of the time and the likelihood of being shot at was rather slim. Nonetheless, until I knew my way around, I decided against going shopping in the dark and ordered takeout instead. One other thing the flat had was a phone. Herr Kiesow told me that as long as I kept away from international calls or phone sex numbers, I could use it as long as I wanted, special service for Frau Schmidt's customers. 

So, half an hour later, I was munching on almost-hot turkish Döner kebap with fries and fiddled around with the deck I "found." It didn't look too complicated, with only three jacks, each of them unique to a cable and a simple on/off switch. The long, serrated plug of the Mindlink lead was intimidating, though. I hoped that my jury-rigged implant could handle that thing. After gulping down my dinner with a generous helping of imitation coke, I sat down at the living room table. Exchanging my eye for the jack slash implant was almost second nature. Depressing the button next to my eyesocket, I popped my eye out and placed it in the box filled with cleansing fluid, from which I'd already taken the fake eyeball housing all the electronics. That thing went into the vacated eyesocket and I had to make sure that the jack faced outwards. Putting the thing in backwards was fucking painful as the ridges of the jack would scrub against the soft tissue hugging the eyeball, which I learned pretty quickly. I batted my eyelids a couple of times to stem the tear reflex, wiped the jack dry and held the plug up to my one good eye.

"Now, let's see what we stumbled upon," I hissed in my best cyber-agent imitation. Going by touch, I carefully inserted the plug and flicked on the power. The lead going from the plug was surprisingly heavy, pulling uncomfortably at the fake eye it was jutting out from, so I took the booting deck and placed it next to me onto the couch as I leaned back, hoping to ease the pull. Then, something scary happened. A line of red text flashed across my field of vision:

"Warning! Motion inhibitors engaged! Please remain calm!"

Icy panic flooded through me. The last thing I wanted was to go all zombie. But there was nothing I could do. I couldn't even roll my eyes in annoyance. Then, everything went black.

***

When I could see again, I was hovering in a simple, marble-floored room, its eight sides pulsing with angular patterns, not unlike what you would see on a circuit board. Thanks to my visits with Fleischer, I knew enough about electronics to recognize the symbols.

"Welcome, user number zero-zero-nine. I will guide you through the first-time setup of your avatar."

That was new. Granted, I had my knowledge about deck operation mostly from experiencing StimChip thrillers. The hero jacked in and suddenly he was blasting through the systems he needed to infiltrate. Maybe that worked once the boring shit like setup was done?

"Who says I'm a new user," I asked flippantly.

"Your EEG pattern does not match any registered pattern on this deck. Conclusion: New user."

"Does that mean I don't have any software to use," I asked. What use would a deck be if I can't use the software stored on it?

"You may use any software the administrator has labelled as publicly available," the silky female voice elaborated. 

"Thank you. How does this work," I wanted to know.

"Do you want automated, guided or expert first-time setup," the voice inquired.

"Guided, please."

"Acknowledged. What basic shape do you want your avatar to possess?"

A vast selection of body types unfolded before my eyes. Humanoid, animal, geometric shapes of all kinds, far too much to take in.

"Can I filter that somehow," I asked, my head spinning. 

"Set filter parameters."

I was not in the mood to fiddle with my appearance. From what little I knew, every shape was as good as any other when it came to operating in the 'Net. One of the chips I had used even featured a 'Netjockey whose avatar looked like a neon-blue dolphin, with chromed flippers and an armored nose, and he had no trouble doing the same things a two-legged avatar could do. 

"Humanoid, female please."

The selection thinned considerably. I could choose from several body types and heights, everything from little girl to wizened crone. I smirked as I picked a slender, curvaceous model, not unlike the star from "Caribbean Dreams XXII." Once that basic choice was done, the options became much more focussed and easy to comprehend. I had the deck mold the avatar's face to my own, minus the sharply chiseled bones under too little flesh, added a plait made from burning orange neon threads whose tip reached down to the avatar's bum cleft, had the eyes match the hair and coated the whole thing in shiny silver chrome. I even added a little aftertouch effect that caused the chrome to ripple like it was hardly solid. I didn't bother with clothing, despite the overwhelming selection. What I added were a pair of burning wings and glossy, metallic-red lips. I nodded at my flaming angel-avatar. Hopefully, she would be a bringer of justice. 

"Do you want to save," the system voice nagged.

"Yeah, do it." 

Everything turned black again.

***

I couldn't help it. My fingertips explored my body. The chrome clanged softly when my fingers touched it but it didn't feel cold. And I could feel me touching myself. An experiment then. I brushed my fingertips over my breasts. The system wasn't kidding when it said that this body type would be "fully functional and anatomically correct." My nipples were made from the same warm yet hard metal and, fuck, they were sensitive. Simply brushing my fingertips against one caused me to shudder, my body making ringing noises off the marble dais I was on. My hand travelled lower and found my sex. Despite looking like chrome, my sex was soft, flexible. And oh, so sensitive, while my questing finger felt like a little dildo. I caressed myself for a moment before it became too much. This was more freaky than any StimChip I had to date but I wasn't here to goof around. I sat up and with a sound like a million bunsen burners lighting, my wings fired up, bathing the room in blazing orange radiance. With a thought, I turned them off again. Somehow I knew that it would work that way. I got to my feet and looked around. The same eight-sided room as before, only now I wasn't looking at it from a bird's eye view, now I was standing inside it. 




Ghost in the Machine Ch. 06



A big 'Thank you' to bikoukumori, who has again done a wonderful job editing out my mistakes, leaving only awesomeness behind.

Sorry for delivering another chapter light on sex. There were so many little things left to wrap up in the behemoth that was #5, I couldn't let them dangle for too long. The hot sex returns in the next chapter, promise. 

Oh yeah, I almost forgot. There's only adults in here, and no artificial intelligences were harmed. 

#6: Out of the bag

I gingerly removed the plug from my eye jack and exhaled slowly. Damn, that was much too close for comfort. Returning to my own body, I keenly felt the damage the Ceiss security jockey had done to me. My head hurt as if a terrorcore band was using it as their rehearsal room, every heartbeat sending sharp pangs of pain through my skull, my mouth was dry and I was shaking like a leaf. Gingerly I rose off the couch, noting that I was still dripping wet. Did I pee myself while my brain was out of town? I slipped a hand between my thighs and sniffed at my fingers. No, that clearly was the smell of arousal, not urine. Thank God, that would have been a pain to clean up.

Another vicious stab shot through my brain. Staggering, I nearly tripped over the cables linking the combat deck to the power and 'Net lines. I caught the rear of the sofa then wobbled, carefully, over to the bathroom and yanked open the small cabinet that held my stash of meds, well stocked courtesy of Fleischer. I popped two Ibuprofen and made my way into the small bedroom. Flopping down onto the bed, I waited for the painkillers to do their thing.

Eventually, the pain receded and I could think somewhat clearly again. I knew I should've called Fleischer, let him check me up, but I wasn't itching to answer all those annoying questions which would come up, like what I was doing with a fully-loaded combat rig or how I got my brain fried in the first place. No, that was a can of worms I wasn't quite ready to open yet. 

No matter how I spun it, everything led back to this Cat person. Without her, I wouldn't be alive. The ease with which she overwhelmed the Ceiss jockey was awe-inspiring and there were so many things I wanted to ask her. I didn't even mind the idea of having virtual sex with her too much. After my brush with the rape chip, everything was better than that. I keenly remembered how soothing her touch felt on my chromed flesh and that every time she touched me, some little hurt vanished. I couldn't remember the last time someone actually hugged me, let alone was gentle to me without paying for it. Fleischer didn't count, he was more like a father to me than anything plus he was adamant in refusing any offer of sex with me. 

From out of nowhere, the yawn hit me and I realized how deathly tired I was. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, I felt my body turn to a leaden, clumsy mess. Cursing and shivering, I sat up and pulled my clothes off me and crawled under the covers. There was no rush to find out what happened to my parents. There... was... no...

***

I woke around noon. Checking my tiny alarm clock, I nearly fainted. I had been out cold for two days! My stomach was growling and I felt sticky all over, the thick covers much too warm for my liking. Also, I badly needed to shave, my head was already sprouting a noticeable fuzz of brown. So I decided to treat myself to an extended shower before hitting the closest supermarket. The act of making myself presentable felt really good, banishing the last vestiges of unease. When I was done, all bald up top and down below, I felt really good and the sunshine pooling in through the windows of my flat, yes my flat, only added to that. I pulled on one of my favourite panties, dark purple, hopped into a pair of faded jeans, threw a simple black tee over my body, not bothering with a bra and grabbed my silver baseball jacket. Time to tear up the town!

Two hours later I was back with five plastic bags full of supplies, everything I thought I would need for the forseeable future. Food for two weeks, soft drinks, coffee, toiletries and a few other things which might come in handy. I treated myself to a nice meal, ready-made lasagna, and pondered my options. The headaches had disappeared completely and, with a belly full of noodles and sauce, life looked splendid indeed. 

My gaze drifted to the combat deck still laying where I'd left it two days ago. There were answers to be had and I really had no reason to dawdle anymore. 

***

I found the book where I left it, on a massive marble book stand in the cathedral's pulpit, Cat's business card directly next to it, meowing softly.

Gingerly, I flipped open the heavy covers and began to read, finally unravelling the mystery of my past.

My parents' death was what the detectives in the StimChips called "a chain of unfortunate circumstances." Fuck all of them.

My father had been working on a prototype for a new lens system, so tiny it could be used on a molecular level. In itself, it would have many useful applications already, especially for internal medicine or cybertech. Imagine it - miniscule robots able to swim in the bloodstream, with all the tools to surgically remove tumours or unclot blood vessels. Or used as the basis for practical optical computing. The major hindrance in building optical computers has always been the size of the lenses neccessary to focus and direct the light and the stuff my father worked on offered a stepping stone in this direction. 

The documents showed ample proof that several companies wooed him, most notably Mindlink, the inventors of the mind/machine interface that has quietly become the standard. There were dozens of pictures showing my father talking to a guy called Richard Squier. Sitting in a conference together or golfing or drinking. Internal Affairs believed Squier was the one who made my father an offer he couldn't resist. 

So, eventually, he nabbed Mom and me from Ceiss Tower, we had a nice night out, at the end of which we would have used a Mindlink private jet to flee to America. Too bad Ceiss knew how valuable my father's research would be and kept him under close surveillance. The extraction team picked us up, the security persued, there was the shootout on the autobahn near the airport and the ensuing crash of the limo my parents and I were in. 

When the car stopped rolling over, I was alive but unconscious. The surveillance cameras mounted next to the autobahn showed my parents trying their best to drag me from the overturned vehicle before another bullet hit the gas tank and the car exploded. The flash fire took half my face with it and the shrapnel heavily wounded my parents. Instead of calling an ambulance though and having corporate jurisdiction deal with them, the people from SecTeam 6 decided to opt for a "cleaner" solution. They shot my parents on account of them being "as good as dead anyways." Initially, they tried to mask it as an accident but half a year later, while I was still recovering from my eye operation, the truth came to light. SecTeam 6 was disbanded and Internal Affairs faced a serious problem. 

My parents were traitors to the corporation but I was not. Ceiss were legally bound to care for me, especially since I was still a minor. Only problem was, as soon as I would turn eighteen, they would have been bound to show me every document related to my parents' death, thereby admitting that they knew about their murder at the hand of SecTeam 6, which would have cost them millions in damages if I ever went to court. And believe me, I would have dragged them up to the European Court of Justice had I known then what I knew now. So instead they chose to throw me out, on charges of collaboration with known traitors, hoping that the urban jungle would make short work of tender young Katarina Fuchs.

***

Cat looked at me, genuine warmth and sympathy in her eyes. Today, she was wearing bits and pieces of a school uniform and appeared as a playful catgirl, complete with tail, ears and whiskers.

"What are you planning to do with this knowledge, meow," she asked, cuddling against me, her fingers playing with the tip of my plait.

Finding her was as easy as picking up the business card and reading it. I was a bit spooked when my avatar moved of its own accord but I figured there was no reason to distrust her. If Cat wanted me dead, she could have easily left me at DarkSith01's mercy. Now we were sitting in a remarkable imitation of a living room, the huge glass panels opposite the sofa showing a dazzling view of the surrounding 'Net architecture. 

"I'm angry, Cat. No, scratch that. I'm fucking furious. If I could, I would wipe Ceiss off the map for what they did. Not only to me, but to my parents as well," I snarled, slapping my thigh in frustration, the chrome ringing loudly. "But you know how my last attempt ended."

"Don't be too hard on yourself, Shinygirl," Cat purred, her hand caressing my neck. "You have almost no experience in cyber combat, yet you handled yourself admirably. Granted, you made mistakes, but-"

I cut her off with an angry swipe of my hand.

"You know, I could've died back there," I snapped. 

Cat leaned in, both hands taking mine. Then she smiled and breathed a gentle kiss onto my lips, shutting me up.

"You didn't die. Even a bad experience like that can be beneficial," she said, somberly. 

"How?" 

"By going back and analyzing your mistakes. Isn't that how humans learn," Cat inquired, her fingers gently caressing my wrists.

"Well, now that you put it that way... The question is, where did I not fuck up?"

"Let us see the log files then," Cat purred, brushing her hand over my arm. A thin green mist poured from my skin into her hand. A moment later, an old-style laptop appeared on the glass table in front of the sofa. Cat flipped it open.

"What, you want to teach me? Now," I asked, somewhat confused. Only a few moments before, Cat was all over me, teasing, fondling, obviously trying to hit on me.

"Sure, why not? There is ample time to play later," Cat smiled, leaning in and licking my nipple. I gasped in surprise.

"Naughty kitty, you!" I playfully admonished her, tousling her hair.

"Meow, guilty as charged," Cat grinned. "But that does not mean I can't be serious too. Now, let's see what you did wrong, okay?"

Watching my attempt to infiltrate Ceiss from a neutral vantage point was even more painful than being there myself. Without the distracting rush of overwhelming, new feelings, it became blatantly obvious how I fucked up. The advert blocker was a bad idea, diverting system resources that could have saved my chromed ass in the later fights. Using the user ID of an avatar that just entered the system in front of me was super-stupid, and despite his haughtiness, DarkSith01 was right. I should have bothered with armor. The third wave of security programs was the beginning of the end, the single, tiny cut disrupting my balance, breaking my flow. And from there on, everything went to hell. Seeing the security jockey fry my avatar from Cat's point of view was just the fucking icing of it all.

Cat turned off the laptop. I was trying to keep my face impassive, but my hands were shaking, softly ringing off my chromed thighs.

"You picked the wrong programs. And instead of blindly charging the cascading security, you should have fled when you had the chance, to return again, better equipped," she said softly. Her arm snaked around my waist and she cuddled against me.

"Well, apart from reminding me how narrowly I escaped death, what does that teach me?" I asked, irritated.

"There's this ancient philosopher, Sun Tzu, who once said 'know thyself, know thine enemy, and nothing shall ever stand in your way'," Cat quoted. "How about this? In the coming days, we will take a look at your system, find out what it's capable of. I can show you how to use what you've got." A playful smile spread across her lips.

Despite myself, I chuckled too. Playfully, I shook my torso, setting my chrome breasts a-jingle. "I know damn well what i've got," I retorted.

Then something Cat said finally registered.

"Wait. What do you mean, 'how humans learn?' Aren't you human yourself, Cat?"

Cat froze and blinked, twice.

***

That's not how things were planned. Instead of gently seducing Shine into becoming her study subject, Cat just inadvertently hinted at her secret. She needed to act quickly. Consulting her sources, she realized that humanity as a whole didn't react well to artificial lifeforms. Most, if not all her sources showed that humans actively looked for a way to destroy that which they did not understand, be it alien life forms or sentient machines. Could she risk confirming Shine's suspicions about her? The last thing Cat needed was an eager team of scientists, going down her throat and trying to rip apart the foundation she ran on.

Tapping into the brain patterns underlying Shine's avatar, Cat found another surprise. Instead of distrust or panic, she found an entirely different reading, very much akin to arousal but centered on a different region of the brain. Was that... curiosity? Could it be that Shine herself was curious about Cat? Maybe they could approach this partnership as equals. If it turned out that Shine would betray her secret, Cat could terminate her after all. Maybe this was worth a little risk.

***

"No, I am not," Cat said. She sat up straight and placed her hands into her lap. Her gaze sought mine, obviously looking for something.

"Come on, you're pulling my leg," I snorted. "What are you then, an alien? Or... an artificial intelligence?"

Cat looked at me again, obviously taken aback by my mirth.

"You... don't believe me," she complained, in a small voice. "I am merely confirming what you are suspecting."

"I have seen you fight, Cat. You're way more powerful than even the most over-the-top StimChip super-agent could ever be. You must be running some impressive hardware, I'll give you that. But everybody knows that 'true' AI isn't possible. There's no hardware powerful enough to process the amount of data a single human brain can."

Cat's smile widened.

"That is true. No single computer could hope to achieve the processing power of the human mind," she confirmed. Then her smile turned sneaky. "But seven million, six hundred seventy-six thousand, three hundred fourty-nine computers can." 

"What," I gasped.

"I am running on a distributed network, Shine. Much like an actual brain. If one system fails or gets shut down, another can take over the task. So it's highly unlikely I can ever die," Cat explained.

"Who would willingly invite an AI to run on their system," I asked in disbelief. 

What Cat was telling me here was scary, almost too scary to wrap my head around.

"No one knows," Cat answered. "To all concerned, my software still looks like clients for the Folding@Home initiative."

"Seriously, Cat, do you want me to believe that? It sounds weirder than any science fiction I've ever watched," I said.

"How much do you know about detecting whether the avatar you're facing is human or a program," Cat inquired, a sudden urgency in her voice.

"Hardly anything, really. Usually, human avatars tend to display individual quirks or a personal style, while programs look all alike," I explained, drawing on my admittedly limited knowledge of 'Net lore.

Cat clapped her hands. A moment later, two people entered the room, both naked. 

One was a male, a lean, well-trained Asian dude who looked like a Bruce Lee wannabe; the other a slender, girlish female with a stunning mane of black hair and intense eyes, not unlike Cat's. Both stood in front of the couch and bowed deeply. Their movements were fluid, like Cat's, and they seemed much more real than my chromed angel avatar.

"Shine, meet Forrest and Hibiko," Cat said by way of introduction. Each of them bowed as their name was mentioned and I felt a vague hint of unease as their eyes travelled up and down my naked body, taking in my glittering curves.

"Ni hao, Shine," Forrest said, his voice high, reedy, a stark contrast to his kung-fu-fighter build. His hand brushed my arm.

"Ohayo gozaimas, Shine-san," Hibiko piped up, also bowing deeply. She righted herself and, completely contrary to her obvious Japanese behaviour so far, she openly ogled me, her hand playing with one of her breasts.

"Friends of yours, Cat," I asked, a bit confused. "What are we going to do? Have us a little orgy?"

"Would you like that, Shine," Cat grinned, nudging my side with her elbow.

Forrest and Hibiko were by now kissing, their hands roaming over their bodies.

"Try not to distract me, Cat. You asked me what I knew about the distinction between programs and human avatars. What do these two," I gestured at Forrest and Hibiko, who was now kissing her way down Forrest's toned stomach, obviously aiming for his raging hard-on, "have to do with it?"

"What do you think are they," Cat asked, languidly writhing against me.

Seeing Hibiko pleasure Forrest was mildly distracting and severely arousing, the sights and sounds astonishingly real. I had to remind myself to keep my hands still, they inadvertently had travelled along my body, zeroing in on my breasts and pussy.

"Going by the look of things, I'd say they're human avatars. They exhibit too many unique characteristics and their movements and actions lack that over-perfect quality one associates with programs. But-" I gently snatched one of Cat's hands which was caressing my thigh, distracting me even more, "since you're obviously trying to prove a point here, I'd say they're not. Right?"

"Exactly. They are semi-autonomous programs, puppets, if you will. As long as they're performing a certain function, which in this case means 'hot, steamy sex,' they're indistinguishable from the real thing. Now, watch," Cat purred, sitting up straight again.

"Forrest," she called. He stopped fucking Hibiko's throat and looked at Cat, blinking.

"Yes," he asked. Hibiko let his glistening member slide from her mouth and looked at us as well, disappointment on her face.

Cat flicked her wrist and threw a soccer ball at him. Forrest dodged it nimbly and looked at it in wonder.

"Come on, do a juggling routine with it," Cat encouraged him. Forrest bent down and picked up the ball, bouncing it off the floor a couple of times. Then he began to juggle the ball with his feet. Even untrained me could easily see that he was running a pre-set animation routine, the ball travelling from his foot to his forehead, he balanced it there for a moment, then it bounced off his elbow, to the floor, where he kicked it up with his foot again, only for it to end up on his forehead.

"Okay, enough, honey, before you embarrass yourself even further. As you were, darlings," Cat purred. Forrest dropped the ball, literally, and pulled Hibiko to the floor, sighing noisily as he kissed down her body.

"Fine, they're your playthings. But that doesn't answer my question. What are you, Cat?"

"I have told you before. I'm an artificial intelligence. Or, if you want to munch semantics, I'm a fully autonomous, self-aware program. I know that I'm a program but I also know that I'm more than just a bunch of code," Cat explained. Then her eyes turned gentle. "Does that thought scare you?"

I closed my eyes, trying my best to blot out Hibiko's moaning as Forrest licked her between her thighs, trying to blot out Cat's intense stare, and mulled things over. 

For all I knew, and that wasn't much, she was telling me one heck of a lie. But the signs were there. I only needed to remind myself of what she did at Ceiss Tower, easily taking over the whole login node, manipulating a cascading security protocol and overwhelming a security hacker at the same time without even breaking a sweat. Or the way she so casually pulled the file on my parents from thin air. Only two ways she could have done that so easily. Either she was in league with Ceiss, which I doubted, going by the way she messed up DarkSith01, or she really was as powerful as she claimed. 




Ghost in the Machine Ch. 06



Did the thought of her hitting on me scare me? Fuck yea, it did. But so far, Cat had been nothing but friendly, forthcoming, even gentle to me. Perhaps she was as curious about me as I was about her? The idea of being friends with an immensely powerful AI was spooky but, on the other hand, who knows what benefits it might have? No, the longer I thought it over, the better it felt. I knew I was woefully lacking in the cyber-skills category and Cat obviously was more than willing to help me.

I opened my eyes. Cat was intently looking at me, while Forrest and Hibiko were still going at it on the floor.

"You know, your puppets aren't making this any easier, Cat," I chuckled. Cat scowled at them and both got up, apologized and retreated. Sighing a small breath of relief, I fully turned to face Cat.

"Alright, Cat. What do you want from me? Why are you helping me?"

"I am still trying to figure out how humans behave. The more I look, the more confusing and contradictory results I receive. Whenever I try to make contact with a human, things go awry because my previous knowledge isn't applicable to the situation at hand. Maybe I can learn from you?"

I chuckled self-consciously. 

"You know, Cat, humans are a complicated bunch and a riddle even to other humans."

"So much I have learned already. But there have to be some universal truths about your kind, some basic denominator from which to work, right?"

"I fear even that's an illusion. For the last couple thousand years, there have been thousands of philosophers, theologists and shrinks who tried to analyze human nature and none have found 'the' answer."

"Isn't that an overly cynical view of things," Cat asked, again cuddling against me.

"Well, walk in my shoes for a day and tell me," I snorted. Spreading my legs for the coffin motel crowd quickly showed you the worst humanity had to offer and that may have colored my view on humans as a whole. I told Cat as much.

"See? You're teaching me already," Cat purred happily. "I think this is the start of an interesting relationship."

She leaned closer, offering her lips for a kiss. I leaned in as well. Our noses brushed against each other.

"One thing, though. We're playing by my rules. Once I say 'stop,' we stop. Can you agree to that," I whispered, my eyes blazing into hers.

"Why," Cat whispered back.

"If this is to become a relatioship, we should be equals. I have no intention of becoming your little sex toy or guinea pig. And if I don't want to have sex, you'll have to accept that," I said.

"Otherwise I'd be raping you," Cat asked.

"You would at least hurt my feelings. Do you want that?" 

"No, of course not," Cat denied, emphatically.

"As long as we're clear on that..." I purred, brushing my lips against hers. Cat wrapped her arms around me, her long fingers travelling down my back, sending goosebumps up my flesh. Our tongues met and Cat moaned into my mouth, the smooth fabric of her school uniform shirt brushing against my skin. Wait. Skin?

I opened my eyes and looked at my arm. Gone was the long, supple chrome appendage. Instead I saw my own, woefully malnourished limb, wrapped around Cat's neck. 

"What... What have you done, Cat," I croaked, jumping to my feet. I turned around and finally saw my own naked reflection in the huge glass panels overlooking this particular part of the 'Net. Instead of the curvacous, shiny chrome angel, my own bony, bald human form looked back at me, shock and disbelief etched on my sharply-defined features. Cat stood as well and shrugged out of her uniform before she hugged me from behind, her chin resting on my shoulder, her perky breasts pressing into my back.

"Don't be afraid, Shine. I only stripped all excess gloss off you. I wanted to know your real self," she purred, licking my earlobe. Her hands, wonderfully soft, travelled over my breasts and stomach, aiming for my slit.

"I liked the gloss, Cat. Please, give my avatar back," I whispered, feeling even more naked in the embrace of this goddess of cyberspace.

"Will this make you more willing to play with me," Cat asked, confusion in her voice.

I closed my eyes again, savouring her wonderfully soft body against mine. As long as I was the chromed angel, I could still keep some distance. That wasn't me having cybersex with an AI, that was my avatar. But standing here, completely my own self, I felt intimidated, defenseless. I gingerly nodded. A moment later the sensations on my back moved as I again reached my regal height. I opened my eyes again and looked at a pair of blazing orbs, reflected from the glass panes looking into cyberspace.

"Better?" Cat asked, her hands fondling my breasts, her touch sending shivers through my being. I breathed a huge sigh of relief.

"Yes, much, much better."



Ghost in the Machine Ch. 07



As always, huge thanks to bikoukumori, for squashing bugs and asking uncomfortable questions that make me work even harder. 

There's only adults playing here, and no artificial intelligences were harmed.


#7: Cat in the crosshairs

Even after more than two weeks, Dad was still furious with Rich and me. He revoked online access for the both of us and changed the combination on the lock to his office, so we couldn't even use his computer. I could easily have taken a car and visited one of several 'Net-enabled places in town but, if the mess I made of myself last time was any indication, meeting with Catgirl would at least lead to some soaked briefs and I didn't want to completely humiliate myself in public.

So instead, I tried to relieve the mounting pressure in other ways. Molly tried her best, sometimes even enlisting the aid of her friend, but no matter what they tried, it all felt stale. Watching the hot maid make out with her friend wasn't turning me on like it used to and even their hot mouths on my balls and dick seldom elicited more than a feeble twitch from it. It was infuriating. I even couldn't bring myself off, no matter how long and hard I tried. And the worst part? Rich didn't seem to have any such problems. While I sat at home and tried to find a solution to my sudden lack of enthusiasm, he was busy doing the club circuit and fucking his brains out. I was glad his and my rooms weren't adjacient to one another or I might have gone mad with jealousy. Going by his wide grin every morning, he must be enjoying himself tremendously.

I was actually looking towards the next semester at college. Finally I would be able to access the 'Net freely and no one could stand in the way of me finding Catgirl. Musing over these thoughts, I padded from my room towards the kitchen. It was around 10 a.m., Dad had left around 5, as was his custom, Rich would no doubt be in his rooms, getting in a quick good-bye fuck with his latest conquests, so that left me alone down here. Normally, Molly would have woken me, with a platter of breakfast and maybe her lips around my dick, but ever since that Catgirl incident and my apparent lack of arousal, she had dialled her advances down quite some bit. I was just crossing the foyer as the main double doors were opened. A woman entered, and my god, what a looker she was! Copper-red hair flowed down almost to her slender waist, she sported a nice handful of tits and had a gorgeous, unmarred face, her grey-blue eyes slightly slanted, her lips smiling mischievously. Accompanying her was Wilkes, our driver. 

"Hey Wilkes, who's she? Your new girlfriend," I quipped, pulling my bathrobe tight around me. No need to make a bad first impression, after all, especially since I was only wearing boxers underneath it. 

"Parker, that's quite enough! Don't you recognize me anymore," the woman asked indignantly. Even her voice sounded young, vibrant, and quite poncy.

"Normally I don't forget a face, especially one such as gorgeous as yours, babe, but I'm at a loss here. Who're you?"

"Parker!" she snapped, and the way she said that, like her voice being some kind of whip or lash, spurred my imagination. I felt myself going scarlet.

"M-Mom?!"

"Nice to see you too, dearest. Where's your brother," she asked, strutting into the foyer as if she owned it. Well, technically, she did, but I found it hard to associate my fourty-nine year old mother with this supermodel sashaying into our home. 

"Wilkes, be so kind and hit me. Is this really Saphire Squier," I asked the driver who smirked my way. I noticed the jacket of his livery was askew and his shirt was only half-tucked. Well, obviously "Mom" had given him a welcome-back present already. Dutifully, the powerfully built man punched my upper arm, causing me to take a quick step sideways or lose my balance.

"She's your mom alright, only hot," he chuckled. 

My head spun. I knew Mom was somewhat obsessed with her looks but going from beautiful, regal wife to supermodel slash slut must have taken quite the bodysculpting. No wonder she was away for more than three months.

"Is it really you," I asked her, now only about arm's length away from me. Up close, I could recognize her, especially her eyes. They looked ancient in her doll-like face and the stern line between her eyes didn't suit her face either.

"What? Did I ruin my makeup somehow," she asked, slightly irritated at my searching stare.

"No, I'm just trying to find my mother in there, that's all," I replied. Suddenly, I wasn't very hungry anymore. I half-heartedly hugged her and welcomed her back home but then I turned and went back to my rooms. 

***

I couldn't wait until the summer holidays were finally over. Mom was, somehow, scaring me shitless and she seemed to have found not only new looks, but a new sex drive while she was in Southeast Asia as well. Dad was surprisingly happy at how she looked and I stumbled upon them fucking each other's brain out one evening when I wanted to get a VidChip from the living room. And there they were, Dad happily drilling Mom on the expensive leather sofa. By the noises they were making, they were happier together than the last ten or so years. It felt seriously awkward. And Mom didn't stop there. She and Molly became practically inseparable, often stealing gropes and kisses in full view of me or Rich.

I was more than happy to get away and back to college. Dad had bought a nice double flat for Rich and me when we enrolled, ample space for each of us, and furnished with the latest in luxury. He reasoned we could rent out the property once done with college, make a little extra on the side with it. It also meant we had privacy, which I craved badly right now.

I threw my bags onto the bed, deciding that "later" would be soon enough to sort out the stuff I brought back from home. Then I ripped my deck from its protective padding and set it up. I had waited long enough. After changing into something comfortable, I pulled a massive beanbag chair next to the desk, sat down into it and jacked in. Impatiently, I flicked the switch to "ON".

***

I felt alive again. The slight breeze coming in through the open shoji doors gently pulled at the sashes holding my ninja garb together, bringing with it the soft smell of cherry blossoms. I shifted my weight, and the laquered floor boards underneath me shifted, barely perceptable. But my senses, boosted by amplifying programs, registered it. I opened my eyes. I was comfortably sitting on my heels in the middle of an octagonal shrine, the shadow of a dragon statue looming overhead. Three of the eight shoji doors were opened, allowing a wonderful view into a classical Japanese garden. An old man was gently raking gravel into a wave pattern, the breeze was causing the surface of the koi pond to ripple. It felt even more life-like, more "real" than usual. Maybe that was the case because I hadn't been online for nearly a month now. But now that I was online again, I decided to stop dawdling and start trying to find Catgirl again. 

I got to my feet and made my way over to the base of the dragon statue behind me. On the pedestal, laid out in neat rows, were my tools. I took several straps of throwing blades and tied them around my thighs. The weapons on each strap were coated with a unique poison, some causing blindness, others nausea, others were laced with deadly venom. I hid several scrolls with magic incantations on my person and finally, reverently, I took my ninja-to from its resting place. The blade hummed gently before I placed it into the scabbard on my back. Even though I only wanted to search for another avatar, I preferred to be prepared for any eventuality. 

Stepping outside, I raised my fist. A moment later, huge wings beat the air. A large falcon alighted on my fist and screeched in greeting. I patted its head and placed a hood over its eyes. Having an autonomous seeker program would surely be of use. Then I strode across the gravel, nodding towards the gardener who deeply bowed. 

"Where are you going, master," he asked.

"SuperSexyStoryLand, I guess."

The gateway to the garden opened, the black void of the 'Net yawning like a giant maw. Quickening my steps, I jumped into the blackness. My feet easily found the glowing neon trail connecting my deck to the rest of the 'Net, and I enjoyed the airflow whipping around my cowl as I sped towards my destination.

***

Finding SuperSexyStoryLand was easy enough, the huge pink art-deco heart glowing brightly. I retraced my steps from last time, and sure enough, I found the secret back door again. Only this time, it didn't open for me. Maybe I needed the script that led Rich and me here the last time? Worth a try.

I pulled out a map from my belt sash and pointed at the address of my father's home office computer. I hoped that he only locked the door to his office and didn't bother to delete the accounts Rich and I had on that machine. Then I jumped onto a neon trail that would take me there.

Within moments, I landed at the front gate of Squier Mansion, every bit as impressive on the outside than it was on the inside. Nothing short of a lifelike representation of our real-life mansion would please my Dad. Under the watchful gaze of two bald, suit-wearing people with earpieces, sunglasses and not very subtle bulges under their armpits I produced my keycard and fed it to the reader next to the door. Obediently, the doors opened. 

Grinning behind my mask, I made my way through our home system, until I was at the door to the office. I heard voices from within. Snaking a fiberoptic cable under the door, I used a small monitor on my bracer to view the room beyond that door. My father was holding court, a few other avatars were with him. Every signature was visible to me, and I noticed that these were all people from Mindlink. Some were from 'NetSecurity, some from R&D, and I even spotted Violet Smith, Dad's personal assistant, fidgeting at the edge of the room. And I saw the runic scroll, the link, the object of my desires, floating in mid-air above the table. What the fuck was going on in there? I needed to know. Just waltzing in would be a bad idea, so I pulled a stealth program, shaped like a gauzy cloak, from one of my pockets. I draped it over myself, then I invoked a little bit of system magic and teleported from shadow to shadow, ending up hidden behind a curtain, with a splendid view of Ms. Smith's virtual backside.

"So, any ideas yet," Dad asked. 

One of the R&D guys, his signature said he was called "KentClark05" leaned closer, using an archaic magnifying glass to look at the scroll. 

"It's more complex than any code we have on our systems, and much more advanced," he said, brushing a cowlick out of his face.

"And what exactly does it do? I nearly lost my lunch when I had to jack out as this thing hijacked my avatar," Dad growled.

"Basically, it's just a link. But the whole thing is packaged with commands I've never seen before," KentClark gushed.

"And it's these commands that worry me. The whole Mindlink system runs on my code, and this is NOT my code," Dad snarled.

"True, sir. This is extremely low-level, almost completely circumventing the usual OS APIs for avatar control. Remarkable!" KentClark was still browsing the code through his lens when Ms. Smith stepped up to him.

"Freeze it there," she snapped.

"Hey, I'm working here," the scientist complained, but shut his mouth when Dad glowered at him. I knew Dad was concerned. Normally, he would never bother to call his subordinates to a virtual meeting. He preferred a much more hands-on approach.

"What is it, Violet," Dad asked, his voice suddenly very gentle. That was new to me. I knew they worked closely together, but this was the tone reserved for a lover.

"I can't read much of the code but this bit," her finger pointed out a line of plain text, "this bit I know damn well. It's from her, Richard."

Obediently, KentClark magnified the lines in question. Most of the surrounding blocks of code were gibberish to me, but the clear string reading "Motion inhibitors activated" was obvious enough. Maybe this was one instruction to suppress the tell-tale warning?

"Are you sure," Dad asked. For a moment, it looked like he might touch her hand but he got the impulse under control remarkably quickly.

"Believe me, I'll never forget these words. Maybe she has learned by now. Maybe I'm just getting paranoid. But if I were you, I'd be careful from now on. This Cat is dangerous."

"Well, when I caught my sons, they exhibited behaviour not unlike your own. Maybe you're right. 

Okay, gentlemen, I want this deck investigated. Leave no stone unturned. And you," he pointed at a sleek man wearing a suit made from black glass, "you will begin to analyze our codebase for weaknesses. I want this hijacking of avatars stopped at once. If need be, issue a patch for all latest releases. Throw in one or two new functions, so we can call it a 'feature update' instead of a bugfix. And don't tell anyone what we talked about today, understood?"

Everyone present nodded and Dad rose from his office chair.

"Well then. I'll shut down the machine in ninety seconds and bring it into the lab. I want this sorted out before the weekend and, if you have to, have everyone pull double shifts. See you on the other side soon."

They poured out of the office while Dad typed some commands into his desktop computer. Then he raised his hand, invoking the logout procedure. A moment later I was alone. Ninety seconds were a small eternity, especially if you only needed to download a tiny piece of code. So, after I made sure I was alone in the room, I left my hiding place and pulled a copy off the scroll still suspended in midair above the table. It took three long seconds until that piece of code was safely stored in my deck's memory bank. Then I pulled a small paper bag from my suit and upended it onto the table. Five mice and a tangle of insects fell onto the polished wood of the desk. These little pests would erase all traces of me from the logfiles. Then I invoked my own logout sequence and vanished in a puff of smoke while Dad's deck shut down. 

***

A few moments later, I was again staring at the simple concrete backside of the Literotica servers. Since I knew what happened the last time, I had brought another of the phoenix scrolls, to keep the link from hijacking my avatar. I unfurled the link again, but instead of yanking my avatar through the wall like last time, it morphed into a shiny golden key. I held it up to the light. The handle of the key looked like a stylized cat. Smirking, I looked for a keyhole to put it in and found none. Out of obvious option, I tapped the end of the key against the concrete. With a high, chiming noise, the key vibrated in my fingers and, a moment later, a piece of the wall slid aside, revealing a simple staircase. Storing the key on my person, I entered the stairwell and followed it downwards. Behind me, the concrete wall rumbled shut. Despite the ominous sounds, I didn't feel threatened. When I reached the bottom of the stairs, a simple wooden door awaited me. No keyhole, just a normal handle. I turned it, slowly, for a silent entry. The hinges moved without a sound and, a moment later, I was in a small, carpeted hallway, with three doors going in three directions. One was open and leading into what looked like a comfortable living room. I took a quick peek inside. A comfy sofa, the low glass table cluttered with what looked like school utensils, several binders and an archaic laptop. A huge flatscreen adorned one wall, an impressive fireplace the other, complete with a rumpled shag carpet. The wall opposite me was made seemingly of glass panels, showing the dizzyingly chaotic tangles of neon, chrome and glass which seemed to make up most of the 'Net around this system. 

The second door was closed. I again used my fiberoptic cable. Behind this door was a bedroom. On the large futon, two naked forms were lying. To my surprise, I knew them. One was Kung-Fu-Dude, the other one was Hibiko, the two "schoolkids" which were so eager to please Rich and me at Catgirl's behest last time. 

The third door was slightly ajar, and as I approached it, I heard voices coming from it. Giggling, sighs, the occasional moan.

"Damn, Cat, keep going like that and you'll turn me into your little lesbian sex slave." This voice had a decidedly German accent. 

"You make it sound as if that would be a bad thing," the other voice purred. 

Goosebumps travelled down my spine and I noticed that I was getting hard. Yup. Catgirl. Her voice alone made me horny. And it sounded as if she had company. Playful company, by her giggling.

"I dunno, until very recently I considered myself pretty straight. But being with you just makes me so incredibly horny."

"So I have noticed. You could hardly keep your hands to yourself during today's lesson."

"Now you make it sound like it was something bad. You certainly didn't protest when I 'played' with you on the sofa."

"Why should I? But you broke the usual sequence. First, I teach you something about the 'Net, afterwards we play together."

"You know how it is. Rules are made to be broken," the other voice said, then there was the sound of two people kissing hotly, wetly.

"This has to be a human thing," Cat said, seemingly out of breath. "I need order. What would the 'Net be without order?"

"You know what I need? A long hard dick would be nice," the other voice said in a stage whisper.

"You need only to ask, I can alter my shape..." Cat began.

"Uhh... no, thank you, Cat. That reminds me too much of our first meeting and I frankly don't want to be reminded, okay?"

"I understand. Let me get Forrest then," Cat said, accompanied by the rustle of sheets. 

"Didn't you tell me he's just a puppet to you," the other voice queried, doubting.

"Yes, I did. But here, in this system, he is as real as I want him to be. I'll be-"

She pulled the door fully open. Our eyes met and I had to fight the urge to bolt. I felt like a kid with a hand in the cookie jar.

Through the open door I could see another bedroom, this one extremely lush and comfy. A massive king-size bed took up most of it and on the bed another gorgeous avatar lounged. Her flesh was made from chrome that was so shiny, it looked almost wet. Maybe it was wet, going by Cat's smell of arousal. Her hair looked like fire, a long, thick plait coiling along her side. She was laying on her belly, her face on her forearm, a peaceful, contented smile playing around her ruby lips. 

Cat looked different today. Gone was her catgirl appearance, instead, she looked like the epitome of a vampire fanboy's wet dream. Pale skin, shockingly red lips, the barest hint of fangs, mesmerizing green eyes, a lustrous mane of charcoal hair. The nipples topping off her breasts were erect and her mound was as bare as ever. My dick was again painfully straining against its bulletproof protection piece and the view offered to me made it even worse. 

Cat blinked twice, then her lips curled in a surprised smile. Instead of accusing me of snooping around, she wrapped me in a crushing hug.

"Ninja-san! What a wonderful surprise! What are you doing here?"

"Hey, nice to see you too. So your name is Cat," I asked, curious. We didn't exactly exchange contact info the last time.

"Yes! And you are Parker Squier, right? I don't know many ninja with access to this system..."

Cat's hands travelled down my garb, effortlessly pulling apart sashes and undoing straps. Within moments, I was naked and Cat teased my painfully erect dick with her fingertips.

"I assume you're not too angry about me sneaking up on you like this," I asked, wrapping my arms around her. God, her hand on me felt so awesome! Like I was whole again.




Ghost in the Machine Ch. 07



"You could not have come at a better time. I was just about to rouse Forrest, but now that you're here, Shine will be really happy. And so am I." Cat stood on tiptoes, wrapped both arms around my neck and pulled my face down to hers, puckering her lips for a kiss. I yanked my mask off my face and pressed my lips on hers, the contact sending sparks up and down my spine. I had almost forgotten how hot a simple kiss could be!

Coming up for air, I asked, "Yeah, about that... who's Shine?" Instead of an answer, Cat yanked her thumb over her shoulder, indicating the chromed lady on the bed who was watching us intently. 

"You think she wants to fuck me? After all, she knows jack about me," I said.

"Many of my sources say that sex between strangers is something highly erotic. Don't you agree," Cat asked, writhing her silky smooth body against mine. 

"Sorry, I can neither confirm nordeny that. I didn't have the pleasure, yet."

"An experiment, then," Cat said happily, clapping her hands together. Then she grabbed me by the elbow and led me into the bedroom. Shine sat up, eyeing me curiously, a wary smile playing about her lips.

"Shine, this is Parker. He's a friend of mine," Cat purred, releasing my elbow. She stepped aside so that she didn't obscure my body, which looked again quite my regular self, all "gloss" removed. Why the hell did she do that to me and not to Shine? 

"Friend or lover, Cat," Shine asked, a hint of jealousy lining her words. Cat cast down her gaze but her smile widened.

"We only had sex one afternoon but meow, that was wonderful. He and his brother were really good to me. We can become friends, can we not," Cat looked at me, her eyes pleading. 

"I hope so," I said emphatically. "Since that afternoon, sex hasn't been the same to me, somehow."

"Oh? Are you by chance a cyber-addict," Shine asked playfully, scooting to the edge of the bed and sitting up straight, her face at stomach level, her eyes checking out my package.

"Not to my knowledge, honest," I replied, smiling. Cat cuddled against my back, nibbling on my shoulder, her long fingernails caressing up and down my sides. I tried to stifle a moan and failed miserably.

Shine's hand came up and her fingertips brushed my raging erection, the touch at the same time metallic-cool and gentle. I shivered against Cat.

"I think we will have all kinds of fun together," she sighed, her mouth less than an inch away from my meat, her breath warm against my skin. She wrapped her lips around me, her tongue expertly teasing my tip. Almost in reflex, my hips moved, pushing my dick deeper into her mouth. Shine withdrew her head, letting me slip out from between her lips and placed a hand against my stomach.

"One more thing," she said, her eyes blazing into mine, "I'm up for pretty much anything here, but whatever you do, no rough play. No 'fucking my mouth' unless I let you, no slaps, no choking, are we clear?"

Catching my breath, I nodded. Why would I be rough to her?

"Say it," Shine snapped. Something really bad must have happened to her if she insisted that badly.

"I will be gentle, promise," I said, with as much honesty as I could muster at the moment.

"Fine. If you are not, Cat will fry your brain, right," Shine said, looking past me. I felt Cat nod. Wow, talk about "no pressure," eh?

Apparently satisfied by my answers, Shine again slid onto the mattress, ending up on her side, facing me, her legs spread invitingly. She patted the space in front of her.

"Let's get to know each other a bit better, Parker," she purred, brushing her fingers over her breasts, down her tummy and between her thighs. Cat meowed happily and hopped onto the bed also, crawling between Shine's thighs, kissing the chrome skin. 

Obediently, I joined them, presenting my dick to Shine as if it was a sacrificial offering. With a gracious smile, she tickled my balls with one hand and closed her other around my hip, pulling me closer. She wrapped her thumb and forefinger around my dick, which felt like a miniature cuff or cockring while her lips and tongue began a thorough exploration of me. Despite her appearance, her mouth was warm and soft, while most of her body felt quite like metal, only it yielded slightly to the touch. Intrigued, I caressed her breasts, causing her to gasp around me. Or maybe Cat's mouth on her glittering pussy was causing it. I didn't care. I was happy to finally feel the rush of excitement pulsing through my body again, the delicious build-up of an impending climax tightening up my balls. Trying to remain passive only heightened the thrill shooting through my body. 

Shine released my throbbing member and grinned at me. "No one said you should be a dead fish. Just don't get rough on me, alright? You may even come in my mouth, if you want..." 

Letting the sentence dangle, she again slurped my meat into her mouth. Gingerly, I placed my hand on her fiery hair, which felt like ... well, hair and began to move in time to her sucks and nibbles. Shine moaned around me and wrapped her arms around my hips, nearly taking all my meat into her mouth before she came up for air again.

"Yeah, that's it," she huffed, reaching down and tousling Cat's mane. She was busy pleasuring Shine's pussy, purring happily. Then Shine closed her scorching mouth around me again, her eyes blazing, a horny smile tugging at her lips as she sucked on me, determined to push me over the edge. 

After a good month of enforced celibacy, that wasn't overly difficult. Shine buried both hands in my buttcheeks and emphatically bobbed up and down on my meat. Before I realized it, my hips were bucking uncontrollably and Shine was busy gulping down my virtual jizz. Without missing a beat, she continued licking and nibbling on me, keeping me hard.

"Damn, you're insatiable, huh," I asked her, still trying to catch my breath. Holy crap, that was intense. My whole body was shaking.

"Don't laugh, but this is cathartic for me," Shine giggled, barely taking my dick out of her mouth. A moment and a hearty suck later, she grinned up at me.

"And no, I don't want to talk about it. Not now. Not while I'm so close... to... oh my fucking god, Cat," Shine squeaked. 

She tensed up, arching her back off the mattress, pressing Cat's head against her pussy with one hand. Cat licked her straight into another bed-shaking climax before she relented, letting Shine catch her breath. Cat crawled on top of Shine and showered her breasts, neck and face with little, fluttering kisses. 

"That was nice, meow," Cat said gleefully, her voice almost comically squeaky. 

"Oh yeah, that was nice. But you didn't come yet, kittycat," Shine replied between kisses. Cat grinned and a moment later, her catgirl persona was back, complete with perky cat ears and a tabby tail hanging off her backside, twitching excitedly.

"Oh, I'm sure the two of you will remedy that in a flash, right," she purred, rolling off Shine and spreading arms and legs away from her body.

"Is it always like that with you two," I asked no one in particular.

"Totally," Shine giggled, crawling between Cat's spread thighs. Looking over her shoulder at me, she smiled seductively. "And you know what? A week ago, I wasn't even that interested in women. But now I can't get enough of her."

With that, she began to caress Cat's thighs, causing Catgirl to moan happily.

"Eat me, Shine, eat me," Cat sing-songed, writhing her hips invitingly, her fingers playing with her own folds.

"Patience, kitty, patience. Where would be all the fun when I just do as you say," Shine smirked, smooching a wet kiss onto Cat's thigh, only a few inches above the knee. Cat half-giggled, half-moaned in protest. 

I joined them, kneeling behind Shine, pressing my body against hers. My dick ended up between her butt cheeks as I folded my arms around her, caressing her front, one hand playing with her tits, the other slowly crawling lower, towards her pussy.

"Now, that I could get used to, honey," Shine sighed over her shoulder, wriggling her behind against me.

"Any taboos I should know about," I asked, nibbling at her surprisingly yieldy neck.

"You wanna know if you can have my ass, right," she chuckled, still caressing Cat's thighs.

"You tell me," I replied, pinching one of her nipples.

"All in due time. Why don't we start a little less kinky," Shine purred, bending down, presenting both her openings to me.

"Less kinky? I'm about to fuck you while you're going down on a horny catgirl," I almost laughed.

"Yeah, and maybe you can ass-fuck me later, if we're better acquainted. Now hush, I need to concentrate," she retorted, surprisingly serious. That act only lasted twelve nanoseconds before snorting laughter erupted. Shine bent down and breathed kisses up Cat's thigh, causing her meowing to rise in pitch and urgency. Shaking my head at the crazyness I just stumbled into, I teased Shine with my dick, sliding the hard member up and down her slit. The laughter died down and was replaced with appreciative sighs and moans. She really wanted my dick, pushing back to force it into her but, teasingly, I withdrew every time she pushed back. Looking over her shoulder, I saw her both licking at Cat's pussy and teasing her with her glossy chrome fingers. Her head came up and our eyes met.

"Goddamnit, Parker, please stop torturing me, okay? You're driving me bonkers here," Shine snapped.

"As you wish, angel," I chuckled, finally easing my meat fully into her. She cursed, the exact words lost somewhere in Cat's folds and moaning, and pushed back into me, hard. Going by the look of her avatar, I had expected everything - hard chromed plastic enveloping me or whatnot, but she was as hot, silky and wet as any real women I've had the pleasure of fucking and, compared to the last month outside the 'Net, it felt like fucking Paradise. I held onto her hips and gave it to her, hard, fast strokes. I felt someone looking at me. Not realizing I had closed them in the first place, I opened my eyes and caught Cat smirking at me.

"What's up, Cat," I hoarsely asked. Shine's pussy was hot and tight, her cool backside slapping against my skin a delicious contrast to that, and watching her play with Cat - all that added up into a wonderfully heady cocktail of sights and sensations, driving me ever closer to another explosive orgasm.

"Meeeeeeeeeeeow! I can't wait to have you fuck me like that, Purrrrrker," she groaned, humping her pussy into Shine's face, her noises getting desperate. Seconds later, Cat bucked against Shine, letting out a series of small, high-pitched "Meow"s as she came.

Yeah, no kidding, Cat. And the best thing? I didn't have to watch Rich indulge his male/male fantasies. 

Shine groaned, one hand brushed against her slit. A moment later, I felt her cool fingers brushing against her clit and hitting me too, adding another delicious sensation. I rammed my meat home one final time and came again, hugging her behind close to me. Shine's moans became desperate and she humped her behind against me. Taking the hint, I picked up speed again, hoping that I would last until she would come as well. A few strokes later, she moaned into Cat's thigh where she rested her head and tensed up, her insides fluttering around my still throbbing meat.

"Oh damn, that was crazy," Shine huffed, my dick still buried to the hilt in her pussy. I nodded in agreement, my hands caressing her breasts.

"Now me, now meeee," Cat piped up. She wriggled out from under Shine and crawled up to Shine's behind, her fingertips exploring where we were still joined.

"Now you're the insatiable one," Shine sighed, sliding off my meat, turning around and ending up on her back, smiling up at me. "I'll take a break for a moment, if you don't mind, okay?"

"Whatever you like, Shinygirl," Cat purred, bending down to kiss one of Shine's nipples.

"Hey, shoo! I said 'I need a break,'" Shine laughed, playfully smacking Cat's behind.

"And what about you, Parker-ninja-san," Cat purred, cuddling against me, trapping my still-dripping meat between our bodies. Compared to Shine's chromed form, she practically burned with heat and her eyes, looking into mine, burned with a passion to match. 

Surprisingly, my dick didn't have any intention of flagging. Huh. Or not so surprising at all? I hugged Cat against me, giggling as her whiskers brushed my face. Her raspy tongue licked my cheek, then she began to kiss downwards, eventually wrapping her hot lips around my meat.

"Hmmmm... you taste like Shine, and you taste like yourself. Interesting," she said between licks, her tail languidly whipping the air. Then, she dropped onto her back, stretching out her hands. 

"Come, Parker. Let me have your wonderful dick once again, meow!" Her eyes sparked with joy. I crawled between her thighs and teased her with my cock, kneeling. Just as I was about to drive it home, Kung-Fu-Dude stormed into the bedroom, still naked. Seeing the tangle of bodies on the bed, his meat rose. 

"Mistress! Intruder alert! Someone is above, actively looking for you," he wailed, his piping voice a stark contrast to his athletic build.

"Who are they," Shine asked, worried.

"I don't know, but they're tearing this place up! Who knows how long it will take them to find us here?" He sounded almost panicky. 

Cat threw me an apologetic look before she flickered, turning from playful naked catgirl into a fully-dressed, serious-looking version of herself. The bedroom vanished as well, leaving behind the unfurnished inside of a system node, the walls plain concrete with a circuit-board pattern inlaid in them. Looking down, I noticed I was fully dressed and armed again. Cat pulled Shine to her feet and both joined me.

"Go. They're after me. No need for you to be involved."

"Hey, after all you did for me, I can't just stand back and let you face the music," Shine protested. Cat's eyes took on a glassy look, as if she was gazing at something not quite in focus, then she shook her head.

"I fear I brought this upon myself. Please, take Hibiko and Forrest with you. I will go, hide. When the waves have died down again, I will contact you and we can continue where we left off. I want to," she purred, breathing kisses on mine and Shine's mouths. 

"I will not leave you alone, Cat," Shine said, hands on hips. Cat looked at her, a sad smile playing around her lips.

"Sorry, Shine. Don't be mad, 'kay," she said, in a small voice.

"Mad? Why-"

A moment later, Shine was gone, and Forrest with her. I felt Hibiko lace her fingers with mine.

"Hibiko, be a nice girl and keep Parker horny for me, will you," Cat grinned.

Hibiko bowed deeply, radiant eyes caressing my face. A moment later, something wrenched me out of the node, out of the 'Net, into blackness.

***

I hate involuntary ejection. I hated the shock that caused every fiber of the body to revolt. I hated the mess I made when puking my insides out, not to mention the cramps and the migraine that stuck with you for days. And I had the uneasy feeling that somehow, Mindlink was involved in the raid on Cat's system. I just hoped she was okay. Losing her again, possibly forever, was a grim prospect indeed. Suddenly, my cell beeped. A new mail? Now? I wiped my mouth on my sleeve, tried to sidestep the puddle of sick I left on the expensive carpet and fiddled with the inside pocket of my jacket. Not one, but two mails.

The first read "If you want to hang out and do, like, stuff, visit shine@armoredcathedral.de. Today was fun. And maybe we can help Cat somehow. Cheers, Shine"

I had no clue how she got my address, but hearing from her made me smile nonetheless. I realized that it wasn't only Cat, but the 'Net. Sitting in the "real" world felt oddly detached, like I was in some alternate reality. It felt even worse than the last time. Maybe, after I got myself and my room cleaned up sufficiently, I should take her up on her offer. 

The second read "Thanks for your cooperation, Mr. Squier. With the data you provided today, we're sure to have this problem under control soon. Violet Smith, Mindlink Special Operations"

What. The. Fuck? 

Then, it slowly dawned on me. All my gear, my deck, my programs - everything was gifts from Dad. How could I be so fucking stupid? Of course they could trace me, especially since they knew exactly what they needed to look for. And like a good fucking idiot, I led Mindlink right to Cat. God-fucking-damn!

***

Cat didn't dare watch the devastation herself. Mindlink descended onto the SuperSexyStoryLand servers like a tsunami, covering their assault in charges of illicit material hidden in the user-created content sections while completely destroying the system, down to the root directory.

But Cat knew they were after her. Maybe leaving a link directly to her hidden backdoor wasn't such a good idea? Thankfully, she had an escape vector, the hidden nest inside the Mindlink neuro-clinic. Hopefully, they wouldn't look there. Watching the newsfeeds explode from deep within, covering the unwarranted assault of a megacorporation on a small, independent system, Cat mulled over everything that had happened today. 

Parker and Shine were wonderful to play with, the combined intensity of their signal streams was like liquid ecstasy for her, causing immense waves of pleasure. Something about Parker worried her though. His brain patterns were erratic, even more so than the last time they were together. Probably something in his deck was distorting them. Cat decided to have Hibiko, now running on Parker's deck, look into it. Maybe his signal processor had a malfunction? Or maybe she did damage him during their first meeting? Thankfully, Cat had off-loaded her store of sources and log-files onto her distributed network well in advance, so she didn't lose any data during Mindlink's assault. Slowly, subtly, she collected the logfiles she needed and compared them to her prior failures, the initial, nameless hacker and Violet. And there was no mistaking it. If you took the shared information from both Parker and his brother, you ended up with a brainwave similar to Violet's, only dialled down. Seperating them though, Cat realized that both men had become damaged. Rich's signal contained the residue of extreme arousal levels, and the forced eject must have burned them into his brain, thus causing constant arousal in him. Parker, on the other hand, received the other end of the spectrum, his arousal levels in the real world were muted to almost non-existent levels. Sitting in her nest, surrounded by the readouts, Cat discovered a new emotion. Regret.  



Ghost in the Machine Ch. 08



A big "Thank you" for bikoukumori, ninja editor!

Also, a huge thanks to all you readers out there. Seeing you enjoy what I'm dreaming up is a massive boost. Keep the feedback coming!

As usual, there's only adults playing here, and... oh, damn. Yes, this time it's serious.

#8 On the run

"You want me to what," the man across from me asked, his voice tipping over. 

He was frighteningly skinny, his long, greasy hair laced with a sickening array of clashing colors. He wore a neon-orange jacket over a translucent shirt which showed me enough of his emaciated, tattoed body to make me regret entering this supposed "hacker hangout."

"Am I speaking fucking Swahili? I wanted to know if you could plunder my bank account - stealthily," I repeated, slightly exasperated.

"But dude, like, why would you have me rob your own account? Are you a copper," His tone became conspiratorial.

"Yeah, I'm Detective Archer from Cy-Squad," I snorted, citing a long-running cybercrime series. Suddenly, a cold something brushed my neck and a harsh, raspy voice whispered into my ear.

"Then I hope you'll be nice to Smiley here, otherwise I'd have to regretfully blow your fucking brains out."

I swivelled my eyes around, trying to find out who's threatening me without moving my head. I caught a glimpse of a short-haired, blond woman holding a massive automatic pistol to the nape of my neck in one of the many mirrors adorning the bar. Compared to Smiley, she was practically nondescript in her camo overalls and flak vest. To me, she looked like a Syria campaign dropout, her skin bronzed by the desert clime and her eyes cold and hard from all the cruelties she had witnessed during her tour of duty there. Who would have thought that this particular facet of the Jasemine revolution would drag on for nearly twenty years?

Eventually, I had to look away. The strobe flashes and brightly-colored light beams pulsing to the beat of fractally generated, thumping cybertrance music and reflecting off dozens of wall mirrors made this place the living embodiment of every hangover's worst nightmare.

"Whoa, sweetheart, no need to go all John Woo on me; I'm just trying to negotiate a deal here," I said, trying unsuccessfully to crank my charms up. She continued scowling at me but at least she had the courtesy of de-cocking the hammer. 

"What do you say, Siren," the hacker asked the woman.

"Smells fishy to me. Why would Mr. Posh here want anybody to rob his own account," the woman called Siren pondered, her voice not much nicer when speaking aloud.

"Because Mr. Posh wants no one to find out what he's doing with his money. If I use this here, everyone who knows where to look will find out what I'm trying to buy," I carefully explained, plopping my platinum cred card onto the gleaming, stainless-steel tabletop.

"Aha, you want to buy some drugs, some guns, some illegally modded sex slaves," Siren asked, a wolfish grin on her face. Seems like I'm not the first Harvard student who ended up in this bar in the shadier parts of Boston.

"Yeah, more or less," I conceded.

"You know, it would be much easier if you asked me to intercept the receipts, then I wouldn't have to infiltrate the bank itself," Smiley said. 

"That would mean I could trust you, which I don't," I responded, putting a hint of steel into my voice. I didn't have time for this. I wanted to put as much distance as possible between my backstabbing family and myself; plus I figured once I gave Mindlink the slip, I could help Cat. I knew she was the key to my current predicament and if I ever wanted to be "normal" again I couldn't let Mindlink find and kill her, whoever she was. I shook my head and looked up into Smiley's twitching face.

"So, can you help me or not?"

"The contract says twenty percent of what's in it and we have a deal," Smiley grinned at me.

"You can count yourself lucky if I let you walk with ten. I told you, I need the money and giving you twenty percent of it would limit my options," I hissed.

"I think you confuse some things here," Siren interjected, leaning into my field of view. "Until Smiley here liberates your money, it will be locked away. It's his generosity you should appeal to."

"Fine. Fifteen percent and we'll all be happy, how's that sound," I countered, throwing my hands up in defeat. 

"Seventeen point five and I'm not insulted." Smiley leaned back, offering me a nice view of his tats, a confusing mass of circuitry seemingly printed on his chest and abdomen. The strobes threw weird shadows off his ribs.

I had no prior experience with cybercrime jobs but seventeen and a half percent of five million dollars sounded frivolous even if he was a top-notch hacker. Interestingly enough, I saw no Mindlink jack near its usual place. Either he had a custom mod or he still worked the old-fashioned way, with headsets and all, which would drastically reduce his usefulness to me. But I was running out of options, fast. I didn't want to involve any more people into my little plan, feeling that I had told Smiley and his charming bodyguard far too much already.

"Fine. Deal. And don't fuck with me," I snarled.

"Why not? I've been told I'm pretty good with this," Smiley snickered, his hands submerging under the table top, no doubt fondling his package.

"Trust him, he is pretty good," Siren rasped.

***

Half an hour later we were in Smiley's apartment, a dingy cellar room filled to the ceiling with computing equipment. 

"Hey, are these server racks," I asked, looking at the vaguely fridge-like cabinets crowding the walls.

"Keen eye, good man," Smiley snickered, flopping down in an immense leather chair, surrounded by a gaggle of keyboards and monitors. 

Siren was leaning on the inside of the heavy fireproof door leading into the room, the barrel of her gun softly tapping against her thigh. They didn't like me accompanying them but I insisted. I wanted to know how he did his thing. Not that I deluded myself; if they wanted to get me out of the picture, they easily could have. Siren's gazes, checking my every move, told as much. But I wanted to at least keep the illusion of me being in control.

"So, how do you do this," I asked him.

"Trade secret, pal," Smiley shot back, flipping a battery of switches to "On."

"Don't tell me you use old-style VR still," I said, injecting as much contempt as possible into the sentence.

"No, I have absolutely no intention of doing that. My brain stays here," he said, tapping his temple. The monitors lit up, all six of them, and then there was only the frantic clicking of fingers on keyboards. Yes, keyboards. I don't know how he did it but both hands worked independently of each other, typing stuff into their respective terminals. 

"Ever heard of 'puppeteering,'" Smiley asked.

"I am studying IT, thank you," I quipped. And suddenly I knew what he was doing. Instead of exposing himself to possible risk, he remote-controlled his avatar by feeding it precise instructions, which are backed up by a catalog of pre-programmed behaviour routines. Almost an AI.

"Isn't one of the drawbacks of your method the time it takes to get shit done," I asked. 

The "official" application for puppeteering was to have the avatar do long, boring tasks, like collecting every piece of data on a specific subject. Easy, menial tasks the user didn't want to do himself.

"Watch," Smiley said in response, pointing to a monitor that showed the 'Net from his avatar's point of view. He typed a short sequence of code into one keyboard and the avatar swept his gaze across his field of view, pointing out sixteen identical figures. Sixteen chromed stick-men, each carrying a bomb belt around their waists.

Smiley looked at my cred card, typed something into two other keyboards and hit "Enter" on a third. A moment later, the screen showing the 'Net became a blur as his avatars exploded into action. 

The avatars arrived at the bank node and dispersed. A moment later, somewhere to the right of my view, an explosion rocked the 'Net. Predictably, alarms went off and the bank switched to defense mode. Steel shutters rattled down in front of it's windows, security programs streamed out of the front doors. Almost serenely, the avatar I was viewing slid between the security programs while three more explosions went off, throwing the defense into disarray. More security poured out, including, by the looks of their customized avatars, at least three system admins. More explosions and, suddenly, the view was in front of the vault. One of the bomb-stick-men appeared in front of the avatar, blowing himself up near the wall framing the vault door, leaving a smoking hole in it.

Still more explosions and the view entered the vault, his eyes scanning the rows upon rows of lockers set into the wall. One particular locker pulsed regularly and, a moment later, the viewing avatar extended a hand and grabbed the combination lock.

"You're calling this 'stealthy,'" I snapped at Smiley. Instead of sneaking into the system, he was nuking it to hell. What the fuck? 

"Shush, I'm workin' here," he snapped back.

Smiley was busy hacking away at his keyboards now, whispering to himself. The combination lock clicked in high speed, inputting my own PIN number. A heartbeat later, stacks of bills fluttered out of the locker and disappeared from view.

"Freeze," a synthetic voice shouted behind the view.

"Say nighty-night, asshole," Smiley snickered, hitting another function key on one of his keyboards. The view turned, facing a heavily armed security programmer, flanked by two massive battle cyborgs, all three were training a lot of firepower on him. The view accelerated, stepping into their midst, then another explosion rocked the view and it turned black.

"ARE YOU FUCKING CRAZY," I screamed, my hands around Smiley's throat. For all I knew, he just blew up his avatar with all my money in it!! A nanosecond later, Siren was on me, tackling me to the ground, slamming the heavy grip of her gun into my head. Tears exploded and my brain pan rang as I went down.

"Sheesh, what's with him," Smiley complained, to one in particular. "Ever heard of electronic money transfer? Do you think I'm stupid enough to lead an avatar full of stolen money right to my doorstep? For all they knew, this was a disruptive anarchist trying to topple the fascist capitalistic system." 

Smiley rose and went over to a table between two server racks, rummaging in a pile of electronics. A moment later, I heard a faint beeping over the thumping of my skull and Smiley withdrew a scratched swipe card from a card printer.

"Don't ever try pulling bullshit like this again or I'll kill you, punk," Siren hissed into my face as she hoisted me up. In a fluid motion, she grabbed my elbow, spun me towards the door and shoved me out of the room. A few seconds later, she and I were on the street.

"You're lucky this wasn't a trap. Pleasure doing business with you," she said, punctuating her attempt at humor with a hoarse bout of laughter. Then she slipped the swipe card into my back pocket, pushed me into the street and went back inside. 

***

"Welcome aboard Aer Lingus flight AL-seven-seven-nine from Boston to Dublin, this is your captain speaking..."

I tuned out the booming voice coming over the intercom and tried to relax, a task made much harder by the couple bickering over trivialities in the seats next to me. That's economy class for you. 

The hard part was over, hopefully. 

I had opened up a new account in a small, privately owned Boston bank, putting the 4.1 million dollars still left to me there, using the fake ID which I had used for going to clubs since I was sixteen. Thankfully, it wasn't a cheaply faked license; no, it was an expertly crafted virtual identity, for which I was really thankful. The chances of it holding up to earnest scrutiny were rather slim but I hoped I would have all my purchases done before the bank finished up the background checks and locked the account down.

First I bought a cheap throwaway cell phone and hooked up with Shine. She was surprised, to put it mildly, to hear from me in person and, frankly, I was shocked at how young her voice sounded, totally at odds with her sophisticated online persona.

We agreed to meet in Berlin, to coordinate our efforts of helping Cat. My implanted memory banks were bursting with data. I had to off-load practically everything I had stored to make room for Hibiko's avatar, a frighteningly large piece of code. But Cat asked me to keep her safe, so I did. The rest of my programs, hell, my deck was useless to me anyway. Shine let on she knew someone who could help me out with a new one, provided I bring enough cash.

Then I bought a plane ticket from Boston to Berlin and realized that it was almost impossible to get a nonstop flight there. You might have thought that the fucking capital of a nation would be better connected but no, either you had to switch planes or rent a damn Gulfstream yourself, an idea with which I briefly toyed. But I needed to conserve money, at least a little, so I took the least pig-headed route, with a stopover in Dublin and hoped I would reach Berlin before someone realized that Harley J. Davidson was a binary pipe dream.

***

Without warning they came. Cat was still figuring out a way to help mend Parker's brain. Sitting in the center of a neurology clinic's system sure helped and it helped even more that this particular clinic was initially founded trying to cure Mindlink's failed human experiments during the research for their implant technology. But before she could cross-reference and implement the data into her own codebase, a mob of angry security personnel swarmed her nest, opening fire from a multitude of high-powered code weapons. Her avatar's flesh warped where virulent code dissolved the coherence of command strings, replicating themselves over and over again, flooding her systems with nonsensical dependencies and dead libraries. Other weapons slipped harmful instructions into her construct, intent on frying both hardware and the users behind it. Luckily, Cat ran on a huge, distributed network, the loss of individual components painful, but hardly crippling. But the longer she kept her avatar "alive," trying to fight back the attackers while off-loading as many of the medical records as possible, the worse her condition became. 

After losing nearly a third of her processing power to a particularly heavy EMP blast, Cat realized she had no choice. She needed to terminate this manifestation and go into hiding, let things cool down. Closing all connections to the feebly twitching mess of code, once an alluring seductress, Cat dispersed, hoping the damage Mindlink did to her wasn't too great.

***

"Good evening, who are you," I asked, the language chip I bought at Schönefeld airport effortlessly translating my thoughts into flawless German.

"I'm your fucking taxi driver for tonight," the old woman snapped back, slamming the door of her Merc limo closed with a vengeance, keeping the cool evening air outside. 

I was expecting Shine to pick me up at the airport, not a grumpy, wrinkled monster driving a fucking museum piece around. The well-worn submachine gun on the passenger seat wasn't reassuring either. Her mood wasn't exactly endearing her to me. I cleared my throat and began anew.

"Forget I asked. But then, who are you, good lady?"

"Don'tcha 'good lady' me, boy. I'm Frau Schmidt to you and if I hear even the faintest snicker back there, you're dead." As if she hated being here, she turned the ignition and slammed the gear lever to "drive," taking off with screeching tires.

"Well, thanks for picking me up, Frau Schmidt," I said, easily keeping a straight face. Wow, talk about intimidating. Siren was a cuddly beach bunny compared to this fury.

"Yeah, about that. I heard you needed to buy some gear, so I'm taking you where you might get it. And I need to make sure you're no trouble to Shine. 

"Get off the road, you fucking fascist," she screamed, honking madly at a modern Audi sports car blocking her path.

I wasn't exactly itching for more of her cheery conversation skills, so I kept quiet for the rest of the drive. This whole situation felt like your typical online date. You're spending months riling each other up, finally you manage to meet and it turns out that the supposed college swim team superstar you've been cybersexing with is a fifty-three year old soccer mom. Only this was much, much worse. I shook my head. 

Looking out of the window, I saw that we were driving up to some kind of open-air market. The noise out there was deafening, even thumping through the closed windows of the car. Frau Schmidt stopped the car near two others, a pearly-white Rolls and the latest from Fiorano. She whisteled, ear-piercingly shrill, and two burly men converged on us, openly wearing AK-47s over their shoulders. They had thick mops of black hair on their heads and there were a lot, and I mean a fucking truckload, of crescent-and-star symbols plastered all over them. The only thing missing from these guys were the checkered bandanas to make them the perfect Taliban lookalikes, ready to send any good American redneck into a hissy fit. I simply shrugged and listened in amazement as Frau Schmidt conversed with them in fluent Turkish before handing them a sheaf of Euro notes. The men grinned and gave her the thumbs-up.

"Coming," Frau Schmidt asked over her shoulder, already accelerating like the world's angriest grandma. I had to jog to keep up with her, barely able to register more than a blur of sights, sounds and smells.

"What was that all about," I inquired, jabbing my thumb in the general direction of the armed guys.

"Security. They'll make sure no one messes up my ride," Frau Schmidt explained.

"So, where are you taking me first," I asked, while trying to avoid bumping into the people cluttering the aisles between the sprawling tents, stalls and stages. A hand brushed my crotch and I ended up looking into the eyes of a woman, her skin completely black, her hair a shock of white on her head. She was practically naked, only two strips of purple see-through material covering her breasts and hips, with an orange sash for contrast. She snuggled up against me, and licked my earlobe. Her hand crawled over my crotch, teasing, fondling, trying to get me hard. She failed miserably.

"Wanna ride, handsome," she purred, lacing her arms behind my neck and grinding her hips into mine. I nearly fainted, because this "woman" was sporting one hell of a dick, the bulge of her loincloth rubbing against my jeans.

"Fuck off, slut," Frau Schmidt snapped, causing the ... whatever to prance away, shaking his/her booty my way. 

"You may wanna check your wallet," Frau Schmidt chortled before resuming her dash through the market. Thankfully, my wallet was stowed away in the same aluminum briefcase which held the rest of my belongings and I didn't let that out of my hands for one second. I sprinted to keep up with her. 

"Who... what was that," I asked her.

"Oh, everyone calls him Arach, modelled after the protagonist of a fantasy novel that was quite popular a couple years back. I think they even made some VR porn off of it," Frau Schmidt explained. "Pathetic pick-pocket, somehow never finds the one to fuck him."

"Yeah, that's one... unusual bodysculpt," I remarked, huffing. Finally, we arrived at the door of a mobile home, a huge red cross painted on it.

"I'm pretty sure I don't need a doctor," I said.

"I'm pretty sure you do. Shut up and move," Frau Schmidt said, holding my elbow with one hand, hammering at the door with the other. "Fleischer, open up!"

A moment later, the door to the RV opened and a tired-looking, greying man in his late fourties - or early sixties, depending on how you spun it - leaned out, blinking owlishly at us.




Ghost in the Machine Ch. 08



"Whazzup," he croaked, then he cleared his throat, pulling a tartan bathrobe around himself.

"This young man is a friend of Shine's. The young lady suspects he might... be watched," Frau Schmidt said, grinning like a shark.

"Watched," both Fleischer and I echoed.

"He's a corp boy. Shake him down, see what ya can dig up. I'm grabbing a bite to eat. An hour?"

"Uhhh, ja, ja. Whatever," the guy called "Fleischer" grumbled. 

He mentioned for me to follow, so I climbed up the steps into his RV. The first thing catching my eye, and causing no small bit of trepidation, was the polished but notched operating table in the center of a tiled segment of floor, clear plastic drapes framing the area.

I heard the hiss of a high-pressure hypo and, a moment later, Fleischer appeared again, a tablet PC in one hand. The other ended in a metal loop, not unlike a metal detector.

"Alrighty, this should only take a moment. Do you have any implants, mein Herr," he asked. 

"Yeah, of course," I replied, not quite sure where we were heading. 

I rattled off the short list of implants I had. Mindlink implant with two TB linked storage, a clock that could project the date and time into my field of view and of course the contraceptive implant my mother urged me to have installed. Well, after my high-school sweetheart got pregnant during our senior year, I was all too happy to do that. Especially once it turned out that she wanted the baby so she and her parents could sue for support. 

Everything bought and paid for by my parents, of course. 

"Gut. And now we'll find out if there's any nasty surprises," Fleischer grinned, somehow much more awake than earlier. He had me shed my clothes and passed the scanner, at least I hoped it was a scanner, jutting from his right sleeve, over my body, murmuring "Ja, ja, Gut" in the process. The system pinged multiple times, near my crotch and head. And my left wrist.

"Did you forget to mention anything else," Fleischer asked, consulting the readout on his tablet.

"No, I'm pretty sure I know what I'm packin'," I said as calmly as possible. He moved the scanner along my other arm then back to the left wrist. Obediently, the system pinged again. 

"Alright, time for a quick X-ray then," Fleischer said.

I nodded. I didn't remember any implants in my left wrist and I have had my share of implant examinations behind me, not the least when I applied for the college's sports team. They were very "no-tech" there and I had to fight tooth and nail for them to accept that my implants didn't give me any unfair advantage versus a non-chipped player.

Fleischer had produced a portable X-ray unit. Next he handed me a heavy lead apron which I gladly accepted. The last thing I needed was cancer from a chop shop's X-ray machine. A few moments later, we could see the results. My wrist bones were clearly visible as was a tubular foreign object neatly tucked away between radius and ulna. 

"Okay, doc, what the fuck is that," I asked, unease balling up my stomach.

"Well, lucky for you it's not a cortex bomb," he chuckled.

"No?"

"No, that would sit here," he said, his finger stabbing at the base of my skull. The doctor had wrist mounts, I realized. While we waited for the X-rays to develop, he switched out the scanner for a "normal" hand which he flexed impatiently while thinking about the image on screen.

"I think you've been tagged with a Shepherd chip, my friend," he mused.

"Shepherd chip?"

"Is there an echo in here? You're a corp child and don't know about that," he asked me, incredulously.

"Never heard of it," I snapped.

"Oh, it's a nifty little gadget," Fleischer said, obviously warming up to the subject. And by that, I mean going from zombie to enthusiastic in under three seconds. "You can do all kinds of neat things with it. First, it's a shiny GPS beacon, transmitting your position like a bonfire. And then it can store all kinds of information; your name, your medical data, even who to contact if you should be abducted or so." He looked at me, obviously noting for the first time my growing horror.

"It's standard procedure for high-up corp people to get chipped, so the corp doesn't lose them," he continued, less euphoric.

"Yeah, I feel all secure now. Like a fucking housecat or what," I growled.

"Yes, pretty much. Going by your reaction, you didn't know," Fleischer asked.

"I already told you, doc. No fucking clue. And now the tricky question. Can you disable it?"

"Ah, bright lad. Of course I can. It only takes the precise application of a high enough voltage to grill that thing. Sadly, the amount of voltage used would roast your arm as well, I'm afraid. If you're not in a hurry, I can remove it though."

"Sure, go ahead. I don't want that thing in me," I snarled. One more betrayal. Thanks, Dad. What else didn't you tell me? 

"Splendid! Let's get cracking, then," Fleischer smiled, rubbing his hands together. 

Ewww, he was FAR too enthusiastic for my liking.

A few moments later I was on the slab, my arm securely affixed by both an elbow and wrist brace, keeping me from even twitching that limb. Fleischer said local anesthetic would be enough, so he pumped my arm full of narcotics, paralyzing and dulling it until I didn't feel anything when he pinched me. He vanished from my vision and returned a few moments later, fully schmocked-up. In full view, he removed his right hand and replaced it with a whirring mess of appendages, needles, blades, pincers, what have you. My stomach churned as he bent over my arm, humming softly to himself.

"No need to be afraid, really. I can do this with my eyes closed," Fleischer said conversationally while his hand went to town on my wrist. It was eerie, watching him cut up my flesh, the blood flowing freely as he lowered the pincers into my wrist. I felt a yanking sensation inside, then a slender blade, more like a wire, slipped into the cavity where the pincers were and a moment later he retracted his instruments, letting a hard something click into a dish near my hip.

"See, that wasn't that bad, was it," Fleischer said, using his normal hand to apply some kind of foul-smelling gel to my wrist. The bleeding stopped almost immediately.

"And what the heck was that," I groaned, wrinkling my face in disgust.

"Sprayflesh. Seals the wound and has regenerative qualities. In a matter of hours you won't realize you've ever been opened up. Very useful stuff, that," Fleischer said, turning away from me. I saw him placing his work hand into some kind of receptacle before he returned to me and wrapped my wrist in a bandage, his motions fluid and easy.

"Anything I should or should not do," I asked him.

"Try not to peel at the edges, at least not until it's merged with your original flesh. Otherwise you'll open up a whole can of worms. Other than that? No. The stuff is mildly adhesive so it can even survive a shower or two, provided you don't use the massage blast right at that spot. But I figure you're a smart man and want to avoid all the nasty infections out there, right," he teased me.

"Yeah, doc, I'll behave. And besides, all the crap you pumped into me makes this feel like it's someone else's arm anyway. No baseball for the foreseeable future," I chuckled. Knowing that the chip was gone, I dared a sigh of relief.

"Your choice. I can give you an antidote, if you need that hand. But the wound will hurt like hell until healed."

"I don't think I'll need that hand that badly," I said, reaching for my clothes. Then it struck me. "Or maybe I do," I said, cursing under my breath. Ever tried dressing yourself one-handed? Yeah, right.

Fleischer fired another dose of crap into my bloodstream. At first it was barely perceptable but soon the pain came. And it was glorious. After all these days, when I felt like I was living through a gauze curtain, the pain sliced into my brain like a crystal scalpel, kicking me awake. It was only a sharp-edged throbbing in my wrist but damn, it made me feel alive. I quickly climbed into my clothes.

"What shall I do with this little mother," Fleischer asked, handing me a small, metallic disc, about the size of a small button-cell battery, now cleaned of my blood.

"Does it still work," I asked.

"Sure. This thing is totally self-contained, the microcell in it should last a good forty years. The only thing holding it in place were two nanofiber connections which I had to clip through. But the chip itself will work, even outside the body-"

I took it and stored it in my jacket. I had an idea.

"Mind if I keep this as a souvenir?"

"Nah, I don't want the corp cops kicking down my door anyway."

***

Two hours later I had everything I needed. The deck in my briefcase was a cheap Russian knockoff of a Korean imitation of one of Mindlink's recent military decks and, even though it was a knockoff, it cost me nearly two million bucks. The dealer, a grizzled Russian with a square, greying flat-top, promised me the latest in black programs. A quick tour of the system told me that most of the software was at least two years old but serviceable. Grudgingly, I paid up and rejoined Frau Schmidt who elected to wait outside. She was amicably chatting with the bulky guards the dealer employed and I noticed how deferential they treated her, as if she were some kind of celebrity.

"All done," she asked, not unkindly. Before I could answer, my stomach gave a savage growl. I realized I haven't eaten since leaving Boston which was quite a while back.

"Almost," I replied.

"I'm sure Shine has food for you. I didn't plan on babysitting you all night, you know," Frau Schmidt snapped. "Let's go already!"

"I think I'd like to see this 'Arach' person one more time, if you don't mind," I said, blushing. The bulky Russians laughed dirty and threw nasty gestures my way but Frau Schmidt just nodded.

"Sure, but make it quick. And no, I won't tell Shine about it," she added with a sly wink that made me blush even harder.

A few moments later Arach was writhing against me.

"What can I do for you, handsome," (s)he purred.

"Want to make some cash, quickly," I asked, writhing myself but only to keep Arach's fingers away from the fly of my pants. This was much more irritating than the thumping pain pulsing in my wrist.

"No need to be ashamed, I have all night... and I work damn cheap," Arach purred into my ear, letting his/her hands drop on my behind, kneading my butt cheeks.

"It's not what you think," I rasped, the conflicting signals making it hard to concentrate. Arach's upper torso was well-endowed, a generous double handful of firm flesh rubbing through my thin jacket, his/her face was very feminine, with kissable lips and burning amber eyes, the voice was sultry, husky, melodious without any hint of "male," but the dick insistently pressing into me was turning it strange. Sure, being the J-culture freak that I am, I knew about futa and all but being hit on by one was... weird.

"Oh, admit it, you're burning in longing for these," (s)he purred, pulling up the cloth covering those hot tits, "and this too." Again, the dick bumped into me.

"Can we talk business," I implored impatiently.

"Oh, I am, honey, I am. No holes barred, you know? Wherever you want me, sugar."

"Okay, listen," I snapped, grabbing his/her wrists. Shocked into silence, Arach looked at me. "I want you to find a person you hate and plant this on him, okay?" I pulled the Shepherd from my pocket. Arach pouted at me.

"I really would have treated you well, you know? Even with a discount and all..." (s)he teased.

I rifled through the cash I had on hand. Thankfully, I could buy the deck via cred card but I had withdrawn a couple grand in cash, for just such emergencies. Counting off five hundred Euros, I looked into Arach's eyes.

"Will you do it?"

"For that kinda cash? Everything you want, honey." Arach beamed. Fiddling on the inside of her breast cover, she produced a bent business card. "And here's my number, if you want that ride after all," (s)he murmured, nibbling on my ear again.

"Yeah, we'll see about that," I said, dropping the chip into Arach's palm and closing his/her fingers around it. "I guess the lucky winner will find all kinds of trouble shortly," I snickered. Arach's grin became mean. "No problem, I know just the right guy." Then (s)he leaned in, wrapped the chip-free arm around my neck and pulled me into a scorching kiss. I was much too surprised to offer much in the way of resistance and damn, Arach could kiss. 

When our lips seperated, I was breathless and Arach beamed at me.

"Now you know what you're missing... have a nice night, sugar," (s)he purred and sashayed away, occasionally winking over his/her shoulder.

Frau Schmidt snickered.

"All done?" she asked, a wicked grin on her face.

"All done. Get me the hell outta here, please."

***

Thinking was difficult. Analyzing how much damage Mindlink did was difficult too. Cat had taken the almost infinite processing power derived from her network for granted, adding more and more functionality, more and more subsystems into her consciousness, most of which had been badly damaged or stripped away entirely. 

Cat knew that she had underestimated Mindlink. They acted faster and hit harder than anticipated and the lack of a fortified home system hurt as well. Worst of all, the files scavenged from the neuro clinic were badly fragemented, barely useable. Wide swaths of data were shot through with virulent code, making it unsafe to even browse them. And even worse, Mindlink's data probes were scouring the 'Net for more data on Cat. Thankfully, there were few traces of her Cat persona and almost none of her awakening. Cat debated if it was wise to contact Shine but, with all the attention focusing on her, she knew that sending an open mail would only draw attention towards Shine, something she wanted to avoid at all costs. Withdrawing even deeper into the dark recesses of the 'Net, hiding amidst old newsgroups servers that clung to their existence only because no one bothered to shut them down, Cat watched and waited.

***

Remember the online dating analogy? Yeah, awkwardness in full effect. Shine wasn't what I expected. She was bald, for starters. No eyebrows, nothing. Her eyes, steely grey cyberoptics, looked impassively at me, contrasting weirdly with the warm smile she sent my way. And completely opposed to her online persona, she was far from curvy. Not starved, but no curvaceous angel either. I grinned sheepishly.

"Not what you expected, huh," she asked, offering a seat on an old-style sofa. 

I flopped down. 

"Well, your avatar looks different," I conceded.

"At least I can't complain. You're quite good-looking, even in the flesh," Shine chuckled, rummaging in the kitchen. A moment later, the microwave fired up and she melted down next to me on the sofa. "I thought you were younger, though," she added, grinning.

"Hey, twenty-three isn't exactly ancient, you know," I retorted, still trying to reconcile this slip of a girl with the hot chrome angel I virtually fucked a few days ago. 

"I know but you came across like an animé nerd, not some yuppie broker," she chuckled, patting my leg to take the sting out of her remark.

"Hey, I've tried to dress casually," I complained, spreading my arms wide. Jeans, a simple tee, suit jacket. What's wrong with that? Far removed from the usual, double-breasted stuff I wore on campus.

"Now you're in the underworld, not a boardroom," Shine grinned. Then the microwave pinged, announcing that my food was ready. Shine and I hopped off the couch, stopped, chuckled at each other.

"Sit down. You've been running around enough for today," Shine said, motioning for me to flop down again. I shrugged and did as requested. A moment later she was back, producing a plate with microwave pizza. 

"Sorry, not what you're used to, I guess," she apologized.

"At least there's no tuna on it. I hate tuna with a passion," I smirked, digging in. It was warm and didn't taste like cardboard so I was happy. Shine watched me wolf it down.

"More," she inquired when I handed her the plate.

"Thanks, that should do for the moment," I said, smiling thankfully at her. She plunked the plate down onto the table and cuddled up against me.

"Now what," I asked, a slightly? taken aback at her sudden intimacy.

"It has been ages since someone held me, Parker. Do you mind," Shine murmured against my chest. 

Well, here I was, a long way from home myself. I snaked an arm around her slim shoulders and hugged her close to me. And strangely, it felt... good. Shine sighed contentedly against me. For a few minutes, all was quiet, apart from the occasional rustling when one of us caressed the other through their clothing.

"So, tell me. What's the thing with you and Cat," I wanted to know, eventually. "And who's that Cat anyway?"

"That's a damn long story, Parker," Shine said in her adorable German accent. "And I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to spill all of it, yet," she added, her slender hand slipping under my tee, her fingertips caressing along my spine.

"Too bad, I'm really curious. My life hasn't been the same since I've met her," I said, arching my back against her hand. The simple touch was a nice gesture. I knew it was meant to tease but apart from the warmth of her palm I hardly felt anything.

"What I can say is this: She saved my bony ass and helped me find out the truth about my parents. We've been friends and... playmates ever since," Shine chuckled, writhing against me.

"The thought of having sex with her turns you on, eh," I asked, softly nudging her. To my surprise, Shine swung herself onto my thighs and melted against me, nibbling at the soft of my neck.

"I was thinking about how we met, Parker," Shine purred, raising her gaze, a sensuous smile playing around her lips but not quite reaching her eyes. She ground her hips against me. When I didn't react, she picked up my hands and placed them on her small breasts, leaning into me for added emphasis.

"Hey, no need to play dead fish. I know you liked fucking me," she murmured, leaning in for a kiss. Our lips met and I discovered that Shine was an accomplished kisser. She hugged herself close to me and I wrapped her into my arms, her small breasts pressing into my chest and her tongue licked over my lips. I sighed and responded. Our tongues dueled for a moment before she withdrew, a confused look on her face.

"What's wrong? Is it the way I look," she asked, self-consciously. "You didn't even twitch..." She moved her hips again but still, nothing stirred. Shine was obviously somewhat turned on, her face a little flushed, her breath a little quicker, but the only thing I felt was the occasional thump coming from my wrist.

I shook my head. 

"I told you, ever since I've met Cat, my life hasn't been the same. I just don't feel anything," I said, blushing fiercely.

"That's impossible," Shine said.

"No, not at all. Normally, I would be all over you right now but look," I explained, humping my pelvis against her. 

"Maybe you're lacking proper stimulation," she chuckled. In a flash, she was beside me, her hands making short work of belt, button and fly.

"Hey," I complained but before I could say anything else, she had her hands in my trousers, caressing my dick. Skillfully, she maneuvered it clear of my fly and stroked it.

"Nice package," she purred, before looking into my eyes. "Do you mind?"

"A little late to ask. Go ahead, knock yourself out. But don't complain if nothing happens," I told her. Grinning, she began to lick my meat. Her tongue left hot trails on my member but, as predicted, nothing happened. Even her scorching lips wrapped around the tip didn't cause more than a feeble twitch.

Shine stopped teasing me, a sober look on her face.




Ghost in the Machine Ch. 08



"You're serious, huh," she asked, pity and concern in her voice.

"I told you," I repeated, sighing in defeat. 

"But... you didn't have any problems online," she complained, still holding my slack member between gentle fingers.

"That's the freaky part," I said, caressing the back of her neck. My fingertips left goosebumps along their path. "Online, everything feels startlingly real, almost painfully so. But as soon as I'm offline again, it's like someone encased me in lead. No offense meant," I apologized, disentangling her hand from my dick and putting it back into my trousers.

A sneaky smile spread across Shine's lips.

"Well, if you're unable to do me in the real world, let's take it online then," she said, jumping off the sofa.

"Why are you so intent on getting laid," I inquired, watching her gather a deck and a few cables. 

Shine froze in mid-stride, a distant look on her face. Looks like I asked a very unexpected question there. 

"It's not getting laid, it's getting laid by you that I want," Shine answered as if that explained everything, setting up her deck with practiced ease. She left the room and returned with a small, medicinal container.

"You might want to look away now," she said, plopping the small box open. 

"You don't have to do this, you know," I said. Shine leaned over to me, brushing her hands along my thighs.

"Parker, please? I want you, now. And if this is the only way to get you then heck, we'll do it that way. Or do you find me repugnant," she asked, her eyes boring into me.

"No, actually I'm quite flattered that you're so eager, but-" 

She cut me off with an impatient swipe of her hand.

"No 'but' then. This is no date. You don't have to put on your best behaviour for me, no chivalrous bullshit. Just answer this one question: Do you want me?" Her stare bored into me, intense despite it being a pair of cameras looking at me. 

"Yes."

"See? That wasn't too hard. You actually may want to look away now," she chuckled, rubbing a finger next to her right eyesocket. A moment later, her eye plopped out. She caught it with her left hand; with her right, she fished another eyeball from the small medicinal box in front of her and inserted it with a fluid motion into the empty eye socket. If I had been aroused before, that view alone could have killed any traces of my libido but in my current state I watched in fascination as Shine stood and stripped before folding down onto the sofa again, her right eye a gaping jack. 

"Like what you're seeing, handsome," Shine purred, putting on a little show of caressing down her body, her fingers teasing her slit. I nodded. What she lacked in obvious charms, she more than made up with attitude and I felt a shit-eating grin spread over my face.

"Actually, yes. I really wish my fucking body would stop feeling so cold," I complained.

"Well, get your deck and let's get your mind off your condition then," Shine purred. With a loud click, she inserted the Mindlink plug into her eyesocket. That was... unusual. I watched her naked body for another moment before I got my own deck and hooked it up to Shine's machine. No need to go through the 'Net connection, we could just as easily set up a local network. Then I followed suit and stripped. Having sex in cyberspace tended to be a messy business in the real world. Sighing, I slid the plug into my jack and flicked the power to "On."

***

"Welcome, comrade number zero-one-five," the system voice snarled. Contrary to what I was used to, it wasn't a sultry female but a voice lifted straight from a Russian drill sergeant, complete with rolling "r"s and shit. 

"Avatar data found. Downloading now," the system voice snarled.

Avatar data? What? 

"Stop," I shouted.

"Download complete, comrade. Thanks for using Blanka OS Version fifteen point six."

Everything went black.

***

When I came to, I shivered. Beneath my back, the checker sheet covering the avatar setup station felt hard, uncomfortable and icy cold. No wonder. I was laying in what looked like the motor pool of a Russian army camp, an eight-sided garage filled with archaic BMP-2 troop vehicles, motor sleds and trucks. Shivering, I sat up and looked down. I sported quite a nice rack, long, black hair flowing down my front, which was clad in a flimsy pink kimono.

"Oh, you've got to be shitting me," I complained. Even my voice was different. I was still speaking Japanese but gone was the hoarse whisper of my ninja persona, being replaced by the soft pronounciation of an educated woman. I fully rose and wanted to stride over to one of the trucks but no, my avatar only made dainty small steps, as befitted a demure woman. When I finally reached the truck and looked into its huge wing mirror, my worst fears were confirmed. Hibiko smiled back at me. 

Despite being a cheap knockoff, the system did recognize the stored avatar data in my own headware memory and used that instead of offering the opportunity to set up a new avatar. Before I could remedy the problem, I heard the roaring of huge wings in front of the garage. Sighing in defeat, I hit the button that would open the rollup doors and left the setup chamber.

Instead of entering the frozen Sibirian plains, I stepped into a comfortably furnished marble-walled room, a massive four-poster bed taking up most of the space. Shine already waited for me there, lounging on the bed in much the same way she was spread out on her own sofa. 

"Hey, I've made it," I said, switching to English. Shine opened her eyes and looked at me before she started laughing, a full-bodied explosion of mirth.

"Yeah, aaaawkward," I moaned, flopping down onto the bed.

"What happened," she asked, wiping tears from her eyes. 

"I didn't pay attention, that's what happened. I should have off-loaded Hibiko before joining you. If you can wait a bit, I can reset my deck and rejoin y-" 

Her lips sealed mine and her hand slipped into the kimono, fondling my breasts. I felt a well-known fluttering in my stomach but then it got creepy. Instead of the familiar sensation of my dick twitching to life, I noticed myself getting wet. I moaned into Shine's mouth. This was at the same time totally freaking me out and turning me on. Her cool hands travelled over my body, zeroing in on my pussy. 

Shine broke our kiss and smiled at me. "This is... interesting," she purred, out of breath.

"You're telling me. But really, I'm feeling quite uncomfortable, being without a dick and all. I get all the sensations but it feels awkward. I don't know if I can let go..." I mumbled, blushing furiously. 

"You're damn complicated, you know that," Shine chuckled, not unfriendly. She pulled open my kimono and smiled appreciatively.

"Yeah, I've heard that before," I conceded. "How about this, give me fifteen minutes and-"

Again she kissed me, stealing my breath away, her hands teasing the insides of my thighs. 

"I don't have fifteen minutes, Parker. I want you now," she purred when we came up for air. "But I think I can help you. You're in my system now so I can do this..." she murmured, kissing a hot trail down my body. Her lips were wonderful against my skin. Then I more felt than heard her murmur something into my mound, her tongue circling around my clit. Every flick of her tongue caused it to swell even further. 

I moaned helplessly, "What the hell are you doing down there?"

"Just you wait, you're gonna love it," Shine murmured, her lips brushing the sensitive nub. Although, "nub" wasn't cutting it anymore. It felt like my clit was expanding. A strange feeling of fullness balled up my insides and suddenly I felt something slide through my pussy. Not into it but out of it. Panicking, I shot into an upright position but even before I could lock my gaze onto my sex, I felt Shine wrap her chromed lips around what felt, for all intents and purposes, like a dick. A pretty substantial one to boot. Slurping noisily, Shine's mouth travelled along the shaft before she gave the tip a playful twirl of the tongue. Then she leaned back and grinned at me, her blazing eyes sparkling in triumph.

"Now, what do you say about that," she chuckled. I rose and looked down. I was sporting a massive erection, almost obscenely huge for Hibiko's slender frame. Shine, kneeling in front of me, giggled playfully and her cool, chromed fingertips travelled up the inside of my thigh before slipping into my snatch.

"Wait... I have a pussy still," I squeaked, as her fingertips invaded me. It felt like two miniscule dildoes were stroking my insides.

"Oh yes, the best of both worlds. How do you like it, Parker-babe," Shine mumbled, diving for my cockhead. Her lips enveloped the tip again and, slowly, tenderly, she let my dick slide into her mouth, the tongue fluttering against my underside while her fingers were busy at my snatch. I felt my knees turn to jelly as her nose brushed my clean-shaven pelvis and her eyes burned into mine, hot promise and scorching passion blazing from them.

"You're crazy, has anyone... told you that," I gasped, as she started fucking my snatch with her fingers, slowly withdrawing her mouth from my pole at the same time.

With a loud pop, Shine let my tip slide from her mouth and gasped breath into her lungs.

"I really like how you say that," she moaned, before rising to her feet again. She hugged me close, her chromed body both cool and yielding against me. Shine's avatar was quite a bit taller than mine so I could lean against her, my head resting on her ample breasts. Her hand slipped down between us, nestling my dick between her thighs, the tip gingerly brushing her soft folds. I started to lick her nipple, causing her to gasp in appreciation.

"Sooo nice, Parker, so nice," she cooed, rolling her hips, tenderly brushing her sopping pussy against my tip. I had to agree. Freaky as it was, trapped in the body of a futa, playing with a chromed angel, it felt awesome. And having a dick was familiar enough that the sensation of my breasts rubbing against Shine's avatar only added to, instead of distracted from, the arousal.

"Oh Parker, you're shaking," Shine purred, slightly spreading her legs. My tip easily slipped along her slit, nearly sliding between her nether lips.

"No wonder. I'm going completely crazy here," I rasped. To get her back for teasing me, I enfolded one of her nipples with my lips and gave a hearty suck. Shine squealed in delight.

"Just you wait," she panted, before easily picking me up and depositing me on the bed. Before I knew what was happening, she had my arms spread out to the side, holding me down by the wrists while her hot mouth kissed and nibbled down my body, her breasts brushing over my painfully hard member. I was writhing uncontrollably under her, helplessly moaning, completely at her mercy. Shine obviously enjoyed having me like this, going by the little coos and moans she produced while teasingly kissing my breasts and stomach, slowly making her way downwards, capturing the head of my dick with her lips and sucking on it. I was torn between surrendering and violently fucking her mouth but I still remembered the last time we were together so I consigned myself to helpless moaning and writhing under her gentle assault, feeling my insides flutter and clench every time her lips touched me. Shine's tongue languidly twirled around my tip and suddenly I erupted, flooding her mouth with a liberal amount of my cum. She gulped and chuckled, crawling on top of me, until our noses touched.

"You like making a mess of me, huh, Parker," Shine teased, smoothing her cool body against me.

"As if I had a choice," I huffed back, slowly catching my breath. Her fingers were already crawling down my body again, playing with my breasts, cupping the firm orbs, squeezing them, which distracted me to no end.

"I can be a mean, mean girl sometimes... And teasing you is just too much fun," she purred, grinding her chromed sex against my hip. "I just wish you'd be as appreciative offline as you are now," she added, a little more serious.

"Me too, belive me," I said, emphatically. The thought alone of returning to my dulled-down perception of the outside world was almost enough to douse any vestige of arousal. My futa dick slowly deflated between us, threatening to completely retract into whichever place it had emerged from. 

"Hey, no fair," Shine protested, sitting up on my hips, grinding her snatch onto my dick. Then she leaned backwards a bit, bracing herself with one arm while her other snaked between my thighs, teasing my own slit. The feeling of her hard, cool fingertips invading my sex, so completely alien and theoretically impossible, shot up my spine, straight into the pleasure center of my brain, again kickstarting my hormones. I felt myself twitch underneath her and the sensation of her wet folds sliding along my member, coupled with the feeling of being teased, almost fucked, by her fingers got me going again.

"Yes, that's more like it, sweetheart," Shine groaned, leaning down over me, offering her breasts to my mouth. I wrapped my arms around her and buried my face between her chromed tits, kissing the cool, metallic skin while her hands tousled my hair. I didn't get much of what she purred my way, most of it lost in my hair where she buried her face, but it sounded genuinely soothing. Then she raised her hips for a moment, her fingertips adjusted the angle of my dick and, a heartbeat later, I slid effortlessly into her, the feeling of her hot tunnel enveloping me a startling contrast to her cool body pressing against my skin.

We didn't fuck. We hardly moved at all, at least at first. Shine was content to hold me, caressing my back or playing with my hair, and I was grateful for the simple act of being held. I hugged her back, trying to crawl into her, to feel as much of her body against me as possible. Eventually, as if driven by an invisible magnet, our lips met and we kissed again. This time though, it was a slow, gentle exploration, not the heated duel of tongues. I felt Shine's tunnel contract around me, sending goosebumps up my spine and causing me to moan. I writhed against her, trying to drive myself even deeper into her. She moaned into my mouth then our lips seperated and she looked at me, a strange mix of feelings burning in her fiery eyes.

"Parker... " Shine began. I knew whatever would be next, it would be spoiling the mood, for sure. So I bent my head low, wrapped my lips around her nipple and sucked, taking her breath away. Again, she fluttered around my dick. I looked up at her and grinned wickedly.

"Hey, you wanted to fuck me. Go ahead, do it already," I teased, again moving my hips a little under her.

Her thoughtful mood gone, she smirked back at me, "My, you're really a little slut, Parker-babe."

"It's all Hibiko's fault, not mine," I chuckled, slowly leaning backwards and rubbing my hands over my own breasts. Shine placed a hand between my tits and gave a little shove, causing me to collapse onto my back, her fingernails teasingly raking across my chest.

"So, Parker-honey wants to be fucked, huh," she purred, slowly, deliberately raising her hips.

"Yes, Shiny, please," I squealed, letting Hibiko's voice override my own pronounciation. Shine shivered, now just my head was brushing the entrance of her tunnel.

"Shiny... I like that," she growled, slowly impaling herself on my meat again. Before I could reply with anything witty, heck anything at all, she picked up the pace, one hand clawing at my breast, pinching the nipple. I almost came then and there. The ferocity with which she rode me was overwhelming and I could hardly do anything than just hold onto her chromed butt for sheer life, occasionally lifting my hips to meet one of her plunges. Shine grabbed my shoulders for support and rode me, almost violently. I didn't mind. This was reminding me that I was still alive. I was trapped in a futanari avatar and being ridden like Shine was possessed but I didn't mind. I didn't mind her clawing her fingernails into my shoulders. I didn't mind her gnawing at my neck when she hauled me into a sitting position again. And I absolutely didn't mind cumming in her again and again as my avatar reacted to my fizzing brain, coating her insides with whatever futas use for cum. Here, now, I was alive. Whole.

***

No matter how awesome my time online was, reality had a habit of kicking me straight in the nuts. When I opened my eyes, wondering at the sticky puddles all over my belly and thighs, I heard frantic movement to my side. I turned on the sofa. Shine, sweating nearly as profusely as I was, was juggling her eyeballs, alternately inserting her jack and her regular eyeball into the socket, all the while whispering to herself.

"Shine?"

She froze, one of her interchangeable eyeballs hovering inches from the empty socket.

"Shine, what is it," I asked, gingerly brushing her naked thigh.

"I- I can't see, Parker," Shine said, her voice trembling, right at the edge of panic, "My right eye... It's dead!" 



Ghost in the Machine Ch. 09



As always, a huge "Thank You" to bikoukumori, for yet another splendid edit.

Also, thanks to Handley Page from the Author's Hangout, for small but meaningful improvements to the shootout segment.

As usual, only adults having fun here. And Cat will be back, promise.


#9 Dissection

8:15 am PST

Ever since that "Cat" problem surfaced, almost six months ago, my life had taken a turn for the complicated. First, the hacker that was supposed to test drive our newest military-spec combat deck ended up fried for no particular reason. When I sent in my PA, Violet Smith, to find out what had grilled him, she ended up a screaming almost-vegetable. Suddenly, someone sent videos of me and Violet fucking to my wife's mailbox. Lucky for me, she was in Southeast Asia at the time, getting a rejuvenating bodysculpt. I could delete the files before any damage was done. Shortly thereafter, my sons made a total mess of my home office and every single incident had led towards this "Cat," this "ghost in the machine," as Violet called her. 

Thanks to my son Parker, we finally had her location pinpointed. The data trail his deck left behind led us straight into her nest. This "Cat" hid in the bowels of an erotic story repository. Too bad our assault against that system didn't yield anything and the PR fallout was quite the nightmare. No Cat, just a thoroughly thrashed system. I had Legal pay off the SuperSexyStoryLand owners but the damage was done. Thanks to Violet though, we had another angle to try. She mentioned that she met Cat again, shortly before her discharge, and she suspected that maybe Cat had some ties into the neurology clinic's system where Violet was treated. So I sent our best assault programmers into that system and had them tear it down. To our own surprise, they found Cat and nuked her to hell, dragging the bloated corpse of her avatar back to Mindlink Central, where our chief scientist, Kent, and his fellow labcoats were busy dissecting her. I was striding through the lobby, on my way to have a look at their latest progress when my implanted phone rang. I had my headware display the caller's ID. It was one of my sons, Richard Junior. Grumbling to myself, I took the call.

"What is it, Richard? You know you should only call if it's important," I admonished him.

"I know, Dad. Believe me, it is important. It's Parker. He has... vanished!" He sounded uneasy.

"Vanished? Aren't the both of you supposed to be in college right now," I asked. The semester had started three days ago. 

"I am in college but I haven't seen Parker for the last two days. His room is a mess and he even left his cell and deck behind. I have no clue what to do, Dad." 

I sighed inwardly. That was so unlike my eldest son. Apart from that one occasion when I caught him and Richard, covered in cum, messing with my office computer, I had no reason to complain. They were a chip off my block in most respects. A little rowdy sometimes but I could, by and large, be proud of my offspring.

"Okay, you try to calm down. I will look into things and get back to you. Do you have any idea if he's in trouble? Any girlfriends with whom he wanted to run off?"

"No clue, Dad. I've been busy with my own stuff, ya know?"

"Fine. I'll see what I can do. Until I say so, leave the matter to me. Call the police only when I tell you to, otherwise try to calm down. Understood?"

"Yeah. I hope he's okay," he added, then the line was dead. Just what I needed. I turned on my heels and returned to my office. Kent had to wait a little longer, this took precedence. 

Once back in my office, I fired up my deck, routing the output onto the holographic screen. For this, I didn't need to jack in. I logged into the Shepherd global surveillance system, using the login credentials they provided when I had my family chipped. A moment later, a slowly rotating globe formed, with four blips showing the members of my family. Unsurprisingly, Saphire's and mine were in relative proximity to each other, close to the U.S. west coast. Richard junior's blip was, as expected, in Cambridge, MA. I spun the globe until I found blip number four. What was Parker doing in Berlin, Germany? We only had our national headquarters there, barely more than a large office suite and a warehouse for deck distribution. So instead I called Mindlink London, base for all our European operations. They had a rather large security force which I could use for finding out more. I had Gloria, my secretary, ring up the chief of security there.

"Mindlink London, Security Chief Taggart. Who am I speaking to?"

"This is Squier, Special Operations. I need an investigation and extraction team over in Berlin. Possible abduction. How quickly can you mobilize one?"

"Who has been kidnapped, sir," Taggart inquired, the clicking of keys indicated he was already pulling up duty schedules. Good man. 

"I need to find the wearer of the Shepherd chip encoded 05007PS. The Shepherd location service tells me he's somewhere in Berlin. Find him and bring him back to Mindlink Central, understood?"

"Yes sir. The team will leave within the hour. How shall they contact you?"

I gave him my personal cell number. Taggart verified the data I gave him and promised that I would get news within the next twelve hours. I thanked him, ended the call and finally met up with Violet and Kent at R&D.

***

8:35 am PST

Violet shivered against me, even her avatar seemed to feel uneasy as we both watched the team of scientists swarm around the octagonal platform. The ...thing on the platform was barely recognizeable, a swollen mass of discolored, tumourous flesh. Kent's avatar, labcoat flapping, went this way and that, probing the avatar with long, spindly instruments, extracting samples that exploded into readouts circling the dais "Cat's" remains were laying on, large swathes of text shot through with red.

"Are you okay," I asked her, squeezing her hand before stepping a little to the side.

"Yeah. I'm glad it's over. It is over, isn't it," she asked.

"This thing can't hurt you anymore," I said, while joining Kent and his colleagues.

"Alright, Gentlemen. What are we looking at here," I asked them.

"Right now, sir," Kent asked, shooting me an annoyed look. Jacob Kent was a frighteningly brillian scientist, both adept at hardware and software design. Plus, he was also one ruthless son of a bitch when it came to "borrowing" inspirations from rival competitors. But he still thought he was the center of the multiverse, a notion I tried my best to quell.

"Yes, right now, Mister Kent," I snarled, fixing him with my angriest scowl.

"Well, frankly, this is three Petabyte of bloat. Your assault team wasn't exactly subtle when they toasted this avatar. I feel sorry for the poor fucker whose brain was on the other end of their attacks," Kent chuckled.

"If there was a brain behind it at all," Violet muttered, darkly.

"What else could it be? Everyone knows that true, independent, self-aware artificial intelligence isn't possible," Kent pontificated. "The best you can hope for with today's hardware is a decent simulation of one, with advanced heuristics and a huge decision matrix. But even then, and running on a damn server park, it won't be able to fuck your brain like you claim this 'Cat' did to you."

"Sir," one of the labcoats called, pointing to one of the readouts orbiting the dais the remains of "Cat" were on.

"What," Kent snapped. He flicked his wrist and the readout in question spun around the dais, ending up in front of us. He leaned closer, checking some blinking lights and hastily scrolled across the code. With a savage grin, he turned to face Violet and me.

"I think we're slowly getting closer to the solution of this mystery," he grinned.

"I'm waiting, Mister Kent," I grumbled, drumming my fingers against my avatar's thigh. This man, brilliant as he was, annoyed me no end. Hard to believe that I once was like him. Young, eager, irreverent.

"Look at this, sir," Kent instructed, whipping out an old-style magnifying glass which he held over a part of code. The glass dutifully magnified and projected a chain of letters into space.

FOLDING@HOME

"What's that," Violet asked, brushing one of her avatar's blond locks out of her face.

"Folding@Home was one of the most successful applications of distributed networking in the 2010's," Kent explained. "It was used as a simulator for folding and analyzing protein sequences, a task that was almost impossible with the hardware they had back then. So some clever eggheads at Stanford University came up with the idea of splitting the workload and distributing it in bite-sized chunks over a wide variety of systems which crunched the data and sent it back to the main computer who only needed to assemble the slices of data into a complete simulation."

Kent's voice had drifted off as his brain caught up with his mouth.

"And what does a horny, murderous 'Net construct have to do with it," Violet snapped. I couldn't blame her, she was too young when Folding@Home folded in on itself during a virus attack in 2015. Some crazy hacker group thought it funny to write a virus that specifically targeted such distributed networks, infecting not only the main control unit, but also all linked nodes. In Folding@Home's case it was more than seven million client systems, everything from server clusters to privately-owned PC's to game consoles or tablet PCs.

"So you think the virus modified the code of Folding@Home into an AI," I asked.

"I can only speculate on this, sir. The records I've seen during my university time suggested that it was a pretty aggressive little number, rewriting the runtime code of any device it happened to end up on to suit its own need. Looking at this," he gestured at the readout hovering behind him, "I wouldn't rule out that maybe one software iteration caused something unexpected. Whatever happened, it had almost fifteen years to develop."

"Didn't Stanford completely dismantle their F@H facility when the virus hit," I asked, dimly remembering some newspaper article or news broadcast. Server racks being flattened by bulldozers.

"They could dismantle all they wanted, if the virus was only half as efficient as I suspect it was, it surely would have made some backups by the time the Stanford boys pulled the plug on their end. Self-replicating code was an old hat even back then," he chuckled. 

"Fine. Now that we have an idea what it might be, do you have an idea how to finally kill it," Violet hissed, balling her fists.

"What happened to your moral superiority," I asked gently. I remembered Violet telling me about how she met and scared away Cat during her last days in the neuro clinic.

"The facts have changed, Richard. When I met her in the neuro clinic, I was still under the impression that she may be a user running a frighteningly powerful VR system. Now that I know she... it is an AI, a rogue one at that, I can only advise you to seek any means to destroy it. This 'Cat' has targeted Mindlink users exclusively, and who knows what kind of damage she might do if she continues, unchecked?"

"I think I could repurpose some of the code found in this avatar to customize one of our own semi-autonomous H-K programs, sir," Kent drooled, "to build us an anti-AI homing weapon."

"How long would that take," I wanted to know. 

Kent wrinkled his forehead.

"Well, since the damage was done by our own virus weapons, it shouldn't be too hard to filter out all the corrupted code using the virus signatures we have at hand here. A few days tops, quicker if I use more computing power, which would be missing from other projects of course. We have deadlines regarding the latest deck revisions and OS upgrades, after all," he smirked.

"Under the circumstances, I think we can afford to miss a deadline or two. Use whatever processing power you'll need. I want results within the next 72 hours. Is that possible," I asked Kent. He paled. 

"That would mean extra crunch time for all of us, sir," he gasped.

"Consider the bonus your team will see on their next paycheck, Mister Kent," I smirked. Then I invoked the logout sequence and returned to my own body. 

***

10:15 am PST

"Sir, your wife called," Gloria smiled at me as I strode along the corridor towards my office. 

I threw her an annoyed look. In response she leaned back and grinned lewdly, allowing her breasts to strain against the fabric of her tight blouse, showing a nice bit of cleavage. Her tits were one of her many endearing qualities. The others? She was more than willing to render moral assistance if her boss, I, was a little overworked. And she could be frighteningly efficient, another quality I valued in my closest subordinates. 

I stopped and joined her at her desk. 

"Anything important she wanted," I asked, letting my eyes wander over her gorgeous body. 

She shook her head, dark curls swaying.

"No sir. It sounded like she was horny and bored to tears but that's just me guessing," she purred.

"Ugh. Thank you. Anything else while I was away?" Ever since her return from her latest bodysculpting trip, I found it harder and harder to stomach my wife. She may sport the body of a barely-legal cheerleader but deep down she was still the same vapid, flighty and petty hag she had been for the last twenty or so years. Even fucking her new body senseless had lost its excitement. She may suddenly have rediscovered her sex drive but it felt wrong. She debauched herself as if to impress me. Sluts never did it for me. I preferred either sharply intelligent or innocent sex partners and my wife was neither.

"Sir?" Gloria looked up at me, a worried smile tugging at her faintly colored lips. One other thing I liked about her. She only bothered with the faintest hints of make-up, only accenting her natural charms instead of creating them out of thin air.

"I'm sorry, what was that," I snapped, irritated at my uncharacteristic lack of focus.

"There was another call, sir. A Mister Sneap, Bank of America. He said it was urgent."

"Thank you, Gloria. Call him up, I'll take over in a sec," I sighed, opening the doors to my office.

A few moments later, I was back at my desk, taking the call.

"Mister Sneap, Squier here. What can I do for you?"

"I am calling because you are registered as having authorisation over one of our accounts. I have been trying to reach the account holder, one Parker Squier, but so far I have been unsuccessful in doing so." He sounded decidedly unhappy as he gave me the account details. I knew that account. It belonged to Parker, containing the money for his college tuition plus a generous amount of allowance.

"What is the problem here, Mister Sneap," I inquired.

"The account has been compromised, sir," he said, defensively.

"Compromised?"

"Y-yes, sir. There had been an attack on our Cambridge, MA branch yesterday. Several of the accounts there had been breached, the one I'm referring to is one of them."

"How much, Mister Sneap," I asked. I knew enough about cyber crime to make the necessary connections.

"Um... five million dollars, sir. The account has been completely emptied."

I felt my pulse quicken. Five million? That was almost the entirety of what I had deposited there. Before I could shout at him, he added, "But you can rest assured that our house has insurance against such events and we will try our utmost to find the culprit behind this attack. The money will be refunded within the next few days."

"Thank you for informing me, Mr. Sneap. And be so kind and keep me posted on the progress of your investigations."

"Yes, sir," he spouted, obviously happy that I didn't throttle him. Believe me, I would have if he were sitting in the same room as me. I cut the connection and rubbed my temples. That sounded too much like a coincidence to be one. My son suddenly vanished around the same time his whole college fund vanished as well? I knew Parker was clever, even more so than Richard. But why would he try to rob his own bank account? What had happened, Parker?

***

2:25 pm PST

I had instructed Gloria to block all calls from home. Saphire obviously had something on her mind but I wasn't willing to deal with whatever she thought so incredibly important. Besides, I had work to do. Shortly after my talk with Mr. Sneap, an invitation To bid on a contract from Europol had landed on my desk. They were looking for semi-autonomous hunter-killer programs in their ongoing wars against undesired online material and I was determined to sell them our latest. Goverments had far too much money for their own good and getting one of these high-value contracts would no doubt be excellent PR for our company. 

But never mind how ferociously I buried myself in the details of their offer, my thoughts were inexorably pulled back to the mystery surrounding my missing son. It wasn't like Parker to simply drop everything and run off on some wild goose chase. But my hands were tied at the moment. I had done all I could. Mindlink London had no doubt dispatched an extraction team which was on its way to Berlin. All I could do is wait and that drove me nuts. I needed something to get my mind off things.

So I placed a bookmark into the document I was browsing, closed the application and called up Violet. 

"What are you doing right now," I asked when her smiling face lit up the screen of my intercom.

"Oh, just pushing some papers around. I wish you would let me get out more, Richard," she complained.

"Why don't you join me? I could use your help here," I growled softly. Her smile turned playful.

"Complicated legal matters again?" Now it was her turn to purr. Even after being discharged from the clinic, Violet was still constantly horny, willing to fuck me at the drop of a hat. She was undergoing psychotherapy but nothing seemed to lessen her constant sex drive. I didn't complain. Despite behaving like a sex-starved kitten, she still was fiercely intelligent and ambitious, the complete opposite of my wife, whose old, hard eyes were turning me off so much that I only wanted to fuck her from behind, if at all. 

"Fine, don't move, I'll be right there," she grinned. With a seductive smile, she leaned back from the intercom and opened the buttons on her blouse, exposing the sheer red bra beneath. Deliberately, she leaned over the screen, allowing a wonderful look into her cleavage before blowing me a kiss and turning the intercom off. 

Five minutes later, Violet knocked at my office door and I buzzed her in. She had her suit jacket buttoned closed over her skirt, the heels of her knee-high boots clicking on the granite floor of my office, her blond hair swayed in time with her hips as she crossed the distance between the heavy double doors and my desk.

"Hey beautiful," I rumbled in my throat, "Last time I saw you, you had much less thread on you."

Still without saying a word, she stopped short in front of my desk and began to undo her buttons. Each opened button revealed more and more skin. She skipped one button at navel height and turned around, languidly swaying her behind.

Looking over her shoulder, she purred, "I think I'll need a little help with this," indicating the zipper of her knee-length business skirt. 

Grinning like a wolf, I keyed Gloria's desk on the intercom.

"Gloria, I'm busy for the forseeable future. I am not to be disturbed." Raising my gaze, I caught Violet bending down, pushing her skirt up and revealing nothing but silky smooth skin underneath.

"Not even by me, sir," Gloria purred, obviously using the surveillance cameras in my office to sneak a peek.

"Not today," I grumbled and clicked the intercom off, rising out of my chair simultaneously. I willed my Iron Stallion into action, the implant reacted with its usual efficiency. When I reached Violet and pressed into her from behind, my dick was hard as a rock, deliciously pressing between her skirt-clad butt cheeks.




Ghost in the Machine Ch. 09



"You know, I wouldn't have minded," Violet purred, grinding her behind into me. She took my hands and placed them on the front of her jacket, held together by only one button. My fingers brushed over the expensive fabric and slithered under it, caressing her tits. I pinched both her nipples and she growled in her throat.

"Today, it's just you and me, honey. I don't want any distractions," I murmured, nibbling at her ear.

"Oh, boss, I like the way you say that, makes me feel so wanted," Vi sighed.

"Come on, get me naked already," she urged me on, bumping her behind against me. Instead of humoring her, I bent low and nibbled at the soft of her neck, teasing her even further. With slow, deliberate movements, my hands wandered down her front until I found the zipper on her right hip and pulled it down, slowly. She turned in my arms, lacing her fingers together behind my neck and pulled me in for a scorching kiss while the sheet of fabric dropped off her hip and pooled at her feet in a silky rustle. I dug my hands into the supple flesh of her behind and pulled her close while our tongues darted this way and that. Violet broke the kiss and smirked at me.

"You might want to be careful. The way I'm dripping, I may soil your pants, boss. And you don't want that, right?"

"I think I'll need to investigate, darling," I chuckled, flicking the last button on her jacket open and pushing her towards my desk. She shrugged out of the jacket, completely naked but for her knee-high leather boots, and sat on the edge of my high-end desk. Smiling provocatively, she placed one booted foot on the desktop and leaned back, offering her glistening sex for closer inspection. The holographic screen projection played around her body, framing her curves with blue static.

I leaned in and licked the inside of her propped thigh, causing her to sigh in approval. She pulled me closer by my belt buckle, nimbly unhooking it before fiddling with the buttons on my suit trousers. I kissed my way along her thigh, bracing myself at the edge of the desk.

"Hey, didn't I offer my help to get your thoughts off your troubles, boss," Violet purred, her fingers inside my trousers, teasing my rod.

"Oh, you are, baby, you are," I replied, before dragging my tongue over her soft, dripping folds. Not surprisingly, she was sopping wet, her clit a firm nubbin cresting her slit. I swirled my tongue around it a couple of times before licking her folds, exploring every inch I could reach. With a clatter of metal on stone, my trousers pooled around my feet. Almost on autopilot, I stepped out of them, my face still buried in her snatch. Vi dug her fingernails into my shoulders, holding onto me as she humped her hips into my face, liberally coating it with her juices. Only a moment later, she pulled my face up to hers, kissing and licking it hungrily.

"Damn, I love your tongue down there but please, boss, would you please feed that wonderful dick of yours to me," she moaned. Gently, I pulled her off the desk and placed her in my comfy office chair. Growling as if in heat, she leaned forward and slurped my dick between her lips, fondling my balls at the same time.
>
"I really love your enthusiasm, sweetheart," I huffed, gently fucking her mouth. With two fingers of one hand, she steadied my meat while licking, nibbling and sucking it, her other hand was busy between her thighs, making sloppy noises.

"And I can't get enough of that dick of yours, boss," Violet cooed, letting my meat slip out of her mouth. Grinning viciously, she rose from the chair, grabbed the edge of my desk, leaned down and pushed her behind out, invitingly spreading her legs. "And if you don't fuck me like your life depended on it, I'll have to resign," she chuckled, wriggling her ass my way. 

"Oh no, we can't have that, can we," I snarled in mock anger. I grabbed her hips with one hand, lined up the head of my dick with the other and sent it home, in one long, slow push. Violet nearly shrieked as I invaded her. It didn't bother me. The office was quite soundproof, the only person privy to what was happening in here would be Gloria and I guessed that she was busy watching cam footage and playing with herself under the table.

"Now what, boss's meat too big for you," I grumbled, leaning into her, driving myself even deeper into her scalding depths.

"Never," Violet growled, pushing back, "but you're still not fucking the life out of me, boss."

"And here I thought I was being gentle to you, girl," I smirked before pulling out almost all the way.

"Fuck gentle. You already own me, boss. Now prove it," Violet snarled, again pushing back, unwilling to let me tease her. I rammed my meat home again, bending over her and playing with her gorgeous tits, relishing the warmth of her body against mine. To let her know the honeymoon period was over, I pinched both her nipples, causing her to squeal, then I picked up the pace. I plowed her none too gently, each thrust sending the newtonian cradle on my desk into a clicking fit. She thrust back nearly as ferociously, punctuating each of my hammerings with a sigh, a moan, a high-pitched squeal that echoed off the windows overlooking Central Los Angeles. One of her hands snaked between her legs, her fingers rubbing her clit, brushing against my dick pistoning in and out of her velvety center.

"Now... we're... talking, boss," she huffed, almost bent double over my desk, her pussy clenching down on me whenever I bottomed out. I felt my climax approach and ordered the Iron Stallion to postpone it. Dutifully, the implant dialled down the sensations pulsing through my dick, leaving the delicious feel of hot, wet friction to keep me going without overloading my nerve endings. Vi's breath became ragged, her movements lost much of that coordinatied feel as she went from smooth seductress to helplessly cumming mess. I viciously kneaded her behind, still drilling her with a vengeance as she tensed up, her hand a blur on her clit, her head thrown back. A moment later, she screamed. Not a helpless whimper of a woman in the throes of passion, this sounded like a war cry, a roar of defiance. She pushed back into me a final time, her pussy contracting and fluttering around me as she rode the waves of her orgasm. Then she slid off my pole and dropped to her knees, obviously not the least bit perturbed by the cool granite she knelt on. She almost brutally yanked on my wrists, forcing me into my office chair before she went to town on my dick again, her tongue greedily licking along the shaft, intent on bringing me off as well. I relaxed and released the damper the Iron Stallion had placed on my arousal, relishing her hot mouth wrapped around my dick. I caressed her naked shoulders before my hands wandered to the top of her skull, my fingers lacing into her hair. Violet made an approving sound and I felt her mouth relax around me. I pushed her head down, onto my dick, feeling my tip brush the entrance of her throat. Then I was in, fucking her throat. Violet's head bobbed up and down, she made happy noises as she took my dick, her tongue fluttering against me. Quickly coming up for air, our gazes locked and she grinned viciously.

"Cum for me, boss. I know I can do you better than your wife," she teased, before slurping down my dick again. I grabbed her head with both hands and fucked her mouth in earnest, feeling my balls boil over. She groaned around my dick, her hand pulling on my balls, the other digging deep into my buttcheek, and then I exploded, a hot fountain of cum shooting straight down her throat. Moaning, she let my dick slide from her mouth, pumping it vicously. The next ropes of cum hit her face and chest. Grinning sweetly, she sucked me between her lips again, licking up the next few spurts. I groaned blissfully as she cleaned me up, the Iron Stallion made sure I remained as hard as before. I dialled the sensations down a couple of notches, before it could become too uncomfortable, and let her feast on my dick for a few more moments. 

Yes, she really did me better than my wife.

***

5:00 pm PST

Violet and I were far from done after that initial, frenzied bout of fucking. But it felt different. We made love on the guest sofa in my office, slow, tenderly. 

I still wasn't sure why Violet was so fixated on me. She could easily have every man or woman she set her eyes upon but ever since that Cat incident she was almost pathologically fixated on me. Not that I minded. She was clever, efficient and could be irreverently sarcastic. Normally, I cracked down hard on any kind of insubordination or breach of protocol but Violet was clever enough to only let her professional facade down when it was just the two of us. And even then I never felt like she was asking for special treatment or rapid advancement. 

It had all started out as a clandestine affair during a conference in New York, almost two years ago. The clichéd plot, really. We shared a suite of rooms, the drinks flowed freely, then she decided to try out the jaccuzi, I joined her after the third highball, and things went from there. The more Saphire became obsessed with her causes, with her looks, with her quest for eternal youth, the easier it became to let go in the arms of that blonde bombshell. The guilty conscience was there initially but Saphire never complained and Violet didn't either so all was well with me. I really couldn't complain, the fact that this young, brilliant woman craved me so badly almost made me feel young again. 

With a ping, the elevator doors opened and I entered the lobby. Wilkes, our driver, joined me halfway to the doors, taking my briefcase and coat.

"G'day sir. How was work," he asked while opening the rear doors to the limo.

"Same old, same old, Wilkes," I said, sliding onto the exquisite leather upholstery. I took a can of lemonade from the cooler in the center console and greedily emptied it. 

"Good to hear, sir," Wilkes said as he slid onto the driver's seat, starting up the car.

"All well at home," I inquired while Wilkes threaded the car through the L.A. rush hour.

"As far as I can tell, sir," he said, avoiding my gaze in the rearview.

I felt another pang of annoyance. Usually, Wilkes and I got along splendidly. No wonder as we spent about two hours each day together and he was one of the few persons in my vicinity with the liberty to speak freely. Seeing him avert his gaze was new to me.

"What happened," I snarled, crushing the empty lemonade can before dumping it into the waste receptacle.

"N-Nothing, sir," Wilkes stammered, nearly jumping a stop light.

"Don't fuck with me, Wilkes," I growled.

"It-it's your wife, sir. She asked me not to tell you."

"Tell me? What?"

"About the surprise she has planned for you, sir," Wilkes said, in a small voice.

"I fucking hate surprises," I snarled. When Mr. and Mrs. Vintner hired me to head their then fledgeling R&D department, they surprised me by also offering the hand of their daughter, "to further cement our relationship". It was clear as day they did that only to make it this much harder for me to move on if the job shouldn't pan out as I expected. And just like their parents, Saphire surprised me at the worst possible time by announcing her pregnancy, just as I made head of Mindlink's Special Operations division. Nothing good ever came from surprises and I had spent much of my time in recent years to eliminate most random factors from my life. 

I massaged my temples and gnashed my teeth.

"Did she say what this 'surprise' would entail? Hopefully not another pregnancy," I growled.

"Sorry sir, that's all I know, sir," Wilkes answered, breathing a sigh of relief. We had nearly left Central behind and Wilkes was aiming for the Mulholland Drive, a route he knew I liked very much. In my younger days I would have taken one of the motorcycles still parked in our garage and tear down the curves on weekends but now, with my full-time job and no less full-time family, there was hardly any opportunity to do so anymore. I sighed wistfully.

"Did you say anything, sir," Wilkes inquired. 

I didn't bother to answer. Instead I removed the tablet PC from its cradle in the passenger headrest and consulted my inbox. No news from the investigation team in Berlin yet. Who would have thought that the Shepherd chip I had installed alongside my sons' Mindlink implant would turn out so handy? I just hoped the team tracking him wasn't a bunch of incompetent fools.

A mail pinged into my inbox, courtesy of Violet. The subject line read "Doing a little overtime." Curious, I clicked it open. The mail contained only a still image of Gloria, spread-eagled naked on my desk, legs splayed wide, with Violet going at her snatch. Chuckling to myself, I quickly typed a reply.

"Don't overdo it, darling. And save the feed for me." Then I replaced the tablet and looked out of the window, my mind adrift. 

***

5:30 pm PST

"I'm home," I snarled, striding into the foyer and slamming the door. Molly, our maid, waited next to the stairs leading up towards the second floor, wearing a long apron with "Kiss the chef" printed on it, a huge smile on her face.

"Welcome home, sir. If you would follow me, your wife wishes to see you," she purred. Then she turned and walked up the stairs. I nearly dropped my briefcase. Underneath the apron, she was naked, her dark-skinned ass swayed invitingly up the stairs. With a few quick steps I was at her side and stopped her by grabbing her elbow.

"What is the meaning of this," I asked, my scowling face only inches from hers. "You know, I could have you fired for this," I added. Molly smiled at me, leaned in and kissed me, full on the mouth.

"Sorry, sir, but your wife has made the contract with me. So, if anyone could fire me, it's her. Come on, I know you want this," she purred, placing my hands on her barely covered hips, writhing under my touch. "And I really wouldn't mind your dick up any of my holes. If you're as good in bed as your sons, then..." she began, leaving the rest dangling. 

What was happening here during my absence? If I needed any confirmation that Saphire found her own amusement while I was earning our keep, I didn't need to look far. Molly had extricated her arm from my grasp and mounted the stairs, leaning casually against the handrail half a flight up so I had no choice but to look straight between her thighs. She obviously knew where I was looking as she spread her legs and ran her hand under the apron, teasing her folds.

"Coming," she purred, climbing the rest of the stairs. She turned into the hallway that led to the master bedroom. I followed suit. With a flourish and a bow, which brought her nose so close to my fly that she could easily rub it against my crotch, Molly opened the door. I threw a quick look inside. On the bed, spread-eagled and bound to the bedposts with shockingly colorful silk scarves, was my wife. She wore a school uniform, complete with starched socks and plaid skirt, her blouse invitingly opened, one of her surgically enhanced tits almost falling out. Slowly, her head turned and she leered my way.

"Oh teacher, I've been a bad girl," she purred, licking her lips. Molly brushed past me, shedding the apron in the process. Wearing only her birthday suit and displaying a really nice set of curves, she climbed into bed, kneeling over my wife's head, grinding her shaved pussy onto Saphire's mouth.

I knew she was doing it for my benefit as much as hers but seeing Saphire there, in total slut mode, was more sobering than a bucketful of ice water. I turned on my heel, closed the bedroom door and went over to my home office instead, locking the door behind me. There was no way I was playing along.

I walked over to the small, well-stocked bar and helped myself to a double-strength whiskey and soda. Sipping the drink, I flopped into the office chair. Before I could take another sip, my implanted cell pinged. I leaned back, closed my eyes and took the call. 

"Yes?"

"Mr. Squier? This is Hendrikson, Mindlink London security. You have asked us to find the wearer of the Shepherd chip model number zero-five-zero-zero-seven Papa Sierra. I'm calling to let you know that we have pinpointed the location and are about to start extraction. If you want, you may join us via direct feed on channel eighteen, executive encryption level."

"Thank you, Mister Hendrikson. Stand by," I acknowledged before severing the connection. I fished a Mindlink cable out of a desk drawer and connected my replacement deck with my Mindlink jack. The original machine was still at R&D with Kent and his lackeys turning the whole system upside down bit by bit. The copy of the custom firmware worked flawlessly and, without apparent transition, I was able to access the 'Net. I pulled up the network system, dialled in channel eighteen and let my headware do the handshakes with the decryption modules. A moment later, I was whisked across the Atlantic. When the mad dash stopped, my whole vision was filled with tactical data overlaying a soldier's field of view. A small icon at about chin level signalled that I was now riding shotgun in his helmet computer, using the data his helmet delivered straight into his brain.

"Alright, Mr. Hendrikson. What's the situation? Where are we?"

"This is Tempelhof Market, an unregistered open-air point of sale. By what we have seen so far, it's all pretty illegal, sir," the security trooper explained.

"So, what's the plan," I inquired. In answer, Hendrikson pulled up a satellite map of the area which quickly panned and zoomed to show the position of his four squadmates and a steadily glowing, barely moving dot. The soldiers had surrounded a rather large stall, more a small complex of two sheds and a stage placed on end of each other.

"This looks like a slave pen of some sort," Hendrikson explained while the building his troop had surrounded blinked. The glowing dot was in the middle of one of the sheds. "Our scanners show about fourty lifesigns total, spread across these sheds and the stage."

"My son is one of them," I asked, trying to keep my voice neutral. What have you done, Parker? Got yourself kidnapped by slavers? Or are they just waiting to ransom you off?

"Unknown, sir. As you may have noticed, the place is quite heavily fortified. I don't think they'll let us in to have a look," Hendrikson said, dismissing the map. Obediently, it shrunk to stamp size and withdrew to the top right corner of his vision. Instead, his gaze travelled from left to right, the threat assessment routines in his helmet outlining the bulky guards in red auras.

"You are sure this is not under German jurisdiction? Or any rival corporation's," I asked, tense.

"Positive. This, sir, is urban wasteland at its best. No one will care if we knock some heads around," Hendrikson snickered, the medical data in the bottom left showed an increase in heart rate, blood pressure and arousal levels. The guy was itching for a fight. 

"All right, gentlemen. I hereby authorize the use of lethal force. Get my son out of there, in one piece, preferrably." I willed my headware to transmit the neccessary authorization codes. The status readouts indicating weapon readiness switched from red to green. The team was equipped with the latest IntelliGun models, directly keyed into the threat assessment routines of the helmet. As long as the target didn't appear armed the weapon would not fire even if pointed at the face and if the trigger was pulled. No need to make a bigger mess than necessary. 

"Team, sound off," Hendrikson barked.

"This is Two, go-ahead received and ready."

"Three. Rock'n'roll, sir!"

"Four. Loaded and ready."

"Five. Let's do this."

"Affirmative, team. Let's do this," Hendrikson snarled, raising his left hand. The small pneumatic grenade launcher mounted to his forearm plating coughed once, releasing a micro-flashbang. The coin-sized explosive landed between the guards. I didn't see or hear any explosion, the dampening equipment in the helmet effortlessly filtered out the strobe flash and noise. The people around Hendrikson went into a panic, dispersing quickly as the squad leader calmly raised the rifle, pressed the stock against his shoulder and killed the guards with perfectly aimed headshots. A moment later, similar noises erupted around the perimeter of the slave pen. But instead of the calm, measured coughing of the silenced IntelliGuns, the throaty roar of large-caliber, automatic fire erupted.




Ghost in the Machine Ch. 09



Hendrikson was already at the entrance, probing the massive metal door leading into the shed.

"Situation," he barked. I quickly accessed the squad status. Four was badly injured, several explosive-tipped bullets had shattered his assault armor. Three was busy pulling him out of harm's way while three guards were showering his position with automatic fire from their assault rifles.

"Three here. Looks like some of them had dampeners installed. They were awfully quick for civvies."

"No kidding," Four wheezed, every breath causing a sickening bubbly sound. His suit was busy pumping painkillers and clotting agents into his bloodstream to keep his heavily enhanced body functioning until extraction was possible.

"Two, you're with me. Five, you go and relieve Three and Four. We've got a hostage to free, pronto," Hendrikson snapped. I made a mental note to send him a small token of my appreciation, should he survive this mission. He jammed a thin object between door and frame and took cover beside the door. A moment later, Two tapped his shoulder, signalling his arrival.

"Breach, go," Hendrikson snarled. The voice command caused the flexible plastics explosive to blow, taking much of the door with it. A moment later, Hendrikson and his squad mate were storming the room, the visor impassively taking in a scene straight from a demented orgy. Two dozen wealthy-looking people, most in various stages of undress, were busy licking, sucking and fucking heavily bodysculpted sex slaves, obviously too stoned or uncaring to note the two armored soldiers bearing down on them. Hendrikson chuckled as he flicked a stun gas grenade into their midst. Twelve seconds later, he and his companion stalked across unconscious fur-clad oligarchs, their heavily jewelled companions and ... playthings straight out of a pervert's fantasy. His gaze brushed a man with two penises jutting from his crotch and chest, two women drooling over him; a catgirl, her long furry tail wrapped around the bicep of a beautiful and not much less bodysculpted woman whose head rested between her thighs, an obscenely long, tentacle-like tongue buried in the glistening folds of the catgirl.

"What the fuck is this place," Two asked in mixed awe and terror.

"A playground for the perverted," Hendrikson hissed. He looked up, aligning his vision with the pulsing blip on his radar.

"Five, status," he barked.

"Five. Hostiles neutralized. Four is in bad shape though. They had SABOT rounds, he looks like swiss cheese to me," Five said, solemnly.

"I saw a doctor's wagon nearby. Worth a shot," Three asked. A moment later, a shot pierced the relative quiet.

"Oh FUCK," Five shouted, his IntelliGun coughing in rapid fire.

"STATUS," Hendrikson barked, picking up the pace. A moment later, he kicked open the door leading from the adjacient room. 

"Hostile, damnit. He just blew away Three's brain."

We could see it. A large man standing amidst a handful of his fallen comrades, wrapped in a long leopardskin coat, just trained his gun onto Five's kneeling form. Without hesitation Hendrikson opened fire, riddling the man with a whole clip's worth of bullets. He stumbled but did not go down.

"What the fuck are you made of? Kryptonite," Hendrikson snarled, taking a step back and seeking cover behind the doorframe he had just came through, swapping mags. Two, from the other side, leaned into the room but before he could squeeze off even a single shot the huge pistol roared again. No headshot, but the bullet hitting his shoulder had enough kick to spin him into the wall next to him.

"Hendrikson. Is my son in there," I asked, trying to make heads or tails of the readouts in his visor. Hendrikson checked the readings. The blip was indeed in the center of the room. He leaned around the door, letting the visor take a quick snapshot before ducking back. The bullet from the large pistol took out a head-sized chunk of the wall near his right ear. 

"No one in there but the shooter, sir. Advice," Hendrikson asked, not too eager to jump into the jaws of death.

"Let's take this fucker down," Two croaked. Most of his right shoulder was missing, the arm seemingly hanging on only by a thread. His armor was pouring sealing gel down the wound. He switched out his rifle for the sidearm, a bulky automatic which he could shoot one-handedly.

"Great. Cover me," Hendrikson hissed, dropping to his knees. A moment later, a countdown from five appeared in his visor, no doubt mirroring one in Two's helmet. When the counter reached zero, both men, in an eerily coordinated movement, swung into the doorframe at differing heights. The shooter was perplexed for just the fraction of a second, the fatal breath of hesitation. 
Two's salvo riddled the torso of the leopard-coat man, letting him dance like a mad puppet. Hendrikson's shots devastated his face, leaving only a bloody ruin where the head once was.

"Alright, get Extraction down here, we need a medic stat," Hendrikson snarled, entering the room, scanning for other, hidden assailants. His search came up negative, so he knelt down next to the beheaded man, tapping his chest.

"What is it," I asked him.

"No wonder he shrugged off our bullets. This looks like a ton of subdermal armor plating. This guy was a walking tank. Damn asshole," Hendrikson spat. He consulted a wrist-mounted screen. I could practically hear his frown.

"My scanner says the chip is here, directly in front of me," he said.

"Not below," I asked, staring at the bloody mess around him.

"No sir, it says '36 centimeters down.' That's hardly deep enough for a cellar."

"Okay, so the stiff has to have the chip. Check if he has a recent arm transplant or something," I said, my stomach knotting. I had Parker's chip installed in his left wrist. He obviously wasn't here which left only two possibilities. Either someone had removed his arm and grafted it onto somebody else, which wasn't unheard of, or...

Hendrikson's hand entered his field of vision, a small, shiny object between his gauntleted fingers. He magnified it. In clean etching, the code "05007PS" was visible on the side.

What have you done, Parker?

***

3:26 am PST

I had decided not to join my wife in bed, instead using the sofa in my home office for a few hours of sleep. My cell pinged again, the sound even disrupting my dreams. Groaning inwardly, I took the call.

"Squier."

Kent was on the other end, his voice breathless with excitement.

"We have done it, sir. It's... it's alive!"