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As soon as Misty left the room it took everything within you not to burst into tears. Everything had been so relentlessly cruel to you the past… week… month… how long had you been out? How long did you have left until the stranger inside of your brain completely chewed through your cerebrum? How long were you going to throw this stupid little pity party for yourself?
… Were those even your thoughts?
It was a fact you hadn’t come to terms with- you were now the unreliable narrator. How does one even start cooperating with a “personality construct”? Especially when that personality construct has every incentive to seize your mind and take over your body?
Your eyes trailed towards the bottles of pills that Misty had left for you. Obviously the pseudoendotrizine was a no go- “freeing the demon”- yeah, that sounded like a good idea. This particular daemon was beginning to manifest in your skull as a quiet migraine, the last thing you wanted was to enable its inevitable explosion out the back of it. The omega blockers were a nice thought, but you knew better than anyone that they had about the same kick as a poke in the eye. They literally prescribed that shit to infants. Couldn’t Misty at least have had the decency to leave some kind of black market sedative instead?
All you wanted to do now was expedite the process of passing out for an unforeseen amount of time. You sloughed off the mattress and limped towards Ol’ Faithful: The mirrored medicine cabinet. A purple cap caught your eye as soon as you opened the cabinet: Hypnotrizine. A long expired prescription with one singular purpose: knock you (and your stubborn mind) on your ass for 2-3 business days. The normal dosage sat at two capsules so it was a major disappointment to hear the lonely rattle of a single pill. No matter, a chaser of booze would probably do the trick.
Actively ignoring the large warning label “DO NOT CONSUME WITH ALCOHOL”, you drugged yourself heartily and trudged back towards your nest. It was becoming increasingly difficult as the sides of your vision were wobbling to the beat of your neighbor’s music. You unceremoniously fell onto your bed, grasping the bedsheets, hapless not to fall off. The concoction was hitting you too fast. You passed out with your legs hanging off the side of the bed, fully on top of covers. The last moment of consciousness was spent trying to process a very unusual sight: Johnny Silverhand… just watching… thoughtful… malicious?
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You felt ice cold steel tighten around your throat. He leaned into you, his weight bearing fully into your stomach. “You… have no fucking clue… how long I have waited for this moment.” His grip caused your vision to pinhole, the blackness closing in on the image of his face. He used his other hand to grasp your hair by the roots, forcing your gaze to the ceiling. “You can’t possibly fathom what a goddamn eternity feels like. To be alone. To be without your body. To be without sensation. Forever.” The sweet relief of unconsciousness was right around the corner as the last bit of ceiling turned dark. His voice was miles away, and the pain in your scalp belonged to another person. You didn’t have to think anymore, that wa-
S M A C K
A hot flash of pain jolted you back into lucidity. Your skin was so hot from the slap that the resulting trickle of blood felt cool running down your cheek. He forced your gaze back onto him. His metal hand lifted the sunglasses away from his eyes and you’re finally able to see his unfiltered animosity. “I don’t think so. There’s no satisfaction of punishing you if you’re comatose.” A smirk started to curl, warping his visible anger into amusement. “Besides, I just spent an immeasurable amount of time in a goddamn chip. You really think the first thing I want to do is fuck a corpse? No…” His eyes shifted up and down your body carefully. “No, but maybe that’ll be the second thing I do.”
His smirk split into a grin. His tone was disturbingly sincere. Sincere enough to push through your drug-induced fatigue and squirm beneath his legs. He allowed it, watching you realize exactly how powerless you were to the situation. He was planted on top of you, straddling your mid-section. Your arms were pinned to your sides, immobile against his leather-covered thighs. Your legs were pinned against the bed by the heels of his boots- they were jammed above your knees- making any attempts to kick impossibly agonizing. Even if you had the strength to headbutt his arrogant face, his fingers were locked tightly through the locks of your hair. Resistance was futile. You were drugged out and exhausted, but the circumstances were meaningless. Even at peak health, there was no way you were a match for this man. Hell, even if you had brand-new, top of the line implants, you wouldn’t have had a chance. Johnny’s own implants tipped the scales further in his favor. They were antiquated at this point, but it didn’t matter. He had already won, and now it was time to reap his reward.
After casting his aviators aside he cupped your raw cheek. His mechanical thumb swiped away the blood and he tsked as the small stream replaced itself. “Really did a number here, didn’t I?” A false sympathy dripped off of every word, his smile yet to cease. He continued to wipe at the fresh blood as soon as it appeared on the cut. The motions were tender, momentarily lulling you into a false sense of security. Without warning he plunged the bloodied digit into your mouth, wedging between your lips and clacking against your teeth. The flavor was tinny. The act itself was invasive, yet intimate. You fought the instinct to bite down on the intrusion. Even if he had used his flesh hand you were sure the consequences wouldn’t be worth it. He pushed it down further, making you gag. Your response amused him. “Shit, if you’re having trouble with this one I’ve got some bad news for ya.” He remarked casually. You felt the grip against your head soften ever so slightly.
“Now. Suck.”
You didn’t. How the fuck would he know if you were sucking his stupid robotic thumb? Yet he waited, looking at you expectantly. He raised an eyebrow and you looked away from his piercing gaze. The grip against your scalp tightened again, harder than before. The tips of his metal fingers scratched the length of your jaw. Your eyes watered automatically. He leaned in, bringing his nose to yours. His forehead pressed against your own. Any previous semblance of humor lapsed as his hot breath washed over your face. “I said. Fucking. Suck.” You closed your eyes and puckered your mouth. You tasted a mix of blood and dirt as you ran your tongue along each segmented joint. You felt ridiculous and embarrassed. Demeaned. Filthy.
He shifted his weight back onto your middle, giving you some breathing room but quashing your lungs in the process. A satisfied purr emanated from his throat. You had assumed his prerogative was humiliation, yet his reaction indicated he did indeed have sensation in his “silver hand”. How the fuck could he have synthnerves? You were sure that technology hadn't been available back then. And how the fuck was he able to feel anything? Wasn’t this fucker supposed to be a hallucination?
He popped his thumb out of your mouth and wiped the excess saliva on the sheets. You watched in horror as he sat up on his knees, scooting forward to straddle your shoulders. He had poised his crotch inches away from your faces. His bulge was apparent beneath the tight, worn leather. He palmed his hand against the protrusion, emphasizing the length by running two fingers down the sides of the obvious outline. His hips rocked against his hand in response, his body desperate for physical contact.
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I forgot how long it had been since I touched my cock. Virtual purgatory was great for self reflection. It was terrible for self pleasure. Being able to remember every single sexual encounter without being able to jack off was a torture in itself. It was finally time to rectify that misery.
I stopped touching my own cock long enough to grab your head and force you against the fabric. The full-on contact was tantalizing. Every little motion was almost painful in how pleasurable it felt. I was surprised to feel you trying to taste my cock, I reveled watching you lick the front of my pants sans request. Your compliance was merely optional, but your cooperation was a delightful surprise. You took your time around the defined cockhead, kissing and moving your lips against me. You ran your tongue up the outline until it disappeared behind my belt buckle. You pressed your pursed lips firmly against me, the pressure making me spin. A nostalgic sensation was bubbling inside my guts. I wasn’t surprised I was this close already- the amount of time that had elapsed since my last orgasm was honestly boggling. I was a sucker for self-punishment though. I wasn’t going to let myself come- not yet. I waited until I felt that familiar twinge in my core. Before my balls could even get the chance to tighten I pushed you away sharply. Your confusion tickled me. “I would hate for this to end prematurely.” I reassured you with a wink.
I got up off of you, watching the gears turn in your head. You continued to look confused; I knew you were considering escape. I followed your eyes to the front door, to the window, and back again. But you knew it was no use. Heaving a sigh, you wrapped your newly freed arms around your knees and curled onto your side. I almost felt bad watching your eyes water with frustration. Almost. I knew these tears were only a preview of what was to come, and this thought alone made my cock throb. I cupped it through my pants one last time before unlatching my belt. I wondered about my pubic hair, careful to not snag the zipper on any newfound growth. But of course nothing had changed- I was as stubbly as the day I left my physical body. Pubes or no pubes, it still stung like hell as the shaft impatiently began to breach the metal teeth of the new opening. Even with the zipper all the way down, the head of my cock stubbornly hid below the open zip. It wasn’t graceful by any means, but I managed to finally expose my entire length to the fresh air. I felt my shaft stiffen autonomously as I peeled the rest of the sweaty leather down my legs. I cast the pants to the side before ripping off my tactical vest and wifebeater. I quietly observed you watching me strip, taking note of the way your eyes followed my newly revealed genitalia. I couldn’t help giving it a tug for you, squeezing just below the head and subtly engorging the tip. A small shake encouraged a healthy droplet of precum to leak onto the floor. Suddenly it seemed to register that I was watching you, and your gaping mouth quickly shut in response.
“Keep it open, I liked the easy access.” I laughed as you purse your lips bashfully. The blush that appeared across your face exposed your feigned ambivalence. Before returning to you I grabbed the handcuffs off of my vest. Why would I waste my precious energy trying to constantly corral you when I could do it once and be done?
It wasn’t hard to unfold your body and maneuver the cuffs around your wrists. After securing your hands above your head, I extended your legs and remounted you. I pushed the hem of your shirt to uncover your chest, not hesitating to clamp onto one of your nipples. The soft and flat circle stiffened immediately between my teeth. Your body squirmed. It was possible you were trying to get away, but the subtle lift of your hips and swell of your chest communicated a very different message. I brought my hand to the other tit, relishing your reaction to the cold metal. It was already hard. I groped and sucked, simply enjoying the soft and supple skin of an unwitting joytoy writhing underneath me. The ambiguous consent of the situation was making my cock pulse even harder. Having the opportunity to inflict simultaneous pleasure and pain unto you was a gift for both of us. I bit down again, the resulting noises intoxicating. I didn’t want to stop molesting you, but my cock was starting to ache from being this hard for so long.
I eased my body towards your face, making sure to drag the mushroom head over your clothed crotch for an extra second. I put my engorged member up to your face, giving you an up close and personal display. Before you could turn away, I grabbed the back of your skull to keep you steady.
“Now,” I said, sitting up on my knees “I know that you are going to be a very good little joytoy and aren’t going to bite my cock off when I shove it down your throat, right?” You didn’t respond, opting to instead give my dick the thousand-yard stare. “Right.” I slapped your face, eliciting a faint whimper but an impressive amount of stoicism kept your gaze locked to the distance. I tilted your head up and demanded you look me in the eye. But it wasn’t going to happen. Your little passive defiance act was... cute.
I would make an example of it.
“Seems like you don’t understand the situation you’re in right now. You don’t have any leverage here, sweetheart, so I’ll spell it out for you.”
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The smell was overwhelming. His cock, ripe with dried sweat and fresh precum, twitched expectantly below your nose. It was clear this position got him off. The odor made your eyes water and throat clench. In your peripheral you saw his brow furrow. He had all the power here, but you'd be damned if he made you look him in the eyes while it happened. It was a small act of rebellion, but it still felt good to defy him. So you continued to focus your eyes on the opposite wall. It’s not like he could magically maneuver your eyeballs to look at whatever he pleased…
...is what you thought before an electric flash of pain coursed through you. The searing pain flowed to eyes, becoming stronger until you glanced at him. The pain lapsed unnaturally, as though a switch was flipped. It returned the instant you looked away, and it suddenly occurred to you that this was not a mistake. “What the fuck are you- how?” You begged. Was this real? Was this guy actually controlling your eyesight?
“Listen to me,” he gestured his head over his shoulder, you realized he was referencing the empty bottle of hypnotrizine, the warning label bright against the white floor. He looked pleased as you began to connect the dots. “Do you think they put those labels on those for shits? Or are you so wrapped up in your god complex, you didn’t think something like that could possibly apply to you?” The question was obviously rhetorical and exaggerated, yet you couldn’t help blushing at your carelessness. He started to quote what you had blatantly ignored earlier: “ ‘Warning: dangerous side effects can occur if you consume this medication with alcohol. Side effects include, but are not limited to, an increased chance of a physical manifestation of an unwanted personality construct.’ Damn, what are the chances?” He grinned, adding, “Since I was birthed straight from your brain, I had enough time to familiarize myself with your tech. It might be time to update some personal firewalls, clearly ain’t doing you much good at the moment.
“Though it is quite fun overriding every single one of your transgressions, I will say it is a much sweeter reward to watch you react organically.” He pushed your face into his crotch, rubbing the shaft carelessly along your jaw. You could feel the slick precum that trailed behind. “I will let you be as obstinate as you’d like, just remember who is holding onto your leash.” With that, your jaw mechanically opened, allowing Johnny to plunge his massive cock down your throat.
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Fuck
Too long, way too damn long since I’ve had my dick sucked. The sensation was overwhelming. I did nothing to stop myself from sliding down to my hilt in a single thrust. You take me with absolute ease.
Tuning your gag reflex sensitivity profile to ‘low’ had been an excellent decision.
I panted, watching your eyes water with your nose pressed against my pubic bone. I eased back a bit while putting my other hand against my cock in your throat. You were so fucking full. I kept my body still, using your mouth to masturbate myself. I wanted to take it slow, not for your sake, but for my own pleasure. I recorded every millisecond of memory, making sure to recall the smallest details: the squelching of your spit, the mixture of blood and precum along your cheek, your ragged attempts at breathing as my cock slid in and out of your lips. Your dribble was starting to ooze down my balls. The sloppy nature of the event was getting me way too close again. A few more thrusts and I was done for. Fuck, I was reaching the edge way too quickly. Apparently, an indeterminable lapse of time makes one more sensitive to stimulation. The final thrusts became exponentially more intense before forcing myself out of your mouth with a “pop”. It was time to distract myself long enough to ensure I wouldn’t immediately bust when I finally put my dick in your cunt.
I scooted backwards along your body, giving you the space to breathe but not the time to think. I slid your pants easily down your legs, revealing your hips and underwear first. I impatiently threw the pajamas away and dove forward onto your pantied mons.
I pushed my nose against the thin fabric, growling at your physical response. Your hips lurched forward into my face, your body begging me to please it. God it’s been so long since I’ve been able to feel a pussy. Every single memory floods back with a single inhale of your sex. Pornographic flashes. I moaned as soon as I registered how damp your crotch was and I couldn’t help but groan as you squirm in reaction. Every single movement made my stomach churn in pure lust and desire. I found myself acting irrationally, suddenly using my teeth to tear your underwear at the seams. The cheap fabric rips easily, allowing almost immediate access below. My eyes reflexively rolled back at the vision before me: a swollen and dewey cunt, practically pulsating for a single touch. How could I not oblige?
Sure, this entire act of deprivation was, for the most part, disgustingly self-indulgent. However, decades in a soul prison can’t take away a man’s primal desire to make a woman gush with two fingers.
I ensured my implant’s specialized software still functioned by snapping my fingers. With a whir and a gentle hum the machine indicated it was up-to-date. I snapped again and the implant quieted. Glancing up to see if you were still conscious, the abject horror plastered across your face assured me that you were quite aware of your surroundings.
“Gotta make sure you’re primed before fucking the shit out of you. Least I can do.” I snapped my fingers again, bringing my implant back to life and poised it over thetiny hood protecting your clit. I noticed the clear ooze was already leaking out between your fold. “Shit, you’re this fucking wet? From what, wiping my impressive cock all over your face? I’m flattered.” Clearly, your body was more than ready to be penetrated. I deftly plunged the first buzzing finger deep into you. A carnal scream shook your whole body, your convulsions pushing your pubic bone straight into my nose. The impact was surprisingly hard. Tears pricked my eyes and I felt blood start to dribble down my lip. It was hardly distracting enough to make me stop fingering your cunt. I wiped my forearm across my face and continued to curl my finger in you.
I couldn’t resist any longer. I had to taste you. You rewarded me with another scream as I sucked your tiny clit. Muscle memory began to overtake my tongue, the rhythm returning to me. I started to imagine all of the other pussies I’d finger fucked in my lifetime. Tens. Hundreds. Countless. But they were suddenly petty and unimportant. I couldn’t recall a single distinct one, they had become an amalgamation that led up to this exact event. Practices. Rehearsals.
And the main event couldn’t be sweeter.
You adjusted quickly to the first finger and even quicker to the tongue. I stuck my middle finger inside of you, curling my fingertips upward while teasing your clit with my teeth. I started to taste blood dripping from my face onto your cunt. The hot liquid seeped lower, mixing in with your juices. Your grimace couldn’t hide your physical reactions, and it certainly couldn’t hide the endless rush of dopamine and serotonin coursing through your body. I continued to curl my fingers into you with well-practiced techniques, paying close attention to timing and location. I matched your crescendo, gaining speed as you struggled hard against me. You grew even louder, your voice desperate and chaotic. The cuffs created deep welts in your wrists. Your body strained away from my mouth. I wasn’t going to let you escape your orgasm. From between your legs I heard you cry out my name followed by dozens of pleas to let you cum. A handful of particularly deep thrusts and greedily lapping at your clitoris was enough.
The first sensation I felt was your insides flexing hard against my prosthetic. Second was the squirt of cum that splashed against my facial hair before dripping into my mouth. The third sensation to process was the ear-splitting shriek, muffled by your thighs against my ears. A few more convulsions rocked your body as I fingered you through your orgasm, milking it as long as I could. Your legs collapsed away from my head and the handcuffs clinked as your hands went limp. I took mercy on your unconscious form, impressed that I managed to fingerfuck you unconscious. But I was far from done playing.
While waiting for you to recover I started stroking my cock. It had become slightly soft while I focused on the cunnilingus. I grabbed my shirt to wipe away the sweat, blood, and pussy juice that had accumulated in my facial hair. I replayed the clip of you squirting into my mouth on repeat. Your flavor was slightly acrid but mostly tasteless. It didn’t fill my mouth up, it was simply a small sample of your sexual talent. The thoughts of making you drench the sheets in your own fluid… my own seed dripping out of your well-used labial lips… your chest heaving trying to catch your breath… It was time to make it all a reality.
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“Wake up.” Johnny said gruffly while fumbling with your handcuffs. The intensity of the release had made you even more tired. It was a complete invasion, but you couldn’t stop thinking about how nimble his fingers were inside of you. He knew what he was doing, but it was even more impressive that he seemed to know exactly what to do to you. It was like he had memorized your instruction manual and he knew exactly how each part of you functioned. You wondered how close that was to the actual reality. “Turn around.” His authoritative tone shook you out of your thoughts and you blindly complied. There was no smart remark or snarky banter to soften the command. This made your clit involuntarily twitch. It was clear he wanted to do one thing and one thing only: take your dripping cunt from behind.
He spread your cheeks wide, making you self conscious of your asshole. You peeked over your shoulder to watch him align himself against your opening. He grabbed your shoulder with his metal hand as you felt his cockhead pierce your folds, making you gasp. His movements were excruciatingly slow, and you hated yourself as you tried to push back against him. “Johnny please…” You were surprised at your own words, they had tumbled out of your mouth without warning. The plea cut through his focus and his slow movements stopped all together.
“Louder.” He commanded.
“Johnny please!”
He didn’t move his waist an inch. His metallic nails dug hard into your sides. He whispered against your skin. “Beg for Johnny Silverhand’s cock, babe.”
You groaned, frustrated at his ego and desperate for more. “Please put your cock in me, Johnny. All of it. I can’t wa-!” He slammed his hips into you before you could finish the sentiment. His long member instantly poked against your cervix, an unfamiliar feeling that made you curse. He continued to hit that spot, maintaining an unbelievably fast pace. You shifted your hips so his ridged head bumped rhythmically against your g-spot. You couldn’t hold back. Animalistic noises escaped you and it wasn’t long until the next orgasm started to mount. The jack hammer pace continued as he reached down to stimulate your clit. The extra stimulation made you jack your hips, causing his dick to hit your g-spot hard before popping out. As you both cried out in surprise, a spurt of liquid shot from your urethra. You’re nervous you pissed the bed, but the distinction seemed to make no difference to the rocker. He moaned and grabbed his cock to rub the fresh release all over your vulva. It wasn’t long before he slipped inside of you again, grabbing your other shoulder for balance as he fucked you to the hilt.
His stamina was incredible. Your body became exhausted and your elbows and back ached from holding yourself up against him. As soon as you tried to let your spine relax, he pushed you down by the nape of your neck. He kept his hand there, pressing you into the mattress as he continued to have his way with you. Each thrust squished you harder into the mattress, forcing drool to seep from your mouth. With a grunt, he spanked you with his calloused hand and held onto your hip. He slid his hand to your hips, slowing down to spread your ass wide as he penetrated you deeply. The stirrings of a third orgasm tickled your insides with every careful stroke.
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I was close. Very close. Sweat dripped into my eyes blurring my vision as I continued to fuck you from behind. I felt your pussy clench around my cock again, the signs of another imminent orgasm from you. It was going to send me over the edge. “Holy fuck, how are you still this fucking tight…” My comment triggered your final orgasm, and I felt you squirt against my balls again. Fuck, that was it, that’s what put me over the edge. My eyes rolled backwards as I started to cum deep inside of you. Each spurt felt like my soul was going to squeeze right out of my dick. Stars exploded and colors danced behind my eyelids. I collapsed onto you, completely spent. We stayed like that for a while, even after my limp dick slipped out of your opening and semen seeped from you. I could feel our fluids drying against my skin. For a moment I thought I could feel our heartbeats syncing, but I shook the thought away- far too sappy. I tried to focus on the fact of the matter: I got my dick wet. I let myself celebrate that and that alone. Any thought regarding our chemistry was strictly ignored. I knew neither of us had time for that.
I heard a small snore from below. You had fallen asleep, cum still dripping from your tight little pussy.
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You woke up, sweating beneath your sheets. Gasping for air, you threw the covers off when you noticed him watching you from the circular living area. His legs were crossed at the ankles and his metal arm stretched across the back of the couch. Smoke curled from his lit cigarette as he took a long drag and eyed you with a wicked smile.
“Hey.” He greeted you nonchalantly. An aura glitched and jumped around him ever so slightly, emitting a faint blue hue. He looked more ethereal than yesterday, giving you hope that maybe the omega blockers had done their job. You wished you hadn’t tried to further manipulate your body’s natural chemistry last night. In hindsight the recreational cocktail had been excessive. You were still curious about the bottle. Did it actually mention personality constructs? You got up to check. “DO NOT CONSUME WITH ALCOHOL. WILL ENHANCE VISUAL PSYCHOSOMATIC HALLUCINATIONS AND PROMOTE VIVID NIGHT TERRORS”. Huh. Yeah that checked out. You returned to your bed with the bottle and read the warning over and over again. So it wasn’t real. He wasn’t real. At least, not in any physical sense. You couldn't believe you were even questioning this fact, but the… the dream was so visceral. The smells, the sounds, every vein and vessel…
You were feeling slight relief when you glanced up to see Johnny still watching you. A shiver crawled down your spine. He ashed his cigarette and leaned back into the sofa. The possibility suddenly occurred to you: Exactly how much control did he have over your unconscious? Had you just experienced a “vivid night terror”? Or had that been a well-choreographed brain dance directed by the rocker? He winked at you, making your breath catch in your throat. He tilted his chin down and his eyes sparkled above his sunglasses.
“So,” he began, his tone casual, almost ambivalent.
“Pretty wild dream last night, right?”