Lady Strangelove
by GlassO
Lizzy had become pretty adept at trying different prosthetic arms over the years. Having lost her left one at a young age, she kept trading up as she grew, and was well known for her very detailed and practical suggestions on improving the prosthetics she had been fitted with. Many of her ideas had been incorporated into newer models. She never asked for recognition or compensation for her contributions; she was just pleased that she was advancing the science.
So she was not surprised when Octocorp asked if she would try out and offer feedback on their latest model. Though she was surprised that they offered to fly her out to their research clinic in Zurich. It was rather exciting actually. She felt like they were treating her as a bit of a celebrity. A celebrity in a very narrow field, but still...it was flattering to be recognized.
The engineers she met were very impressed with her Mobius LUKE arm of course, but they had seen these kind before, though not with the finish Lizzy had applied: a glossy black that contrasted dramatically with her pale skin. Lizzy had always preached against flesh-colored prosthetics. Unless they could achieve perfect human replication, people would always be unconsciously repulsed by them, she argued. The uncanny valley effect; where people would do an unconscious check to evaluate if the person they were interacting with was sick, or worse, dead. It’s why she chose impactful colors. Embrace the machine.
The arm they wanted her to evaluate, the Octo-1, was, at initial inspection, like her LUKE, but was I, Robot white, as she called it. They had one ready for her. Her measurements were available to anyone who read her blog. When she asked them how this differed from the LUKE, they asked her if she could figure out the differences; like a game or a puzzle. She found this amusing and she agreed.
Her initial evaluation was very satisfactory. The arm/hand was very natural as an extension of herself. She could grab and reach with good precision, the grip response was very similar and she could hold a delicate wine glass or shake someone’s hand with excellent response.
It wasn’t until later she found out the arm’s secret ability.
It was in an interview room. She was seated across a desk from a researcher, Hans, and she was growing quite bored. The same questions over and over again. And over his music player, a faint repetitive techno beat playing.
But things got weird.
The researcher asked her, “Lizzy, why are you tapping your fingers?”
Lizzy looked down at her hand and indeed, her plastic fingers with rhythmicly drumming on the desk in time to the music.
“What the fuck?” she said. The researcher smirked.
“Has that ever happened before? Were you aware you were tapping like that?”
“What?,” Lizzy said, genuinely confused. “I mean, it’s wasting energy...why would I do that?”
“Because,” the researcher said, “your arm isn’t just connected to your conscious mind...it’s connecting to your unconscious mind as well. That’s the secret of this line of prosthetics. To make them as a part of your body as the rest of your body.”
The researcher got up and began to pace the room casually. He walked to the window and then back again. He stopped and lifted his pants to show his flat white plastic legs. Lizzy was shocked again.
“Did you know I was a double amputee?” he asked.
“I had no idea...you walk...so naturally.”
“Thank you. Walking is...probably the most unconscious thing we do. You don’t think about the action of it, you just do it and it happens. That’s what we want this generation of prosthetics to emulate. The unconscious actions that make us human.”
That night Lizzy had an intense dream.
She was at a fancy dress ball. Like out of a Jane Austin novel, or the ball in Labyrinth. She was dancing with Hans, the researcher she’d spent time with that afternoon. He was quite handsome. Tall, but with a kindly face. He was a good dancer. She was thinking about in the dream how his legs were moving him instinctively around the dance floor. How he held her prosthetic hand with just the right amount of grip, that she could feel it to a fine degree. She felt how warm his hand was. She felt the emotion behind it. She felt love and empathy in his grip, her hand was telling her all that.
As they whirled about the dance floor with the other dancers, she noticed other prosthetics. Some arms, some legs, but everyone moved like well rehearsed players. Soon she realized that the dancers were naked and their prosthetics were revealed completely. Lizzy was often quite shy about being naked with her lovers. She worried about them seeing where flesh met the metal, as she often said. Worried about appearing less than human.
She realized in her dream now that Hans was naked, as was she. Not only did he have prosthetics from the waist down, but his cock was also made of a similar material, though it appeared much softer. Much more inviting. For a moment it had space between them. It pointed upward at her. Wonderfully erect. Desiring her. Her prosthetic left arm instinctively went down to stroke it. She could feel it move on its own, motivated by lust and curiosity. It felt warm in her hand. She could feel it pulse. She knelt down and engulfed it in her mouth. She thought it would taste ‘plasticy’ but it approximated flesh...though the texture was definitely smoother than the cocks she had sucked in real life.
She realized in her dream now that Hans was naked, as was she. Not only did he have prosthetics from the waist down, but his cock was also made of a similar material, though it appeared much softer. Much more inviting. For a moment it had space between them. It pointed upward at her. Wonderfully erect. Desiring her. Her prosthetic left arm instinctively went down to stroke it. She could feel it move on its own, motivated by lust and curiosity. It felt warm in her hand. She could feel it pulse. She knelt down and engulfed it in her mouth. She thought it would taste ‘plasticy’ but it approximated flesh...though the texture was definitely smoother than the cocks she had sucked in real life.
Her flesh hand began to gently play with his artificial balls. They were very smooth, encased in plastic as they were.
And her other hand...
Her other hand went down between her legs. All on its own.
In some weird dream logic, she thought she should not be masturbating at this dance (even though it was okay to suck her partner's cock apparently!), but she found she could not stop her hand from acting on its own. It was stroking her the way she liked to be touched. Fingers inside her and a thumb gently circling her clit over the hood. The thumb began to vibrate slowly...and then more intensely. Soon she found herself helplessly in the throes of a powerful orgasm. She noticed that a crowd had formed to watch her suck her dance partner and get herself off. People were masturbating around her. Stroking their cocks and rubbing their pussys. Some with flesh hands, some with their prosthetics. She tried to will her hand to stop, but it would not obey her, it just kept stroking and rubbing as she came and came and....
Lizzy woke up with a start as she came again. The sheets were soaked and her prosthetic hand was busy masturbating her the way it had in the dream; and just like in the dream she tried to get it to stop. But it would not obey. It kept up its tempo and she gave in to another orgasm. She tried to reason why this was happening. She could not even will her own shoulder to move her arm away, as if the arm had its own agenda. As she thought about this, she found it even more arousing, the idea that she had lost some of her will to this object and it made her come again.
With her other hand she began to squeeze her breast and tug firmly at the nipple. She enjoyed a bit of pain, though she was too shy to ask for it with her partners.
The prosthetic did something entirely unexpected. It withdrew from her needy pussy and took hold of her right hand. Completely on its own. As if it had its own will It firmly pulled her hand down to her pussy where she resumed masturbating.
The prosthetic took over pinching and tugging at her nipples, but harder than her real hand. Too hard perhaps. She began to feel pain. Real pain. More than she’d ever experienced in sex play. She wanted it to stop but at the same time, she didn’t. She masturbated even more furiously and this time when she came she moaned more loudly than she ever had before.
The hand moved up her chest now and delicately wrapped its plastic fingers around her neck. Her mind whirled. Was it...was it going to choke her? This was a fantasy she’d never told a living soul. It seemed so...forbidden. So absolutely taboo that she’d never even written it down. But the hand knew. Somehow it knew. She felt it tighten around her neck. She began to get lightheaded as it pressed on the carotid and the world grew dim for a moment before she saw stars and came with such fury, that her body shook and convulsed, shaking the bed.
Afterwards, her arms fell limp to her sides. She tried to will them to move, but both of them resisted. She wanted to wake up fully, to get up and journal this experience, but she found herself so utterly drained, so completely spent, that she could not even compel her eyelids to stay open and soon she found herself unwillingly falling into a deep sleep.