2004-08-30 21:21![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bigdamnnerd
bigdamnnerdwhich was originally posted at http://www.livejournal.com/users/suibhne_geilt/161751.html
He thumbed through the latest Cyberius Cyberware holo-catalog, watching the latest and greatest in bio-replacement hardware leap out from the faux pages at his face. Omnipresent on every page was the text “Surgeon General's Warning: Replacement electronic body parts have been linked to mental conditions: depression, bipolar and dissociative disorders, and schizophrenia. The Surgeon General's office cannot recommend the replacement of functioning biological limbs and organs.” He laughed. He'd never done this before – well, not to this extent, but he knew that the people who were affected by the ‘ware were those who went too far. He had seen the vids of the chromed-up monsters rampaging through parks and suburbs, and knew that wasn’t him. Which isn’t to say he wasn’t cybered himself…he had the basic-model interface ports of course, and even a skillslot so he could speak Japanese – his boss liked that he didn’t have to pay the salary of someone who had spent years learning the language when a chip could do a perfectly passable job. But to have a functioning body part chopped off and replaced with metal? Even if it was covered with synthetic skin…it was enough to make him pause for just a few seconds.
But there was it was – the tagline, flashing before his eyes as the holographic phallus sprang out of the holo-book: “Mr. Studd™ – all night, every night, and she'll never know.” The never-ending overtime at the office had taken its toll of late, and there was no sign of it letting up anytime soon. The merger was nearly finished, but that was only the first step in the reorganization. He knew that the exhaustion he felt was going to be a part of his life for at least the next year, if not longer. And she said she wasn’t going to take it any more. She had “needs”, she said. And frankly, he *liked* taking care of her needs, but after less than 3 hours of sleep per night for the last 8 months, the spirit might be willing but the flesh certainly was weak. He loved her too much *not* to do this. If his marriage could be saved by a €999.99 (plus tax, payable in 4 easy installments of €299.99) piece of hardware, he had no choice.
So he went up to the overly-friendly receptionist (“Cheeks by DermaLux™” and “Breasts by PermaPerk™”) and waited for her to look up from her magazine. He felt his own cheeks flush. Why, in this supposed age of enlightenment at the end of the 21st century, would the matter of replacing his penis be embarrassing? His embarrassment was only heightened by the fact that he felt that he shouldn’t be. She appeared not to notice, and told him that it would be a 10 minute wait, and would he fill out these forms please? The paperwork seemed standard to his practiced eye – the usual waivers in legalistic phrasing that one finds in any legal documents, no matter the subject at hand. By the time he was finishing up with the fine print the receptionist was signaling that the time had come.
The doctor was nice, though he was slightly taken aback by the fact she was a woman. This would be the first woman (besides his wife, of course) who had seen him naked since he got married, and for the smallest instant he wondered if it could be construed as overly improper. She photographed him from every possible angle, and then his embarrassment from the waiting room suddently came rushing back as she informed him in a matter-of-fact voice that other pictures were needed as well. Pictures in an…erect…state. She cracked just the faintest hint of a smile at his uneasiness as she placed the tri-vid goggles over his eyes, and pressed Start on the playback. Despite his uncomfortableness, he felt the arousal wash over him as the holoreal pornography had the expected effect, and heard the click-click of the digital camera. The goggles were removed, and he was informed that it would take the synthflesh renderer a few minutes to construct the covering for the implant. He decided to opt for the general anesthetic – he didn’t think that he could handle watching this particular surgery, no matter how effectively the actual pain was dulled.
The next thing he knew, he was lying on the clinic bed in a paper gown, and there was a ache in his groin. After a few minutes in a groggy semi-stupor, the doctor returned and informed him that the surgery was a rousing success. She recommended that he avoid “taking things for a test drive” until 24 hours had passed – the nanobots needed time to stitch the nerve endings together. As he was dressing, he couldn’t resist taking a look at the doctor’s handiwork. He was impressed – no signs of scarring. In fact, apart from the bandages, he would have never guessed he had just gone under the knife. Everything the ads had promised, and possibly more. He rewrapped the gauze, and headed to the office to make up the work he had missed on his excursion.
That night as he crawled into bed, he felt her hands reach towards him. He begged off, promised some that he could give her some attention tomorrow night, he was taking some precious vacation time, he knew he had been neglecting her lately, and he was going to try to make it up to her. All claims he had made before, many times, but this time he knew he could actually follow through on them. He felt her withdraw reluctantly, and curl up on her side of the bed. He felt bad, knowing he really *had* been neglectful, but was hopeful that his latest purchase would make enough of a difference. He didn’t know what he would do if he lost her – he spent most of his time at the office, but she truly was his life. He only worked so hard to be able to retire with her some day, if they could only make it that long. He fell asleep thinking of the days he had planned with her, though they lay many years off.
The next day, his lunch break couldn’t come quickly enough. He was taking a half-day, and using the few hours before she got home from her own job to prepare a nice dinner, light some candles, and set the audio system to play some of her favorite music. She was suitably impressed when she arrived – they hadn’t had a dinner like that since they were dating, all those years ago. The croutons were crunchy, the steaks were juicy, and the spices were tangy. They made their way from the dining room to the living room to the bedroom, and things were progressing much as he has planned. This was how he would spend every day and every night, if he could. Delicious food, carefully crafted ambiance, and quality time with the woman he loved. The woman he loved so much, he would trade in his very manhood for an improved model. A model that, several hours and uncounted orgasms into the evening, had more than proved its monetary worth. But the one image he couldn’t stop from flooding his mind as his new metal cock pistoned in and out of her steaming, moist flesh was the steak from dinner, the knife sawing in the same manner, cutting it into warm, succulent, bite-sized pieces.
He thumbed through the latest Cyberius Cyberware holo-catalog, watching the latest and greatest in bio-replacement hardware leap out from the faux pages at his face. Omnipresent on every page was the text “Surgeon General's Warning: Replacement electronic body parts have been linked to mental conditions: depression, bipolar and dissociative disorders, and schizophrenia. The Surgeon General's office cannot recommend the replacement of functioning biological limbs and organs.” He laughed. He'd never done this before – well, not to this extent, but he knew that the people who were affected by the ‘ware were those who went too far. He had seen the vids of the chromed-up monsters rampaging through parks and suburbs, and knew that wasn’t him. Which isn’t to say he wasn’t cybered himself…he had the basic-model interface ports of course, and even a skillslot so he could speak Japanese – his boss liked that he didn’t have to pay the salary of someone who had spent years learning the language when a chip could do a perfectly passable job. But to have a functioning body part chopped off and replaced with metal? Even if it was covered with synthetic skin…it was enough to make him pause for just a few seconds.
But there was it was – the tagline, flashing before his eyes as the holographic phallus sprang out of the holo-book: “Mr. Studd™ – all night, every night, and she'll never know.” The never-ending overtime at the office had taken its toll of late, and there was no sign of it letting up anytime soon. The merger was nearly finished, but that was only the first step in the reorganization. He knew that the exhaustion he felt was going to be a part of his life for at least the next year, if not longer. And she said she wasn’t going to take it any more. She had “needs”, she said. And frankly, he *liked* taking care of her needs, but after less than 3 hours of sleep per night for the last 8 months, the spirit might be willing but the flesh certainly was weak. He loved her too much *not* to do this. If his marriage could be saved by a €999.99 (plus tax, payable in 4 easy installments of €299.99) piece of hardware, he had no choice.
So he went up to the overly-friendly receptionist (“Cheeks by DermaLux™” and “Breasts by PermaPerk™”) and waited for her to look up from her magazine. He felt his own cheeks flush. Why, in this supposed age of enlightenment at the end of the 21st century, would the matter of replacing his penis be embarrassing? His embarrassment was only heightened by the fact that he felt that he shouldn’t be. She appeared not to notice, and told him that it would be a 10 minute wait, and would he fill out these forms please? The paperwork seemed standard to his practiced eye – the usual waivers in legalistic phrasing that one finds in any legal documents, no matter the subject at hand. By the time he was finishing up with the fine print the receptionist was signaling that the time had come.
The doctor was nice, though he was slightly taken aback by the fact she was a woman. This would be the first woman (besides his wife, of course) who had seen him naked since he got married, and for the smallest instant he wondered if it could be construed as overly improper. She photographed him from every possible angle, and then his embarrassment from the waiting room suddently came rushing back as she informed him in a matter-of-fact voice that other pictures were needed as well. Pictures in an…erect…state. She cracked just the faintest hint of a smile at his uneasiness as she placed the tri-vid goggles over his eyes, and pressed Start on the playback. Despite his uncomfortableness, he felt the arousal wash over him as the holoreal pornography had the expected effect, and heard the click-click of the digital camera. The goggles were removed, and he was informed that it would take the synthflesh renderer a few minutes to construct the covering for the implant. He decided to opt for the general anesthetic – he didn’t think that he could handle watching this particular surgery, no matter how effectively the actual pain was dulled.
The next thing he knew, he was lying on the clinic bed in a paper gown, and there was a ache in his groin. After a few minutes in a groggy semi-stupor, the doctor returned and informed him that the surgery was a rousing success. She recommended that he avoid “taking things for a test drive” until 24 hours had passed – the nanobots needed time to stitch the nerve endings together. As he was dressing, he couldn’t resist taking a look at the doctor’s handiwork. He was impressed – no signs of scarring. In fact, apart from the bandages, he would have never guessed he had just gone under the knife. Everything the ads had promised, and possibly more. He rewrapped the gauze, and headed to the office to make up the work he had missed on his excursion.
That night as he crawled into bed, he felt her hands reach towards him. He begged off, promised some that he could give her some attention tomorrow night, he was taking some precious vacation time, he knew he had been neglecting her lately, and he was going to try to make it up to her. All claims he had made before, many times, but this time he knew he could actually follow through on them. He felt her withdraw reluctantly, and curl up on her side of the bed. He felt bad, knowing he really *had* been neglectful, but was hopeful that his latest purchase would make enough of a difference. He didn’t know what he would do if he lost her – he spent most of his time at the office, but she truly was his life. He only worked so hard to be able to retire with her some day, if they could only make it that long. He fell asleep thinking of the days he had planned with her, though they lay many years off.
The next day, his lunch break couldn’t come quickly enough. He was taking a half-day, and using the few hours before she got home from her own job to prepare a nice dinner, light some candles, and set the audio system to play some of her favorite music. She was suitably impressed when she arrived – they hadn’t had a dinner like that since they were dating, all those years ago. The croutons were crunchy, the steaks were juicy, and the spices were tangy. They made their way from the dining room to the living room to the bedroom, and things were progressing much as he has planned. This was how he would spend every day and every night, if he could. Delicious food, carefully crafted ambiance, and quality time with the woman he loved. The woman he loved so much, he would trade in his very manhood for an improved model. A model that, several hours and uncounted orgasms into the evening, had more than proved its monetary worth. But the one image he couldn’t stop from flooding his mind as his new metal cock pistoned in and out of her steaming, moist flesh was the steak from dinner, the knife sawing in the same manner, cutting it into warm, succulent, bite-sized pieces.
