MidReal Story
Metallic Rebellion: A Cyborg's Fight for Freedom
Scenario: 20 year old cyborg woman with robotic booty is arrested for indecent exposure related to her robotic booty and drinking
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I’m the cyborg woman with a robotic booty.
And I’ve just been arrested for indecent exposure and public intoxication.
The police officers are staring at me, their eyes wide, their mouths hanging open.
They’re not the only ones.
The crowd of onlookers is growing by the second, and all of them are staring at me too.
I can’t blame them.
I’m lying facedown on the pavement with my hands cuffed behind my back, and my skirt has ridden up so high that my shiny silver ass is on full display.
The police officers yank me to my feet and roughly shove me into the back of their squad car.
I don’t resist—I’m too drunk to do much of anything except go with the flow—and a few minutes later, we’re speeding through the city on our way to the police station.
I lean my head back against the seat and close my eyes, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in my temples and the queasy feeling in my stomach.
Unfortunately, my little joyride is over way too soon.
The squad car screeches to a halt in front of the police station, and the two officers drag me out of the backseat with a roughness that makes me gasp in pain.
I sway unsteadily on my feet, and one of the officers grabs my arm to steady me.
“Come on, Aria,” he says.
“Let’s go get you booked.”
I nod and try to take a step forward, but I miss my footing and stumble, crashing face-first into the hood of the squad car.
The officer jerks me upright again and glares at me.
“What is wrong with you, girl?”
he demands, his face red with anger.
“Are you trying to give us trouble?”
I shake my head and open my mouth to apologize, but before I can say anything, his hand darts out and grabs my arm.
He spins me around and pushes me against the car, pressing my face into the cold metal.
“You’re going to do exactly what we tell you to, or so help me God, I’ll—”
This time, it’s his turn to be interrupted.
With a scream of tearing metal, a jagged hole appears in the side of the squad car right behind me, and both officers jump back in shock.
I whirl around to see what’s happening, and my eyes widen when I realize that a piece of the car’s frame is sticking out from my hand like a giant spike.
Oh shit, I think as blood drips from the wound and splatters onto the pavement at my feet.
The officers’ eyes are wide with shock, and their hands are hovering near their weapons as they stare at me with renewed wariness.
I’m about two seconds away from being shot when we’re all interrupted by the sound of clapping from somewhere behind us.
“Well done, Aria,” says a familiar voice.
“That was very impressive.”
The officers turn around, their hands flying to their holsters, but I stay where I am—mostly because I’m not sure if I can move without accidentally skewering myself again.
Leo steps forward until he’s standing right beside me, his silver hair gleaming in the harsh overhead lights of the parking lot.
“Now,” he says, his voice a low growl that’s somehow scarier than anything the police officers have done so far.
“Are you going to arrest my girlfriend?”
“Uh… we were just trying to take her inside so we could book her—” One of the officers stammers nervously.
“Well, I’m going to take her home instead,” Leo says calmly.
“Unless you’d like me to tell Chief Morgan that you tried to arrest a council member’s daughter?”
“N-no sir,” the officer says hurriedly.
“Then let’s go,” Leo says, stepping forward and pulling me into his arms.
He wraps one arm around my waist and presses me against his chest as he leads me away from the squad car and down the street.
I follow him without a word, too stunned by what just happened to do anything else.
I wake up with the sun streaming through my window and groan aloud as I realize that I have a splitting headache—and that I can’t feel my ass anymore.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mutter as I sit up and swing my legs over the side of my bed.
There’s no way I can be hungover already—I wasn’t even that drunk last night!
(I think.) But as soon as I stand up and take a step forward, my stomach lurches ominously, and I realize that I’m wrong about that too.
I am definitely hungover—and it’s definitely not pretty.
Wishing desperately that I could just crawl back under the covers and sleep until the end of time, I shuffle across my bedroom and into the bathroom before collapsing onto the cold tile floor in front of my toilet just in time for my stomach to make a hasty retreat.
It takes me a few minutes to collect myself, but eventually, I manage to stand up and shuffle over to the sink to brush my teeth and wash my face.
By the time I’m done, I feel marginally better, although my head is still throbbing and my mouth is dry as sandpaper, and it’s only then that the full extent of what happened last night finally hits me.
I was arrested for indecent exposure and public intoxication, I think as I stare at my reflection in the mirror, my already-pale face looking even whiter than usual against my shiny silver skin.
Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!
What am I going to do?
I can’t afford to get arrested again!
The doorbell rings, startling me out of my thoughts, and I curse under my breath as I realize that it must be Leo here to check on me again.
I don’t bother changing out of my pajamas—I just grab a robe and throw it over top of what I’m already wearing before heading downstairs to let him in.
He’s sitting on the couch with his feet propped up on the coffee table when I walk into the living room, and he gives me a wry smile as he sets down the tablet he was reading and stands up to greet me.
“Hey, Aria,” he says, his eyes flicking over me with an odd expression that I can’t quite read.
“How are you feeling?”
“Like death warmed over,” I mutter, shuffling over to the couch and sinking down onto it with a sigh.
“If you’re looking for a good time, though, you came to the wrong place.”
“I’m not here for a good time.”
“Then why are you here?”
The cops were rough as they dragged me out from behind the bar, and I kicked and screamed so much that they struggled to even get me into the squad car, my enhanced strength making it difficult for them to control me—and if I’m being completely honest, I was sorely tempted to resist even harder or try to make a run for it just to see how they’d react, but the system inside me flashed a warning that doing so would almost certainly result in me being shot full of holes by their weapons, so I decided against it at the last second and went quietly instead.
The thought makes me clench my hands into fists, my fingertips digging into the expensive fabric of the couch cushions with enough force to leave deep indentations in the shape of my fingers—and as for what happened after that… well, I barely remember anything until they let me out this morning to the sound of an officer snickering about my “shiny metal ass” being too “fucking hot” to keep me locked up inside the cell any longer without risking heatstroke or something equally ridiculous, anyway.
“—so if you could just get into the car on your own power—”
I squeeze my eyes shut and clamp my hands over my ears as tightly as I can to try to block them out because I really don’t want to think about it anymore because all it does is make me want to punch something—or someone—repeatedly until my hands fall off because how dare they treat me that way when all I did was have a little bit too much to drink!
And sure, maybe dancing on the bar wasn’t the best idea I’ve ever had, but it’s not like it’s the first time I’ve done it or anything, and it’s not like I actually flashed anyone either!
I mean, I wasn’t naked; I was still wearing my bra and underwear, so it’s not like there was anything to see if they’d—
“—so if you could at least try to help us out and get yourself into the car, that would be much appreciated.”
I flinch as the voice pulls me back to the present, and my eyes snap open to see both officers glaring at me while they wait for my response, as though they’re fully aware that I was ignoring them on purpose and are just daring me to do it again.
I hold their gazes for a few seconds longer before finally standing up and roughly shoving them aside so I can march over to where my clothes are hanging up so I can get dressed without having to look at them anymore—and as I do, one of them mutters something that sounds suspiciously like “indecent exposure,” and even though he says it quietly enough that nobody else can hear him, he still might as well have shouted it from the rooftops for all the good it does because the mere thought is enough to make my face burn with an uncharacteristic blush of shame as I yank my dress off its hanger and throw it on over my robe before turning around to face them again.
For a moment, I’m too furious to say anything at all, but when I finally manage to find my voice again a few seconds later, all that comes out is a choked little noise that sounds almost like a sob because how could they?
How could he say something like that when my skin is so—
