Bark Bite Balance

Some purple push — he forced the bruised notion on her and nailed it in place with two words — tacit denial. What pray tell did that mean? She could taste the luncheon meat on his breath, sense the data clogging his back teeth. She winked her eye three times and the proboscis she’d had implanted in her arm pushed out through the tip of her index finger and punctured his delicate skin.

‘I am going to drink you, shitwad,’ she said, wondering how best to encode the neural data she was about to plunder.

She unzipped him whilst she drank him and activated the old vagina dentata chastity belt she had taken to wearing of late. Fuck him and fuck him up — that was what she was going to do.

This guy had walked into this room thinking that he had a road-map but he wasn’t even a caterpillar dreaming of a butterfly moment — he was a slug having a salt nightmare.

She felt the belt cutting through the remaining thread of gristle and his circumcised penis dropped to the floor. She climbed off his lap and reached down and picked up the seven inch lump of meat. She ran he tongue down its bloody length, sucked the pearly globule from its tip and placed it in her bag as a keepsake.

She opened the door to his float-apt, dropped a fistful of nanites onto the tether, knowing this would be a crash-burn by morning. She checked her datalog because she was momentarily unsure whether she had tagged this dead loser as friend or foe. The nanites wouldn’t touch him if he was casting the right code. No, he was no friend — perhaps she had guessed at the outcome of this relationship all those weeks ago when they had hooked up after a drug-dive.

She fired up the wings and leapt off the apt’s ledge — out into the city; out into traffic — dropping fragmenting burst bombs all the way to corrupt the security information of any cameras nosy enough to eyeball her. She needed a fucking shower — wash the karmic drench off her. She would meditate and masturbate her way into that Zen calmness that she was renowned for.