Broken Metal Doll

"You stupid doll!"

Laile lay as a pathetic scrapheap on the floor.

Her chest had been caved in, and limbs were in various states of breakage. The biomechanic, with a heavy apron, steel-toed boots, and odd visor sitting atop her head, looked down at the mostly severed head before her. It was still attached by wires and cables to her spine, and a few tubes that carried various chemicals and biologics to and from what little original flesh she had left in her head.

The woman examined the jacks in the cyborg's neck. One was busted, two were empty, and one was jacked into the e-dolly she wheeled herself to the woman's workshop on.

"How did this even happen? You're lucky to have even made it back alive! One day you're not going to be able to crawl your broken ass back!"

"Deimha, Just fix me," Laile said tersely, her talkbox clearly in disrepair.

"That was the toughest carapace I had! How did you get it damaged so thoroughly?!" Deimha said, hands angrily pressed into her hips

"I was out in the wastes. Was looking for parts. For you. For us. For your clients."

'Laile seemed to have also damaged modules controlling her talkbox too,' Deimha thought before speaking "How did you damage your talkbox, or are you just being short with me?"

"Damaged in the search" Laile said, her gaze breaking away after seeing Deimha's pursed lip and twitching eye.

"Well you clearly came back with fewer than you found. What exactly happened!?"

"Septahydrax" Laile's eyes looked equally dead from embarrassment as the damage to her carapace.

"Don't lie to me."

"I'm not lying, there was an operational septahydrax unit being used by waste-stalkers as a guard!"

"You know I'll be able to look through your sensor-logs to tell if you're lying to me." Deimha said. Unable to resist relaxing her face somewhat, she still remained successful at hiding her growing sense of fear that Laile had, in fact, fought a septahydrax alone.

"I'm not lying."

"Wheel yourself into the workstation. Now."

"Yes ma'am" Laile said, knowing formality made Deimha feel conflicted.

Laile did as she was told, wheeling herself to the center of a large garage, inexplicable tools, whirring and oddly lit digital-mechanical components, and biomechanical fusion implements were half-neatly half-haphazardly strewn about the workshop. Deimha put her wiry hair up, flipped her visor down, and jacked into it, before shutting the large door behind them.

"I'm disabling your talkbox for this. Disconnecting your spine is going to cause a massive neural rebound and it's going to be incredibly painful. I can't do anything about that." Deimha said, stern face trying to hide her heartache for Laile.

Laile simply gave a slight frown.

"Just- Fuck. Give me a moment." Deimha walked behind a nearby crate, and with a great clanking and rattling sound, drew out a small techslate interface with buttons that pulsed a soft glow. Attached to it was a jackspike and nerve-cable.

Heavy boots crashing angrily against sheet metal, she kicked aside a piece of scrap, in both an attempt to alleviate the emotional maelstrom brewing within her as well as reveal a pod with a part sealed in it.

Opening the pod she took out a crude platemetal and silicone left arm. It was a very old model, manufactured as part of very early cybernetics, and it looked it too, especially with its numerous plates of brass. Using a few tools she made slight adjustments to it and the cable before connecting them.

"What are you doing?" Laile asked.

"The rebound is going to damage your optic and auditory sensors if I don't disconnect those before disconnecting your spine."

"What!" Laile said in bewilderment. "We've done this plenty of times before, why is it going to damage them now?!"

"Because you damaged not only one of your neck ports, but several limiters surrounding it! I don't even know if I have the parts to fix that! You really should be more careful and go for simple targets to bring back!"

"I got the port damaged and my arm ripped off when one of the legs swept me off after I uploaded a trojan to it! I know what a septahydrax disassembly could mean for us! For your shop! I wish you could be more gratef-"

Laile cut herself off when she saw Deimha's broken expression, her tears being a far more upsetting stain on her face than the constellations of scars, blood, or oil that usually adorned it.

"I care far less about that than I do you, you idiot woman!"

Deimha took a deep breath to steel herself. Laile would cry if she had the adequate equipment. Her tearpods got ruptured or drained at some point during the fight.

"I'm sor-" Laile began, before Deimha disconnected the talkbox.

"I don't want to hear it." Deimha said sternly, before jacking in.

Laile felt a loud sensation behind her ears and eyes, like rubbing your face against rotary sandpaper that could scream louder than a firecracker.

Deimha was about to disconnect her senses, and Laile knew better than to fight back. Then 'POP'

Nothing, but a silent void.

Laile suddenly realized she would not have the pain telegraphed to her before she was thrust into excruciating agony. Or how bad 'excruciating agony' really was.

She felt her mind grow terrified. Her still connected heart racing. She would be burning up with sweat if this carapace still had the ability to do so.

"Please. Please make it quick"

Moments slipped by, and nothing. Just the silent void, filled and bursting at the seams with nothing.

'How long would this be? When would the pain hit' Laile's mind spun.

Then, she felt something penetrate her jack, and a new sensation strike into her skull at first like lightning, before melting into a gentle and familiar sensation: A limb. A limb with its hand being held.

This was Deimha's hand. In the cold and silent void, was Deimha's warm and calloused hand, thumb gently circling her palm. Laile focused on the sensation, mentally relaxing and feeling a sense of grateful love for Deimha.

Deimha squeezed her hand, three fingers pressed into her hand. Another squeeze, two fingers pressed, yet again, this time with but one finger left.

After the final squeeze, the rebound bagan. Every possible sensation slammed into her head like a tungsten rod from high orbit. Every pain receptor lit up with white-hot intensity, every other nerve of touch completely overwhelmed in terrible overstimulation, her sense of balance was as well put together as a house of chalk and paper after a typhoon. Sound penetrated her, so loud it may be able to burn a hole through the atmosphere and strip it bare, a white light permeating her sight that could have burned away the sun itself. Her sense of time stretched itself far beyond a scale useful for the big bang and the heat death, and pinched far beyond a scale useful in the most sensitive of particle physics computations. Her sense of body stretched beyond anything that could be comprehended, and where it ended and everything else began was a washed-out blur. Her own screaming filled her mind, though drowned out by the sensorious terror she was in the throes of.

Hell itself descended into her mind. Were she able to form coherent thoughts, or have a sense of the flow of time, she would likely ask herself when it would end.

Focusing all of her will, she remembered Deimha's hand touching her own. Wading through the feeling of the excruciating everything, she reached out to feel it. Nothing. Everything was drowned out by the experience of all possible discomfort.

Then, it ended.

Laile's temporary hand shook violently, grasping out desperately to feel Deimha. To feel anything. She was alone, in a cold dark void. She had just passed through hell. She was desperate to feel something. Anything.

Laile felt a pair of lips press into her palm. Vibrations. 'Was she talking into my hand so I could feel the vibrations?"

'What is she saying!?'

Laile began to run every decryption and language algorithm she could in her head, doing her best to convert touch into sound mentally, before immediately recognizing it.

"I'm here"

Laile relaxed a little. Laile felt her limb be placed gently in the pocket of Deimha's apron. She felt it jostle as she walked.

Laile felt her jack be penetrated once again.

"I don't have any neurochemical defragmenters prepared yet, nor do I have any sensory auto-stabilizers. You're going to have to adjust to whatever carapace I put you in till we can get your jacks and their full uplink unit repaired. Adjusting is going to take time, it will be overwhelming, and you're going to have a lot of sensory 'pangs' and misfires while you adjust. I'm putting you in a carapace that is more of a comfortable and leisurely form than anything else. I'm not putting you in anything with combat capability for a while."

In the mindscape, Laile nodded.

"Good. Anyway, talkbox, eyes, and ears are going back online in 3, 2, 1..."

Light flashed and sounds loud as thunder crashed across Laile as she screamed.

It was far too bright to see, and she couldn't comprehend what she was seeing anyway. No noises registered any sense of familiarity. All was alien, but one thing. Deimha's voice.

She could barely understand Deimha, and it took a lot of time to process, but it was unmistakable. "Are you ok, doll?"

"I-1-10010I- I-..."

"m----00101--_-jUst-_110--1-A- heaAAd"

"Just a head? You're more than that. You're your heart too." With that, Deimha connected a cable and she felt a rush of sensations.

A soft neck with warm blood running through it. A steady heartbeat. Soft hands that were cold now, but would soon warm. Soft hands to run thing across and feel every nook and cranny of, every goose-bump and divet. Feet without callus, plate, or scar, taking in the coolness of the ground below. Supple breasts gave a gentle sensation of a pulling weight on her chest, each mound terminating in a shockingly sensitive nipple, both of which stood completely erect.

'A- a... um'

She felt a lengthy piece of exquisitely sensitive biomechanical flesh at first dangle between her pillowy thighs, then quickly engorge itself on her passion and warmth, pointing itself neatly upward, straight at attention.

Deimha blushed and looked away from Laile. "I- I didn't realize I had installed a plug instead of a port module. I- I put this carapace together ages ago..."

Laile gave a knowing smile, quickly washed away by a sudden pang of lust and sensory information, causing her head to twitch.

"I- I had the ide-idea that maybe an orgasm coul-could be a somewhat decent, if crude and mechanical, stand-in for a neurochemical defragmenter? Maybe? I-" Deimha trailed off.

"I'm sorry, I should have told you how awkward this was going to be, and I didn't ask approval or- I didn't realize you'd end up like this. It probably feels like I pumped it full of electro stimulants-"

Laile cut her off, or at least tried to, still not used to her words. "Or11o1111... It11s s0001-----__-01sens0ry o00verl0aad, 0and it s00eeeems t000 be---- conta-ined to my my my my my my d-dam-m0000ma-eged v00ice an----__000d.... Lady bits and bolts..."

Deimha relaxed a bit, before tensing back up at the sight and idea of the tension in Laile's 'bolt'.

"Yo000u ppla-an__---00anned t000 ride me me me me me i-11111n th-is 1 day d1dn't y0000?" Laile ask, devious grin growing.

"Obvious as your current need for me to huh..." Deimha sighed, looking away for a moment to recollect herself.

Laile resolved herself to grab Deimha up with one hand and take her pants off with the other, however, upon the first step, she collapsed to the ground, world of pain enveloping her carapace for a moment. She was still not used to pain. Almost every warshell came with pain limiters, but not a carapace like this.

Deimha gasped at her fall, before laughing. "You still need to get used to this carapace, doll"

At that word, Laile felt her spine shudder, and felt a spurt of moisture rush from the tip of her new womanhood. Her head spun a bit, before she looked up to Deimha.

"Did you just? From me calling you... doll?" Laile was unable to stop herself from confirming, a second squirt had hit the ground, splashing into the first.

Laile felt herself grow flush. "I thought you thought that word was demeaning!" Deimha teased.

'Of course it was demeaning. Cyborgs were originally built to be the tools of others. Nations and their militaries, namely, some more still created as slaves of pleasure out of people with nowhere else to go, but after the great burning, after things had collapsed, whoever could survive was free. Except they weren't, were they?-'

Before Laile could finish her thought, Deimha spoke "Or do you not mind being made for my pleasure?" Deimha gave a deep and hearty giggle.

Laile, however, began to cry out, tears welling as a voluminous rush of moisture spattered out in a thick and quick stream, pleasure ripping through her thighs, butt, and of course, her needy length. Sudden realization gripped her 'This was not an orgasm- Oh worlds, what would one be like if this was just simulated pre?'

Laile felt a bit angry with Deimha, but thinking further, it faded. Laile wasn't like a pleasure-slave or an operative to oppress any group a nation's corrupt leaders deemed worth killing or maiming. Laile thought about it. Her previous carapace, the one she just destroyed, was one that was astonishingly tough, yet fairly easy to repair. Even if the current damage would likley be completely irreparable. Deimha even taught her to do most of her own maintenance on her own. Laile could have left at any point with it, or in any of the other half-dozen or so carapaces she had been put into.

Laile thought back, to the times Deimha was upset she had come home far later than she was expected from a scavenging run. She never could figure out why Deimha was upset when she came home unscathed, with a surplus of goods, a day or two late.

Now? It made sense.

'Deimha was worried she wouldn't come home, wasn't she? That she'd leave.'

Laile began to cry.

Deimha misunderstood why, and spoke "Poor thing, no need to be frustrated you can't fuck my brains out! I didn't figure you'd be able to, no harm, no foul." She lifted her onto an e-dolly and hopped on behind.

"To the bedroom?" Deimha asked, before Laile nodded in approval.

The garage door flew open, and the hovering cart kicked up sand on its path down the trail to the old wood-and-sheet-metal quarters of Deimha. It was cozy looking for how scrappy it was, as well-worn as it looked to be lived in. Laile found herself feeling silly for sleeping propped against scrap, jacked into a port in the shop.

The e-dolly parked beneath the platform her cabin sat atop. A door above parted, and the hovering cart was lifted into the floor by a system of thrumming hydraulics, before it closed beneath them, e-dolly gently lowering onto the floor.

Deimha attempted to throw Laile over her shoulder, but they both fell in a heap on the ground. Deimha chuckled, "I forget that you're usually heavier and smaller. Sorry love"

It was true. Most carapaces Laile used were short for most women, and internally made of dense and heavy metals for great toughness, but this frame was different. Though it was 5'8", a full 6 inches shorter than Deimha, it was still taller than usual, and far lighter.

Deimha re-adjusted herself, picking Laile up and placing her gently on the bed. The room was dark, dimly lit by a small blue light in the corner of the room. Laile felt the cold covers give rise to goosebumps on her not-quite-as-cold and bare skin, before sinking into their soft depths, their fluffy, insulating embrace giving way to a gentle and pleasant warmth. Laile closed her eyes and stretched, drinking the sensations in, muscle tensions and anxieties melting away with each languid breath.

'I really need to stop inhabiting a warshell so oft- OH!' Laile's thought terminated as Deimha's warm lips softly pressed into her own, making an enchanting 'muah' sound, before Deimha slowly drew back, opening her eyes and seeing the strand of spit that connected each of them.

"Oops" Deimha said in a giggle, before wiping it away. "Are you comfortable?"

"C11nn 1 IHAHAV3333 a PI110W? I'd l1k3 to__-__S----_-sit u-p and look in-t-t-t-0 yo0ur eyeyeyeeeeeeeeee eyes."

Despite the harsh vocal distortion, Deimha felt warmth rise in her cheeks and breasts and obliged.

Deimha sat against the wall, pillow half-rested on her and the wall, and sat Lailes back against the pillow. Deimha looked into her eyes, and gave her a kiss on the cheek, Laile blushing and smiling back.

"How about we do something about that tension? You look about to burst" Deimha teased.

Laile had grown slightly soft, but the tease hardened her immediately.

"p-P1-p13ase??"

Deimha gave a sincere laugh, got up, and quickly stripped herself down.

Laile watched as each article was removed. She looked at her round and plump thighs, hips and ass, making note of the scar that sat between her belly button and hip-bone on her left side. She'd gotten that one from a blow with a 343x5 spark-lance when they first met, and clashed. She trailed her eyes down Deimha's thighs to her sinewy calves, hardened by labor and training. She saw the burn scar left by a hardlight burner after it had been overcharged by accident. Laile internally chuckled as she recalled how hard they had fought to get it. Downing a Hellgun weiding Donnagette Mk15.22 just for, little did she know, a Khybex crystal that was just for making a decorative desk lamp. A desk lamp, she would not get to see, because, as previously mentioned, the hardlight burner it was inside of blew up. From being overcharged.

Laile's eyes wandered to Deimha's breasts. Nowhere near as perky and taut as her own artificially created chest, each mound did, unlike her own, command a respect for the years of hardship that wore down on them and their beautiful barer. They were also considerably larger. There was a beauty to taking care of something unable to be repaired, and what it said about who possessed such things. Laile had always envied that, as she never was very good at preventative care, always flitting between one style to the next, and tearing body and equipment apart to efficiently and mercilessly reach her goal. They were stunning as they looked soft. Their nipples each adorned with a silver barbell piercing that shined in the pale blue glow.

Laile's eyes moved up Deimha's neck, imagining her lips feeling each raise and divet, the hardness and softness of her collarbones and the surrounding gorgeous sights, defined beautifully at the angle she stood at relative to her and the lonely blue light.

They locked eyes, and stared for a moment.

"I-I I haven't stared at y0iu111re ba00001--ck muscles or arms y-yet" Laile said, breaking the silence, Deimha laughing in turn.

After swimming in the world's behind each other's eyes a moment more, Deimha crawled into the bed, and back into her previous position.

"Now, the tension rod, hehe"

Deimha languidly walked her fingers down Laile's shoulders, back, sides, down her thighs and then between, finally resting her pointer and index finger at the bottom of Laile's shaft.

Deimha stroked upward with her fingers, in a 'come hither' like motion, causing Laile to squeal in pleasure, getting Deimha's hand messy with her juices in the process.

"My my! Sensitive aren't you?" Deimha planted a kiss on Laile's neck, before gripping the pads of all of her fingers around her tip with a gentle squeeze-and-pull.

This caused Laile's back to arch and a distorted scream to thunder forth from her in an ecstatic agony. "P1llea2las1d d0n05y n0n0n0n0n0" Laile spoke brokenly, tears running down her face.

"Oh, I'm sorry love." Deimha apologized and made a mental note: 'no penetration'.

"1t2 f1n3" Laile said, burying her reddening face into Deimha's neck, prompting Deimha to position herself to allow Laile to bury herself further, with a good view of her breasts if she chose to open her bashful eyes.

Deimha resumed the previous 'come hither' motions, to the great pleasure of them both. Deimha watched her squirm cutely against her hand, and her body occasionally shuddering, intermittently breaking it up with sudden glances of her fingers across Laile's increasingly sensitive nipples.

Deimha saw Laile growing more frustrated and pent up, but not quite closer. She thought to punctuate the plateau by speaking.

"I feel a little silly, not having given you the chance for a more sensate and comfortable body. I understand why you didn't care to sit around. I have to rest, not just because it feels good, but because I'll wear thin without it."

"You, invincible, unquenchable, insatiable, never-sit-still ambitious-and-fiery, white-hot you, lay against me, relaxed and content. What is it, for the first time? Maybe ever?"

Those words hit Laile like a star-freighter, moaning in weighty emotional catharsis as her bits throbbed hard against Deimha's hand.

Quite possibly, this was the first time she could relax. Her childhood was a barely-existent blur of tumults, trials, and tribulations that abruptly ended in a military recruitment, where she spent year after year being modified and maintained by a special ops group, and in the two decades or so since the great burning... not much had changed. Fight till your goal is met. Don't think, just do it.

But in the half-decade or so with Deimha, it didn't need to be like that anymore.

Laile felt her legs, taint, and length begin to clench. She gritted her teeth.

'Not yet!' she admonished herself. She had an idea for payback.

Deimha sensed the plateau had ended, and gripped her length all the way around, and began to stroke her off toward the termination sequence.

'No no no no no- not yet-' Laile could feel her plans slip away as fast as her lucidity.

As if reading Laile's mind, Deimha took her hand away. Laile felt herself moan and buck as her mind was not in perfect cooperation with itself and its carapace, the part of her wanting to cum the stronger force at play. She mustered words to focus her mind. "Can't be built for your pleasure if you can't even ride me" she teased, lip curling into a cocky smile.

"I have contingencies, doll."

Deimha jacked into Laile. She dove deep, brushing against the sensory gates within her lover. Laile felt her tap into her senses. 'Was she going to experience my orgasm with me?' Laile wondered, confirmed by a feeling of confirmation, satisfaction, and Deimha's grip tightening and speed increasing.

'Damn! I'm gonna-'

Laile started to feel the pleasure wash over her again, biomechanical muscles beginning to clench and quake, except there was no stopping it now. In the second or so before she was completely taken over by her bliss, she needed to make her move. With Deimha jacking in, which was most of the work, she could do it!

Laile injected memory-code into Deimha.

Memories of every time Deimha had made her feel happy. At home. Safe.

Memories of today, of her realizations that Deimha wanted what was happening now for damn good reasons. As an equal. As someone who couldn't, no, wouldn't stop her if she wanted to leave, as someone self respecting enough to leave if she couldn't take the heartache anymore, was one to grow too severe. Someone who loved her, flaws and all.

She injected the words at the end of these memories

"I love you too, doll ;3"

Laile was completely consumed. Her mind had been flung deep into a black sky, utterly shattered into glimmering stardust, sparkling brighter than the stars themselves. Warm as the sun's glow, in a cold and endless, quiet and comfortable black void.

It was almost as overstimulating as having her spine disconnected, but... it was not pain, rather ecstasy that gripped her, and left her limp, rather than writhing.

Limp they both fell, Deimha giving all of her remaining strength to spoon and hug Laile as they both began to drift out of consciousness.

Laile felt Deimha's warmth, her tears wet the back of her neck. She felt her soft breasts pressed into her back, causing her hen to twitch a bit at first, before she felt the vibrations of the words "I'm here", spoken into her back.

The cold void of sleep gripped them, wrapped in each other's warmth.

--

Some days later, after a nap in the shed...

--

The ground quaked as if shaken by the legs of an impossibly large creature, wrenches, hammers, and various other tools and components clattered to the ground as loudly as sheet metal whined around Deimha. Her ears felt as though they may split from the sound and the terror ripping through her head. She grabbed her plasgun and stepped outside.

"What in the great walls of fire..?" Deimha said, mortified, as a septahydrax stood before her. It was massive. Bigger than her own home. Its seven legs knelt down.

Laile walked out of the shed sleepily, before looking up at the beast, then to Deimha, smile wide and wry.

"I never said the trojan didn't work!"