"So what's it like working for Population Control?" I asked with feigned interest, swirling the coffee cup in front of me - black, piping hot, with a flavor like rubber sludge mixed with battery acid. 'No wonder the brand labeled itself Black Death coffee', I thought to myself as I took a sip. Thank fuck the fine folks at HARP decided to give me the ability to turn off my senses of smell and taste, even if it still baffles me why they thought to bother with such things, or else I'd have to actually taste this garbage.
The reason I was having to pretend to enjoy it at all was sitting across from me - Kyle or Kirk or something like that. He was a little taller than me at about 6 foot tall, shaped like a plastic bag filled with jello and about as pale. He wore an obnoxiously patriotic shirt that was a size too small in an attempt to show off his under-developed arm muscles, khaki cargo pants, and surplus military boots from the Third Gulf War. His brown hair, thinning and greasy, was buzz-cut, somehow shorter than the scraggly hairs styled into a sort of beard that attempted to hide his utter lack of a chin. Vacuous light-blue eyes bulged slightly out of deep-set sockets, spaced just a little too widely on each side of a nose that was remarkable in how unremarkable it was on his face. All in all, a prime specimen of the kind of men the Bureau of Population Control hired.
This coffee date was his idea. During our messaging on Matchstick, he hyped this place up as being the best place in town to get coffee and a chance to show me that he can be a "gentleman, even to a clanker chick" in response to some comment of mine or other. He did hold the door open for me, only to slip in right behind me and "accidentally" bumped into me, taking the chance to feel my ass. He did also pay, but he insisted on ordering this... drink for me. Fitzwilliam Darcy, eat your posh little heart out.
"Every day's a blessing," he answered with rehearsed ease and a tone that belonged more in a propaganda video than a first date. "I go to work, hit the gym, put on the uniform, and go do the hard work God and the President need us to do to keep America great." He leaned back, hooking one arm behind his head in what was clearly a flex disguised as a shift of position as he went for his coffee. "You're a vet, right? You know the kind of people that're... out there," he nodded towards the window. "They're jealous. They hate us cuz they ain't us, and they'll do whatever it takes to bring the US down. I'm here fighting the good fight, keeping them from infiltrating the country and destroying us from within... especially with some of my buddies in the force disappearing over the past few days. You get it, yeah? I'm sure you lost buddies out there."
My mind instantly went to the countless recorded missions in my head - civilians slaughtered, children maimed, bodies mutilated and - "I'm a woman, remember? I was on desk duty the whole time. I didn't put my life on the line like you do." My tone was that of poisoned honey - a tone that would've sent Kits scurrying out of the room if she was around to hear it. But Kyrle or whatever here didn't hear the threat - they never do.
"Ah yeah, that's right - you were prolly some office slut, huh?" he asked in what he clearly thought was a teasing voice, winking slyly over his coffee cup's lid as he took another sip. "That reminds me..." he leaned forward, shifting in his seat. "How uhh... 'enhanced' are you? You clearly got some implants," he gestured towards my general person.
I tilted my head to the side. "That's classified, I'm afraid..."
"No no, not the shit in your head... y'know," he corrected, gesturing a little lower.
"Ah." I was quiet for a moment, exaggerating the tasteless drink I took to stall for a moment to come to a decision. I decided to be bold. "Why, you looking to cop a feel?" I faked a coy smirk, but I could feel the intensity pouring out of my eyes.
"What, just like that?" He seemed a little surprised, his already-ruddy skin turning a deeper shade of red. My sensors detected a sudden surge in his heartrate and in the temperature of his groin.
I shrugged. "I mean, I was the office slut, and ... let's just say the officer club was pretty excited to learn I could keep their secrets, too." I moved the cup closer to my mouth, then coyly glanced over the rim, returning the look he gave me earlier. "Imagine not having to worry about whether your secretary could get pregnant." I took a sip to let the implication hang in the air, watching as his face shifted as he worked out my meaning. "The government likes investing in its troops, right? I wasn't just a good worker, I was useful for keeping morale up."
He cleared his throat, trying to maintain his composure. "I uhh... I guess I should mention that I'm married -"
"I'm technically not even human," I countered. "Think of me like a living fuckdoll. That's not cheating, right? It doesn't even count..." Time to seal the deal. I slid my hand forward and traced along his forearm with the side of my finger. "Wanna find out why I was the office favorite?"
He sighed, and I smiled. He was mine. "Uhh, wanna get out of here, then?"
My smile widened - genuinely this time, glad to get the hell out of this godawful coffee shop. "I know a place." I stood, leaving my shitty cup of coffee, and started walking backwards, beckoning him with a long-nailed finger. "Come take a girl for a ride?"
Whats-his-face stood, and a small group a couple tables over started cheering. He looked over at them, made a small wave, and then swaggered towards me with a barely-hid cocky grin.
"Friends of yours?" I asked.
He shrugged. "Maybe I recognize a couple of them."
"Mhmm," I replied, glancing towards the table. I photographed each of their faces, storing them in my memory files for cross-referencing later. "Well, Mister Popular, shall we?"
He once again rushed in front of me to wordlessly hold the door open.
"Such a gentleman," I cooed, my acerbic sarcasm dripping in one of his ears and out the other. His reply was to give me a swift slap on the ass, to which I yelped in response. 'I'm going to enjoy this,' I thought to myself. I made a show of glancing at the different cars currently parked in the lot. "So which one's yours?" I asked.
"Oh, you know," he shrugged with false humility, beeping the alarm on the only Cybertruck Mk III in the lot - a blocky, barely-functioning piece of shit that weighed too much for the low-yield fission reactor to power by itself, "customized" with a gleaming, "patriotic" vinyl skin that was almost impressive in its lack of artistic merit, as LLM-generated women with small vaguely flag-patterned strips of cloth over their nipples and crotches dominated the hood, flanking an artistic interpretation of its owner, possessing anatomy that was on the wrong side of Rob Liefeld and gripping a chain wrapped around the neck of an offensive caricature of a non-white queer person. "Just the sexiest car in the city."
I made a mental note to destroy the car too. "That has 'you' written all over it."
"Thanks," he beamed in reply. I didn't mean it as a compliment. He opened the passenger door, trying to not visibly struggle with the poorly-manufactured door. "Hop in, babe."
"Oh, now I'm 'babe'?" I raised my eyebrows in mock teasing as I hopped into the barely-padded bucket seat. "You honor me, sir."
"Call me 'daddy,'" he corrected in a voice trying to be sexy and dominant before slamming the door shut - not out of anger, but because that's the only way it would latch. How I didn't laugh in that moment, I'll never know, but I managed to keep it together. He jogged around the blocky metal block I was currently sitting in, and repeated the process for himself, pulling the door behind him with a bang. "So where are we going? Got a hotel room?"
I looked over with a subtle look. "Oh no, I got someplace better in mind. First though..." I lean over, voice breathy as I rest a hand on his knee. "What's your opinion on stick shift?"
"A real man's way to drive," he boasted. "I can't believe the liberals got rid of them."
I glance at the automatic shifter sticking out of the side of the steering wheel assembly. "Fuckin libs, amirite," I commented flatly while sitting in a vehicle designed by a proud fascist.
"Amen, babe," he agreed. "I'm glad you get it."
I scoffed. "What's your thoughts on a woman shifting your stick...?" I change the subject, sliding my hand up his thigh. I briefly switched my vision to X-ray. Of course he was already hard, not that I could tell with standard vision.
"Oh, uhh, absolutely babe," he consented, moving to undo his belt. I grab his wrist.
"Uh-uh. You focus on the road. Leave this part to me... daddy." I felt him shiver with excitement as I managed to stifle the urge to puke at using that word. I let go of his wrist, then spoke again. "So first, you need to hop on the Interstate." My hand floated back towards his waist, teasing where I knew his dick was with the tip of my finger.
"You got it," he confirmed, trying to keep his cool as he started the vehicle, reactor thrumming to life as the sound of an old V12 engine played from a subwoofer mounted in the hood. An aftermarket mod to make up for how quiet the reactor was. He got us moving, pulling out of the parking lot and beginning the drive towards the Interstate.
Looking forward to avoid having to see what I'm doing, I slowly hooked my finger around the canvas belt threaded over his pants, sliding the throng of coarse fabric loose from its metal buckles with a flick of my wrist. I undid the belt, letting the releasing tension do most of the work and mostly guiding it the right way with my fingers. As he ran a red light to turn left, I slid my palm down the front of his pants, teasing his four-inch erection through the heavy fabric.
"Like how big my dick is, babe?" he asked with a husky voice.
"It's huge," I lied. "I can feel it through your pants."
"Fuck yeah you can," he groaned with satisfaction. "Daddy's gonna destroy you with this cock."
"I can't wait," I purred as he crossed the double-yellow line to pass a school bus that had stopped to let kids off it. A suspicious thump rang through the cabin as he passed - the Cybertruck Mk III had a commanding driver seat that sat a good 4 feet above the ground, much taller than the average elementary student.
He let out a moan and I felt his dick twitch slightly. "Think I got one?"
I hum initially, wondering if I was understanding the situation correctly. "Got one what?"
"A kid, duh. Dumb retard didn't see me coming, I bet." His tone was... aroused, more than it was before. I was, in fact, understanding the situation correctly. I didn't respond, waiting for my rage to subside for a moment before I continued with my little game, bringing my hand up to undo the button of his pants. "I wonder if it had a mom... I might need to go 'apologize.'"
I did not like the implication. "I thought you were married," I mused, sliding my fingers down to the next button.
He shrugged. "Sure, but y'know, sometimes duty calls and you have to be there for a grieving mother in her time of need."
Another button came undone, not just in his pants. He makes a wide right turn, causing the car the lane over to swing out of the way and hit an anti-homeless bus stop.
"I love being king of the road," he breathed out. By now, the final button was undone, and I was sliding my hand under his white briefs, yellow stains peeking out from under the khaki. Thick pubic hair greeted me first, and it took a couple seconds longer than I wanted until I could feel the spongey flesh I was fishing for. Having found it, I pulled my hand back out and spat on my fingers, then slid my hand back under to begin jerking him off. He grunted in pleasure as I got started, squirming slightly under my touch. "Oh yeah, how do you like that engine?"
"It's... loud," I conceded. How this man didn't have hearing damage from how loud the poorly-produced engine sounds were playing in his cabin, I had no idea.
"Yeah, I thought the nuclear reactor was cool until I realized it didn't sound like a real engine. Fuckin pussy shit. So I broke the warranty and had a noisemaker installed so this could sound like a real truck." The pride in this man's voice as he said what might be the stupidest thing I have ever heard in my life was nothing short of impressive. If not for the fact the amount of blood it took his body to maintain an erection could barely fit in a thimble I'd wonder if he was about to lose consciousness while behind the wheel.
"The Interstate exit is just -"
"Yeah yeah, babe, daddy knows where he's going," he cut me off as he drove right past the exit I was trying to guide him towards.
"You sure do, daddy," I sighed, continuing to work his erection as I began to wonder why I was going along with this charade.
"Oh, hey, hey babe, check this out." The urgency in his voice combined with the sudden acceleration snapped me out of my reverie, and I noticed a person pushing a shopping cart trying the cross the road in front of us. They froze as they saw us coming, then panickedly started running across the road. "Watch the hood," he grunted as he began to turn the truck on an intercept course with the running person, and I noticed that he was suddenly not only fully rigid for the first time, but throbbing. A little bit of precum dribbled out of him as I could see the whites of the terrified person's eyes in the seconds before we made impact. The mass of the vehicle combined with its velocity was too much for the human body to tolerate, and the poor bastard was essentially burst down the middle, their shattered upper half sliding up and bouncing off the hood, then the windshield before being launched into the air as their lower half was sucked down underneath the chassis with a barely-audible crunch. As this happened, the "tits" on the LLM-generated "models" bounced gratuitously, nipples poking out from around the scraps of American flag before being covered in an innocent's blood like a money shot. On top of it all, my driver yelled out as he came, his dick weakly covering my fingers in thin, watery spunk as it pulsed about a half-dozen times.
For what may have been the first time in my life, I was stunned. Individually it was nothing I hadn't seen before by any means, but the sheer absurdity of all at once was just too much. I started laughing.
"Oh, yeah, did you like that, babe?" His voice was slurred somewhat from the headiness of his orgasm as he still tried to sound husky and sexy. "Think I got bonus points for knocking that homeless fag out of its shoes?"
I was still laughing, but my laugh turned from a deranged, wild laugh to a sadistic, cruel cackle as I turned to look at him for the first time since I got into this damned vehicle. "Stop the car, 'daddy.' Right fucking now."
"Oh, fuck yeah," he moaned, turning into the empty parking lot to our right. "You ready to experience my -" he was unable to complete that sentence as he started screaming. My cum-covered fingers had wrapped themselves around his scrotum, gripping into him with my carbon-fiber fingernails with enough force that they pierced the skin. "OW, what the fuck!"
"I've been waiting too long for this," I sighed, my voice husky with bloodlust. I closed my grip, feeling blood mix with jizz as I could feel his testicles in my grasp, giving way slightly like over-ripe grapes. I didn't crush them - not yet. "Out of all of you fuckin BPC agents I've slaughtered, you are by far the most pathetic. The guys on the force all mock you, you know - they call you 'No-Balls Norman.'" I squeeze, feeling the overripe balls in my hand burst. The scream took on a higher register as the trauma sent his nervous system into overdrive. "Now they're right." I let go, bringing my hand out from under the pants quickly turning a wet crimson. He turns away, and I grip his nubby little chin with my unbloodied hand, turning his face towards me and forcing him to make eye contact as I lock onto him. I heard his bladder empty, and his screams took on another flavor of pain as his urine leaks into his wounds. I lick the fluids off my hand with my tongue, then spit them into his face. "You taste disgusting, by the way," I snarled before letting his face go, making sure to slash into his skin as I did so.
"What the fuck did I ever do to you?" he whimpered.
"Called me a clanker, molested me three times, made me watch three cases of vehicular manslaughter in this absolute shit-heap you dare call a car, ignored my directions and didn't even last five minutes into a lazy handjob," I growled. "But honestly? I just fucking hate you. You and your so-called buddies in the BPC. You and the fucking government that created me to be a death machine." My wings, deactivated and stowed behind me, snap out to their full span, green mono-blades slashing into the vehicle's internals.
"Oh... oh god... it's you."
I smiled wickedly. "It's me. The metal cunt that took out an entire government agency by itself. And I made you come on my hand like an animal."
As I talked, I saw his left hand slowly move beside him to grab his sidearm. After I spoke, he started to bring it forward to try and shoot me. He never got the chance. Instead, I thrust the blade out of my left forearm, gun harmlessly flying out of his hand with the impact as the blade continued and impaled his hand. He sobbed in pain as his blood splattered against the driver-side window.
"And now the same hand just ruined your shooting hand," I cooed, clicking my tongue in mock pity. "Shame. You used that hand to jerk off into your tighty-whiteys too, didn't you?" I twisted my wrist, gouging a hole into the flabby, pale flesh before retracting my blade. "Or do you use that one to beat your wife..."
He turned and snarled at me, attempting to look indimidating despite the blood/cum/spit mixture dribbling down his cheek, the tears in his eyes, and the snot pouring out of his nose. "I don't fuckin beat her," he weakly growled at me.
"Sure you don't," I mocked, "no more than you run over kids and fuck their moms at their funerals, kill homeless people and minorities, and compensate for your ugly face and disgusting body." I took my right hand and knocked on the side of my head. "I was partially designed to be a surveillance drone - I have your entire text and call history saved up here. I know you better than you do, Kyle Norman, and I gotta say, it's a shame you didn't kill yourself a few years ago when you were thinking about it. The world is better off without you."
He tried to respond, but somewhere between everything I guess he lost the ability to speak as instead he blubbered like the overgrown infant he was.
"Aww, you poor pathetic thing," I purred, "don't worry, I'm about to do what you were too weak to do that night... oh, and Kyle?" When he looked at me, I grinned evilly. "I'll make sure to be there for Kaitlyn in her time of need. It's the least I could do for you... 'daddy.'" His eyes widened and he tried to put his ruined hand up to defend himself, but he was never going to be able to stop my glowing-hot blade from slicing into his shoulder as I began to dismantle him alive.