By FoxFaceStories
A Story Tier Prompt for Scoobert
In a future corporate dystopia, the cyberpunk antihero Benji survives by evading the law and keeping ahead of the corpo-industrial complex, taking merc jobs as they come with his trustworthy crew. But when their most profitable infiltration yet requires one of them to become an attractive woman, it’s time to get the bodymods on and become . . . Bonnie Billions!
Bonnie Billions, Part 3
“Bonnie Billions? You’ve got to be kidding me. You can’t be serious on this.” Benjie folded her arms. She’d showered, masturbated again, then gotten dressed, then masturbated again until she felt she’d ticked off enough pleasure centres and ticked off Deimos enough at the same time. He’d left some clothing for her, but she chose the fluffy white towel. Part of it was just to rile the guy, not to mention her teammates, but also because she had a sense that whatever he’d left her would have tracking chips all over it. Instead, she was already using her glasses - still perfectly implanted into her face and still looking damn cool, to order herself some new clothing. A new update, and she could scan her own bodily dimensions in the mirror. She was an EE-cup, so that was a set of lingerie and other undergarments on the way, not to mention three hundred dresses and other fancy clothing to show off her delectable Sino-Caucasian form. Deimos would hate it, but she liked the idea of funding her new clothing line through the US Remnant. They were her new sugar daddy; a phrase that rankled the man, who now identified himself as a Colonel.
“You are making a mockery of the US Government,” Deimos grunted.
“Jeez, ya think?” she said. “Hey, do you think I could go down to a DD-cup. I’m down with having big tits but I’m afraid this amount of wobble might distract even men.”
Deimos pinched the bridge of his nose. “Nygard, run the simulation for us.”
The newly christened Bonnie turned her attention to her long-time friend and partner. The nervous man in the suit patted his plastered-down red hair and spoke in his nasally British tone as an image of Ren Takana-Mayson appeared. He looked to be in his forties, with slicked back hair with just a little bit of grey in it, and a domineering face. Bonnie’s face instantly responded.
“Mmmh,” she moaned, savouring her body’s feelings. “Catching some hormones here, chief.” “I - please don’t talk like that, Benji. This is your target,” Nygard continued. “He has a taste for women like you. Eurasian with rather, er, pronounced bodily features. You’ll have to be witty, however. He doesn’t want some Neon synthdoll model, he wants the real thing.”
Leon slapped Bonnie on the ass. “I think our new gal can handle a bit of sass!” he said, barking out a belly laugh.
Bonnie smirked and rubbed her rear. “Careful, Leon. These glutes have a high insurance rate these days. Okay, so seduce him, get to his vault, steal a disc of RAM with thirty two hot megabytes on it. Anything more to the plan?”
Deimos nodded to Nygard, who input another command on the holo-table. It projected The Needle, the floating orbital structure whose shape gave it its name, complete with a tapering edge that went down to a point. Nygard pointed to the thicker structure up top where several rings floated around. “The top suites. That’s Takana-Mayson clan territory, Benj - er, Bonnie. Once you’re there, you’re off the map. Deimos has given us the vault specs. Dicey stuff. This isn’t a simple Simcha-Tech run or a mainline feedplug job, this is the real deal.”
“I’m aware,” Bonnie said, still cupping her tits and playing with them. “Damn, these things are fun to play with. Think you can spruik me some extra time on the Needle to enjoy a massage, Deimos?”
The man looked positively irate. “You won’t get to enjoy anything until you finish your job for the government. Your government.”
“Hey man,” Leon said. “We ain’t know a government since the demarc line across Carolina. You lost the Financial Wars. This is corpo territory. You’re behind enemy lines, my main man, not us.”
The military man gave a cryptic smile. “For now,” he said. “Now here’s what we know of the vault.”
Bonnie did pay attention to this part. Usually, some hyperfocus drugs fed to her veins would have helped her concentrate - her ADHD was a real bitch sometimes - but the excitement of the heist got her blood running and her neurons firing. Getting into the Needle was the easy part - Deimos was in the process of finishing up her fake credentials as a high-class socialite type set up to be with Ren Takana-Mayson. If she was successful, he’d take her up to the Needle, but from there she’d need to get to the Vault herself. Nygard would be placed in the building as a security consultant, several decks below, but they’d establish a hardwire contact to help with the infiltration. Leon, meanwhile, was extraction: first the RAM chip, then her. A garbage disposal unit was being repurposed for that reason.
“Can’t get me something sexier?” Leon said, thumping his powerful chest. “I want something with revs, man!”
“We want something quiet,” Deimos said.
“Well, I better get a prosthesis upgrade for this. I want my damn arm back.”
“Once the job is done. For all of you.”
The vault was serious firewall shit. Triple-lock security, eyescans, double-layer motion detectors, even an installed AI generation toolkit with backup personalities in case one was brought down. And then, once Bonnie was in, there’d be the nightmare of a download time. It was, in effect, the impossible job, which explained why Deimos had come to them instead of just hiring some high-class escort gal for this part of the job. He needed a Swiss-tech corporate-grade knife, and Bonnie was it.
“Yeah, this job is fucking impossible,” she said, looking around the three. Nygard was crestfallen, but Leon could tell that the other shoe was about to drop. “So let’s fucking do it. Let’s be legends.”
“I remind you that this is top-secret,” Deimos said.
But the new woman placed her hands on her hips and thrust out her chest invitingly, enjoying the way it made her friends, even Deimos, squirm a little with obvious attraction.
“Then you don’t know Neon Street, fed man. Data leaks, and when it does, everyone will want a taste.”
***
A week later, and Bonnie was arriving at the needle. As far as she was concerned, she could overdose on some Rex-Amphetamines like all the elite favoured and not care one bit, because the lap of luxury had arrived and it would be a damn good end - first class space flight up to the needle, not to mention literally tens of thousands of creds spent on clothing, dresses, bikinis, hologirl outfits, luxury camera equipment (if she was gonna turn back at the end of this, she was absolutely going to take some raunchy vids and sell them. Besides, she’d have a few for her personal collection. Who says you can’t dream about fucking yourself?). She was pretty sure by the end of their training that Deimos was planning to throttle her to death, but none of them trusted him.
“Expect betrayal, sister,” Leon told her more than once.
“Hey, after Sergei fucked up, I’m half suspecting you’ll turn, Leon.”
At this, he just gave his belly laugh and slapped her on the ass again. She half-considered fucking him, but you don’t fuck your teammates one way or another. It was a shame really; poor Nygard really needed to get laid. The man was a ball of nerves.
“Just remember you are Yua Ni-Anison, wealthy socialite and engaged in contract to the services of Ren Takana-Mayson. Your interests are opera, fencing, and the art of tea-making. You are traditional but not submissive, learned yet submissive, and, well, you are also trained by the Kama-Sutra Initiative through thousands of holos to be a master - er, mistress? - of lovemaking.”
“Hey man, I know all this,” she said into her receiver as the final spacedock mechanisms were finalised. “I’ve gotten pretty good at flicking my bean already.”
“You have trained on some of those holos, right? We bootlegged them specifically for that purpose!”
She smirked. “Eh, I’ll improvise.”
“Bonnie!”
She switched him off for a little and lay back in her gel bath. First class really was ritzy these days. Give her a needle in the arm and some Rex and she’d happily go bye-bye to existence right now. Only Deimos had robbed her of the ability to prox her nervous system with any kind of stim or drug. Even depressants had no effect, and she’d tried since. Her glasses had scanned her own body numerous times only to find that entire gland sacs had been repurposed or removed for the reason of denying her pleasure.
“Fucking Deimos,” she said. “Fucking government. At least they didn’t skimp on the orgasms.”
She rose as several attendants helped her off of the shuttle. As a first-class member, she was given hours of priority when it came to disembarkation, and she was more than happy to take advantage of it. Numerous attendants took her bags and suitcases while she traipsed on ahead, getting into character as Yua Ni-Anison. She strode with confidence, which wasn’t hard with a body like this. Her black dress had a starlight pattern that was constantly shifting, and the low cut showing off a devastating amount of cleavage. Bonnie didn’t look like some flesh-weaved girl selling her body though; her jewellery was too expensive, her makeup too artfully applied, her head held high. Bonnie had always been good at assuming other roles, but this was the most impressive yet. Hell, she was almost ready to live up in the Needle for good, were it not for the fact that she’d have to share the only clean air left with those other parasites.
“Make sure it all gets to my suite,” she said to attendants, feeling just a trace of guilt for bullying around those she’d usually tip well back in Neon Street. “And make sure to move it on a moment’s notice when Mr Takana-Mayson receives me. You will be handsomely rewarded.”
They thanked her as one, but it gave her an eerie sensation. Rumour held that the client-staff of the Needle were chipped with kill-switches in case the elite ever suspected a potential rev brewing. She could believe it, seeing their unwavering dedication. Either that, or that other rumour was true; the one about pick-job lobotomies coming back into style. Sick shits, these rich parasite fucks.
And yet when she entered the needle, Bonnie couldn’t help but feel a sense of wonder and awe sweep over her like she was a kid again, seeing the shuttles fly up to build the damn thing. Only this time, she wasn’t being left on a dying corpo-run planet, but instead brought up to this New Olympus. The interior of the Needle was that of a widening cylinder viewed length-wise. Its rotations meant that ‘down’ was purely relative; so long as you were standing on the interior of the cylinder, you were on the ‘floor,’ except the floor in this case curved up and around so that if you looked up you’d see the roofs of some impressive neon-Tokyo aesthetic buildings far, far above you. Through the centre of the Needle ran its flight traffic, but monorails criss-crossed its interior surface like a series of veins within a finger. The entire structure spun, giving it the artificial anti-grav, but here at the thinnest part of the needle the gravity was thinnest. At the upper areas, it would be Earth-norm. Vast kilometres into the distance, she could spy the ‘top’ of the Needle, though from her perspective from the viewing platform, it was more like looking straight ahead.
“Fuck me,” she whispered to herself. “That’s gonna take some getting used to.”
“Remember your anti-nausea tablets,” Nygard reminded her. “They’ll help you.”
“Ha!” Leon laughed over the comms. “They won’t work on her. No stim does, not even medical tablets!”
Bonnie bit her lip. “I hate you two. When is my ride getting here?”
“Coming now,” Nygard said. “I’ll keep in contact, but remain mostly silent. Don’t want to trip any devices. Remember to give a good impression to Mr Tanaka-Mayson.”
“And if all else fails,” Leon said. “Flash him those new tits of yours.”
Bonnie chuckled. “Oh, I was gonna do that already. You think I’m not gonna take this body out for a spin?”
“Well, um, if that’s the case-”
“Not with you, Nygard.”
“Oh.”
She was going to offer to pay for a little visit to the brothel houses, or whatever the elite-class here on the Needle referred to them as, but suddenly a very expensive, and very silvery-looking flight-car descended from the interior traffic and docked up against the platform. Bonnie assumed her Yua Ni-Anison guise, her head held high, her glasses already scanning the vehicle. Sure enough, there were listening devices. She sent a ping to Nygard to disable them as it landed, and the job was done by the time a man in a suit strode out. He looked Afro-Chinese, but had been genetically altered; one could tell by the extra set of pupils. Deimos had warned her about this; the man would be able to tell any lie, though her new genetics would give her some cover, she wouldn’t be able to push it.
“Good morning, Lady Ni-Anison,” he said, literally falling to his knees and bowing with his head touching the ground. He rose immediately after. “I am Daeh, servant of Mr Ren Takana-Mayson. I am to escort you to his estate in the higher-most echelon of the Needle. Do you have any baggage?”
“A supreme amount,” she said haughtily. “But it shall be delivered independently. Take me to Ren now, please.”
The man balked for a moment. “Mr Takana-Mayson prefers to be referred to honorifically, Lady Ni-Anison.”
“Mr Takana-Mayson will soon find out what he wants. I am no docile servant-girl. He wants a woman. So he shall have one.”
Bonnie had to struggle not to grin from ear to ear at her own performance. It was positively gleeful to portray such an odiously confident woman. And it seemed to work, because Daeh bowed again, not so supremely low this time, and invited her into the vehicle, keeping the door open for her. It was very expansive and expensive inside, but to her surprise he took up residence opposite her. The vehicle lifted up, and Daeh gave an apologetic smile.
“My master wishes for us to have an interview, in order to determine your suitability. A man of his prestige must guard against many dangers, including spies, saboteurs, gossips and rumourmongers, and the like. I apologise for this inconvenience.”
“So you should,” she said. “But I am up to the test. Ask away.”
“Do you have any ill intent towards Mr Takana-Mayson?”
“Define ill intent,” she said, smiling. “I aim to take full advantage of him, if that’s what you mean. I shall leverage his power to make it my own, just as he shall leverage my animal magnetism and my superior looks. It is a mutually beneficial agreement, but I absolutely intend to do him ill . . . and he will enjoy it. Any further commentary on such will be the preserve of myself and Ren, I’m afraid. The bedroom is a private place, and pain has a place with pleasure. He would not have asked for my companionship if he was not aware of this.”
So proceeded the interview. It was not unlike a battle between two hackers, but instead it was the human mind at stake, the greatest computer there is. For every question, she parried it expertly with a haughty demeanour and a wry comment. It got to the point where poor Daeh was looking rather frustrated, but it was a familiar kind of frustration that told her that she was on the right track; one of the elites and nothing more.
“My apologies, my Lady,” he said after several minutes, and then listened to something in his earpiece. “My Master would like to know how the listening devices in this vehicle were disabled.”
She smirked. “Oh, I never allow my privacy to be infringed upon, Daeh. I had them remotely disabled while I still could. I assume Ren will try to record me at his estate - that is more acceptable. It is his home, after all. But during a flight? Nasty practice, that.”
The man frowned, but then listened again to his own ear-comm. Then he actually chuckled. “My master is most impressed. Mr Takana-Mayson would like to meet you.”
“I should think he would be ecstatic.”
The vehicle landed after its hovering flight pattern, and even Bonnie had to hold back her awe. She’d never seen so much green in all her life. The Takana-Mayson estate was right at the top of the needle, occupying its own segmented rings and looking down on the rest of paradise. It had entire gardens, huge floral arrangements, and numerous villas, offices, and secure buildings amid the forestry.
“Impressive,” she noted as Daeh opened the door for her.
“It is indeed,” a new voice proclaimed. “But there can always be more, don’t you think? A garden needs its fresh beauty, and it seems it has finally arrived.”
It was a slick voice, a confident voice. The kind of tone you expected of a corpo honcho who had his head in the clouds and his fingers in every pie. It was also a damn attractive voice attached to an attractive body. Bonnie took in the sight of Ren Takana-Mayson, one of the most powerful people in the world, wearing a black male kimono and taking in the sight of her amid the flowery garden they had landed in.
“Ren, I assume?” she said, striding forward.
“In the flesh,” he said. “And you are Lady Ni-Anison. You are more beautiful than holos can depict, and more impressively witty than I expected. Forward, too. I like that, up to a point.”
“Then I shall make a point to only cross the lines in the sand that lead to enjoyment, Ren,” she said, taking his arm and surprising him. “Please, show me your world. I want to see every inch of it.”
Including, she thought, where his vault was. This would be a short dalliance. And then the heist to end all heists would begin, and all the rush of danger with it.
Hell, it was making her aroused just thinking about it.
To Be Continued . . .