a2361663579_10 9500fb4a20a27146077a6d3d21dea5f6

Suggested Audio Jukebox


[1] Ladytron “Seventeen”

[2] Fischerspooner “Emerge”

[3] Bis “Robotic”

[4] Cicada “Same Old Scene”

[5] Marina And The Diamonds “I Am Not A Robot”



Did you ever grow weary of being the odd one out? It ain’t no picnic let me tell you. While all the other girls in school were synching up their menstrual cycles, I didn’t get my period until my seventeenth birthday party and there’s a mortifying experience I will likely never forget. Before that day I had been known as Scary Mary to my classmates and it became Bloody Mary overnight as the whole entire state were informed of my unfortunate red flag foible. However if I thought that things couldn’t get any more demeaning, then how does Hairy Mary grab you? As an apology to my body for not introducing itself earlier, puberty then announced its arrival in style and dense fur began popping up in the least convenient of places. Other ladies wax their bikini lines to dispose of any unsightly pubic stragglers, whereas I had a sit-on mower for mine. Before long it had gotten way out of control and so had the unmistakable urges. Daytime wasn’t so bad and I kept my pointed ears low as best as I could. But each full moon something totally unprecedented occurred and I wasn’t best pleased about what I transformed into if I’m honest.


It’s funny, I could’ve sworn I’d have been a shoe-in for hairy nipples. Anyhoots, with prom night fast approaching and love now firmly in the air, my chances of finding myself a nice Jewish boy from around the way were looking decidedly slim and it was becoming harder to keep a lid on my moonlighting exploits as the bodies were piling up faster than the authorities could bag and tag the cadavers. It wasn’t even that I wished anybody any harm, regardless of the harsh treatment I received from my peers, more an untamable stirring within that drove me to do the things I did. Yet I wouldn’t ordinarily say boo to a goose unless it was securely muzzled beforehand. I knew full well that something had to give and joined a couple of werewoman forums to try and meet others afflicted with a similar curse as my social life was all but non-existent. God bless the internet then for bailing me out as it suggested a potential antidote courtesy of a certain organization by the name of CyberKitten Inc. Needless to say my research was thorough as I wasn’t about to let a chance like this go begging.


I read and reread their company policies and it appeared that the risk entailed in their procedures was relatively low. The way I saw it, I had absolutely nothing to lose, and was all in for ridding myself of this cruel affliction before any other innocents could be ravaged needlessly. Times were changing and it felt well overdue that I get with the programme so I signed up online and awaited further instructions. Three days passed and not so much as a solitary welcome email so I began to lose heart and put it down to nothing more than artificial intelligence. However, on the fourth day, I finally received my welcome pack and wasted not a solitary second before opening it excitedly. After perusing the instructions, it seemed to point towards the USB stick they had enclosed in the package, and all I was required to do was insert it in its slot and let technology do the rest. The only potential snag was that none of the USB slots on my iPad appeared to accommodate this curious device. Was it defective? I took advantage once more of the worldwide web at my fingertips and engaged in a spot of harmless research.


Really? The vagina you say? All the way in? I harbored grave doubts about surrendering my virginity to a half terabyte plug-in but, with the full moon steadily rising and that hankering for fresh meat starting to reconvene, decided to throw caution to the wind and pray that I didn’t inherit some kind of firewall demolishing virus. It took three hours for the download to complete and sleeping was impossible until it first applied any updates. The software was Ver. 0.02 and this felt encouraging as they had clearly had time to iron out any teething problems and fine-tune their product. On the plus side, the full moon came and passed that night, and not once did I feel it necessary to howl at the moon so, if nothing else, I’d relieved myself of this lycanthropic curse and had dug my last hole in the bottom of the garden. Of course, I was still unaware of how these augmentations would play out, but a decent night’s shut-eye would surely hurry me along to the next phase so I caught a swift forty on the fly.


By the time I awoke the following morning, at 07.00 hours on the dot I might add, I felt markedly different. My breasts appeared to have gained two cup-sizes, both scrawny thighs had filled out to capacity, any stubborn acne had mysteriously cleared up, and I no longer retched up bile when faced with my full-length mirror as had been customary up until this point. It wasn’t as though I was unattractive to the naked eye per se, merely unaware of how to make the best of my moderate assets. However, this morning I was certainly no wilting lily, and I fully intended on showing the world my fresh set of upgrades. As expected, the boys came flocking in no time, and the captain of the football team even pleaded with me to let him wear me on his arm to prom. Needless to say, the cheerleading squad were less enthused, although they went about their business in the usual underhand manner and pinky swore that they’d be my BFFs for life. While I wasn’t about to fall for their baloney, I have to admit to being rather bowled over by all the sudden adulation, no matter how shallow it might have been. The bottom line was that I now possessed the upper hand and it felt damn good if I’m honest.


To begin with, things were going fairly swimmingly and my popularity had soon risen to legendary status so I pouted, writhed, and tantalized at every given opportunity. There seemed no reason to stop at the captain of the football team so I made my way through the entire squad and moved straight on to the Lacrosse team straight afterwards. Traditionally this kind of promiscuous behavior would see a girl branded with the dreaded “slag tag” in no time but I was the one holding the aces here and every excitable alpha buck in state wanted a chance to defragment my drive. Indeed, I was so overcome with appreciation that I wrote CyberKitten Inc. a brief communication to show my immense gratitude for enabling me to finally become someone of merit in my community.


However, I had negated to read the contract’s small print before ticking the agree to terms and conditions box, and this proved something of a bone of contention as I lapped up my new-found popularity. Technology is all well and good as long as it is functioning properly but not so hot when your CPU speed becomes compromised. It all began to go awry around the time of a fierce electrical storm which took down all the power lines in the area and single-handedly wiped out all connectivity within a twenty-five mile radius. I suddenly felt horribly lethargic and came down with most inhospitable deep-rooted headaches and excruciating back pain. Even more disconcertingly, any get up and go had now lived up to its name and I could barely shift buttocks without coming over all queasy. Now I’m not about to suggest that morphing into a werewolf night after night was any kind of picnic, but it had nothing on this.


My first consideration was to communicate once more with the organization responsible for these enhancements and see if anyone else had encountered similar installation issues. So you can imagine my horror when I typed CYBERKITTEN INC into my search bar and was promptly googlewhacked. They’d upped and left, done a runner with my $29.95, and left me with a malfunctioning implant that was causing the worst kind of system crash imaginable. After being provided such a titillating glance of my future, it was now becoming increasingly likely that I’d be returned to factory settings before the week was out. I was becoming desperate so used my limited knowledge of applied science to scour the worldwide web for any patches or fixes available.


I’ll give you three guesses what I found and, if the words diddly squat spring to mind, then I feel duty-bound to congratulate you with getting it in one. There were no known remedies to my condition and I was perilously close to the inevitable boot down so did what any faltering operating system would do in my situation and ground to a virtual halt. This was particularly heartbreaking considering I’d just started getting used to actually being somebody of distinction and no longer had to be content with my status of lowest rung bottom feeder. Be it revered or despised, at least I possessed an identity, whereas now I was barely even fit for parts and couldn’t even muster the strength to step out of my bedroom. Thus I remained cooped up in my pen feeling dreadfully sorry for myself, while my ld friend blind panic reminded me how screwed I was at intervals far too regular to feel comforted by.


It’s a depressing tale ain’t it? I apologize for burdening you with my woe but things have been decidedly on the up of late so this story could still end up with a happy ending after all. It took almost a month before the internet was up and running again and rarely has thirty-one days felt quite so much like thousand. However, after all the commotion, fiber optic broadband was fitted in my local exchange, and connection speeds soon soared through the roof. Granted, I have to be wary of how much data I’m eating up, and have come a little unstuck on a couple of occasions for exceeding my monthly usage, but it’s astonishing how much cyber sex you can cram into a two-week period and I’ve now learned to take the valleys with the peaks. So I was cyberpunked, big whoop, the internet is full of unsavory organizations looking to bleed us dry, and I’m sure I’m not the first to be taken for a ride by blundering technology and neither will I be the last. But my palms are no longer hairy and that has to count for something right?


Click here to read Almost Human





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