Sam's New Tokyo Gambit
A cyberpunk style erotic thriller. Sometimes the only way in is getting caught.
This was a public commission for the sci-fi loving TTIO, based on his Cyberpunk character 'Sam'. Sam is the sole property of __TTIO_ , all other characters and intellectual constructs are Cocoa. Do not redistribute in part or in whole without the prior consent of both _TTIO _ and Cocoa. All rights reserved._
Deep in the broken heart of New Tokyo City, a blind man was watching.
When the world brought itself to the brink of destruction in 2050 in a spiteful series of chemical and neurological attacks, people realized that changes had to be made. One by one, governments were stripped of their power. In the vacuum that resulted, powerful Clans and Corporations around the world took responsibility for the lives and well being of billions of people.
Genetic engineering that was meant to harden the human race against the remnants of the Chem Wars resulted in the birth of new species. Known by colloquial terms like 'Furry' or 'Scaley', these new species quickly became half the planet's population.
Implants allowed talented individuals to enhance their physical and mental skills. The hackers of yesterday gave way to the Deckers of today, directing powerful computing elements with the powers of their mind.
And so, in a back alley just outside of Nakimora Towers, a blind man was watching ones and zeros go by. He had tapped into the tower maintenance system, and he was monitoring. Waiting. They called them 'canaries'... if anything bad was going to happen, it would happen to them first. When the time was right, they would signal their employer, like so:
"Hey pretty mama, this is New Jack. The Black Ice is on another shard. You cool, babe. You cool."
The words radiated in Sam's mind, perceived as in if New Jack were standing right by her side, instead of sitting in an alley 47 stories down. "Thanks Jack. Get the fuck out of there now. Tonight there might be a body count."
Even in New Jack's mind, her voice was a dangerous purr. "Be careful girl. I'll tell Van Gogh to be ready."
The secret to getting on the roof of a particular building is to find a slightly higher building nearby. Sam stood on the rooftop of Go-Lucky Corp, thanks to a quick tryst with a not-so-bright janitor the week prior. At this altitude, the wind whipped by at 70 miles an hour on a regular basis. The light suit helped, both by mimicking the roof's safety lighting so that Sam blended in from a distance, and by detecting temperature and partially compensating for wind chill. But the feline had given up on smoothing down her short, silky black headfur. If it was fucked up, it was fucked up. The cat had bigger fish to fry.
Sam fired the grappling hook towards the sky above the roof of Nakimora Towers, the angle calculated so that it would catch on one of the many protrusions situated on their helipad. It was the only place on their roof that had no motion sensors, so this was a do-or-abort type of shot.
*clatter* *click* -tug- It held.
The small feline took a deep breath. She clipped onto the zip line for the most terrifying 8 seconds of the trip. Maybe some mental math would calm her down. 110 meters. Fuck this is fast... 50 kph. Was that a seagull? 14 meters per second. Shit, I'm gonna die!
But instead of killing her, the auto-brake slowed Sam down perfectly, dropping her right on the helipad. She pulled the safety screw and yanked the quick release, causing the tension wire to fly away, retracting the entire length into the base station back on the roof of Go-Lucky Corp. She freed the hook and clipped it to a D-ring on her suit.
"Step 1, survive. Check."
She quickly padded over to the flight control terminal. With practiced ease, Sam clawed open a flesh-tab on the back of her neck, and unspooled her datajack. It slid home with a satisfying -click-, and the real world melted away.
In the age after The Great Compile of 2038, Cyberspace was separated into two very different areas. PubNet was established to allow users to browse Cyberspace using pretty graphics and easy to understand commands. CorpNet was a gritty wireframe-and-icon universe, where reaction time and raw power meant the difference between life and death.
Sam dropped into the shard, sporting her wireframe housecat avatar. It was a glass hammer build, hitting hard, relying on agility over endurance. If she was hit by countermeasures, her body in the real world would feel the feedback. Muscle damage, brain damage, or death could be the result.
Sam's policy was not to get hit.
She loped through the subsidiary pipe, bypassing a rather dated firewall with no fuss at all. But now she was in the realm of the ICE, Internal Countermeasure Execution. ICE would wander a shard, looking for intruders and unleashing whatever distracting, trapping, or deadly subroutines it had at its disposal. Thanks to New Jack, she had avoided the worst of it. But if Sam was detected, she had very little time to finish up before deadly hunter-killer ICE found her.
This put the cat in somewhat of a pickle. Nakimora's security policy was Defense In Depth. If Sam concentrated on disabling the low levels of security, it gave the ICE more time to cycle back to this shard. If she blew off the low levels of security, the feline might accomplish her goals, but guards would almost certainly storm her position in the real world.
So in a way, it was a good thing that Step 2 of her plan was: Get Caught.
The cat entered the main pipe, and raced through towards the Analytics Node, setting off several alarms in the process. An annoying OSPF icon popped up, attempting to misdirect her with friendly routing advice. Sam snarled, and her housecat slashed at the protocol construct, shredding it to bits. More alarms started to blare.
The glorified rent-a-cop guarding the Analytics Node probably wasn't prepared for someone to simply dive through a wall of Glass ICE. That would set off every alarm in the building, so who would do that? Unfortunately for him, Sam would do that. Sam did that. In fact, Sam turned her wrath on the guard's icon and breathed digital fire all over it. There was a a digitized scream of pain and horror as the rent-a-cop faded away. In the back of Sam's mind, she knew that he was fucked up... maybe dead. Amateurs.
Sam's kitty cat avatar skidded up to the Load Balancer. She knew that if she uploaded the exchange logger here, it wouldn't be activated until the next time the weekly Analytics run used up all of its single instance memory and had to replicate. Done. She reached out with virtual feline claws and slashed the icon of a dusty old tome. Logs shredded.
Her proximity alarms were going crazy now. Black ICE was heading up the main pipe. Physical security was opening up the roof access hatch. Sam prayed that the schematics that she bought were correct, and opened up the very last OPT box in the Node...
A Local Loop. Yes, motherfucker!
The housecat icon dissipated into 8-bit heaven as Sam rode the loop back to the main bus, and then took the Serial connection back to the router that she came from. Her real eyes snapped open, and the feline had just enough time to disconnect and retract her datajack before she heard:
"FREEZE BITCH! YOU MOVE, YOU DIE!"
It was a rude, but expected greeting. She would have never have had time to disable all of the security and get the job done. This is where the cat's acting had to be top notch.
She let out a little squeak and shot her hands above her head. "I give up! Don't hurt me, please!" she simpered. She was playing the amateur, not letting on that she had accomplished her mission and buried the evidence like a pro. They handcuffed her, and relief washed through her body. Usually they didn't waste the handcuffs if they were going to shoot you or throw you off the roof.
Sam has done her research. There was an almost 90 percent chance that they wouldn't kill her if they thought she screwed up. See...
Nakimora's security chief liked to play.
Sam kept up the act as the guards hauled her, not so gently, down to the 40th floor. So far things were going to plan. If things went well, she would not only have the data, she would have leverage. Of course if things went badly, she'd be dead, so what would she care?
The office door that had been knocked on was only marked with four letters: CISO. But Sam knew exactly what that meant. This was the Chief Information Security Officer, Bruce van Allen. His reputation for cruelty and lust proceeded him. The cat imagined that they would be a lot alike, if he had any guile or imagination.
After being told to enter, the layout of the room drove home both the danger and the potential up ahead. The actual working areas were on carpeted, raised pedestals along the edges of the circular room. The center area was recessed, covered entirely with white tile, and had drains installed. This allowed for easy clean up after whatever violent or depraved activity had been conducted.
The German Shepherd looking down upon his new captive was clearly the infamous Mr. van Allen. Sam sized him up quickly... physical combat was something to avoid. The canine was well muscled, alert, and had at least 8 inches on the cat. That was fine. If he was feeling physically superior, there was a good chance that Sam's plan would work.
The real mystery, and one Sam wasn't prepared for, was the figure standing just behind the dog. The tigress was wearing a white, flowing kimono. She was a little taller than Sam, but just as lean. A bit more chesty, she noted with a frown. OK, a lot more chesty. Wildcards that weren't even mentioned in research were usually bad news in situations like this. Often fatal news. The black cat would have to play it cautiously until she knew exactly where she stood.
Bruce barked, "Prepare her for interrogation." His minions complied without question, quickly taking off her utility belt, boots, socks, relieving her of a flash grenade, and of course removing the grappling hook. They paused for a moment, looking at her light suit. It didn't have any zippers, it just flashed neon blue symbols at them. With a shrug, one of the guards took out a switchblade and flicked it open. Sam quickly mewled, "No, no... it's OK." Before they could either threaten her or try to cut off her suit, she issued the mental command that caused two seams to open up from her shoulders all the way down to her ankles. The suit fell off of the cat without the guards even needing to uncuff her.
The Shepherd chuckled, a deep and menacing sound. "Ah good, this one knows her place. Put her things in the custody locker, and then you may go. As his crew cleaned up after the detainee and filed out the office door, the CISO slowly made his way down to the tiled part of the floor. "You've been a bad girl." As he gave the feline a once over, the canine followed the single white stripe that started under Sam's chin. In a field of otherwise silky jet black fur, the white marking traveled down between her petite breasts, encompassing her muff and then fading out mid-taint. Then his gaze was drawn down to the shiny silver barbell that pierced her clitoral hood. The blush Sam gave him was at least partly genuine... it was a recent addition, and she was still feeling it out herself. "Yes, a very bad girl."
Keeping her eyes on her toes, the cat murmured, "Sir I'm sorry. If I could just explain..."
The backhand that she received snapped her head back and to the left. It left Sam stunned and on her knees, genuinely dazed from the heavy, callous blow. "You will fucking speak only when spoken to. Yes, you will tell me everything. But not before we've all been properly introduced." He tilted her head up with two fingers elevating her chin. "It's just bad manners."
She nodded quickly, mutely, but enough so that he could feel the downward pressure against his digits.
"Good girl." the canid snarled. He pushed her to all fours and then started to walk back towards his elevated perch. He called, over his shoulder. "Rex. Introduce yourself."
A panel opened up in the tiles on the north side of the room. What skittered out made the black cat's heart skip a beat. It was a K9X. Coated entirely in articulated stainless steel and weighing close to 150 pounds, these expensive and highly sought after droids were used for one, and only one, thing: Simulating feral dog sex. Sam whimpered loudly, but what her captor didn't know was that the whimper was in anticipation rather than fear.
Rex wasted no time with pleasantries. It circled around behind the prone kitty and started 'licking' her. The sex machine's rubber tongue spread a thick, greasy lube over Sam's nethers. From the cat's delicate white-furred sex, all the way up to her clenching tailstar, the K9X unit made sure to cover its bases so to speak.
Apparently Rex wasn't programmed for much more foreplay than that. The artificial dog mounted the diminutive cat with a single mechanical bark. The cries from Sam were genuine when she realized that the warm metal tip was pressing undertail rather than into her sex. The canine bot's unit squirted out a few more ounces of lubricant right into the black cat's pucker before sliding forward and hilting its full eight inches.
Although an unexpected shock, Sam certainly wasn't turned off by the bot's choice of hole. The undeniable power that it used to thrust into her swayed the cat's entire body, almost knocking her handcuffed forepaws out from under her. The way that it wrapped those stainless steel limbs around her ribcage and held her almost possessively was actually very nice. It only took a minute of adjusting before the steady stimulation of of her G-Spot through the thin membrane wall got to Sam. She started mewling softly, actually pressing her black furred rump back to meet those precise thrusts.
The next stage of Rex's routine caused the Decker to squeeze her eyes shut and gasp. Its smooth, articulated tail curled under the pair, between the faux-dog's hind legs, and finally into the valley underneath their current junction. It didn't take Rex long to find the cat's dripping snatch and smoothly press in with its long appendage. Sam's body locked up for a moment, not quite ready for this 'added feature'. As the K9X unit continued it's feral, hunching double penetration, the tail-dildo started to buzz powerfully. The feline whimpered and bit her bottom lip, almost hard enough to draw blood. So close... and being that close turned off the vibrations, and triggered a rapid cooling and gyro-stabilization of the tail unit. Effectively, it was completely still and cold relative to pair, making Sam cry out in frustration! She tried to push herself over the edge with just the anal stimulation, but couldn't quite get there. Only when she had calmed down sufficiently did the tail-dildo spring back to life, heating up and vibrating wildly to start the cycle of teasing all over again.
The black feline allowed her amber eyes to open just a slit. As much as she was 'enjoying' this new experience, she had to find out what the deal was with the other cat in the room. The pieces rapidly came together when she spied the lithe tigress on her knees in front of Bruce, suckling on his red canine spike with delicate precision. A few moments of observation allowed Sam to make an educated guess. The exact manner with which she cradled the dog's balls, the restrained professionalism with which she fluffed the CISO's puppymaker... the tigress was a professional, trained among the elite madams of New Tokyo. She was an Oiran, a female body servant of almost legendary skill.
Sam was ripped from her speculative thoughts as the K9X unit suddenly gripped her midsection ever so firmly. With a hollow, mechanical howl, the artificial dog ejaculated a copious amount of lube up her tingling rump. Despite her faint protest, that terrible and wonderful buzzing tail was tugged from her dripping sex, leaving her weak and trembling like a kitten. She snarled a little in disappointment, robbed of her own peak by the K9X's evil programming, and the random number generator that predetermined how long Rex would 'hold out' before dumping his slick load. Rex retreated to his panel, dripping lube from his faux-cock all the way. Oddly the tile panel didn't close again, perhaps foreshadowing another round with the elaborate sex toy.
Snapping his fingers; that's all Mr. van Allen had to do in order to advance his personal sex show to the next stage. Without noise or fanfare, the tigress slipped out of that undeniably expensive kimono and approached the panting black cat using smooth, measured steps. She held something small and metallic between two fuzzy orange digits. Surprisingly it was a key, and after a moment of fiddling, Sam's handcuffs were removed.
The reason for this became clear after a moment. The Oiran laid down on her back and used the overabundance of lubricant on the tiles to her advantage. She slid between the newly-created gap in the black cat's forearms, until that delicate orange and black maw was directly below Sam's dripping sex. Using only that long, rough, but undeniably talented feline tongue, the tigress tore a genuinely passionate cry from the other feline as she delicately lapped around the edges of the Decker's vaginal lips.
The firm tug on Sam's hips signaled that the German Shepherd had entered the fray. Given the amount of lube and preparation already lavished on the black feline's back door, he saw no need to screw around. Ten thick inches of veined canine cock pressed into the captive's slick tailstar, drawing a high pitched mewl from Sam's throat. As her tailhole stretched to accommodate the CISO's rod, she swore that she could see blackness start to creep in at the edge of her vision. Another sensual lick from the tigress pulled Sam back from the edge of unconsciousness.
The Decker knew that she had to take charge now. She needed to make sure that what was about to happen was vigorous and impassioned. Her life might depend on it.
With an eager snarl, the black cat allowed her forearms to collapse, and dove right into the tigress' exposed muff. This drew a very unprofessional squeal from the normally composed Oiran. But Sam wasn't done, not by a long shot. What she lacked in technique, she made up for in raw enthusiasm. The black feline brought her secret weapon into play, dragging her sizable gold tongue-stud over the Oiran's clitoral hood, even as her nose pressed between those sweet, perfectly presented netherlips. She nuzzled and lapped eagerly, causing the other cat to wriggle and moan under this sudden attack.
Bruce wasn't spared from the Decker's sudden enthusiasm either. As he started to slowly hunch into the cat's rump, he was surprised to see that slim behind pistoning back at him with the kind of eagerness usually seen in a wild animal. Then Sam's muscles clamped down on that thick base, making Bruce's eyes flutter and triggering the slow growth of his canine knot. He dug his blunt claws into his captive's fuzzy hips and started to rail her little tailhole, hard. Sam made sure to squeeze every time that forming knot popped home. She could tell by the way the German Shepherd's length thickened and pulsed that it was having the intended effect.
The poor tigress attempted a counter-attack on her tormentor, lapping firmly at the barbell that graced her swollen hood. But unless the intended effect was to make Sam snarl and drive her hips down to actively fuck the Oiran's muzzle, the counter-attack failed. Instead the jungle cat fell even further behind when Sam wrapped her thin lips around the tigress' exposed clit and lightly suckled on it while tapping it's crown with the bottom of her piercing. The bottom feline opened her maw in a wide, silent scream. Sam's face was graced with a tiny squirt of tigress cum, which caused the Decker to release the Oiran's clitoris in order to burrow her muzzle in and drink that nectar straight from the source.
The CISO was also helpless against the black feline's attentions. Her teasing had caused the Shepherd to fully knot up inside the kitty cat's rump. All he could do was hunch into her with tiny, sewing machine thrusts. After one particularly fierce contraction of that talented sphincter at the base of the dog's knot, he craned his head up towards the ceiling and howled! Every nerve was tingling as Bruce squirted his seed into Sam, who was half purring, half snarling at her perceived victory. Not one to deny her own needs, the black cat dragged her hips down to grind her piercing against the near-comatose tigress' face. The German Shepherd yelped, drawn down with her by the knot as Sam took her pleasure. A few second later the 'helpless captive' snarled and came all over the jungle feline's ecstasy contorted face.
While the Shepherd and tigress were both still recovering, Sam tilted her cum-dripping face up and called out, "Did you get all that Van?"
To the utter shock of the other two occupants of the room, a voice responded: "Five by five, Sam, we got every sordid detail."
This would be a good time to mention... Van Gogh's name was an awful pun.
Riggers are the Deckers of the mechanical and vehicular world. They can primarily or remotely control drones and vehicles with their mind, using wetware computing similar to your average Decker. They normally have classy names that reflect their specialties, territories, or hardware preferences.
Van Gogh picked his name because he could make vans go. Van. Go.
Not everyone can be classy.
Riggers in particular dealt with physical things. In this case, taking control of the building's environmental monitoring led him to a drone that he could make use of: The K9X.
Sam seemed a bit annoyed as she realized where Van's voice was coming from. "You filmed it from the robot dog's penis cam?!"
The voice responded, rather defensively, "Hey, the guy is paranoid. It ended up being the only camera in the room! You're lucky he... um, it had the right upgrades installed. Besides, the angle on this caught everything."
The CISO was already trying to tug his swollen knot free, in an attempt to figure out just what was going on. The cat winced and reached back to slap his hip. "Relax, you're going to injure the both of us. Listen, we both know that if my friend here sends this video to Mister Nakimora, you're a dead man. He doesn't mind honorably killing your foes, but raping the pretty ones and then selling them into slavery isn't company policy."
Sam grunted and rolled the heavy canine onto his side, so that she could follow suit. While the big spoon whimpered at his predicament, the little spoon eyed the lube-and-cum drenched tigress. "What's your name?"
The other feline's muzzle worked silently for a few moments, as in if not used to speaking. Then she murmured, "This one is called Anemone."
"Anemone? That's pretty. Listen, we don't want Bruce dead. We actually could use some inside information about this place. Did you ever think about being your own boss?"
The tiger woman's emerald eyes brightened considerably as the question was posed. "That would be a high priority in this one's life."
Sam sighed happily. She allowed her eyes to half-lid. "Excellent, it's settled then. Anemone, you keep an eye on Bruce. If you give him a bad report, or you fail to report in, we give the video to his boss. Bruce, you keep an eye on Nakimora. When we need something, we'll contact you. Until then, don't fuck up." She paused, then asked, "Deal?"
Two voices, one defeated and the other quite the opposite, answered as one:
"Deal."