Lacuna Vice by Searska_GreyRaven

Lacuna Vice

Searska_GreyRaven, Alien, Catboy, Cheetah, Cyberpunk, Espionage, Orgasm Denial, Tentacles, intrigue

Previously published in the anthology "Purrfect Tails."

Lacuna Vice

By Searska GreyRaven

Gan leaned against the bar of the Purgatory nightclub, cybertail swaying to the techno beat as he inhaled from a hookah. Nanotattoos spattered all along his body flared to life, smoldering like the lit end of a cigar. His tastefully shredded jeans and vest showed a flash or a flicker of gleaming nanotat-work, just enough to pique interest and make an onlooker wonder. He balanced the mouthpiece between two fingers, lanceolate nails glinting silver in the strobe light, and contemplated his latest taste of smoke. Cinnamon, he thought, and clove. And something...red? He grinned, impressed. He'd need to get the name of the blend from Marla, the bartender. He could just see her reflection in the mirror behind the bar through the crowd of people as she served drinks and flirted about, her rainbow-dyed hair easy to pick out among the glittering throng of Purgatory nightlife.

He sighed. It might be a bit before he could pry her away to ask. Ah, well. I'm in no rush, he thought.

Gan examined his reflection in the mirror behind the bar for the fifth time that night, fussing with the lay of stray hairs along his bleach-blond mohawk. A trickle of light flowed down the pair of tear-streak nanotats on his face as he fidgeted. _Vanity, thy name is Ganymede,_he thought. He finally gave up and returned to people-watching.

Across from the hookah bar, Purgatory's dance floor writhed with new blood. Spliced chimeras danced, raved, and dazzled under blacklight, expressing a rainbow of modification from simple fangs or pointed ears to full body morphs. Gan watched as a canine-spliced woman lead a lovely young man onto the fray. In another time and place, she would have been called a werewolf. Soft grey fur, digitigrade legs, and a long, sly muzzle. A fluffy tail swished from beneath a short red skirt as she bounded onto the dance floor. The human, on the other hand, looked perfectly normal. Aside from the smart-cloth shirt and pants in a garish shade of neon green, he didn't appear to have a scrap of tech or gene mod in him.

Gan blinked, scanning the man with his ocular implants. Well, well. Pure flesh, slumming it with the splicers. Pure flesh--humans without gene or tech mods--were a rare sight in Purgatory. Most wouldn't risk associating with those who altered their bodies in such extreme ways, but there were always the prurient few whose audacity out-weighed their propriety. Most never came back after one night and if they did, they reappeared sporting mods; converts to the lifestyle.

The canine splice writhed against her pure flesh partner, black tail swaying and red tongue lolling; the human was only too happy to bury his face in her ample breasts as she danced. Suddenly, she turned on one spiked heel and ground her backside against her pure flesh partner's groin until he shuddered, moaned, and finally staggered off the dance floor, alternately trying to hide his face and the spreading damp patch between his legs. The canine splice remained, tail wagging gleefully as she scanned the crowd for another partner.

Ah, patrons of Purgatory. Keeping it classy, Gan mused, and inhaled another lungful of smoke. Genetic enhancement wasn't his cup of tea. He could see the attraction, but it was messy, littered with odd side effects and knotted up with reels of red tape. Gan preferred cyber and wetware mods. Cyber was quick, clean, and modular. Not to mention easily upgradable. Gene spliced body parts were only as good as the creature they came from, but cyber mods could be customized and optimized. Even through the cacophony of the music, Gan's cyber cat ears could easily pick out any conversation he wished. His wetware implants could even translate in real time, if he needed it, and record the conversation for later.

Damned useful feature in his line of work.

He was enjoying a good eavesdrop on a conversation about KitsunE mods when he heard a voice cut through the music to address him.

"A cyber neko. Aren't you a pretty kitty?"

Gan turned to see the canine splice standing behind him. She looked him up and down, amber eyes shining. Her little red dress had a small hood, and she'd pulled it forward just enough to cover her wolfish ears. "What kind of pussy are you supposed to be?" she asked, leering.

"Taking the Little Red joke a bit far, aren't you? Grandma, what big tits you have!" Gan replied.

The canine splice barked a laugh. "The better to tempt you with, my dear!" She said as she slid into the bar stool next to him. "So, puss, tell me about the tats. Very sparkly. But not like any kitty I've ever seen before."

Gan grinned. "A king cheetah was in inspiration for the tattoos. I couldn't decide between tiger stripes or leopard spots, so I took a little of both."

"They're lovely. May I?" She gestured to his arm. Gan nodded, and she caressed the markings with the tips of her fingers. The rosettes glowed cool blue at her touch. "Care for a dance, cat man? I can show you my little red hood."

Gan grinned, baring sharp teeth. "Cats and dogs, dancing together? People will talk," he said.

She laughed. "Let them," she said, holding out her hand. Paw. Her fingers were human, but her palms bore rough pads.

Gan was tempted, very tempted, but declined with a grimaced. "I'm meeting someone," he replied. "Sorry, Red, it's not you, it's me."

The canine splice pouted, but shrugged. "Offer stands, if you change your mind, or he stands you up." And sashayed back into the seethe of bodies on the dance floor.

Gan held up his half-empty wine glass and nodded apologetically. Maybe once his business here was concluded, he'd take her up on the offer.

He turned back to his drink and was just finishing it when he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder.

"Ganymede, I presume?"

Well, it's about bloody time. He rubbed his arm, fingertips brushing his daemon device: a slick ECHO-7 wireless linked to his wetware tech. The touch screen darkened immediately.

<Dashcam Protocol Active.> Green text ghosted across his vision. <Recording Encryption Enabled.> The text vanished a moment later, leaving his view clear once more.

"Depends on who's asking," Gan replied. He looked down his nose at the figure attempting to speak to him. The man's hoodie was frayed along the edge, cheap fabric faded from exposure. But the well-manicured fingernails of the hand that gripped a beer bottle betrayed him. Company man, matches the description they gave me. Well, time to get this party started.

The strange man reached into a pocket on the inside of his hoodie, flashing the dull butt of a sidearm before pulling out a small cigarette case. A stylized charging bull logo was embossed on the aluminum. The man lit up, then offered the case to Gan.

"Allow me to introduce myself. I am Mr. Goodfellow. I represent Red Waite Incorporated, and I would like to offer you an opportunity. A very lucrative opportunity."

"Red Waite Inc., hmm? Not interested," Gan replied, rejecting the offered cigarette. He took a puff from his hookah instead. "I got all the mods I want."

"Oh, no no no. I'm not selling mods, Ganymede. What I offer is more than yet another enhancement. I'm offering an experience."

"Well now. That's different." Gan exhaled a smoke ring into the air and swiveled his bar stool towards the hooded agent, one arm draped over the backrest. His feline ears angled forward intently. "What did you have in mind?" he asked.

Mr. Goodfellow pulled up a bar stool next to Gan and sat down. "We need someone with your particular...tastes for this beta test. Your reputation--both of your extensive modifications and your appetites--precedes you."

Gan's eyes narrowed. "Does it now?" His tail flicked, the luminous fiberfur tip darkening. "I'm flattered you took the time. Less flattered that you didn't bother to notice I don't work with your company."

"There are several mod companies you haven't worked with. Red Wait is hardly the only one."

"And what do all those companies have in common?" Gan asked.

Mr. Goodfellow shrugged.

"They're all as shady as a city underpass," Gan replied. "Red Waite is the worst of the bunch. How many lawsuits is your company currently involved in?"

"We're turning over a new leaf, going in a new direction," Mr. Goodfellow said with a grand gesture of his arm. "Repairing the damage done to our company's reputation after that unfortunate incident."

"Which one?" Gan asked derisively. "The one where you hacked a woman's KitsunE implants to reverse-engineer them, or the one with the rabid miniature griffin splices, or the one--"

Mr. Goodfellow ignored him. "We'd like you to be a part of this new image we're putting together. An endorsement from you would go a long way toward getting the public back on our side."

Gan glared. "What was the most recent scandal? Oh, yeah. Your company stole genetic information from Protheopi refugees. You used your ill-gained DNA in gene mods without permission or proper screening. Seventeen people grew tentacles in places only their proctologist would see, but hey, at least we made quota this year."

"We've learned our lesson," Mr. Goodfellow insisted.

Gan waved him off. "How you managed to slither out of the lawsuits over the permanent damage those gene mods caused--"

"The families of the afflicted were compensated, more than compensated, for the damage. There was no need to drag it through the courts. That incident with the pregnant woman was a tragedy, but--"

"That little girl is going to spend the rest of her life in a fish tank," Gan snapped, jabbing Mr. Goodfellow in the chest with his finger, "because her mother took your treatment before you'd tested whether the changes could impact a developing fetus."

Mr. Goodfellow cleared his throat and composed himself. "Our test only involves you trying our product. There is no modification to you involved. All we require is access to the sensory input of your wetware to gather data regarding your experience. Nothing more. No changes will be made to your wetware, software, or your DNA. This is a simple beta test. I have it all right here in the contract."

Gan's nanotats turned an irritated shade of orange. "And what do I get for performing this little beta test?"

"Well, besides exposure--"

"Fucking hell, you can take your exposure and cram it up your bottom line."

"You'll be compensated for your time, as well."

Behind them, one song ended and the DJ began another with even more bass. Gan's ears flattened, golden hoops along the cyberskin edge jingling.

"And if I don't feel you're worth an endorsement after trying your little experience? What then?"

Mr. Goodfellow chuckled. "If you do not wish to endorse our product after you've tried it, no harm no foul. You'll get your credits either way. But I think you'll be pleasantly surprised."

Gan sighed and made a show of thinking about it. He ordered a glass of wine from Marla and took a single sip before setting it back down.

Mr. Goodfellow grinned, flashing white, even teeth. "Do I have your attention, Ganymede?" Goodfellow asked with a smile.

Gan took another sip of his wine, considering. "How much are we talking?"

"We were told you wouldn't give us the time of day for anything less than fifty."

"Seventy-five," Gan countered. "Time is money, and my time is precious."

"Fifty-five. You aren't the only hedonist in Purgatory tonight."

"Sixty-five," Gan said. His tail lashed and his ears backed sharply. "I'm the only hedonist in Purgatory who isn't a splice. You want pure readings, don't you? Or are you alright with rogue genes screwing up your data?"

Mr. Goodfellow ground his jaw for a moment but finally nodded. "Sixty-five it is. Do we have a deal?"

"Yeah, I'd say we do. If your money is good."

"And?"

"And an endorsement from the legendary hedonist Ganymede. If your product impresses me," Gan finished.

Mr. Goodfellow nodded. "I'm sure you'll be most pleased." He tapped a command into the CIRRUS-4 on his wrist, and a notification popped up on Gan's ECHO-7. He accepted it and opened the file. "I need you to sign here, initial here. Standard nondisclosure agreement with a secrecy clause. Can't have someone hacking your implants for the location of our development lab. The money will be sent to your account at the conclusion of our beta test."

Gan nodded and, after skimming the contract, sent the signed contract back to Mr. Goodfellow's CIRRUS-4. Mr. Goodfellow ordered a glass of water, dropped two capsules into it, and slid the drink to Gan.

"See you in an hour, Ganymede. When you wake up, you'll be safely in our labs for the test."

Gan scowled. "Fine. But if I wake up in a bathtub filled with ice and a QR code tattooed on my ass, I'm blaming you."

He tossed back the drink and finished it in three big swallows. Five minutes later, the knockout drug had done its job and he was out, slumped in the back of a Red Waite limo.

Gan woke to a darkened room, his mouth dry and his head aching. His cyber ears swiveled, picking up the faint whir of an environmental fan, but nothing else. He reached down to wake up his daemon, only to find his arm bare.

His ECHO-7 was gone.

He expected that to happen, but it was still jarring. He rubbed the naked space on his arm, fingertips activating his nanotats and making them glow an apprehensive shade of green. Almost immediately, he stopped. The light shot needles of pain straight through his skull.

"You'd think by now they could develop a knockout drug that didn't leave behind a hangover," he grumbled, squinting. He set his ocular implants to their darkest filters and tried again. Better. He still had a mother of a headache, but at least the filters took the edge off.

A clear plastic cup rested on a table next to the paper-covered examining bed where Gan lay. A rejuvenation drink. He sipped his drink slowly while he waited. There wasn't much else to do until Mr. Goodfellow returned. He couldn't even play solitaire, with his daemon missing.

Eventually, a voice came over a hidden speaker in the room. "Good to see you up and about, Ganymede. Feeling better? Would you like us to turn the lights up?" Mr. Goodfellow said, sounding much more chipper than Gan appreciated.

Gan finished his drink and set the empty cup back on the table. "Maybe just a little," he said, squinting. "Now, you gonna blow my mind or what?"

A pale white glow emanated from the floor, illuminating just enough of the room for Gan to find his way around. His head still throbbed, but the rejuv drink was doing its job and he felt the hangover fading to a bad memory. The dim light allowed him to make out a one-way mirror on the far side of the room. He grinned at his own reflection and swept his fingers through his mohawk to fluff it back to perfection.

"Just a few final preparations that need to be set up on our end. We performed a physical while you were still out. I must admit, Ganymede, that wetware of yours is even more impressive than we thought," Mr. Goodfellow said.

"Ouroboros, Corven, and NuWare, most of it," Gan replied. "Except the neko mods, of course. Only Nekoid makes those. Patents. You know how it goes."

Mr. Goodfellow made a non-committal sound. "Looks like we're ready to begin."

"About frelling time," Gan muttered.

"Please remove all your clothing and stand in the center of the room, inside that circle on the floor." A glowing circle appeared on the floor, lit from below the opaque tiles.

Gan did as instructed, dropping his pants and vest where they fell and stood in the circle, his arms crossed over his chest. Vanity got the better of him, and he examined himself in the one-way mirror, admiring the tattoos that spattered his body. Only his chest was bereft of markings, the better to show off his physique. The nanotats terminated at Gan's spine, merging into an intricate braid. The design flowed a third of the way down the Nekoid tail, merging his organic nervous system with the tech inside the tail.

"Just relax, Gan. If at any time you wish to end the test, simply shout the word 'Red.' If, for any reason, you cannot shout it, we have our equipment tuned to your implants. A mental shout of the same word will end the experiment."

"What kind of test requires a safe word?" Gan asked. His tail twitched, the tip curling into a question mark.

Mr. Goodfellow chuckled. "You'll see."

A door opened at the end of the room, closing seamlessly with the wall as soon as the strange thing was through. Gan's eyes widened.

"That's a Protheopi," he said.

"No, this is a replication of a Protheopi. Synth-organic and non-sentient."

"That's illegal."

"Not quite. We modeled our product after their bodies," Mr. Goodfellow said. "But they are not Protheopi, any more than your tail and ears are feline. It's illegal to use Protheopi genetics on living, sentient beings but merging them with inorganic and non-sentient hardware is, to date, not illegal." Gan could practically hear Mr. Goodfellow smirking. "We're hoping to get our product on the market before such legislation even begins."

"Clever," Gan replied, looking over the synth-creature. "You said non-sentient. But it has to have AI of some kind."

"No more than your average food replicator. It learns its owner's tastes and preferences, but that's all."

"What are you calling it?" Gan asked.

"This configuration is called Medusa, Mark I."

"Medusa. It's not going to turn me to stone, is it?"

Mr. Goodfellow chuckled. "Not all of you."

Gan paced around the Medusa. It hung in the air like a jellyfish, tendrils limp and pale. Its body looked liked a cross between a Portuguese man o' war and a squid, with a sail-like crown and undulating fins on either side. Innumerable tentacles hung below, some lined with suckers, some sleek and smooth. A few were even as big around as Gan's wrist, although most were no thicker than his pinkie. The whole thing glistened as if wet. He reached out slowly to touch it.

It touched him first.

One of the thicker tentacles whipped out and coiled around Gan's arm. He yowled and tried to pull away, but the tentacle clung tight. He should have been able to tug the thing along, but it remained fixed right where it floated.

"What. The ever-loving. Fuck," Gan panted. He ceased struggling and went still. His nanotats glowed fierce and red, pulsing in time with his heart beat. Circular markings on the tentacle holding Gan flickered to life, as if mimicking the Gan's tattoos. Slowly, his heart stopped hammering in his chest. The markings on the tentacles rippled, turned deep sapphire, their grip slackened.

Another tentacle slid around his body, slithering up his spine until it came to the port between Gan's shoulder blades.

<Inquiry: Allow access please?>

Well, it did ask nicely. Gan thought. He sent the mental command to his cybernetics to allow the tentacles access to his implants. There was an odd sucking sensation, and suddenly, he felt the Medusa flood into his wetware connection.

"Oh, you are going to be fun," he purred. A menu popped up in his vision, and he scrolled through options and settings for a few moments before finally settling on "Surprise Me."

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then, the tentacles shivered to life.

A couple of the smaller tendrils slithered closer, weaving through the air like eels until they made contact with his body. Illuminated tips traced the edges of the nanotats on his legs, slithered along his toned abs and up to his chest. Four of the largest tentacles wrapped around his wrists and ankles, and abruptly lifted him. He hung beneath the Medusa, spread-eagled, his back a foot off the floor. More tentacles reached out to support him, suckers sticking to his skin as the tendrils wrapped around him.

One of the smallest tentacles slid up to his mouth and caressed his lips.

Gan turned his head, but the tendril followed, pressing gently against his lips and leaving behind a thin, sticky residue. Gan's tongue flicked out, tasting. It was sweet, fruity, like a cross between mango and peach. The tendril pressed against his lips again, and this time Gan let it into his mouth. The tendril dripped more sweet nectar into his mouth, urging him on. He his skin flushed, sensitive to the touch. More tentacles curled around him, touching, fondling, teasing and testing, seeking a reaction and responding in kind.

More tentacles coiled along his limbs, between his legs. One of them delicately brushed along his stiffening length, and he gasped. He writhed, rubbing against it and arching his back.

Encouraged, the tentacle coiled around him, sheathing his cock all the way to the base. Gan moaned. The tentacle tightened, and the tendril at his mouth thrust itself between his lips more urgently. The glowing markings on the Medusa pulsed softly and changed hue again, bathing the room in scarlet light.

Gan suckled, his eyes rolling back as the tentacle between his legs mimicked his motions. He worked the tendril thoroughly, his pleasure mounting as the tentacles followed his every move. God, but it felt good. The tiny suction cups along the bottom of each tentacle suckled and relaxed, sending wave after wave of sensation across his skin. He worked the tip of his tongue against them, reveling in the small spark he could taste. Like licking a battery, he thought. Gan strained against the restraining tentacles, trying to reach his loins, to get the tentacle to squeeze tighter, but they held him, gently but firmly. The only control he had was pace.

More, he demanded, aiming the thought at the Medusa through his wetware connection. I need more!

The Medusa flipped Gan over in midair, pulling his arms behind his back and bending him until his backside was in the air. More tentacles curled around his chest, suckers sticking to his skin and hugging tight. Another tentacle snaked between his legs. It lifted his cybernetic tail and pressed between his cheeks. Slick fluid dripped down to the floor as the tentacle smeared across Gan's opening, squirting lubricant into him. He moaned, arching his back and tail to give the tentacle better access. It pushed into him, slowly at first and then faster. As it worked into his body, it grew thicker, the slick surface transforming into something rougher and ridged. The tentacle withdrew, and Gan could feel every peak and valley of the tentacle's new shape. It had barely withdrawn before it thrust in again, harder, deeper, spurting slippery lube with every inch.

What?

Green text wisped in the corner of his vision. Gan tried to focus, but his mind reeled with the pleasure of the tentacles working him over. The tentacle around his cock squeezed tighter, banishing any concern Gan had about the strange command his implants had sent him. The Medusa increased its efforts, suckling harder, the tentacle in his ass thrusting harder and deeper. Another tentacle curled around the first, corkscrewing around it and turning so that it's tip pressed into Gan's sweet spot with every motion.

Ganymede moaned, mind blank with ecstasy. The pressure in his loins built higher and higher, but not so fast that he could climax. He was close, so close--

Another tentacle, a very slender one, wrapped around the base of his cock and squeezed, hard, cutting off Gan's orgasm abruptly. He howled, writhing in the grip of the tentacles, his hips rutting mindlessly into the air, but he couldn't cum. The tentacles slowed for a moment, allowing Gan to catch his breath, before beginning again.

What the hell? Gan tried to spit out the tentacle and ask what the hell was going on, but the tendrils began again, drowning out his concern with a wave of pleasure. The tentacle along his spine twinged, and he could feel something jacking into the port at the base of his neck.

I...what? Motherfucker. Knew this was more than a simple beta test. That bastard is trying to steal the data for my Nekoid mods, just like they did with KitsunE tech!

He struggled through the haze of lust tried to send an order to his implants, but the tentacles pulsed, sending a wave of electric ecstasy through his body and he dropped the command. A few more tendrils undulated luridly in front of his face, waiting until he cried out before thrusting back between his lips. Gan moaned helplessly as yet another orgasm was denied him. He felt another digital probe attack his wetware firewalls again, trying to brute force through it.

Two can play at this game. He took a deep breath and timed his next command. He had to be fast, to get it right between pulses without letting the tentacles' attention distract him. Far easier thought than done. And he had to do it without tipping off Goodfellow. Just as the tentacles crested him over another wave of pleasure, he mentally spat the command to his wetware. And not a moment too soon.

<Initialize espionage protocol.> Gan commanded. He didn't have a physical connection to his ECHO-7, but he was still linked to it wirelessly. The connection was faint but it was there, a single bar in the corner of his vision. If he could just--

Gan growled, his toes curling as the tendrils changed their rhythm and his focus came undone. He tried again just as another tentacle slicked across his chest, suckers massaging and releasing as it moved. For a moment, he thought he'd dropped the command again. Then, green text appeared.

<Initializing. Firewall detected.>

<Initialize Cry Havoc protocol.> Gan panted, barely able to concentrate enough to get the command through. He had a few tricks hidden away in his implants. He only hoped Goodfellow's little physical hadn't unearthed them. If he had--

Gan moaned as the tentacles in his mouth and ass thrust into him simultaneously, filling him more than ever. No response from his implants. It had been too long, he must have dropped the command. He inhaled, bracing himself for another attempt.

The tentacles squeezed, tearing a moan of pleasure from Gan's throat. The tentacle in his mouth wrapped around his tongue, milking it just like the tentacle between his legs. He could taste each sucker, the sweet fruity flavor of it as it spiraled and unwound from his tongue. Gan couldn't help himself; he suckled, heedlessly working over the tentacle with his own skilled lips.

<Uploading, 23%>

Shit! Can't...focus. Gotta stop this thing before it goes any farther.

<Halt--> Gan dropped the command.

The Medusa changed Gan's position again, lifting him upright. It still bound his arms behind his back, but now he was suspended as if he were kneeling. He could see the fluttery fins of the Medusa's main body undulating in midair above him. Another tentacle came down from the main body and wrapped around his face, blindfolding him.

In spite of it all, Gan felt himself grow harder. He loved being blindfolded, being ridden and milked. The tendril at his cock tightened, slick coils drawing another powerful almost-orgasm from him and leaving him panting desperately for breath.

Focus, Ganymede!

Gan took a deep breath and pushed past the sensations long enough to send another command. It took him two tries before he could get it through. The tentacles were learning his body fast, finding every pleasure center he had. He had to act fast.

_There's more to my tech than you think, you thieving bastard. Going in a new direction, my ass. I got a new direction for you. _

<Downloading, 12% complete. Upload halted at 36%.>

He moaned as the tentacles inside his body swelled. He'd never felt so filled in his life. He wanted--needed--it deeper, harder. He bucked and squeezed, milking the tentacle inside him. In response, the tentacle throbbed, growing larger inside him with every pulse until he was certain it was too big to withdraw without deflating. It took every ounce of his willpower to think past the lust pounding through his veins.

"How are you enjoying our prototype, Ganymede?" Goodfellow's voice cut through the haze in Gan's mind. He tried to answer, but the tentacle coiled around his tongue refused to budge. The tentacle covering his eyes relaxed and withdrew, leaving Gan blinking in the light.

"What the matter? Cat got your tongue?"

Laugh it up, ass-jackal. I got your number right here.

"These readings from your wetware are very interesting. Oh, what's this? Well, you pervy little kitty. Is that an e-spot I detect? Let's find out. I'll just send the details to Medusa."

Oh shit.

The tentacle on his spine pulsed, but this time the spark jumped straight to his loins. Gan's back bowed from the intensity of what should have been a mind-blowing orgasm. But the tight grip of the tentacle around his member prevented his release.

Another pulse, another mind-bending orgasm denied.

<Downloading, 47%. Upload restarting.>

Gan whimpered. His focus was crumbling. He might be able to safeword out, but if he did, some other hapless owner of Nekoid mods would come along and get fleeced. No, it had to end here and now, with him. Red Waite wasn't going to get away with this. I can finish this. Think, Ganymede, think!

The nanotats along his body glowed burnt amber, and he grinned.

Suck on that, you corporate shit sheep.

Another mind-cracking almost-orgasm, and again the tentacle cock ring refused to give him relief. Gan howled, hips mindlessly rutting into the air. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched green text scroll through pre-set commands but unable to muster the focus to do anything about it.

<Downloading, 69%. Uploading, 56%.>

"We're nearing the end of our beta test, Ganymede."

Just a little more!

Almost there!

<Cheshire.> Gan barely got it out.

Finally, the thin tendril let go, and Ganymede yowled. The thousands of suckers lining the tentacles bore down, working him over harder than ever. They stuffed him, squeezed him, slithered and writhed along his sensitive body until he was certain he couldn't take another moment of it. And finally, the tentacle coiled tight around the base of his cock let go. Gan came, his howl of relief muffled by the tentacle lodged in his mouth. The tentacles slowed but didn't stop, drawing out his orgasm as long as they could.

Gan hung in the grip of the tentacles, gasping for breath, his whole body slick with sweat and the tile beneath him splattered with white droplets. Slowly, the Medusa's tendrils withdrew and set him down gently on the floor.

"Well, Ganymede? What do you think of our prototype? Or do you need more time to process it?"

Gan shuddered and inhaled slowly. He has no idea, or I wouldn't be allowed to leave so easily. Gan smirked in triumph. "My people will be in touch, Mr. Goodfellow," he said, still panting heavily. "If you could drop me off at my hotel, I'd really appreciate it."

"As you wish," Mr. Goodfellow replied.

The Medusa drifted out of the room once more, and an alcove opened in the wall, revealing another clear glass filled with water. A single white pill had been placed next to it. Gan dropped the pill into the glass and waited for it to dissolve.

"Sweet dreams, Ganymede."

Gan smirked and drank the glass down, letting the drug pull him under.

Gan awoke in his hotel room, naked under a thin robe, his whole body peppered with circular bruises that didn't mesh with his nanotats at all. His mohawk was disheveled and plastered to one side of his head and one of his cat ears was stuck under it, caked in clear goop. His clothes were on the bed next to him, stuffed into a plastic bag. Thanks, Red Waite. Your after-care sucks donkey dong. He checked to make sure he still had both his kidneys, just in case. Thankfully, all his organs were right where he'd left them. His ECHO-7 had even been returned to its place on his arm. It didn't look too good either.

How the hell did they get me up to my room? Never mind. I'm sure the hotel staff will tell me all about it when I check out. Poor bastards. I need to leave them a nice tip.

He tapped the daemon's screen, but the device hissed and sputtered out. He tore it off his wrist and grinned.

Gan opened his suitcase and withdrew another ECHO-7. Nested beneath his backup device was a silvery badge and a small sidearm. He tapped the undamaged ECHO-7, and was greeted with a single notification.

He nodded to himself and tapped another command into it. After a moment, he heard a dial tone. It rang three times before he heard a click.

"That is not dead which can eternal lie," a voice said on the other line.

"And with strange aeons, even death may die." Gan replied. "Damn it, did we really need to use Lovecraft for this one? Creeps me the fuck out."

"Good to hear your voice," the voice said, sounding relieved. "And yes. When you get to do the waiting, you can pick the pass phrase. So, how'd it go?"

"Your hunch was right. Got what we needed," he said. "Schematics, a sensory demo, an audio confession of intent to sell unregulated cybertech. Plus everything you need to take 'em to court for illegal exploitation of alien material. And if you tack on ruthless corporate espionage, I wouldn't bat an eye." He gave his tentacle-hickeys a rueful glare. "They fried my ECHO-7, by the way, just like I suspected they would. So you owe me for that. Good thing I had a backup."

"Well, there's a bet I didn't expect to lose. Rough weekend, I take it?"

"Bite me, Paula," he muttered. "Can you make any of that stick this time?"

The voice on the other end laughed. "I'll take a look at the data, but it sounds promising. You're a tribute to the force, Gan."

"Ugh, how dare you," he laughed. "Oh, one more thing: I need to talk to a lawyer about setting up a trust. Know anyone?"

Paula chuckled. "Yeah, I know someone. Might as well put that money to good use, eh? You got a beneficiary in mind?"

"The little girl they screwed over. The family spent everything trying to beat Red Waite in court. The money is rightfully theirs."

"The judge saw it differently."

"The judge was paid off."

"Probably," Paula replied. "You alright? You know as soon as this goes public, your undercover days are over."

"I'll have to go straight. Cut my hair. The horror." Gan raked his hand through his lopsided mohawk and shuddered.

"Mmm, yes. And get a job. Something with a desk."

Ganymede replied with a few retching sounds.

Paula laughed. "Real mature, partner. Meet you at the usual place. One last hurrah. I owe you a drink or three, it sounds like."

"And a new daemon. But give me a couple hours, alright? I need a shower."

"Don't forget behind the ears, kitten." Paula hung up without saying goodbye.

Gan smirked. Nothing like pinning down a corporation for abusing gaps in the law to liven up a weekend. He sat down on the bed of the hotel and winced. He tried to stand, but the bed sheet stuck to the tacky gunk on his ass.

Forget the shower. I need a bath. A hot, soapy bath. And something to eat.

Gan glanced at his reflection and glared at his thoroughly messed-up mohawk.

"Calamari," he muttered.

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