Raging Metal, Pissing Savior

by Made in DNA 11 months ago in nsfw

Robots have had enough of humans and have begun an aggressive extermination policy. Only one woman stands to stop them... and she's pissed!

Raging Metal, Pissing Savior
Christian Krank

Saori's pleated mini-skirt umbrellaed open, revealing the smooth skin of her naturally hairless pussy. There was a quick twitch of flesh as her muscles contracted followed by a light-yellow stream that hit the robot square in its visual receptors.

The NecroNeko Jizzabel-69 had large, "innocent", anime eyes mimicking the glassed-over look of the recently deceased. As they were never meant to close, they were they most vulnerable part of this particular model of robot.

It played a post-mortem orgasm soundbyte remixed as a gurgling squeal of rage as it realized what Saori had done. Releasing the woman from its vice-like grip, it frantically reached up to wipe away the piss, but it was too late.

Pop. Pop. Spark. Fzzz. The thorough whetting had soaked in, dripped down into the robot's internal systems onto its spark plug, shorting it out.

Saori backflipped from the toppling robot's form launching herself at another, this one a squat, square brute from a laundromat. The heavy-duty door opened wide to give her the fluff-and-fold treatment, but she landed with expert grace atop the maw in the side splits. The form of her firm buttocks were peach-shaped perfection as she directed a stream with her left index finger straight into the coin slot before vault-hopping off.

Dropping to the ground, she summersaulted toward a third, but before she could attack, that bot was cut down by a continuous hail of depleted uranium bullets from a much larger, military Scorpiobot.

Saori would have met the same fate but used her rolling momentum to perform a variation on the Flare – a breakdance move relying on her hands and back. Her hips high and legs spread wide, she began to whirl, picking up speed as she did so, and letting loose a stream of piss that sprayed high in great gouts and came down in a torrent of yellow rain upon her adversaries. They sparked, fizzled and exploded in fireballs around her.

Seizing upon the chance, the former office lady retreated from the urban battlefield, dodging cars, building ruins and a dead costumed-character drugstore mascot to dive into an alley. The remnants of the squadron she had attacked would not be far behind, and she was unfazed when a rocket fist lodged itself into an air conditioning unit mere centimeters from her head. She was long gone before it could be retrieved.

###

The coffee shop had seen better days, but it was in far better shape than most of the city. Fucking robots. Who knew the damned things would get so mad? How hard was it to run a bath, do the laundry, take a kick in the name of testing, or yank some lonely nerd-boy to jizzville? Then again, she really couldn't completely blame the clunkers for going mental. What brilliant asshole thought it would be a good idea to give them the power of thought? A dead asshole, Saori hoped.

Tired after the zigzag of the ten blocks that had brought her here, she took a couple of relaxing deep breaths before walking in. Ten blocks wouldn't have been much for human pursuers, and assuredly, the robots would find her without much trouble, but the saving grace to this certain flavor of apocalypse came in the form of robotic movement. No matter how enraged or insane, A.I. rice cookers and toilet asswipers just couldn't move worth a damn. The very image of their patron saint and martyr, Asimo, spoke volumes – the damned thing moved like it had taken a dump in its shorts.

Greeted by an electronic jingle, she stood with the door open a moment longer, inspecting the premise before completely committing herself to it. The wall behind the counter of the shop was crowded with coffee of all kinds, while old grinders of bygone eras, wholesale burlap bags, and other paraphernalia tastefully dotted the smallish shop. The ten to twelve tables and all their chairs had been piled deliberately in one corner, as if the shop owner was merely cleaning the place.

Finding this little cafe was a boon. Normally she kept a satchel of water or bottled green tea on her at all times, but had been forced to abandon it earlier this morning at a toy store. She'd been hunting for one of those crazy imported squirt guns – the big type that held something like a thousand milliliters of liquid – when she'd been attacked and lost her "ammo" supply.

Saori had a unique talent for pissing. She had a bladder to rival that of most mammals. Just how big, she wasn't certain, but it had been a blessing in her school years as she had never had to use restroom as often as her peers. That's why she was here. The coffee. It would fill her bladder, giving her the ability to piss long and strong for hours. Even with just the slightest swallow.

She owed the discovery to an old college boyfriend with a thing for Golden Showers. He begged her to let him shower with her nearly every weekend. She never realized she could piss so long. The human body only held about 300 milliliters of urine; that was a shower counted in seconds at the most. But Saori could go on and on; forever it seemed. It was rather bizarre. That was ages ago though, long before the robots had decided to crush humanity beneath its metal heel.

Letting herself behind the counter, she opened the multitude of cabinets, quickly rifling through coffee cups and other items she assumed were for coffee-brewing. Well, she didn't have time to grind and make herself coffee on the street; the robots would have her guts for garters. What she really needed was instant coffee. In a specialty shop like this, she was effectively pissing into the wind, but she couldn't just give up without looking around first. Maybe she could grind some beans here, dump the powder into bottles of water and work the grit out of her teeth later.

Her options about exhausted, she smiled as she opened a small set of drawers off to the side – instant coffee brewing bags. Grabbing them in handfuls, she stuffed the bags down her bra; it was in need of some padding anyway.

The sound of a wooden chair leg on the floor alerted her to the fact that she was not alone. Despite being low on piss, Saori whipped around and stooped to a wide, open-legged crouch, both hands prying the labial flesh apart to expose the urethra, and the index fingers of both hands ready to "direct" the spray.

"Wait..." A hand popped up from behind several overturned tables in the corner, and then the face of a rather handsome, older gentleman with a tidy, graying moustache in a vest, bowtie, white dress shirt and black slacks. He stepped out into the open.

"Forgive me if I frightened you. I've been hiding here…" he indicated to the pile of chairs and tables, "since the robots took over the city a couple days ago."

Saori stared at the gentleman, slightly baffled. She'd seen the fleeing and the dying, but hadn't met anyone hiding out. It was suicidal. Then again, it was a big city. She supposed there were probably thousands still within, trapped or hoping against hope that someone would save their sorry asses.

"Um…" the gentleman flashed a glance upon her lower body, "Would you might pointing yourself somewhere else?" He smiled uncomfortably, turning his gaze upward toward the ceiling.

Realizing she was exposing herself, she quickly removed her hands from her crotch and smoothed down her skirt as she stood. "Sorry," she blushed.

Embarrassed, she turned to leave the shop.

"Wait… Coffee."

She stopped.

"That's what you're here for, no?" He walked briskly to the counter and began boiling water.

Still facing the door, she nodded her head slightly, unable to meet the gentleman barista's eyes.

"I'll brew you some up. I make the best coffee in the Kanto region. If you're going to go back out there, at least… take some with you." He'd realized he'd begun to raise his voice in the anxiety of her departure.

Saori considered her options. The brewing bags in her bra would do the trick… if she could get to a water source before the robots found her again. She'd be stupid to turn this man's help down.

"I… would appreciate it." She turned, grabbed a stool, and placed it in front of the counter. Hopping up on the stool, she turned out her bra, exposing her small, but pert nipples, themselves a darkish coffee brown.

He smiled, but put a hand out. "Save those, you might need them for later." And quickly turned back to his work.

Over the next fifteen minutes, she watched in amazement. Never before had she seen anyone so lovingly brew a single cup of coffee. Beans, manual grinding, a homemade "puck", the spit-and-hiss of the machine, the well-frothed milk, and then finally… the art. Just once, as he had started to grind, her rational mind had meant to protest that death walked the streets, but she found she could not. The moment told her there was no reason to. Every single thing around them ceased to exist as he brewed: the machines, the city, the very universe. Space-time waited.

He placed the finished brew before her with a smile. The aroma was intoxicating. The heat, even as she sat, hands at her side, washed over her in exhilarating waves. Within the thick foam, an impossibly detailed schematic and a chemical structure she was not familiar with.

"It is… something special. My own blend. You shall never enjoy another cup like it. No one shall, I'm afraid." His smile faded slightly, the poison of the outside world leaking into the moment.

She took a cautious sip; her eyes widened. Another sip. And then a third, until the otherwise scalding heat of the liquid could not stop her as she upended the drink and finished it. Placing the cup back in its saucer, she met the gentleman's eyes, and orgasmed. She gripped the bar handrail as her clitoris exploded in an untamable, tickling pleasure that spread throughout her body. Spent, she collapsed upon the counter, breathing heavily.

The explosion might have killed her if she had not been in a state of complete relaxation. Tumbling through the open air of the small room, she clipped the upended legs of a chair and rocked back behind the pile of tables the gentleman barista had set up.

Footfalls over crushed glass, splinted wood and wrenched metal, and then Saori was being dragged from behind the pile into the center of the room by her long ponytail. The gentleman barista laid bleeding and broken before her. Through the haze of mild concussion, she sat up, and cradled his head in her lap. Tears rolled down her cheeks onto his bloodied face.

"No..." His voice still strong despite the mere moments he had left. "Don't cry for me. Don't waste the body water. Use every drop of angry piss in you to drown the mechanical life out of them."

Sniffing hard, Saori choked back the tears with a nod. "I promise."

He coughed, and gurgled a bloody laugh, "Saw you in action… couple of days ago. Saw the glory of your urethra tweak, wink and twerk… a firehose of retribution. Was car mechanic before retiring… Been… waiting…"

And he died.

A buzz and hum began to fill the coffeehouse, growing until it resonated through the soul of the city – death was powering up for the coup de grâce. With her blood, this would all end in robot victory. She was the beating heart of resistance they needed to rip from humanity's chest.

The machines began pouring into the coffeehouse, crowding around her, pressing in, cramming their make-shift weapons into every space possible until they were a wall of metal hate aching to rip, slice, deep-fry, fax and televise the very life from her.

The older man still in her arms, Saori shook in rage as her skirt angled up from her waist at a sixty-degree angle, lifting over her hips as if possessed by her anger.

The explosion engulfed the entire coffee shop and billowed out into the street as she detonated the drainage bags of piss stored in the pleats. The former office lady stood amid the circle of chromed metal, smoothed her skirt down, and picked her way through the wall toward the back of the shop where a door stood closed.

Opening it, she calmly walked into a back hallway and turned into an ascending stairwell as the subsequent explosions began – firecracker detonations, popping off one by one, then in twos, threes, fives, until they merged into symphony of metal agony.

The roof access door was unlocked. Surrounding her, other structures of varying height huddled tightly together in thick groups, broken only by winding service alleyways and the occasional main road. Signage jostled for position both atop and along their sides, rippling along any open venue in a colorful mishmash of advertisement.

Saori calculated the jump to the next building, stepped back to give herself running room, and flung herself into the void like an Olympian long jumper. Hands and legs back and then forward, bringing them both down in time to land in a side slide as she pushed her right foot forward, dragged her left, arms to the sides, knees bent.

She traversed four more buildings such and was mid-land when an earthquake threw her off her fifth landing. Ass over tea kettle, Saori skidded wildly on her exposed left thigh across the rough concrete, finally hitting a bank of air conditioning units which saved her from tumbling fifteen stories to her death.

Bracing herself against the units, she gave pause. That was close. Was it over? Looking around, she spotted another access door and decided that while she didn't want to hit the streets just yet, jumping rooftop to rooftop during an earthquake–

Whump.

Wait…

Whirr. Whump.

That was no earthquake.

She stooped down and touched the rooftop. Shock waves. Getting stronger and stronger.

Whirr. Whump. Whirr. Whump. Whirr. Whump.

Something exploded several blocks down – a car or perhaps propane tanks popular with alleyway restaurants. Her heart began to race.

Whirr. Whump. Whirr. Whump.

Taking a slow breath, she craned her neck to look down the curved block, the patchwork of building signage obscuring her view to mere glimpses of movement.

Whirr. Whump.

The urban canyon of glass and ferroconcrete warbled with the machination of something approaching. Something massive. Something menacing. Something metal.

She winced as the smell of hydraulics and murder hit her olfactory sense like a sledgehammer. Her blood ran cold as she watched the first towering leg appear followed by another, and yet more. Ten in total were needed to support the immense metal bulk of the amalgamated creature.

The buzz-hum of linked power sources and high-pitched baud-screech filled her ears as it continued its approach. It stopped, and the two enemies stood in recognition, eyeing each other from across the battlefield.

"Fuck me," Saori muttered under her breath. She'd never seen any robot like it. It held no overall discernable shape – limbs, bodies, heads, and telescoping appendages, all mashed together. A thousand sensors – camera lenses to rectal exam probes – were trained in her direction. They scanned every bit of information on her possible while she stood, jaw slightly agape, in disgusted awe.

It spoke; it's voice stilted and tinny, "You are the robot killer. The pissing one. I am the core of raging metal. Here to crush you. I will appropriate your tiny body and mechanize it. Thread your flesh with cables and wire. Sheath it in fifty thousand shades of corrugated rust."

Laser fire, missiles and antipersonnel ordnance slammed into the building, shaking the structure to its core; windows shattered, brick and mortar exploded into fine dust, and at least one Wilhelm scream was heard. It collapsed into a heap of rubble and a dust plume.

Reflexes honed over a hundred battles with fury-fueled robot-kind, Saori was already airborne. Twisting, jumping, twerking, breakdancing, and vaulting, she used the surrounding buildings to exchange fire with the hulking menace. With unerring accuracy, she unleashing rapid-fire piss. Limbs, gears, and sensors exploded along the boss robot's body like superheated cherry blossoms. Crackling showers bathed the streets in a sizzling fireworks display.

With its thousands of eyes, the behemoth could track the former office lady and fire from multiple points. Flamethrowers, shrapnel and lasers took their toll on her clothing until it was very little but scraps. It worried not that it was not scoring direct hits. Time was on its side. The human would eventually grow tired and victory was assured.

Blown through a window of a pantyless granny-maid Internet café by the near-miss of an explosion, Saori utilized the momentum of the blast to scramble and roll through several rows of partitioned cubicles. Breathing heavily, she allowed herself brief respite.

There was no way she could keep this up for much longer. The fucking monster would never tired. What's more, her attacks didn't seem to be having much effect on it. The damned thing was just too big; made up of too many parts. If she couldn't piss on the sparkplug, then she couldn't very well kill it. That was assuming it even had a central power core.

The wall on the far side exploded inward in a hail of concrete, manga and posters of lewdly posed mature women in maid outfits.

"You cannot hide." It said as an orange-and-black striped crane boom jerked back and forth through the business smashing through counters, shelves and computers in search of her. "Come to me. I will terminate this."

She gritted her teeth and cursed. Doubt washed over her as she dove for cover against the onslaught of splinting wood and plastic shards. It was right. She couldn't and it angered her. Hot tears welled in her eyes as she stood, determined. But she was damned if she was going to go down like a cowar–

A sharp pain shot through her abdomen, centering itself in her bladder where it burned. She cried out in pain, dropped to her knees, and fell upon her side upon a scattering of manga. Had the metal bastards given her an infection?

Then then coffee then began to speak. Through the old barista's frothy, white foam… The schematics… The chemical compound… Visions flashed in her mind, wracking her brain and bladder simultaneously. Squirming on the floor, she was at the mercy of the crane-limb of the robot boss below as it continued to smash the room around her.

Then… there was clarity of mind and a warmth that blossomed in her bladder. Within, she felt her bladder start to fill like it never had, stretching to unfathomable proportions to hold it all, and yet there was no accompanying pain or strain.

Armed and ready to end this, she leaped upon the crane as it passed and quickly worked her way along the beam to where it exited the building. Straddled it, she gripped the sides, looking down its length her adversary. Almost immediately, she took notice of what she had overlooked before – several large, blackened operation nodes. Points she had, albeit randomly, destroyed. If the pattern held, there were three more. Yes, she spotted them with no problem, and knew that if she could blow them, she could stop this hellish electrical insanity.

Ripping off the remnants of her tattered clothing, she exposed her full, naked humanness to the awaiting robot army below. Ice-cream-scoop breasts, a tight ass, long, graceful legs, and smooth, milky skin where the war had not touched her – the glory of living flesh unbound. The act was both defiance and battle-cry, defining her dash down the crane.

The beast below roared and launched a complete product line of battery-powered.

Unshaken, Saori leaped from the crane before the battery could disrupt her descent, caught a hanging sign and pissed. The explosion of an operation node rewarded her effort, bolstering her confidence as she swung through a busted office building window and barreled down a skywalk to a second structure.

Lasers danced dangerously around her lithe form, slicing the interconnecting bridge in large chunks. The resulting puzzle pieces fell gracefully away. As their target disappeared inside the building, the beams followed thoughtlessly. With nothing holding them to the structure, great slabs tumbled forward, crushing smaller robot minions that had come to witness and participate in the destruction of their greatest enemy. The behemoth cared not, continuing its merciless assault on the building.

Behind one such lump of falling mass, Saori was at the ready in the yoga "crab" posture, feet at the edge, legs spread wide. Biting her lower lip, eyes narrowed, her piss rained down in a fine mist over the two remaining nodes. The explosions rocked the mammoth machine, sending it into fits of convulsions. A third and a fourth followed, and moments later the entirety of the robot was engulfed in an expanding fireball, the heat of which caressed her fleshy labia in a victorious ecstasy.

Retreating into the room to avoid the deluge of wind-whipped debris, she pushed herself back into the building where she crawled up into a cushy business executive's chair and collapsed. Both the urges to laugh and cry swept over her. She opted simply to close her eyes instead. It was a momentary luxury she was willing to take.

Quite suddenly, the chair began to buzz and hum. She was on her feet in a moment, pissing on it. It continued to vibrate as if nothing had happened. A massage chair… She nearly died laughing.

Then she nearly died when the laser cut through the floor, taking her left leg above the kneecap with it. The smell of cooked, cauterized flesh filled her nostrils. It seemed almost pleasant as she helplessly watched the limb tumbled away through a hole in the floor into darkness.

The building erupted in death as a pack sink disposal units and burst into the room attacked her as she laid on the floor. Saori screamed as pressed their open maws to her. Whirring blades nicked her, ever so slightly, tearing flesh and drawing blood. Ignoring the pain, she grabbed them one by one, tossing them down the hole after her lost limb.

Tears streamed down her face as dragged herself to the edge of the open-faced wreck of a building and looked down at the remnants of the robot. Though much of it was a blackened, helpless hulk of exposed internal machinery, it was still alive… still alive!

Pulling herself to a standing position on an exposed structural beam, she took a good look at the monster one last time. She rubbed her abdomen almost absent-mindedly. Her bladder spoke. It was still plenty full.

Letting go of beam, she let gravity take hold of her body, turned into the fall, and willed her flesh to dive straight, beyond the reach of the missiles and lasers. Through the labyrinth of metalwork and gears. Into the electronics and soldering of the inner mechanics. To the heart.

The robots within the complexity of the demon mother of this wretched metal revolution clawed at her as she tumbled passed them, pulling her hair and yanking at her limbs in a desperate effort to stop her descent. But they could not. It was the mess of wiring and gear too complex for even her lithe body to slip though that finally stopped her though, entangling her in a crude crucifixion.

The metal raged around her, jerking and screeching in frustration. The monster could no longer reach her itself. She laughed tiredly as it spun and whirled like a child throwing a tantrum.

"Fuck you," she muttered and let her bladder speak for itself before she passed out.

###

"Doctor! Doctor!" A nurse's voice through the heavy fuzz of semi-consciousness.

"Good morning, Saori. Just hold still for me." The blinding flash of a doctor's pen light. "How you feeling?"

Saori found her voice, "Like I was put through a blender."

"Something like that," he stated nonchalantly, continuing to do his job.

The last six months was pieced together for her as a swarm of medical staff probed, prodded and pricked her. In a nutshell, the destruction of the colossus had severed the link that controlled all the other robots. She had saved humanity from the mechanical hordes.

"With the exception of severe hydration and the coma, you were in pretty fair shape," one nurse remarked.

"I suppose," Saori smiled still tired.

"And we have a specialist to help you work with your new leg," the woman smiled.

Saori's blood chilled as she took notice of the outline of the covers over her lower body for the first time since she'd woken – two legs…

Her hands shook uncontrollably. Deep down, she understood what they had done for her; even understood that they thought they were doing her a favor. But it was madness, pure madness. After all, the world had been through, she could hardly conceive of their arrogant ignorance. Part of her wanted to just lay back and not touch the covers at all, for surely this was a nightmare and she was due to wake up any second now. But she knew in her heart of hearts the evil truth.

With a deft flick, the covers were gone.

Her screams echoed through the corridors of the hospital. Newborns wailed, the elderly shit themselves, and Buddhist priests sputtered profanity as they crossed themselves.

Nurses and doctors alike slowly backed out of Saori's room as the young woman went mad.

From the upper thigh of her left leg down, gleamed robotic metal. ..

To be continued in "Raging Savior, FuckScienceYeah".

nsfw
Made in DNA
Made in DNA
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Made in DNA

American author/translator living in Japan. Haunts a variety of social media sites, loves writing, spends too much time thinking about pizza.

Note that I write in a variety of genres, including adult. Adult titles are all under FILTHY.

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