David had Sarah's head in his lap now, his mind a frenzied blur.

With the lid open, a tiny brass mechanism started to tinkle a few bars of 'we wish you a merry christmas' as a mechanism slowly unfurled.

Arms first, then legs. Her arms were always long, thin, bony and hard at the elbows. Her hands and fingers were long and thin and dextrous, and he remembered the one time he sucked chocolate off her fingers.

She had frozen, a bizarre interplay between interest and excitement, and revulsion. Of herself, he was sure now. Not of him, but that he would lower himself to her level.

He kept sucking those fingers for nearly a minute, watching as her brilliant mind crumpled to pink mush behind her eyes. Then she let out a beautiful moan as her eyes crossed. She looked so happy.

Then she pulled her hand away, called herself a pervert, and never let him try again.

Then he remembered every time those bony elbows jabbed him in the gut, and winced.

Now, there they were. Severed, slid into red velvet gloves, trimmed with white fluff, a neat white silk cover laced with red ribbon hiding the stump end. Festive and enticing.

Her legs were much the same way. Gawkish, a little bowed, her knees and ankles always gave her trouble and she needed special shoes.

Now, on display as the case fanned them out. Capped in silk and ribbon, red velvet stockings trimmed with white fluff trying lamely to make the limbs look sexy. Feet in shiny black high heels he knew she had zero chance to walk in, and these were towering tall, the shiny black toe showing a deep groove. They looked like…

His darting gaze jumped back up to her face. The sad look in her dead eyes, but her painted lips cupped and parted, trying to look alluring.

Now, after every time he tried to kiss them, when she shunned his touch when she was alive, her cold mouth wants…

Damn. Fuck. His chipmunk had pornstar lips. And it didn't look like a kiss her cold mouth wanted.

And those festive antlers she was wearing would've been great handholds. Not just cardboard and felt, these were big and broad and shiny dark brown plastic.

He knew they'd be solid, roots buried down under her frizzy orange hair. He'd designed the end connectors himself, how they'd lock in place relative to a bone and just float there, immobile relative to whatever it had been keyed to.

He'd meant it as emergency medical splinting, bracing halos, medical trusswork without the screws or the scars or the infections or the…

And yet he made them cheap enough for cheap costume wear to grab hold.

Whatever made people happy, he thought, sadly.

Last, her body rose up. Sad and weak and not sexy at all, made worse by the fact it was dead and cold. The red leather straps criss-crossing her naked torso just added insult as their bright brass bells jingled merrily, trying desperately to make her tiny drooping breasts and bony hips and untapered waist look sexy.

The note, he kept reading over and over, stroking her frizzy hair, holding her head in his lap.

'Merry Christmas, David.'

'I always wanted to be happy with you. I loved working with you. Making things with you. I loved your mind, and I know you loved mine.'
'But my mind came with this… Hideous body. You changed yours, David. You set your mind to it and you made yourself into the strongest and most beautiful man I've ever seen.'
'But I couldn't do it. I couldn't pull it off. I always wanted to change myself, but I was always too weak.'
'I know you wanted physical love, but that gorgeous thing you became, I could never let my filthy, wretched self stain it.'
'So… If it was all in my head, to keep our bodies apart… Maybe it's better to seperate the two.'
'I decided to do what they do in my favourite animes. The ones I hid from you. When I'm done, maybe without my stupid mind fighting it, my dismembered body can bring you the lustful joys you deserve.'

She hadn't hidden them well. Sarah was into some kinky shit, recently.

He watched enough of them to know the next bit was a quote.

'So I give myself up, part by part. Love what you will and discard what you hate. I only wish my parts will bring you warmth and joy, divided in death, because united in life, they were worthless.'
'I miss you already, David. Please, don't miss me, I don't deserve it. You deserve the love of a woman with a gorgeous body. Use this one until it's time to throw it away.'

His mind was hammering back and forth between all five stages. Denial came up so often, he couldn't believe people would deny a thing in front of their face, but it was denial that he had missed noticing how broken he had let her be. Anger at himself. Bargaining that he could fix it if he had another chance. You know, the whole stack.

He was going to cry, he had decided he had held it in long enough… When he saw the yellow tab.

Pull Immediate. KA.

The Chairman's handwriting in a scrawl. Rushed and panicked.

He pulled, and Sarah's case unfurled with a loud hiss, revealing… So many things.

Things they had made, together. Put together in ways both brilliant and elegant in concept but crude, hamfisted and rushed in execution.

And a note, scrawled in a panic.

'David I have no time
She is too glorious a mind to lose
I failed you both
Minds need a heart to carry them
I let my arrogance crush hers and yours
I should have seen what she could do
I cannot think or create the way you two did, will do
But my feeble brain can see the things you made and put them together
It should keep her viable at least two weeks

I am sorry but I was too late to stop her
But she made me promise to have her delivered to you like this

I have to focus on everything else this has unleashed
You have access to absolutely everything now
You have no budget
Save her for all of us

Aramaki'

… Mr. Kurosawa had signed it Aramaki.

Nobody dared to-

He stared at the crude array in the case, the bashed-together bits of their own technology.

Mr. Kurosawa had to have seen the situation, comprehended, assessed what was on hand in the lab, and thrown all this together… In what, ninety seconds?

He wasn't even angry. That was impressive.

He could do it. He could bring her back just-

>>love a woman with a beautiful body
>>use my parts as you will
>>always wanted to change

He stood up slowly, Sarah's head in his left hand. With his right, he pushed away the glass, picked up the bottle of whisky.

He put it to his lips, taking three long gulps, then held the big bottle by his leg, feeling the fire spread from his belly.

His left eye was convulsing, but with purpose.

He was ripping through the menus floating in his vision, already ordering deliveries of everything he could ever need.

Old man Aramaki hadn't lied. Some of this shit was black budget, off the books, it does not exist kind of things. And he could take anything at all.

No glee, from being let loose in the candy store.

Cold determination. He w-

A single pop-up ad on a highway sign a mile away caught his attention.

He contemplated a long few seconds, diverted his attention. Smashed through data. Side effects, recovery times, results.

He chose the one service with the fastest turnaround and the highest success rate, scheduled it for 0700 on the 21st. Tomorrow.

0600 to arrive and pre-prep. 0700 clock start, surgical prep. 0800 to 0900, the actual procedure. 1000 to 1300, recovery and get home to start directing deliveries.

Sort and organize. Work flow. Prep and execute.

Left him… Three days, to get a present under the tree.

He took a long pull from the whisky bottle, set it on the table, dropped the big glass stopper in.

Sent a set of blind design requests to the Kurosawa Automotive styling department. He wanted logos. Aramaki's message was immediate. "ANYTHING HE NEED"

Then… Then he cut all data lines. Shut everything down. Made everything to the property lines a data-silent black hole.

His head was an alcohol-fueled mess, but there was nothing more to do until morning.

Besides some crude preliminary tests.

He glanced over all the goodies she had packed into the case. Champagne, ropes, seven different costumes in shrink wrap… He snagged the five bottles of flavoured lube, still looking.

There. The tiny black box with folding legs, next to that ancient polaroid she loved.

Video and still images.

Her antlers made a good stand for when he flipped her head over, slithered tiny needles into the glass-smooth patch of grey at the center of her exposed cervical bones, watched the screens come to life.

Viable for weeks. Absolutely working right now.

There was a… A whisper of activity still in there. Maybe she would remember this, when he had fixed enough to revive her.

But… Alcohol fueled first tests. It seemed like a good idea at the time.

Muscles still moved at full strength. There were plenty of ways to keep them powered and fueled. And… There were plenty of examples available for this motion.



The camera watched impassively, recording silent video.

Sarah's head on the table.

She always agreed, though it added to her frustrations. That was a mouth for sucking cocks, it was.

Cold eyes stared into the camera, a sad mouth. Until David's hand touched the top of her head.

Her expression shifted as the routine ran through. From sadness to surprise to joy, the computer span her cold muscles through expressions, then closed her eyelids, opened her mouth for her, and made her tongue curl out, beckoning with the tip, inviting something in.

David turned Sarah's head to profile with the camera, to give her a good view.

He was too drunk now, and there was nothing to do until morning.

So he took hours of video of Sarah's pornstar lips, cold and dead as they were, eagerly sucking his cock, like they always should have.

He loved her for her mind, and this was the closest hole.