Cyberrat
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1st Drabble of May 2019
🕑 Added 2019-05-05 07:34:08 +0000 UTC
Hanzo looks over the heads of the audience as he performs. It‘s part of what makes him so alluring: this haughtiness of someone who is dancing for money, an omnic snake wrapped around his shoulders and writhing sensually between the spread of his thighs, cool blue lights along its body convulsing in beat with the music.
It is fun to watch Hanzo because in the end he never will be better than any of them. He can sniff derisively as much as he wants and turn his nose up at any offers to give him some money and a warm bed for the night if he just spreads his thighs wide enough, but eventually, hunger will get him anyway. It always does for these better-than-thou dancers, so the audience just sits and waits.
In the end, it is not the hunger that does it, though – it is the snake.
One moment, he is performing as usual, the heavy anaconda-like contraption slithering up one arm and down the other, tail wrapped sensually around his trim waist; and in the next, his back stiffens and eyes widen in confused alarm, the snake – Sojiro… nobody understands the humor in the name – curled no longer across his shoulders but around his biceps, pulling tight and binding his arms securely to his torso.
He twists against the snake’s tight grasp, teetering on one foot as the music keeps on playing in the background. The audience is transfixed by the sight. The prissy little dancer is wearing nothing but a tight pair of shorts, always ready to show off his muscular, perfect body, and now inadvertently also letting them witness how the snake’s tail has slipped into the back of the little garment.
It’s sleek, silver body is glittering under the dim lights from the stage, it’s eyes a sly, sapphire blue as it nuzzles the flat, triangular head against Hanzo’s chest. When it opens it’s maw to let its synthetic, perfect tongue slither out, it looks like it is grinning at the audience.
Hanzo struggles, tries to get rid of the snake’s crushing hug, and away from the excited audience, and manages neither. He doesn’t ask for help – of course he doesn’t – and nobody offers it, either.
Nobody behind the stage comes running to deactivate the deviant omnic. His music comes to a halt, signalling the end of his act. He can’t move; the snake’s muscular tail has slipped out of the back of his shorts and instead slithered between his shaking thighs, nudging in through one of the leg holes to get closer to the source of warmth. It’s threatening to make him trip and fall over, and he has to stay put.
The manager doesn’t come out and drag him off stage to make room for the next act: he knows when he sees something good, and Sojiro malfunctioning couldn’t be better.
The omnic is programmed to behave like a snake, and it does just that: searching single-mindedly for the warmest place in the room.
The crowd is transfixed.
