Fu*cking Beautiful

4901 ca.

It was my time to wake up and be sold into the only job a female could obtain; wife to husband. Not just any wife, but a bought one. The only purpose was to obey thy husband. I knew nothing else.

My sensitive ears pick up on a buzz and excited breaths. Then the first voices I ever hear, filter through. A pair of masculine voices bounce back and forth, echoing around my chamber, while I stand still and listen without any sight.

“Isn’t she beautiful? Waist at a hand’s width, breasts enlarged, feet dainty and small, this new skin made the physical form bloom so sweetly, don’t you agree? The Ploomberg sleeve is our next design, it smooths and moulds their shape underneath the lethal shell.”

“Yes, yes, that’s all good, but what of her face? What are the colour of her eyes? How can she see?”

“She can’t right now, unless you allow the eyes to be revealed. I will reveal them now.”

I watch the film on the eye coverings retract, and I can see for the first time. It looks like my chamber is a shipping container, as the walls are narrow and corrugated. There is one large mirror in front of me, but it hides the observers. So instead, I just see the reflection of the opened pod behind me, a mechanical womb is where I came from.

And myself; I see myself.

I now observe my appearance.

Six feet. 120 pounds. My hair was long and straight by design, thick and black with metallic highlights so it sparkled like the night sky. I touch it now, and it’s so soft I can barely register it’s feeling. A metallic mask covers my nose and mouth, and I note it’s hard to breathe.

I also feel uncomfortable pain, pinpricking my extremely small waist, and the pressure under my arms, making my arms appear as thin as possible. Even my toes hurt for some odd reason.

The metallic skin adorning me is pinching me all over, but if I change position to feel comfort, the pain is considerably worse. I straighten and keep my posture perfect.

“The eyes are glowing red? How come?”

“Yes, it’s a new part of the elite design. Her eyes can beam out lasers hotter than the surface of the sun. There’s even a self-destruct button so if anyone tries to steal her, the explosion won’t leave any trace behind but a slight powder. She’s truly the exclusive wife.”

“Hm, I don’t like the red eyes. It’s not my type. May I see the next?”

“She wasn’t for sale anyway; she’s been prepared in advance for the Ploomberg’s son who will be arriving any moment. I’ve only shown you a sneak peek. Now come this way–” the voices cut off and the lights dim in the container.

The heavy duty mirror remains and I turn back to the pod I just climbed out of. Wires and tubes hang open and the metallic blood is seeping out into the drainage system at the bottom of the mechanical womb.

I had never lived before this moment, but I knew things like I had lived.

I knew I was a wife.

I knew what men looked like, flesh and blood. No cyber extensions. No butterfly skins.

I had one of those. All females were gifted with butterfly skins. And the men? No. They were human originals without change. Preserved like that because it was their belief to treat the body as a temple.

According to the philosophers, to be male was the peak human experience, and they engineered these skins for perfected attraction and weaponisation of female find. Like fun, deadly toys. Females used to bare children, now they did that through pods that didn’t require us. So we were now just for pleasure of the male experience, and they reasoned it was our number one desire to feel loved and be loved, hence they made us perfectly attractive and strong to be that. For us, to feel good. For us, to feel perfect always, in their eyes.

In this year, 4901, now females had evolved to be the perfect companions, beautiful sex toys and integrated strength through the butterfly skins. Deadly beauty, but we were loyal to our husbands.

I hadn’t met mine yet.

And I knew husbands could buy as many females as they wanted, so I might have to share.

The lights warm back up and illuminate my container again. I turn back to the mirror as new voices speak.

“Is this the Ploomberg?” a deeper, gravelly voice enters the chamber, catching my attention for sounding so unusually deep and slightly robotic, like a… a male with a skin, perhaps?

“Yes.”

“Her name?”

“None given, you get to choose –”

“Give her a name.”

“Um, but, sir, it’s in the terms and conditions. They are nameless on arrival. She is nobody until you give her a name.”

“I said to name her. Anything. Try. Go on.”

“No, I won’t, that’s your job, Mr. Ploomberg! What on Earth are you doing? Why are you removing your suit – are you the one sabotaging our enterprise?”

Is that my husband, then? The one with the deep voice? The Ploomberg?

There seems to be an argument going on, because the speakers cut off and then I hear a loud bang, followed by the mirror indenting harshly.

I move toward it as static continues to spurt out from the broken speakers, and writing on the mirror appears as scratched instructions; get in pod, close it, and wait.

I hesitate and a loud thump on the mirror, like a fist smashing into it, makes me jerk back in fright. I hear a yelled and muffled move it.

I turn and scram back to the pod and do what was said.

I climb back in and grab the transparent shield on the pod, pulling it down.

Before it even reaches half way – the whole container explodes.

I see a flash of light, blasting shrapnel in every direction, everything disintegrates but the pod. Around me I see more shipping containers in a giant stock yard. It seems to be empty, because no alarm sounds, and it’s quiet now. Only the clear night sky shines down as the smoke disperses.

In front of me, I see an unnaturally tall man in a rare butterfly skin. The metallic casing covers his whole body from the jaw down. A helmet covers his face, but I can see his eyes. He walks toward me, not smiling and not happy. He looks very angry.

He reaches the pod and pulls the shield of my pod up and out of the way, offering me his hand. When I hesitate, he asks me, “Is that skin painful?” I nod, “Let me get this crap off you then.”

Of all the things I expected my husband to say, I didn’t expect this.

“No, I’ll die, won’t I?” I speak for the first time and the sound of my own voice freaks me out. I go to cover my mouth but my hand touches my mask, and then I figure I can’t stay in here. So I accept his hand as he finally smiles.

“It will hurt like hell to remove, but you won’t die,” he helps me stand up, and he steps back, “I won’t let you die.”

“You don’t know me,” I state, “But you bought me, didn’t you?”

“I know you, and I did not buy you, I freed you,” he pulls me back, his metal skin shining differently with every movement under the moon, and none of the skin makes a sound. It’s highly advanced. He looks over my shiny silver skin now, his eyes starting to glow neon red, “…close your eyes, or I might damage them,” I love how his voice is somehow soothing yet commanding and so sure of himself all at once. I can’t help but just do what he says.

I feel a piercing heat start at the top of my metal skin. I scream as it peels off my face. The precise heat doesn’t hurt me, but the way the metal rips off my body feels like my skin itself is being peeled off.

My screams turn to begging as the mask cracks and falls off my face, and I drop to my knees, “Stop!” I open my eyes to see his eyes dimming to pink, to listen to my plea, “I’ll keep the rest. Please. Stop.”

“You only have this one chance to free your body,” he explains, “The skin sticks forever once it cools in the first hour. Let me do it quickly. Or you’ll be in pain forever.”

“I wasn’t in this much pain. I don’t know if I can handle that pain, the one of it peeling off,” I tell him, “I… what’s the point of removing it?”

“You won’t know freedom until you experience it,” he talks cooly and quickly, “This skin is useless, it’s just making you their perfect design by their cruel eyes. But inside,” he points to my exposed face, which feels sensitive and reacts to him bringing his metal casted hand, closer and closer. He pokes my cheek and I feel my skin heat and wobble under his tapping finger, “…this is way more fucking beautiful,” he growls that out, almost groaning it.

I like that he’s happy about that prospect, so I almost agree to him lasering the rest off, but I think of one more thing, “But flesh is weak,” I whisper, “Why does your skin not hurt you?”

“Because it’s not designed for beauty, only strength,” he admits this before looking me over, “It’s becoming more set, this is your last chance. Be strong for me. I’ll be quick. As quick as I can be. Or you’ll never know choice. This is it. It’s now. Or never.”

I close my eyes, trying to decide. The truth is, I don’t know. But I just say the first word that comes to mind, “Yes.”

I say it naively and then he immediately starts lasering off the rest. His laser beams slice down the middle, neck to navel, peeling off the rest of the tight butterfly skin.

The rest of the metal skin starts popping from my real, raw skin and springing away from my contorted flesh on the inside. Forced into odd shapes, but I only realise that when my body can breathe again.

The ache in my bones, the sensitivity of my flesh – it feels like everything has been broken and burnt. The pain is so unbearable that I collapse and faint for a few seconds, the shock rendering me immobile.

I quickly wake up from my fainting spell when my saviour picks me up in his arms and I hear him promise me, while cradling me off the ground, “I’ll get you a new skin like mine. Blaze. That’s your name now. Do you like it?”

Once again, he sounds so sure, and that surety makes me manage to peel open my eyes, even as the pain is still like lightning through my flesh, it dims every second.

I finally take note of his features up close.

His eyes are bionic, bronze, gold and silver, a mixture of all three. His hair is dark brown through the eye glass.

His eyes crinkle in the corners.

“What’s your first name?” I whisper, but before he can answer, my vision goes all wonky, and my body demands rest violently. I go completely limp, as my healing begins in a deep comatose sleep.

Whatever had happened to me, had wrecked me physically, structured my incoming life and prepared me for obedience but nothing at all in my head had prepared me for this sort of awakening.

I didn’t know what was normal.

Which way was up and down.

But I did know, at least for right now, I was safe.