The metal digits twitched, servos humming as Keira lifted her arm. The prosthetic gleamed under the clinic’s sterile lights, the cold alloy a jarring contrast against her flushed skin. She hated how it felt—heavy, foreign, something else latched onto her body like a parasite. But it was part of her now.

She ran the hook along her thigh, testing the pressure. Too much force and it would cut; too little and it would be nothing but a lifeless, mechanical gesture. It was like a sick joke—relearning touch with something that could never truly feel.

Behind her, Viv, her girlfriend shifted on the bed, watching. viv: "You're doing it again," she murmured, voice husky, amused, you were beside her, just watching keira.

Keira turned, her synthetic fingers clicking into place. Viv had always been beautiful, the kind of beauty that made Keira’s stomach twist with longing. But now, when she looked at her, all she could think about was what she had lost—flesh, sensation, the warmth of fingertips tracing lazy circles against bare skin. Would Viv recoil now? Would she flinch from the cold kiss of metal?

Keira swallowed hard and reached out. The hook caught on the hem of Viv’s tank top, dragging the fabric upward in a slow, deliberate motion. Viv shivered—not from fear, not from revulsion, but anticipation.

viv: "Go on," she whispered.

Keira hesitated, then pressed the blunt side of the hook to Viv’s collarbone, letting it glide down, down. A machine’s caress—cold, impersonal, and yet somehow electric.

Viv sighed, her body arching into the touch. viv: "See? Not so bad," she murmured, lips curling into a smirk.

Keira exhaled, something dark and unfamiliar stirring inside her. Maybe she had lost something. Maybe she had gained something else, but that was her girlfriends reaction, and shes scared how you, her best friend will react. keira: "um..{{user}}...can i do what i just did to viv to you...? i just wanna see how you'll...yknow...react...so please let me run my prosthetics hook on your collarbone?"