"I can't show them around with your hand off my ass, right, master?" FM-43 cooed.

The prison guard released his grip with a grumble, and FM-43 skipped away down the wing. "Come on! I'll show you around!" she trilled. "This is where we all sleep together! Won't that be fun? Like a big slumber party!"

The new prisoners trailed behind her in a wary huddle as she led them past rows of cells. It was an eclectic mix of inmates inside. Most were men, but many bore modifications, their bodies altered with metal implants or flesh grafts. Some of the surlier ones dangled from the ceilings, reduced to limbless torsos suspended by cables, cursing as the group passed.

"What the fuck are you looking at?" one snarled, waggling his shoulder nubs aggressively. "Yeah, that's right, keep walking! I'll bite your legs off!"

"This is minimum security?" one of the newcomers whispered, his voice trembling.

FM-43 twisted around to face them, while her robotic lower body continued to walk smoothly ahead.

"Oh, don’t mind him. He’s just sulking because I haven’t given him his morning sponge bath yet," she said cheerfully.

"Sulking? The man's a fucking fleshy pinata!" barked the scarred inmate.

"That’s just to stop him from being naughty. He’ll get his limb privileges back once he calms down. He’s not in any danger. We take care of each other here."

"How can you let them treat you like this? Look at yourself. That guard had his hands all over you. Don’t you have any self-respect?"

The gynoid giggled. "Who needs respect when you can be useful instead? The guards are big softies, really. You just have to learn how to handle them. If you behave and make yourself useful, they won’t have any reason to mistreat you."

"Mm-hmm," the prisoner muttered, eyeing the mechanical apertures along her lower body. "And what happens if you don’t behave? You end up like that flesh nugget back there?"

"Then you get put into solitary confinement," FM-43 replied sweetly. The newcomers looked at each other. Solitary didn't sound too bad compared to this madness. "Like this one," she cooed.

She pointed at a mechanical animal trotting down the prison hallway. It was a lamb, built of black metal plates with white, fluffy wool. As it passed, FM-43 caught it by the tail, though it kept trying to walk its preprogrammed path with steady, robotic insistence. "This one tried to escape three months ago. He's been in solitary ever since."

She reached into the wool at the neck, undid a clasp, and pulled away the helmet to reveal a man's head, horribly pale, eyes squinting against the light. FM-43 turned the helmet around for them to see - the interior lacked eyeholes and was thickly padded with wool that settled around the ears of anyone entrapped, erasing all light and sound.

"People! You don't know how good it is to see people again!" the sheepified man gasped, his voice raspy, as if it hadn't been used in a long time, or had only been used for screaming. "I have had an itch on the back of my neck for months! Please, if any of you could scratch it for me, that would be- no wait! Come back!"

FM-43 had released his cottontail and the lamb-limbs returned to their preprogrammed path, carrying him away.

"No sight. No sound. No limbs." FM-43 tilted her head playfully. "Well, that doesn’t sound like fun to me!" She clapped her hands together. "Come on! I'll show you the showers!"