This one came out looking pretty wonky but now my CPU has gone all melty so it's all I have to upload till I can sort that 😅 excuses, excuses...

Subject-11 had long since grown accustomed to betrayal. Once, he had been a useful killer for his country. But when his final tour took his limbs, the military discarded him like a broken tool. For years, he survived on the pittance that was the veteran's disability pay, scraps thrown beneath the table. But it wasn’t the money that kept him alive - it was the resentment.

When he heard about the new prosthetic limb project, there had been hope again for the first time in a long time. When he'd awoken from surgery to find himself a limbless torso integrated into an animatronic horror, he'd actually laughed. Had he truly been so naive to think they were doing this for him? They'd taken the last of his dignity, turned him into some grotesque tech demo, a monstrous display piece to showcase their ability to turn broken men into useful machines.

Now, he moved on machine limbs beneath the banquet tables, trotting like a show dog around the ankles of powerful men, enduring swats to his rear with each that he passed. They'd installed a metal tray into his back, loaded with glasses of wine and canapés. He kept his head down, enduring the humiliation, while the gunfire-like popping champagne corks made him twitch, resurfacing memories of his Middle Eastern tours of duty.

A company technician called him to heel with a whistle.

"This is one of our more cost-effective models - the ExoQuad PackMule," said the technician, ruffling Subject-11's hair like an obedient dog. "Incredibly stable. Notice how, even with rough usage, she doesn't spill a drop." The man delivered the steel ass a ringing slap. Subject-11 staggered forward, but the tray on his back remained perfectly upright. "Not a drop. Gyroscopic stabilizers in the joints. Very useful for if she's carrying unstable munitions. It's a base model - no weapon mounts, so we can convert your soldiers cheaply and in bulk. With its heavy-duty frame, it can haul food and ammo to the frontlines or act as a stretcher to haul out the wounded. She can move faster than a greyhound over challenging terrain even under heavy loads."

The head of the Air Force barked a laugh. “I bet she loves a heavy load, alright.”

Subject-11 seethed. The technician chuckled. “You can use her however you need. She's very versatile. Note the storage capsules on the front—” The man crouched to cup the small, rubbery breasts that hung beneath Subject-11’s torso. “She can expand to store liters of liquid - be that blood transfusions, gasoline, or liquified rations. She's fully customizable to your needs.” The technician snapped his fingers and pointed toward the kitchen. “Go refill with wine and get back here.”

A buzz built as he padded to the kitchen, that old familiar rage that drowned all thought and made his animatronics spasm. He passed chefs plating delicacies. Someone shoved a tube in him, and champagne began to gurgle into his storage tanks, the fizzing pressure making his breasts swell buoyantly. The indignity was unbearable. His gaze caught on a gleaming kitchen knife left unattended on the counter.

And then, something in him snapped. Even after the screaming had stopped, he still hadn't spilled a drop.