{"id":100043587,"date":"2026-05-19T07:00:00","date_gmt":"2026-05-19T07:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.neondystopia.com\/?p=100043587"},"modified":"2026-05-19T09:37:08","modified_gmt":"2026-05-19T09:37:08","slug":"hunger","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.neondystopia.com\/?p=100043587","title":{"rendered":"Hunger"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

“…capital can not get fat unless it devours labor, that wealth can not be hoarded except through the channels of poverty, hunger, and cold…” ~ ANARCHISM AND OTHER ESSAYS, Emma Goldman.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat kind of pervert would do this to themselves?\u201d Security Chief Mcguire contorted his face like he had stepped into something foul.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The woman to his left cocked a severe eyebrow at him, \u201cThat…pervert, killed an entire research retreat\u2019s worth of people and is holding our CEO hostage. He should not be underestimated. Shall we begin?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

McGuire rose, \u201cAlright knuckleheads, corporate sent us a shrink this time to help us understand…whatever the fuck we are dealing with. Go ahead honey.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMy name is Dr. Therese Inedia,\u201d she said, gesturing towards the holographic display that dominated the dark briefing room, trying to hide her disgust of McGuire, \u201cand I am a specialist in the effects of heavy augmentation on the human mind. What we are looking at, frankly, is the most heavily artificially modified human organism on Earth.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She tried her best to describe the miracle before them. She drilled into herself the night before to remember to use smaller words, to speak slowly, to never let them sense her awe. Her fear. But the 12 man security team seemed puzzled or just uninterested in understanding the finer psychological details and anatomical make-up of what they had been tasked to kill. Therese saw brilliance.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The virgin pairing of biological neurology wedded to artificial neurons. Fake muscle wrapped around living ones like lovers till the two became inseparable. Organs streamlined so no amount of blood shit cum or bile was wasted. Retractable elongated limbs with finger nail germinal matrices altered to grow carbon steel talons. Teeth sharpened into an alloy resembling tungsten with a jaw pressure so great he could bite off her head without even trying.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was opera. His caloric intake must have been astronomical to continue functioning. Ever ravenous. It was beautiful.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The men around her looked on in either revolted disgust or professional detachment. More then a few went pale. Their helicopter pilot yawned, openly uninterested. To them \u2018cybernetics\u2019 just meant a fresh organ, a new limb after the organic one was blown off, or a cosmetic upgrade below the belt. They only saw madness and suppurating wounds where metal met flesh, ripped from aerial photographs and half finished blueprints.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIn summary, he is EMP hardened with a resilience to direct damage, and may show animal like characteristics. He is very dangerous.\u201d She tried not to linger on the reproductive organ, made smooth and efficient and resembling a cloaca from behind.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She bit her lip. \u201cVery dangerous.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

~<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou know the history right?\u201d Gutter\u2019s breath was red smoke in the freezing night, which was often the case due to the flavored nicotine dispenser lodged somewhere in his lungs and the scourged sky which allowed no sun to touch the earth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHistory?\u201d Catherine knew for a fact Gutter couldn\u2019t read.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYa got to know where we come from if ya want to join us.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Tonight was her night, and despite her malnutrition, she was to follow Gutter through the forever winter alleys to…somewhere. They didn\u2019t say where but it was where it would all take place.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSome guy, right? He was the first. Got fed up with em-\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWho?\u201d She wobbled, but caught herself. She refused to ask for help. The last time she ate would have been a couple weeks ago. There was no work, and no work meant no food. The powers that be said you can\u2019t eat if you don\u2019t work, but the machines don\u2019t eat so they do the work. Gutter had called it a \u2018viscous circle\u2019.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWith them! Pay attention!\u201d He pointed a razor nail at a looming skyscraper, its tip lost in the smog. She heard stories that people have food in there. They own the machines so they get the money to eat, or so Gutter says.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHe got fed up with em. Used to work for em. Then he changed himself. First of the species. First of us. First of the Famish.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

~<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Despite Therese\u2019s protests, they tried a light carpet bombing to start things off. Duke Merro, CEO of Alta Cybernetica, had a tracking chip that read he was moving back and forth in his panic room since they arrived. They couldn\u2019t make contact due to the density of the concrete, but he was eight stories underground and wouldn\u2019t feel some napalm.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

McGuire had attached himself to what Therese had said about their target\u2019s mind being very much altered to accommodate a predator\u2019s body. \u201cSo he\u2019s an animal? Dumb fuck turned himself into a dog or something.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNot an animal. Not a person either. He\u2019s something new and should not be underestimated.\u201d Max Kempe was the top surgeon and cybernetics designer in the company. Multi award winning, a once in a generation mind. Only he could have done this to himself. But her warnings were unheeded, so bombs away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Only after the chemical flames settle down enough for them to land the chopper did the tracking beacon leave the shelter, then suddenly become still.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

~<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Catherine\u2019s mouth began to water. \u201cDo they have food here?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The neon sign, bright and red, said \u2018The Butchers Shop\u2019.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Gutter coughed, which was how he laughed. He gave her a sharp smile, \u201cOh girly, if ya live ya gonna be eaten\u2019 real good.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That possibility, of not surviving this, often kept her awake until this night. But after hiking through the cold, after stepping over the starved frozen bodies of her fellow slum dwellers, after holding her sister’s emaciated body till it went still those weeks ago, fear meant little now.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCome on,\u201d he gently touched her shoulder, \u201cya gotta go in yourself. I\u2019ll follow.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It looked like it used to be a slaughter house. A hollowed out warehouse of freezers, hooks, and grimy tiled surfaces. She always imagined wherever this tribe she wanted to join tread that it would smell like blood, but it smelled like cheap cleaning solution the farther she went in.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

If Gutter was behind her, she had no way of telling. His tribe often faded into the darkness, and now she felt their eyes on her as it got darker and darker the further she moved into the building. She tried not to picture herself tripping into a meat grinder or something. Only when the darkness became too much did she see the red light pooling outside a plastic flap covered doorway.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Here she could see her breath, somehow feeling colder inside than out. She pulled the plastic curtain aside, and before she could register the several sets of footsteps behind her, she was pushed into waiting arms that terminated into talons.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGutter brought us a little snack.\u201d His lips were the perfect shade of red. She could smell it wasn\u2019t just lipstick. Something redder.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo. We don\u2019t eat our own, Masque. \u2018Thou shall not feast upon the downtrodden.\u2019 She is as poor as us.\u201d An intensely pale creature, as gender had lost any meaning, stepped in from where Catherine had stumbled. Leather jacket clad and a sleeve covered in what could only be human teeth. It didn\u2019t smile, for it had no lips, just sharp glistening bone. \u201cGet rid of her.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The one who held her, his entire being so much taller than anyone else she had ever seen, retracted himself down to a normal height while he shoved her into an old dentist chair. She looked at her attacker and marveled at how beautiful he was. \u201cAw, but look at her, Cleaver. We could maybe have a little bite?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNah nah nah, this is the one I was telling you all about. She\u2019s cool.\u201d Gutter followed the lipless one, to Catherine\u2019s relief. \u201cShe wants to get cut. She knows the history and everything. All 100 years.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh yeah?\u201d The one they called Cleaver spoke again from somewhere in its throat. \u201cTell me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

~<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Therese ran through the charred woods already being reclaimed by frost. The sun had set long ago. He ate the tracker when he ate Merro, and threw it up when they loudly announced themselves. Stupid fucking McGuire.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They got separated when it became clear their target wasn\u2019t in the facility. Ventured into the woods. Ignored her. One by one they died, and when they fell back to the chopper, they found the pilot with his face ripped off and the fuel tank clawed open.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then the radio died. Turned to just static. Max had purposely left something out of the schematics they lifted from his computer – knowing full well they\u2019d be used against him eventually. He must have been emitting some form of scrambling signal. She heard it, like a low hiss, when he snuck-up on them and clawed the last of the security detail apart.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

McGuire, the shithead, ran after pushing her towards the carnage. She bolted the opposite direction. She didn\u2019t even know where she was going.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After what felt like eternity, she stopped. She had to. Her lungs burned from the cold winter air.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then she heard the hiss. He just stood there, so tall, with McGuire hanging by the neck from his impossibly big maw. This was it. She tried not to admire the design of his expanding jaw and throat when he dropped the big man’s limp body.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMax? Please.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

~<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Benjamin Markos the 3rd, heir to the Markos Corporation, had used up his normal pleasures for the night. It was easy to tempt any whore of any desired flavor when all you had to do was wave a few dollars out the window, although a loaf of bread seemed to work better.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But malnourished teenagers could only entertain for so long. The ketamine had been used up, and his father had banned him from the recreational STDs, as the lessers had little resistance against them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He saw them then. A tall faggot in stockings and a girl on the street corner. The closer the limo got the more he could tell she wasn\u2019t a girl. A woman, short, leather jacket clad.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The queer whore wore a fur coat, stockings, and heels. Despite himself, Benjamin was intrigued by how pretty he was. Perfect features framed shining red lips.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But the woman interested him more. She looked too small for such a rough jacket, all black but for a brooch pinned through the front resembling a nun in prayer. Or was it spiritual ecstasy? She wore worn out jeans and there was nothing under the leather jacket. He liked how pale she was in the cold.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cStop the car.\u201d He told his driver.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

With a sigh like TV static, the driver did as he was told. The limo smoothly slid up to the whores. Benjamin rolled the window down, ignoring the painted queer. \u201cHow much?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWell then.\u201d The tall queer played at being insulted, a toothless smile on their painted lips.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The woman seemed to think about it for a second, before looking Benjamin dead in his eyes, \u201c$100 and you can do whatever you want.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGet in.\u201d He opened the door and she soundlessly slid inside.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

~<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThey starved.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d Therese said, her throat raw from the cold or crying.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThey starved,\u201d Max spoke using a mouth and throat no longer designed for the task, \u201cstopped food. Didn\u2019t send. Starved.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She looked at his retroflecting eyes and wracked her brain for what he meant. \u201cWho starved, Max?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He growled from his chest, \u201cNo aid. No help. Starved.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It hit her then. The corporate consortium stopped all food aid to half the country. Too wasteful. Too expensive. Freeloaders, they called them. Many died. That was 10 years ago.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPayment. Stop them. Punish them.\u201d He stepped forward, and before she could blink he had her head in his hands. He carefully sounded out, \u201cThey lost their predator. They think they are top of the food chain.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Therese touched his chest. Her knees felt weak from either the exhaustion or the rising heat in her. He was all suture scars and cold pale flesh wedded with exposed synthetic muscle. She dug her nails into him till he bled. She wanted to kiss the gore on his lipless mouth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cLet me come with you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

~<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou have a name?\u201d The john asked, after a number of minutes of silence. They found a suitable quiet alley. The driver rolled the windows up and turned the driver-passenger camera off. They were, to an extent, alone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCatherine,\u201d she said. She had never met an arcology person before. He smelt like chemicals and disease, but she had learned to swallow such things already. She liked to think of herself as a sin eater. She smiled at the thought, and the fool thought she was smiling for him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat\u2019s a pretty name.\u201d He poured something expensive into a champagne flute and handed it to her. He refrained from pouring any for himself, too used to using desperation as a hunting method. She could smell the chemicals in it and feign excitement as she swigged the entire thing in one gulp.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI bet you give this to all the girls, huh?\u201d Her laugh was full of razors. She shed her jacket, all pale flesh and suture scars around perky breasts. No point hiding.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

If he was concerned, he wasn\u2019t enough. He looked confused that his usual trick didn\u2019t work. The scars and teeth, though, were an interesting twist for him. She could smell the excitement on him. A creature too stupid to know it was fucked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOnly the special ones.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh I bet.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He struck first, his closed fist connecting with her face. He had some well manufactured limbs, as his fist made the same sound as metal smacking metal when it connected with her cheek. But she didn\u2019t bend, she just smiled more razors. Now it was her turn to get excited.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAgain.\u201d She cooed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He obliged her with the other hand. The same metal on metal sound. Now the fear crept in him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAgain.\u201d She said, breathlessly. For a moment she felt self-conscious about drooling.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He didn\u2019t strike again. Now he knew he fucked up. Catherine shoved a bare foot into his neck, pinning him against the expensive upholstery from where she sat. If the driver heard this, he didn\u2019t react.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHow does it feel? To meet someone you can\u2019t hurt? Can\u2019t use up?\u201d Her toenails unsheathed themselves into black talons, digging into his soft flesh.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He couldn\u2019t speak, his windpipe slowly being crushed. Instead, he pulled a pistol from his jacket and shot her in the head. Cleaver\u2019s words about being careful now ringing in her ears.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The john bolted out of the limo, yelling for his driver to help him. He ran to the drivers side, banging on the window until it slid down. For a moment, the john wondered where the hole in his drivers chest came from.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Masque, now so tall it was a wonder he could fit into the passenger seat, had shed his entire face revealing a bottomless maw, which was now idly chewing on the bodyguards heart.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAll that steel under there for such a little pearl of meat.\u201d Masque bit into the heart again, making sure the john saw it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He ran. They always ran. He ran down the frozen alley, thinking the darkness would save him. That he was blessed wherever he went. That his yells for police mattered in a neighborhood so starved. Pigs knew they were prey here.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Something tripped him. A leg in the darkness. \u201cHey man.\u201d What looked like a pale junkie detached itself from the shadows, cackling through red breath.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Something heavy landed next to him from above. A lipless horror that looked at him with nothing but hate through red eyes. It slid a knife quickly, but ever so deliberately, into his chest. The john could no longer scream with one of his artificial lungs punctured. He just gurgled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The horror pulled the knife out with a jerk, \u201cWe eat.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNot yet, rookie gotta eat first.\u201d Gutter held the john down with a well placed boot on his chest. The meat just squirmed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

If Cleaver could smile, they would have. \u201c\u2019May the youngest of you bloody themselves.\u2019\u201d It tilted their head towards where the meat had ran, \u201cBetter than hunting pimps, eh kid?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Catherine came out of the darkness. She had stripped out of her jeans and was now nude in the snow, hard nipples and sharper appendages. Her head didn\u2019t bleed as she picked the bullet out of her reinforced skull. She could have never imagined before that pain, especially a bullet in the head, could feel so good.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMuch better. I didn\u2019t think I\u2019d find worse than them, but here he is. All meat and no soul.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She gently motioned for Gutter to get off of him. She mounted the meat, ignoring the little sounds meat likes to make right before the end. The john gurgled promises of money. Then threats. Then tears.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Catherine bent down, shoving her tongue into his mouth. Then came back up with his tongue still flapping between her teeth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

~<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Max had lost much of himself. Apotheosis was like that, sometimes. He needed her help. Needed Therese to help spread this enlightenment. She gleaned what knowledge she could from his hunter\u2019s mind.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She had no way of knowing her efforts would survive a century. It never crossed her mind, as the schematics she named \u2018Kuru\u2019 uploaded to the dark web, that she was the Mother of Teeth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A half-starved street kid entered her grimy back alley clinic, \u201cThis where you learn how not to be hungry? Ain\u2019t no jobs and -\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She smiled razor blades, \u201cAnd you can\u2019t eat if you can\u2019t work. Oh, I think I can help.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n\n\n\n

Steven J. Matos (Scum) is the editor of Neon Dystopia and one of the host of the L0WL1F3 Podcast. He has edited many a smut novel for Peter North, edited Glitch Logs Book 4: Hard Reset by Rachel E. Beck, and was one of the proofreaders for the collection Cyberpunkdreams by Rob Chant. He can be found on the ND Videodrome discord. Anarchism is his thinly disguised fetish. He never sleeps.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

For 4 years and this week he was a SNAP recipient. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

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