Everyone's favorite: Manual Labor!

They didn't really say goodbye. Cassidy and Mason just awkwardly set off in separate directions. She went towards the cafeteria, while he headed towards the gym. Even if his stomach was telling him to follow the bouncing curls.

But before he even took a full step his hand drifted to his pocket. He had felt the tell-tale buzz when they were talking. And to be perfectly frank, he wasn’t sure how to feel about that. But he decided he might as well know what he was working with.

Cassidy Jameson was registered as a target! Your previous interactions have earned you 1,260 silver to start!

That was a lot of silver to start with, but it made sense.

You set up a lunch/study date with Cassidy Jameson! I bet it’ll be super romantic! You earned 50 silver for Cassidy Jameson!

“It’s not a date,” Mason muttered to himself. It also won’t be romantic. This was going to be a purely transactional exchange of services. He sighed at the same time his stomach rumbled plaintively.

Then his brain decided to be helpful and remind him who he was meeting. That way he would be too nervous to be properly hungry. At least the gym was empty when he got there. With the weather slowly turning nicer the substitute teacher must have decided to do something outside.

And it wasn’t just the class that was conspicuous by their absence. Ms. Rosso also wasn’t towering over them as she waited for him. For a second Mason wondered if he had somehow beaten her there. Then he dreaded the idea that he may have been late and she had stormed off to find him. At least until he came to his senses. Once that happened he walked over to the equipment room and opened the door.

Peeking inside he let out a slow breath. Ms. Rosso was leaning against the wall writing on her clipboard. Her scarred face was frowning, but not any more than normal. Though she was only leaning against the wall in the strictest sense of the word. She was more standing straight very near the concrete.

"Um, hi," Mason said, swallowing heavily. He set his bag down trying to relax his muscles. "Sorry, I'm late."

"You haven't been. Stop apologizing," Ms. Rosso said curtly. She tucked the pencil into her clipboard before setting it down. Something about her tone made him straighten his spine and formulate another apology.

But it never made it out of his mouth. Mason would like it if that was thanks to his sterling presence in the here and now saving him from his own stupidity. But that wasn't it. Nor was it because her brown eyes managed to either cow or assuage him.

It was because he finally noticed something.

Ms. Rosso had been holding the clipboard. But also writing on it.

Evidently, his vice-principal hadn't expected to be totally free from heavy lifting. She had already hung her blazer up and even rolled the sleeves of her pinstripe shirt up to her elbows. Elbows. Plural. Coming out of the right sleeve was a prosthetic arm.

It seemed like a pretty high-end one. It had a casing of brushed black metal, with some sophisticated servos visible through the joints. The hand was especially impressive. All four fingers, plus the thumb, seemed to be fully articulated. They even had soft, white, rubber pads to help it get a grip.

Of course, the only reason he could take in the details was because he was staring.

"Sorry," Mason apologized again looking back up at her face.

"It's fine," Ms. Rosso said, face and voice totally neutral.

Not wanting to say something stupid Mason took off his hoodie. But for that, he really should have covered his mouth.

"I haven't seen you wear that before." God, he hoped she thought he was talking about her shirt.

"I normally don't. A buddy of mine works at a biotech company. He asked me to do a field test." As Ms. Rosso spoke she looked down at her new, artificial limb. The elbow bent, the raised the hand curling into a fist thrice.

That was when Mason spotted the electrode attached to the brunette's temple. That was when it struck him just how miraculous the tech really was. The future is now and all that. But of course, it was. This had to be Lilith's doing. And for just a moment he felt silly for worrying so much.

"Hold on," Ms. Rosso said, slipping past him. Then he suddenly jumped. A hand, a right hand, gave his ass a gentle slap as she passed.

Oh, right. That was why. Mason froze, the hairs on his arms and neck electrified by the shock. But ten to fifteen rapid heartbeats later he let himself breathe again. Ms. Rosso had thankfully not noticed what her hand had done.

So at least Lilith had apparently given things at least one thought.

It was clear Ms. Rosso wasn't used to her new prosthetic. She had fetched a stepladder from the corner, but when she set it up the muscular woman used one hand and one foot. Only when she slid it into place did the mechanical appendage catch her eye. Staring at it like it owed her money, the hand picked the clipboard back up.

The two got to work without much further ado. Mason hauled the plastic bins (Ms. Rosso hadn't been kidding about the weight) and handed them to her. Then she popped the lid and did a quick count of whatever was inside, which obviously in no way matched whatever was written on the box. But either the retired ranger didn't care or just didn't have enough fucks left to bother fixing it. So once she was done she handed them back to her student (with significantly less effort) and they were on to the next one.

They didn't talk much as they worked. But they did both keep glancing at the prosthesis. Ms. Rosso's stony face made it impossible to even guess what might be going on in her head when she did. And Mason would rather eat a shoe than ask. But he did make sure to think up a lie just in case she asked him. And honestly, it was only half a lie. The robotics on display were in fact both fascinating and intriguing.

But it still wasn't the truth. Really he kept glancing down at it to watch what it did. Things were clearly not on the up and up. And yet after the quick pseudo-spank earlier, it had been on its best behavior. He could almost see the halo hovering above the metal hand.

It was probably a disingenuous one though, so he kept an eye on it.

That's probably why he fell. Though he didn't make it far.

As soon as he registered that he was falling Mason suddenly stopped. The tall blur that was Ms. Rosso was behind him in an instant. But his relief (he would definitely feel like an idiot if he fell off the ladder two days in a row) dissipated almost instantly. As his vice principal had indeed up with two handfuls of ass when she braced him.

"Sor- I mean, Thanks!" Mason blurted out as he pulled himself back to a stable footing. But the heat in his face didn't dissipate. Because only the left hand pulled away.

"Careful," Ms. Rosso chided him. When he glanced back at her, he failed to catch her eyes. She was already searching for where her clipboard had landed in all the commotion.

"Uh, Ms. Rosso…" His voice didn't crack, despite the pressure in his throat. But he could help but tense up when the mechanical hand gave his butt a quick, almost playful, squeeze.

When her tanned face turned to him, it slowly fell. Her brown eyes widened while her scarred lips parted. But it regained its steeliness far more quickly. Her natural arm sprang forward, bodily yanking her artificial one off him. Once, twice, thrice Ms. Rosso looked between her hand and her student. But eventually, her gaze rose to his face and her arms fell to her side.

"Sorry," She said. Her normally calm voice had a strange edge he couldn't recognize. "Sometimes it gets stuck."

"Not your fault," Mason tried to assure her awkwardly. "Test drive, right?"

Ms. Rosso gave a quick nod before picking back up the clipboard. Thankfully there was only one more container after that. And even more amazingly the last box was actually light and easy to deal with.

Feet back on terra firma Mason wiped the sweat from his brow. No longer needing it he quickly folded the step ladder back up and carried it back over to its corner. If for no other reason than to not just stand there awkwardly as Ms. Rosso double-checked the paperwork.

That also gave him a chance to think. Weird as that moment was, things weren't too bad. Especially compared to what happened yesterday. But a prosthetic arm that occasionally groped his ass almost seemed downright tame. That did make a kind of sense though. Whatever mystery trait he unlocked was only at rank one. And Lilith did really seem to like butts.

Not that Mason didn't. When he turned around he was reminded of that. Ms. Rosso was double-checking something on a low shelf. She had dropped into a low squat, the seat of her pants stretched tautly. While he couldn't quite make out every little detail, he certainly got quite a look at her rock-hard glutes.

Buns of steel indeed.

But that was enough of that. There was no need to tempt fate and make things weirder.

"Is something wrong?" He asked, walking over to her. At first, all that got him was a quick glance.

"No. I think we just have one thing in two places," Ms. Rosso said as she rifled through the clutter.

Mason opened his mouth to ask what exactly it was and why that mattered. But really he yelped at a pair of realizations. His cock was half hard. And the prosthetic hand was caressing his bulge.

Time collapsed away. It tenderly, expertly, ran up and down his ever-expanding length. Even with the pleasure dulled through his jeans, it coaxed him to his full length in only a few strokes. Mason wasn't sure if it was Ms. Rosso, Lilith, or the arm itself guiding the movement, but it felt just as good as the real thing. Admittedly, the teen only had a sample size of two to compare it to. But that didn't make him any softer.

But however good it felt he kept his lips pursed tight. He made no sound, not even a peep. Not a word, or a guess, or even a moan. His lungs were petrified.

And that left Ms. Rosso none the wiser. With the one hand she was used to, she picked through the junk tightly packed on the shelf just below eye level. Her harsh eyes narrowed when she suddenly shoved everything back into place.

"Guess not," She said with relief and annoyance in her deep voice. And she might have said more had she not looked up at him.

All at once, her sun-kissed skin drained of color. Her sharp eyes widened and darkened. And her mouth hung open with her lips curled back to bare her teeth. Ms. Rosso's left arm flew forward again, to wrestle her right. But the mechanical hand was too fast. It clamped down on Mason's shaft. Hard.

The wrenching earned a yelp from the young man. So she changed tact. She fought to stand up, but the elbow locked in place keeping her low. And of course, that gave Mason's bits another unpleasant jolt.

"I'm not doing this," Ms. Rosso insisted. She said that to him but stared at the hand with righteous anger smoldering in her eyes.

"I know," Mason said in a somewhat strangled gasp. He knew exactly who was responsible. Him. But he couldn't tell her that.

The two stood still in uncomfortable silence. At least they did until the prosthetic hand started to rub him again. It massaged away the ache. At least until another, admittedly more pleasant, ache replaced it.

"It won't let go," Ms. Rosso said with a detached neutrality. Mason didn't say anything. Partly because he just didn't know what else to say. Partly because he didn't think the woman in front of him was really talking to him. And partly because he wasn't sure he could get the words out. Not with the hand now doing its best to make him cream his pants.

"I have an idea," She said slowly. "A bad idea."