Steve Jones had lived part of his dream, even it if was at the cost of his career and the humiliation of another person. He couldn't think of his victim, Fred Smith, as "human," exactly; the man had lost ninety-five percent of his body mass and was reduced to a brain in a bio-pod. It was all his own fault, too... taking stupid risks on an expensive hoverbike with barely enough safety equipment to protect his head.
Fred had opted to have his bio-pod placed in a prosthetic body before the body was completed. True, that was the recommended course of treatment; even if the body didn't have its custom limbs, yet, it would allow Fred to accustom himself to the sensory input and general experience of being a fully-prosthetic being. The superior hearing, vision, taste, even tactile touch were a far sight better than the simple Virtual Reality he experienced in the pod alone. Still, it meant that he would need constant care and attention until the limbs arrived and were installed.
Opting to be treated in his own home was also a mistake from Steve's point of view. Sure, the doctors had told Fred that it would allow him to acclimatize faster, being in familiar surroundings. It just meant that someone would have to be with him on a twenty-four seven basis until the body was completed. What did Fred THINK was going to happen?
Steve was a talented nurse, and he'd studied the mechanisms of prosthetic replacement bodies extensively. He had more hours in optional training courses than anyone else in the med-center, and he'd taken pains to ask for more hours in the prosthetic recover wards. He was on track to specializing in prosthetic recovery care, and he'd even been considering going for a doctorate program in prosthetic design and psychology.
All of that was in the garbage, now, of course. Alone with a hot number like Fred's replacement body, how could anyone have expected him NOT to take some liberties? The backwards, antiquated ethics of the medical community stifled Steve's true calling; making sure that people who opted for prosthetic replacement understood that they'd become toys packed full of sexual potential.
He'd abused Fred to the fullest extent of his ability, taking control of the enhanced pleasure responses and sexually dominating the young cyborg for all he was worth.
Steve sat in his orange jumpsuit, looking at the other people awaiting trial. He still had occasional little shudders of pleasure as he remembered taking Fred by force. It had been one of the greatest thrills of his life to force the cyborg to orgasm over and over, driving him nearly to insanity. It had been one of the greatest pleasures of his life driving his cock into the cyborg's body, both anally and orally. He had no qualms or regrets; given the opportunity, he'd do it again in a heartbeat.
Those opportunities were distant, though, and getting further away every moment. Even as Fred was being transported back to the hospital for emergency care and more secure recuperation, Steve was hustled into hospital security's black van and dumped off at the local police station. His smart phone, now secured as evidence, had been remotely activated by the hospital, and had recorded most of the assault. Between that, Fred's testimony, and the records from the computer in Fred's bio-pod, Steve was likely bound for a long stay in a penitentiary.
Remorseless and carrying a slight smile, Steve was escorted into the courtroom and stood before the judge.
The judge, a middle-aged woman with a tired and stressed expression on her face, was scrolling through the docket of the case on her lectern's terminal. She'd tried thirty or so cases in the few hours before Steve's trial, and had dozens more to conduct before the court's day was done.
There were a few trappings of classic courtroom procedure to go through; the bailiff calling the court to attention and announcing the case. Steve stood stock still and waited to hear the consequences of his actions. He'd done the crime and he would carry the feeling of power and pleasure for the rest of his life; he was good no matter how it ended up.
The judge looked up with tired eyes, reading him with her years of experience. "You understand what you're charged with, here? Kidnapping, assault, and rape?"
"I didn't hurt anyone, your honor," said Steve, shrugging. "Fred can't feel pain like a person. And I can tell you from personal experience, he liked it."
The judge shook her head. "So how do you plead, mister Jones?"
"Not guilty, your honor." He might have said "guilty as hell, and I'd do it again," but the public defender had suggested pleading "not guilty." The judge rubbed the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger.
"This isn't the first case of crime against a cyborg," she said. "Hell, it isn't even the first sexual assault against a cyborg. It's ONE of the first, though, and there's likely to be plenty more." She leaned back in her chair, steepling her fingers and regarding Steve with no small amount of disdain. "I like things simple. I like black and white cases, which is what I usually get at this level. This isn't simple. This is a brand new social issue and it's crying out for some direction from the judiciary. You're forcing me to set precedent, here, and I really don't want to have to do that."
Steve had as much sympathy for the woman in the black robe as he did for the cyborg he'd violated. He was impassive, starting to get a little bored with the whole thing.
"You've waived your right to trial by your peers, which does speed things up, but that also leaves the whole weight of this thing on my shoulders. I've read the arguments by the prosecution and the arguments by the defense. It took a while. There's a whole chat-room's worth of arguing over this whole thing already, and it's making my damn head hurt."
She leaned forward, placing her elbow on her desk and resting her chin in her hand. "I find you guilty, there'll be an outcry about how cyborgs aren't really people, but the precedent is that they're entitled to every protection of the law. I find you innocent, there'll be an outcry about how cyborgs ARE really people, but the precedent will be that they're not entitled to the protections of the law. There's a pile of reporters up my nose the MINUTE I declare on this case, either way, and it gets kicked up the line to the appellate courts, and maybe all the way up to the Supreme court."
Steve shrugged; she was talking about other people's problems at this point.
"More to the point," said the Judge, "I hate your little attitude, and I don't feel like giving you anything like validation. What you did to that man was sick, and it's something that people who are sick in the head do. So, I find you not guilty - by reason of insanity."
Steve shook his head for a second. "Hey, wait a second... I'm not nuts..."
"Some pretty influential experts disagree with you, and so does the hospital's lawyer. Hell, I can't even pronounce the preliminary diagnosis. So, you're not a martyr, nor a pioneer in the realm of cyborg's rights. You're just a nutcase who put your sicko fun ahead of your duties and career, and you're going to be treated like one."
"The hell?" said Steve. He took a half step forward, and the big, meaty hand of one of the court orderlies held him back.
"I remand you to the local hospital's psych ward for complete evaluation and treatment, until such time as the chief of psychiatry at the hospital deems you fit to return to society as a contributing citizen." She lifted her gavel and banged it with resigned finality, and flicked her terminal's screen to the next page. "Next case," she said, starting to read.
Steve yelled a bit, until they gagged him and threw him in the back of another van. The hospital was well-ready for him when he arrived, and it took only minutes to sedate him, fit him with scrubs and a strait jacket, and lock him in a small padded cell.
