I'm a Cyborg's Pet (girl X cyborg)

Chapter 53/Him/And all I got was this lousy singing voice

A/N bumper chapter here part of our 50,000 reads celebration -

Picture: Just in case you wonder what Jenny's makeup printer malfunction looks like. Video:Just in case you thought all this notion of food printers is science fiction.

I had been especially let out to go to the slave feeding area which was a nice treat. To get there my collar navigated me through the narrow slave corridors mostly hidden in the walls. This way the corridors weren't clogged up with slaves littering the place. Also in the corridors, you got announcements and screens of information.

"Will all slaves with serial numbers ending in 9 star star please make their way to the appropriate blood extraction areas. Remember failure to do so may lead to your execution, plus loss of video privileges. Thank you<DING>" went a voice above me.

The corridors were so narrow that you have to turn sideways to pass somebody rubbing against them. They were full of mirrors to let you check your appearance before appearing in front of an overlord. Occasionally above your head you would see a hammock strung up, so a slave would sleep close by in case someone wanted something 24/7 ( which was now 10/10 under the new New mechanical order clock ).

There was another announcement "Tired, irritable, unable to cope? Are you in need of slave counselling? Tell your collar to electrocute your sorry ass and buck up flesh scum. That was a kind message from the New Mechanical Order. All hail the new mechanical order. Thank you<DING>" it said

The other thing I noticed was that the slave costumes were brightly colored. Black for maids and personal servants. Bright green for gardeners ( yes the hall had plants tastefully put around and a large greenhouse and formal garden). Red catsuits for those whose job it was to look after the server rooms where Rockwood's brain sat. Or possibly their role was to get shot in case any alien turned up to make it look serious. There were other colors yellow, orange, blue I passed someone in a violet color I guess they all had different work they would do but wasn't sure what.

"This is to remind you that the make up this week is a new formulation by L'Oréal with is 15% more radiation proof than other brands. L'Oréal because as a second class slave under the new mechanical order your not worth it. In fact you never were, that was just a marketing slogan we were amazed anyone fell for. Thank you<DING>" said the speaker system. Clearly, the robots had taken over L'Oréal's marketing, or possibly Quakers or  Vulcans. 

I finally got down to what was known as the slave feeding zone but was as far as I could tell just a cafeteria.

I was hungry and went over to some of the food printers. I liked the fact here the machines just printed food for you directly. In the factory we all had the same food. I copied some of the other slaves and presented my wrist which identified me to the machine. I looked onas the machine prepared lunch for me in seconds before my eyes. I didn't have any say in what I was going to eat but got given this nice, if meatless dish. Looked like today I was getting asparagus risotto with a carrot salad with some kind of chilli dressing.

With my tray, I turned around and saw Kayla waving from a booth.

"So what explains the new look," said Kayla over lunch as I sat down. We both had to wait until after collars gave us permission to start eating.

"Printer malfunction. How's work?" I said.

"No, tell me about the printer malfunction first," said Kayla.

"If you must. I said to Rockwood it seemed a waste of a good printer that could print any clothing of any type and a perfect fit that we all wore the same outfit each and every day. If we had these pre-fall I'm sure everyone would have enjoyed wearing absolutely anything. All you had to do was imagine it and you could wear it. I'm sure many people would have enjoyed that. OK, the fashion 'industry' would have gone into cardiac arrest but for the fashionistas it would have been a god send. So it seemed to be like having a fast car and only driving it to the shops once week. So he retaliated by as far as I can see getting me in random clothes every day. I never know what I am going to look like until I step out of the printer. He has also set the makeup printer on gaudy but random. It's like playing Russian roulette with my face. I'm always quite amazed at how radically different the machine can make me look. The room slaves frequently come in and look carefully at my collar to read my ID number to make sure I am the same pet-girl. Even then they would treat me differently sometimes.."