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

Chapter 62/Him/My Vacation or blood, sweat, dirt & lipstick

A/N we had a huge amount of positive response to the chocolate episode, which is really fun. We Love your comments keep them coming. This is a book not a sitcom, so finally we get back to bit of action/drama/plot development. You may need a tissue for this chapter. No slaves were hurt in the making of this chapter (permanently).

Photo: hot desert - we mean the hot sandy wilderness not the cooked sweet dish served after the main course of a meal, which our spelling may or many not possibly imply.

Washington 2.0/Rockwood hall/Pod bay (Osprey hanger)

I kind of guess you're either a half full person or a half empty person. I discovered I was a half full person. I mean I have saved 4 billion lives, go me. Do I get a statue? No. Do I have a rosy glow of pride - not visible under this makeup. So it was the morning of a week later, I was walking up the back ramp of Osprey. Rockwood went up front to the flight deck to the pilot the craft. With me was Kayla. Kayla was regarded as a 'roughing it' style e-slave, one you could scratch and not worry about the resale price and I wasn't arguing.

It was odd walking on to a plane carrying nothing for a weekend. I didn't have 'clothes' just a small clothes printer in the back and a portable makeup machine to share. As head handmaiden Kayla carried my water bottle. Our dark grey catsuits were printed onto us with large numbers of tiny holes down the back to stay cool in the heat in region 1 south (formally known as Mexico). To reinforce my 'pet' status in front of Villeria, my suit one had a knee-length tail (I kept fiddling with it why don't cats do that? like all the time?). We walked onto the ramp at back of the Osprey and sat down on chairs which folded down from the wall.

"Where are the seat belts?" said Kayla.

"We don't get any, no one cares if the slave gets hurt during a crash. It's health and safety gone un-mad" I told her.

"hey, being a patronising know it all is my thing," said Kayla. I smiled.

"Sorry, love the new collar, it suits you," I said. As a personal serving staff, Kayla got a shiny collar upgrade.

"A certain tom girl I know couldn't keep his hands off it. It's an iCollar 4S. The sound quality is really good, I now get orders in stereo."

"How much RAM does it have?" I said sadly. Collar talk is such as slave thing.

"The robot who put it on said it has enough space to record your entire life in high definition. Did you know they use poisonous injections rather than explosives to save space and give improved battery life ? I can go for up to two days between recharges?"

"That is so cool I didn't know that," I said still smiling. "Did you pack your charger?"

"No. should I have? The collar didn't order me to - shit AWOW - hay that felt like someone slapped my azz with a flipper" said Kayla discovering the joy of collars 'just-like-real-life' PG13 punishment settings.

"It's OK the plane has a bunch of 5 Volt USB power supplies. You can charge up all over the place" I said. I found the charging cables we plugged ourselves in. As they said in the factory' you can never smile too much or have too much charge'.

At that moment a small squad of semi-drone guards marched onto the open ramp at the back. The bodyguard robots were semi-autonomous TOBOR 1s vaguely humanoid but with four arms. They carried quite long guns dangerous looking guns. They attached themselves to the inside of the plane, nabbed most of the best USB charging ports then shut down. Rockwood started to pitch up the engines. The long distance plane used lithium air batteries apparently so the whole thing was electric and spookily quiet for a jet. I looked around the cargo area, water bottles, rucksacks, parasols, wind breaks, self-erecting tent, picnic rugs, champagne cooler, travel bedroom toys chest, sound insulated pet cage, folding cinema screen, travel barbeque and chest sized travel blood chiller; all the bear necessities for a weekend roughing it down south.