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

Chapter 41/Him/Malodorous lair

Master tugged at my leash. "To your left and down on the floor below <zing>," my collar said as a message from master.

I looked down and noticed the odd slave. Their 'standard issue' slave clothes were covered with something to make them look more 'normal'. A well-placed scarf occasionally covered the collars. I felt people glancing at me. I looked down into the atrium below. There I noticed someone on their knees in front of some Roseanne Barr clone two floors below. Some beautiful blonde on his knees to this woman in flats. He was screeching in pain while his owner simultaneously licked an ice-cream and pressed the punish button on the slave's remote.

This kicked me back into the real world. This was the reservation, the city of Judas. These people had sold out humanity. They had been rewarded with palaces, with money, with us. At that moment, I didn't know who I hated more. You don't see the machines screwing each other over to get ahead. They had damned humanity and been damned themselves. Who could do this? Why?

I'd been so sold the view of humanity passing on the torch to the machines to the level that I felt their subjugating us seemed natural. This was unnatural. These people weren't smarter, faster, more evolved. Their right came by virtue of being a sellout. For a moment, I felt good with master. I hoped he would come back when the machines ran the world and wipe them out. If the last of humanity existed anywhere, it wasn't here.

There was another 'master' and 'slave' door up ahead. I walked into the slave one to wait while I was scanned.

"Say OK to agree to the storing of a cookie in your collar and to skip the terms and conditions. In using this site you are deemed to have read and agreed to the following terms and conditions:

The following terminology applies to these Terms and Conditions, Privacy Statement and Disclaimer Notice and any or all Agreements: "Client", "You" and "Your" refers to you, the person accessing this site and accepting the Mall of Humanities‟s terms and conditions...." realising we could be here all day I just said.

"OK" I said.

The door opened, and I gave my leash back to master.

We walked passed some walls covered in large screens.

"5642! 5642" I heard a voice to my left, and I saw a wonderful looking image of a man standing on a moor in Scotland. "Wouldn't' you like to be serving 50-year malt whisky to your master?" This was followed by another advertising looking out at me.

"5642! Why not ask your master about Slave-nol a slave compatible cream for that nasty rash on your private parts you had six months ago" said a video of an actor dressed in a white lab coat.

"I tried it, 5642" said a 127c model like me, entering the picture " and that really bad itch you had cleared up in hours. Now I can concentrate on giving master the best ***** he's had in years".

"Thinking about Greg that ex-boy friend in L.A, worried about your family in Acapulco? Why not ask your master about RohypnolX the best memory suppressant on the market. Believe me it works or my name isn't 4993 2332" said a slave girl who looked like Miley Cyrus . I guess it was the original Miley Cyrus. All the model slave 256s were based on ; otherwise the joke wouldn't have worked.

"You look like sweet 19 year old girl like who knows a thing or two. Why not get master to get you a new TRS6000 clothes printer so you can wear your favourite colour - Lime green!" said another advert.

"Do you remember that lump that worried you two years ago? Why not ask your master to sign you up to HillStreet Vets..."

"Think master would be pleased if you learnt pole dancing? The Skidmore College of erotic dancing and performance can teach you the skills which will please your owner"