Travel on Gromet's Plaza Archive

Jessica's Pokemon Adventure

Fri, 11 Jan 2019 00:00:00 +0000

Chapter 1 (A Window Worker Story)

The majority of business students at Jessica’s university had decided to make their fortunes in the city upon graduating. The usual corporate types who buy and sell on the stock markets, shifting piles of clients’ money around in a glorified gambling house, betting that China would not do as well as Russia in trade negotiations with the West, or that the new Alaskan oil field would produce a tidy return for its investors. Bankers, financiers and the usual cliché that graduates could look forward to with a 1:1 degree that Jessica was, unless she messed up badly on the final term, projected to get. However profitable this life promised to be, it held little interest for her. No, the way Jessica saw her talents being used were in the production field. Although many Western countries manufactured a variety of high tech engineering products, like cars and satellites, the real opportunities were in the East. Japan had enjoyed a high level of economic growth for some time. Malaysia was fast catching up and many high tech metal and carbon fibre components had been produced in these countries. China had looked promising for a time, but their growth had stalled. However, oil and gas from Russian pipelines, combined with minerals and natural resources from Africa, which China had been grooming since the 50s, meant that when the country eventually got its butt into gear, it would be very dangerous indeed. So since this was where the future was, this would be where Jessica would be. She had therefore learned several languages. Although her Malay was a little weak, she was fluent in Japanese and Chinese Mandarin and was quite strong in several other dialects and languages. She was therefore confident, having also spent a gap year working in a global cycle manufacturing plant in Asia that she could land the career that she wanted when she qualified. Her parents had also travelled widely when she was growing up, which is why Jessica was able to pick up languages quickly. In addition to study, Jessica spent her free time enjoying the benefits of a university town with broad range of societies. Because she was studying at Cambridge she might have expected to join a rowing club. However, cycling is quite popular in the city and so she joined the Cambridge Union Cycling Club, who would do regular rides into the fens. This would involve a midweek evening ride of about two hours and then a Sunday ride of four or five hours, or around fifty miles. Somehow these rides always ended up at a pub in the middle of nowhere. She also liked running and had won a few medals with the running society. Between the running and the cycling, it was fair to say that her legs were quite strong. She also indulged her creative side by joining the Cambridge Union Pottery Society. CUPS enjoyed a reasonably equipped studio in the basement of one of the colleges, with three electric wheels, a couple of kick wheels, wooden benches, a drying cupboard, a large front loading kiln and enough raw materials to mix up a wide variety of glazes. Jessica like to throw large pots on the wheel. Centring and throwing 12 kg of clay at a time takes a lot of effort and this helped her to develop a reasonable amount of strength in her arms and actually helped to develop her abs. This diversity of activities, along with long hours of study, meant that as well as gaining a good degree, she was popular, had a good circle of friends and was quite fit. During the final year Jessica applied for several positions and also showed her face at the college milk round, where companies come to the university in an employment fair, to attract the brightest and the best that Cambridge had to offer. Tanaka was high on Jessica’s wish list, as they were a long established international manufacturer specialising in electronics. As well as the usual consumer items, Tanaka also boasted a robotics division and a medical division. The fact that this company diversified into several branches meant that there was plenty of opportunity for a young, ambitious woman like Jessica. Another reason why she was targeting a Japanese company, who had traditionally safeguarded the high ranking jobs for the Japanese, was that a falling birth rate on the mainland had opened up avenues which were usually closed to Westerners. Jessica shared her dorms with Holly. Holly, although bright, was easily led and influenced. A bit ditsy at times, but still great for a girls night out and generally a good housemate. Jessica had just finished up Tanakas application and had gone into the lounge for a coffee. “God Holly, I have got so much work to do. But this is a dream job. What about you?” “I don’t have much on at the moment. I have a few jobs that look interesting. I have also applied for Tanaka. All of these applications are pretty much all the same, so it should be a matter of just copying a lot of the text from one of the other forms,” Holly offered. Jessica considered for several moments before answering. “No I think I will do an individual application. If you could have a look at the last one and let me know what you think I would be grateful though. I have pretty much completed it. Just a silly psychological questionnaire to fill out and it’s done. That would allow me to go over my assignment one last time before moving onto the class project for Friday.” Holly readily agreed and within minutes had taken Jessica’s place at the computer looking at the multiple choice questionnaire. She must have done a reasonable job, Jessica mused as she sat on the plane, some six months later, heading for one of Tanakas production facilities on a small pacific island. Not only had Jessica got the job, but Holly had flown out a few weeks earlier. So, she mused, her proof reading and ideas for Hollies application must have been reasonable. Holly was not in the production facility though, so she may not be able to hook up with her old room mate straight away. Looking out of the window the view was not overly inspiring. It was a typically self-contained, workers island, where everything belonged to the company. It was similar, in many respects, to the industrial towns of the 19th century, but with better beaches and better workers cottages. In any event, having Tanaka on her CV would not hurt and it offered a great deal of opportunity for the graduate. Strangely, when it came, the interview had been remarkably straightforward. She had splashed out on an interview suit from a second hand shop, in a deep green that showed off her eyes to the best, making them appear larger and deeper. Her long black hair held up by a chop stick arrangement, allowed her freshly curled hair to cascade down her neck, while simple drop gold ear rings subtly stated her elegance. The short skirt helped to show off her long legs, as did the three inch black court shoe. Overall, she was pleased with the effect. It had taken a reasonable effort to get her to this stage, starting with the application form, she had then carried out a telephone interview where she had to answer a series of stock questions. She was then invited to a group interview at the regional offices, where along with thirty people, she was to spend the day performing various group related tasks that eventually led her to be shortlisted for a more traditional panel interview the following week. The panel itself consisted of a regional manager, a member of the HR team and then another manager from, well she was not sure, but she would say that he was from the corporate side of the business. A probing series of questions filled the next hour as Jessica put all of her communication skills to best effect. They asked her about her course, her plans and career goals, as well as her sport and interest in fitness. They seemed particularly pleased with her running prowess and felt that she may be a good candidate to join Tanaka. This was confirmed in writing shortly after and now, just a few weeks after the interview, Jessica Reynolds found herself looking out of the window of the twin engine turbo propped aircraft as it lost height and banked on its approach to a small airfield on the North of an Island owned by the company. To say that she had been whisked off of her feet was an understatement. She had very little time to arrange for furniture to be sold, or gifted to her friends, while her entire life had been crammed into two suitcases. Twenty four years of life and all that she had to show for it was compacted down into the hold of a small aircraft, her life lost amidst the luggage of the three passengers who she shared the cabin with. She idly wondered if they had an equally fast life changing experience. They had made pleasant conversation about nothing in particular, but the talk had quickly subsided now that they approached their destination. It had been a gruelling series of flights to get her this far, flying half way around the world before eventually landing in Tokyo, staying overnight in a hotel near the airport, before climbing onto a charter flight out to one of the islands owned by Tanaka. The island itself, as far as she could see, looked quite modern. Although she had watched the corporate videos, she had still expected palm trees and dirt roads. There were palm trees, but the roads looked well paved. In addition to this she could make out the urban sprawl of modern workers accommodations, shops and parks. The aircraft banked again and lined up for final approach. As it banked she could make out industrial buildings and warehouses rushing towards her as the small aircraft fell from the sky. As the plane levelled out she eventually lost site of the crystal clear turquoise sea, to be replaced by a yellow flash of sand and then the final descent onto tarmac, jarring her from her comfortable contemplation as buildings on the other side of the airport rushed past to the sound of the engines and the sharp squeal of tyres. Eventually the headlong rush slowed and a simple one story terminal building came into site as the plane taxied closer, stopping at its designated parking area. As the plane eventually stopped Jessica unbuckled her seat and retrieved her hand luggage. She hated waiting, but knew that she would be unloaded and deposited at the speed set by the crew of the aircraft as they completed various checks before leaving the cabin and opening the door to the front of the aircraft, having first watched a small vehicle approach and align its boarding steps up with the aircraft door. The peace and quiet were now shattered as she disembarked and worked her way through customs, retrieving her luggage beforehand and, along with the other passengers, being met at the terminal by a small Japanese woman holding a placard containing Jessica’s name, along with those of the other passengers. She had expected heat and she had expected some discomfort, having come directly from a moderately cool Cambridge, to a much warmer Japanese mainland airport, she thought she knew what the climate would be like. However, the southward journey to the actual island felt like the temperature had ramped up to gas mark 5 on the oven and she was blasted by a wall of heat as she stepped out of the plane. This was the height of summer though and she had been expecting something of this nature. But reality was always different to your expectations and she mentally groaned as she noted dark sweat patches start to form under her arms. Another hour in a seven seater car saw Jessica the third person to be deposited at her lodgings on the other side of the island. She was met by another company representative and shown to her apartment complex which boasted a swimming pool and, according to the representative, a small shopping area on the other side of the complex. Jessica was too tired to care. Having said her goodbyes to her guide, who would come to collect her the following day for her orientation, Jessica found herself showered, wearing a comfortable light cotton nightie and collapsing into bed. Jessica awoke in the early morning with the sunrise just pouring through the open window of her apartment. She had not pulled the blinds and that was the reason for her early awakening. Leaning over she grabbed her mobile phone to check the time. At the moment her phone was quite useless, but once she could set up WiFi she should be able to access the internet. She was not sure about telephone contracts on the island, but would ask about this during her orientation. The apartment had the feel of a hotel suite, as well as a guest information brochure. Reading through the brochure enabled her to access the employee social internet on her phone, but could not access the employee sections of the company site until she had completed her induction. During breakfast of a fruit salad from the basket she had found, as a part of her welcome pack in the kitchen, she had watched the news while she marshalled her thoughts for the coming day. The international news was the usual mixture of wars and politics. The local news held more interest. Jessica had been following the story, since she left England, of a Japanese athlete who had been struck by meningitis. She had become a quadruple amputee. Jessica could not imagine what she was going through, but she was recovering slowly and she had stated that she intended to resume her running career and enter the Paralympics. Jessica could not help but be inspired. After a longish shower, where she took care to shave her legs and arm pits, Jessica sorted through the outfits that she had unpacked yesterday. A simple lightweight skirt and jacket in light choral, combined with an ivory blouse gave the correct business impression, while remaining lightweight enough to stay comfortable, she felt that she would make a good impression on her first day. Twenty minutes later, having made up her face, brushed her hair and selected simple jewellery, she was ready when she heard a knock at the door. A small Japanese man in a lightweight business suit stood at the door smiling broadly. The Orientals are typically smaller than westerners. Jessica being quite tall for a woman anyway, at five foot ten, but even so she doubted that the skinny businessman standing before her could have been more than four foot five. “Ohayō gozaimasu Townsend San?” the man stated before bowing to the precise angle required for a formal greeting. Jessica smiled before answering that she was, returning the bow. “I am Mr Yamato. I am your induction co-ordinator and trainee liaison. If you will follow me, we will head over to the main offices and start your induction”. Jessica was instantly grateful for all of the time that she had spent learning the language and, after exchanging a few pleasantries and retrieving her hand bag, she followed Mr Yamato out of the building towards one of the many bus stops around the island. They did not have long to wait before a small bus arrived. Although there were a few people on the bus it was not what Jessica would consider crowded. Not after some of her experiences with public transport in England. However, soon she was seated next to her diminutive colleague, exchanging the usual bland pleasantries that fill the time and help to forge business relationships. The next seven hours were to prove a whirlwind of activity. After signing in at reception and going through security to get an employee ID and become registered on the IT systems, she had to sit through an hour long induction speech. This was followed by a whirlwind tour of the head office and surrounding buildings, before being shown to the office where she would be working. Mr Yamato proved to be an invaluable guide, easing her through the various stages of induction. “So how long will you be with me Yamato San?” Jessica asked. “Typically I will be working closely with you for the first two weeks. After that I will leave you to settle in. Since you are a part of the management training program, I will act as a liaison between you and the company to ensure that you are able to gain all of the training, throughout the various departments, for the remainder of the course. You are not the only management trainee that we have on the island. In fact all of the trainees are in your apartment block. I live in apartment 7a, so that you can talk to me at any time. As well as the monthly one to ones, I like to have an open door policy for those in my charge, so that they can come and find me at any time to discuss issues that they might have.” Staggering through the door some hours later, Jessica felt exhausted. She had come home on the same bus as her liaison, but had stopped at the corner shop to get some essentials in. In addition to this she had been given two sets of the company uniform, a nondescript grey trouser and jacket affair, with a peaked cap. The company logo was emblazoned on the left breast. Despite the bland mouse grey colour, she still liked what it did to show off her curves. After making a cup of tea she put the radio on and began to cook her evening meal. After lunch she spent her time reading the company literature and induction booklets, while listening to the TV on the background. Over the next few weeks Jessica got into a routine of jogging, before breakfast when the day was still moderately cool and then heading for work after a quick shower. She started to make friends and generally find her feet as she settled into the company. She had met Holly on the occasional Sunday, for a get together and meal, as well as texting every other day. But other than that, at the weekends she shopped, pre-cooked ready meals and also explored the local area for things to do. She even found a traditional potter and went to visit him in his studio. Unlike western wheels, the Japanese use kick wheels that are sunk into the floor so that the potter sits over the wheel and kicks a wheel attached to the lower part of the assembly below ground level. It was fascinating to watch and she was even permitted to have a go on the wheel. She bought a traditional tea set for her home. Unlike a British tea pot, the Japanese have a handle protruding out of the side, similar to a soup bowl. This has been thrown as a cylinder before being stuck on to the side, rather than the rear of the pot, at a 90 degree angle to the spout. A simple Celadon glaze finishing off the pot and handle less cups nicely. This, she felt, would be an importance piece of ceramic to own if she invited friends around for tea. Unfortunately, cycles were a bit of a luxury item on the island, given how much it would cost to get one shipped over from the mainland. As such she would not be able to indulge in her passion for some time. She therefore had to be content with jogging until such time as she could order a bike, since she had already seen some likely trails for training. She did not limit her jogs to the local circuit that she used in the morning and would usually explore further afield at the weekend. One such foray gave her pause for thought. Jessica was out jogging on one of the footpaths that linked the various worker villages on a Saturday morning when she came to a main park. As she was jogging along she thought she saw a Pokemon. Stopping in her tracks she looked more closely and no she was not mistaken. A Pokemon was walking on four stubby legs along the path ahead of her, being led on a lead by a young Japanese woman. The pair disappeared into the trees ahead of her, on a path that branched towards a series of worker cottages. She was tempted to follow them, but did not want to appear rude. However, she had trouble gaining her rhythm for another half a mile. Although perplexing, she did not want to disturb Mr Yamato and so waited until Monday morning before questioning him about it. They still travelled in on the bus and so she brought up the subject when she sat next to him. “Yamato san. I saw something quite extraordinary over the weekend and hoped that you could help me”. Mr Yamato considered. “I would be more than happy to help you with any questions that you have. This is what I am paid for after all Townsend san”. “I was out jogging the other day and, while running through one of the parks, I thought I saw a woman leading a Pokemon on a lead along one of the parks. Ummmm. I know I did not imagine it, but what is going on? Why would somebody dress up in costume?” Mr Yamato smiled before answering. “You have heard of Aname?” “Yes. It is a major part of modern Japanese culture. I have heard that people like to dress up as characters and go to conventions. Is that what is happening here?” “Yes. Many of our workers love Aname and like to dress up as their favourite characters for parties or functions. We even have two Commicon events each year, which some of the staff love to attend. The next one is due next month. I can send you the details if you would like Townsend san?” Mr Yamato beamed. Jessica considered before beaming a wide smile in return. “Yes. I think I would like that. Thank you Yamato san.”

Cassandra Cyborg's Vacation

Tue, 10 Oct 2017 00:00:00 +0000

This story continues Cassie’s life as a Cyborg from Cassandra the Cyborg by Megadragon520 & Cassandra Cyborg - A Day in Her New Life by PoseMe

Mr Hanson was to be out of town for about week. Alli and Cassie had begged to go. Work was taking him to the west coast, and their beach house was right on the beach. He figured they would never leave him alone, so he agreed. This was going to be Cassie’s first trip to the west, and she could not think of a better way to go. Her and Alli spent days packing and preparing. They wanted to be ready for anything. In some ways, Cassie was more excited than Alli. Alli gets to go places regularly, but Cassie, being on staff at Alli’s mansion, has to stay and work her way through college. For Cassie, this will really be a vacation: time away from work. Cassie would be traveling as a person for the entire trip. Typically, cyborgs do not travel with human passengers on flights, but since she has all the paperwork of a person, she was able to get a flight permit, airline ticket, boarding pass, and luggage approval like Alli and her dad. She had packed a portable charger and a spare repair kit, just in case, but she had not needed any help since her dad “built” her. But, she says to herself as she packs her bag tight, I don’t wanna get found out or be without some help. The trip out was fairly uneventful. Cassie had never been to an airport, so she was pointing at everything with an “ooo” and “aah.” Alli grew tired of her “tourist look”, so she put in her earbuds before they even checked their bags. All three showed their identification and tickets and passes to all the right people without incident. The scanner for weapons might have been a problem, but Cassie’s dad had planned for this. When the scanner went over her, her body reflected a human skeleton and all the organs to go with it. The computer software was satisfied, so they waved her through. The flight was another “tourist affair”, as Cassie continued to “ooo” and “aah”. Alli pretended to be asleep while Cassie went on and on to the lady next to her. Mr Hanson was up in first class, so he was oblvious to it all. Arrival at San Fransisco was a thrill (if your Cassie) or a reason to wake-up (if your Alli). They gathered their bags from the luggage area, once they scanned their flight permits. With luggage being wheeled behind them by rental cyborgs, the “family” went to the car to ride in comfort to their home away from home. The beach house was another mansion, if you asked Cassie. It was not as big as their other mansion, but it had 4 floors, floor to ceiling windows, bright colors, 5 car garage, 2 kitchens, 8 bedrooms, and well, you get the idea. There were no servants in this place, but the fridge was fully stocked and every possible amenity could be found in the bathroom or broom closet. The girls did not even unpack before walking straight through the house to the beach. The warm salty air blowing off the ocean was intoxicating. Their shoes came off as they walked through the warm sand. Their hair blew in the breeze as they soaked in their new environment. They giggled like little girls as they ran out into the surf, splashing each other and enjoying the setting Sun. Cassie had never been more happy. Her cyborg body was designed to blend in, and it does so quite well. It will use sunlight for recharging, but it will also adjust skin color as well. As Cassie soaks up sunlight, her skin, like any human, will get darker. She can get a tan without getting burnt, as her skin is a polymer that can withstand nearly 200 degrees Celsius. Even her eyes can adjust with a built-in filter to lower the Sun’s intensity. For that human touch, she still puts on sunscreen and wears sunglasses. With all that has happened lately, it feels good to be “human.” Over the next 3 days, they all fell into a routine. Mr Hanson would be up early and out the door to work. The girls would sleep in, grab a quick breakfast from the pantry, slip on their bathing suits, and head to the beach. The rest of the morning would be spent sunbathing and walking the coast looking for shells. When they got hungry, they would find a street vendor, or maybe a sand vendor, to get some lunch. As with every stop, there would be the guy or group of guys that hit on them. Cassie was too nervous to know what to do with that. Alli could care less about boys. She was waiting for the right guy who cared nothing about her money or looks to come along. She had not found one yet, but she loved to play the game. Cassie would watch her pull guys in and around her finger as she talked to them. She would move just the right way. She would talk in the right tone. She might even lightly brush against one. They would offer drinks, maybe some food, and maybe… but they never got further. Alli would shut the whole thing down, hook arms with Cassie, and wave goodbye to them as the girls walked away. Most of the guys would just scratch their heads, wondering what happened. Some would kick the sand and bolt. There would be one or two that tried to follow them, but Alli would not have it. And like a wounded puppy, the boys would eventually get the hint. At first, Cassie did not know what to do about this flirting thing. I mean, she had never thought about it before. Watching Alli, it seemed so natural. But, Cassie figures, I bet it is harder than it looks. And the logical side of her would eventually conclude with: what’s the point of flirting anyway? Mr Hanson would return at dinner time and take them out to a fancy restaurant. They would talk about their day, and like a good dad, he would nod and smile to their antics. There would be obligatory question of staying out late, but he would not have it. Alli usually fought harder for her way, but she sensed that now was not a battle to fight. On their next to last day, Mr Hanson came home earlier than usual. The girls were still sunbathing when he came up, casting a shadow on both of them. “Well, girls,” he said, “my business trip is over. Time to go home.” The looks on the young ladies’ faces must have spoken volumes. He could see their disappointment. But before they could get out more than just a pitiful whine, he adds, “Which is why I am heading back tonight, while you all are on the early flight the day after tomorrow.” This time it was his turn to be surprised, as both of them jumped up and hugged him. Proper is an adjective that describes him well, but at this point in time, he did not mind his suit and hair being “ruined” by his “two daughters.” Cassie and Alli did not sleep from the time he left until their flight. They spent as much time as they could on the beach: in the sand, in the surf, at the vendors, on the boardwalk, and everywhere inbetween. They were up all night at various clubs and lounges, flirting their way through each. They had so much fun, not worrying about sleeping, figuring they could do that on the flight home. The morning to the airport was frantic as you would expect. They had left stuff all over the house and had to retrieve it all at the last minute. As Alli called a taxi, Cassie made a realization that put a damper on the whole weekend: she couldn’t find her airline ticket. After packing everything they brought, she located flight permit, boarding pass, and luggage approval. However, her airline ticket was missing. As they both searched while waiting for the taxi, they heard a knock at the door. While Cassie continued to look, Alli opened the door to see a pair of cyborg maids at the door. They were not programmed to talk, but the card in their extended hands stated they were here to clean the beach house after the guests had left. Alli nodded and let them in. As Cassie came towards the front of the beach house, she was taken back to her normal life at the sight of the maids. Ugh, she thinks, I gotta go back to that already? Contemplating that, Alli says, “You know, if you can’t find it, maybe you can just board as a cyborg?” as she points to one of the cleaning maids. “Hmmm,” Cassie replies, “I could probably fit into one of those outfits.” After powering both of them off, then stripping them down, Alli and Cassie piece together a maid outfit that will work. It is not the quality she is used to, nor is the material. Cassie never realized how much she has come to enjoy latex, as she squirms in her cheap cotton uniform. It is a light gray dress with white trim. The shoes are cheap black plastic, as is the hair band. The gloves are more utility than the rest of the uniform, but it works. Walking around without panties would be embarrassing, so she added her own pair to wear. She even added a bra, too, as the cotton was irritating her. She could have adjusted her sensitivity, but with the taxi pulling into the driveway, there was no time. Alli commands, “Get the bags, maid, and take them to the car.” Cassie finds her body responding before she can check it. With the mutliple bags in each hand and under her arm, she replies, “Uh, there is no one around yet, Alli.” She giggles back and says, “I know, but we should start playing the part.” The ride to the airport is uneventful and the taxi driver did not question them. Alli tipped like a rich person, while Cassie took the bags inside. Alli joins her friend at the airline counter, where their troubles continued. “…but there is no room for your maid, even if she has a boarding pass.” Alli has turned a slight shade of red, “But we have all the necessary papers for her to travel with me.” The airline personnel are trying to be calm as they reply, “Yes, but you did not confirm your flight until this morning, so we already sold the other seat. Your maid will have to be checked as luggage.” Cassie did not like the sound of that. While Alli was midway into her “you gotta change your policy” speech, the announcemnt for their plane to board could be heard everywhere. Cassie, maintaining her neutral pose and facial expression, stated, “Madam, you should board your plane so that your luggage will arrive with you.” Alli nods her head, says a few more choice words that cannot be repeated here, then signs the tags for the luggage. Grabbing her documents from the lady behind the counter, she pecks Cassie on the check and runs to her gate. “Bot, step forward,” the lady says in a very unfreindly tone. “Your owner is something else, and I would say what I think of her but I’m sure she will ask you later.” Cassie tries not to grin at that. Holding out her hand, she places a tag around her wrist, just the same as all of the other bags. “Step behind the counter.” Cassie complies as the rest of the bags are thrown onto a conveyor belt behind the counter. Cassie can feel something touching the back of her neck. Suddenly, she feels her joints tightening up, forcing her to curl up into a ball. Satisfied, the lady pushes her onto the conveyor belt. Like a sack that is tightly wrapped up, Cassie falls onto the conveyor belt then travels along as more luggage is added around her. So much for that upgrade to first class, Cassie thinks sarcastcially. After a few minutes, she finds that she can move again, but chooses to stay curled up. No sense in drawing too much attention to myself, Cassie thinks to herself. The intricate belt system behind the scenes of air travel is a wonder, and Cassie is soon lost in the size of it all. There are conveyor belts going in every direction in every way. Scanning bots will redirect luggage as it should go throughout the process. She is not sure exactly what happened, but she is finally deposited onto a table with three guys in coveralls staring at her. “Yeah,” the tall one says, “No way it can go into the overhead compartment.” The shortest one says, “Under the seat is out of the question.” The overweight one suggests, “Well, we can just box her up, put her in with the suitcases, and hope for the best.” They each shrug their shoulders and do just that. As they begin to start to wrap her up, the tall one says, “Hey, let’s just put her through the regular packaging chute.” The shortest one replies, “It would do a better job of wrapping her securely than us,” then steps away from her. The overweight one says, “And we would not have to do anything but push her through that hole,” then steps away, too. Finally, the tall one says as he puts both hands on Cassie’s shoulders, “Job done!” And with that, he pushes her back. A little fearful of hitting her head, but more fearful of being caught, she maintains her composure and lets herself fall into the hole behind her. As she sinks into the darkness, she thinks, so much for better service from union employees. The bottom of the chute puts her onto another conveyor belt. The room is loud with the sounds of machinery and not lit very well. She adjusts her “eyes” to brighten the room. Even her amazing computerized brain cannot take in all of the movement of the many conveyor belts and robotic arms and flashing lights. Speaking of that, her body is bathed in a red light. Turning her head slightly, she can see a screen on the left, displaying her name and number and owner and all other manner of information. As she rolls past, the screen changes to show one word: package. “Package?” she murmurs. I hope that is what they say for every cyborg, she thinks positively. At her next stop, her cheap maid outfit is removed. She is able to move if she wants, but the robotic arms are moving so fast, she is afraid that if she helps, she might get damaged. She takes a quick look around at the other items being packaged. Evidently, she was moved to the larger package section, as she sees many other androids. They are all different, but as she looks closer in her brief moment, they all look the same. They each have perfect skin, perfect features, and lay still throughout whatever process they are going through. There is no way a regular person could do that, she reasons, we are much more calm. As she steals another quick glance around between the arms going around her, she is surprised by her admission: we. I guess I forget how I’m not human, Cassie thinks to herself with a hint of sadness. Her days seem so normal to a human, but she is anything but that. An obvious pleasure android waits on a different conveyor, with her proportions out of the normal range, and while Cassie might have had some thought against that type of robot, she now sees her differently. We were all built with a specific purpose, she starts thinking, and I was designed to be as human as possible, and she was designed to bring as much pleasure to a human. Her thoughts are interrupted by the robotic arms manipulating her. Within seconds, she is naked and laying on the conveyor belt. Her hair is removed and bagged. What, she screams inside, that is the only one I have. Before she can really lament over that, she changes conveyor belts and picks up speed. She gets passed onto a screen-type conveyor. The belt has holes in it as if it needs to drain water. And with that, she is doused with a cleansing solution. She was not expecting that, so it goes all in her mouth and eyes. This would sting a normal person and taste bad. For her, she says as she smacks her lips, it just tastes bad. The robotic arms are not careful or slow. They roughly grab her arms and legs, manipulating her position and posture. She is dried and sprayed with a thin sealer. That explains, she reasons, why they remove the hair. As they drop her back onto the conveyor belt like a bag of trash, she notices the sealer is pretty cheap. If she moves her fingers, she can feel it cracking at her joints. She grins at that, and accidentally cracks it some more. A light dust, almost like baby powder, is then dropped onto her. The arms once again grab her and move her in all types of positions as a buffing brush is moved all over her. Just as before, the arms leave as quick as they come, leaving her in an awkward postion on the conveyor. The next station straightens her out then clamps her arms and legs to the belt. A different type of robotic arm enters her vision and puts a rubber-type device over her neck which covers her mouth and chin. She can feel it cinch around her tightly, holding her mouth shut. Before she can react, she sees a green light flash on her face then a statement made from a speaker: “mouth protection installed.” Ah, she thinks, they want to make sure I don’t damage my teeth or tongue in bouncing along. The next station removes each leg and arm from the restraints as it installs the same rubber-type gloves and socks on her. The gloves have no fingers, so it is like a mitten. When cinched tight, she cannot move any of her fingers. In the same way, the socks restrict all toe movement. This has gotta be the weirdest experience, she thinks to herself, even for me. With her fingers and toes and mouth secured, she continues to the next station. This one scans her in red then flips her over. The robotic voice says: “Secured. Apply quality control stamp.” With her face down on the conveyor, she cannot see the robotic gun that hovers over her. She can feel it come down like a hammer and whack her on the right butt cheek. “oomph”, she squeals. “that hurt,” she says to herself. The light flashes red again and the voice says, “Error: stamp not applied. Repeat.” Repeat? she thinks with a slight whimper. Wham! It attempts to ‘spank’ the stamp on her again. When it does not work again, it continues to spank her over and over again. Somewhere around the 10-12th time, the stamp sticks, the light turns green, and she is sent on her way. Oh, she sighs, my butt really hurts. She turns her sensors down in that area, so it does not linger until her “skin” can repair itself. The end of the conveyor belt comes without warning. I’m flying, she screams inside, as she lands in pile of bags and luggage, along with a few other androids (she even sees that pleasure bot stuck under a giant trunk). She half sits up to check her surroundings, but before she can really take in the giant pile of multi-colored and -sized bags, she is hit in the head with other pieces of new luggage. Ow, she sighs again, this has got to be the worst trip I have ever taken. Again, multiple arms come and go, snatching bags and pieces of luggage. She is hoisted eventually by her feet into the air. And this is why I do not like roller coasters, she squeals, I don’t like being upside down. She is deposited, head first, into a small box. The arm releases her, so as her legs tumble over, the whole box does as well. As she lays there, she cannot help but wonder exactly how this all happened to her. She wants to move, but she is not sure who is watching since she cannot see really well out of the box. Her legs are at odd angles, but she leaves them just in case. As she lays there awkwardly in and out of a box, she takes a moment to relax. This has been the quietest this day has been, she says to herself. She can hear all kinds of machinery going to and fro, and there are blurs of movement from her limited field of view. Surely, she never thought her day would end up like this. I mean seriously, she thinks sarcastically, who could ever dream something like this up? She does not have to wait too long before she feels her legs being picked up. The box and her are righted upright. Before she can think about being upside down again, her legs are folded into the box. What? she squeals, there is no way I’m gonna fit in this small box. The arms must have thought differently, as they quickly tuck her legs into the empty spaces around Cassie. Her entire body is like a giant pretzel now, filling all of the available space of the box. Her face is covered but for one eye, so she can half see out of the box. The arms leave and are replaced by some type of nozzle. Uh oh, that does not look good. A pink goo pours out of the nozzle and onto her. Within seconds, she is covered in this goop. Before she can think “ew” it turns into a solid shape, completely filling every empty space in the box. With everything muffled and now completely dark, she can barely make out the phrase: “packing foam applied.” Well, she thinks with a final thought on this day, at least I will be safe if they drop me out of the plane… while it is still flying. She feels the box being moved then pushed then pulled then dropped then left alone. She feels a slight vibration throughout the box. Hmm, she figures, I must be on the truck headed to the plane. Her ride to the airplane is bumpy and not pleasant: she must have done a dozen somersaults over the next few minutes, until her ride finally stops. There is a loud noise or hum that gets even through her packing foam, so she figures she is being loaded on the plane now, and like the rest of the luggage, she is dropped in a pile of more bags. She can tell she is tilted at an angle. Once the plane starts moving, there is nothing she can do. There is no way she can unpack herself and explain it, so there is only one choice: sleep mode. Shutting most of her systems down, which makes her uncomfortable position much more pleasant, she eventually goes to “sleep.”

Cassandra Cyborg's Vacation

Tue, 10 Oct 2017 00:00:00 +0000

This story continues Cassie’s life as a Cyborg from Cassandra the Cyborg by Megadragon520 & Cassandra Cyborg - A Day in Her New Life by PoseMe

The Crossing

Sun, 24 Sep 2017 00:00:00 +0000

Part I

March 29-2017

There are times in one’s life, that a simple decision to take a much-needed trip turns out to be more than one asks for. That doesn’t mean that the original intention of taking that trip was ill advised, or that the measurement after the fact is nothing more than playing a Monday Morning Quarter Back after the Sundays Game, it just gives one the ability to Ponder Life’s Destiny and Life’s Meaning.

Kidnapped and Sold at the Slave Auction

Thu, 08 Sep 2016 00:00:00 +0000

This is a story based on my love of suspension bondage. This is a fantasy only.

It was a Friday night. I had worked late, it was dark as I pulled in to my parking space. I had a feeling someone was watching me. I lock my car and I walk to the front door of my apartment. As I walk in the door I discover that the power out in my apartment.

Penal Slave

Tue, 17 May 2016 00:00:00 +0000

The lights in Linda Slater’s cabin came on, as they were programmed to do, and along with a gentle beeping awoke her much earlier than her assigned schedule suggested. Even though it was 18:00 (6 PM) she still preferred to consider it to be “morning”, although in space, “morning” and “night” no longer had any meaning. Schedules for the 300 passengers and crew were divided into shifts, each staggered so that the load on the kitchen and recreation areas would be distributed. During most of the voyage there was nothing to distinguish one time period from another. No day, no night, no weekends, no Friday nights. A few “days” at the beginning, and a few at the very end of the voyage were the exception.

Fantasy Unlimited 3: The Second Visit

Tue, 26 Jun 2012 00:00:00 +0000

continued from part one

Fantasy Unlimited - The Second Visit

Background

Stephen and Gina are a couple in aged in their early forties, reasonably affluent, despite a family of young teenagers, and living in the United Kingdom near Bristol. Strongly heterosexual and happily married they nevertheless have some interesting tastes when it comes to sexual activities!!

After their last weekend away both Stephen and Gina had instigated “interesting” exploits at home but with a family it was so difficult to find enough time. They also missed the control element that had been experienced in their Belgian weekend as that added the sparkle to the whole adventure.

The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 16: Saskia the Amateur Sleuth

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

(story continues from The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 15: A Plethora of Tortures)

Chapter 16: Saskia the Amateur Sleuth

Saskia checked the CCTV footage for what must have been the hundredth time. Although the image wasn’t crystal clear, she was convinced that the female figure seen walking along the platform at Ipswich station and then getting onto the East Suffolk branch line train was the missing woman. She leaned back in her chair and gazed out of the window of her office. After this morning’s rain, the late afternoon sunshine seemed to have brought the crowds out onto the streets of Ipswich, as directly below her window in Giles Circus, late shoppers mingled with people leaving off work for the day, with running and playing school children wending and weaving their way between the ever moving throng. Pigeons strutted and fluttered between peoples’ feet, whilst herring gulls wheeled overhead and landed on window ledges and roofs, waiting hawk-eyed for any scraps of fast food dropped by the passing human melee. Although dulled by the double-glazing, a general hubbub of everyday life could still be heard above the office sounds created by her fellow workers. Saskia gazed upon this scene for a minute or two, before her eyes were drawn further afield, to where the sun’s rays reflected back off the glass façade of the Willis Building. Pondering, she bit her lip.

The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 6

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

(story continues from The Secrets of Shackleton Grange 5)

Chapter 6: Bethany the Novice

Bethany leant back in her seat and gazed out at the rolling Suffolk countrywide. The gently undulating fields, the farmhouses, the picturesque villages with their ‘Suffolk Pink’ cottages, and the occasional windmill, all flashed by in the late afternoon sunshine. But despite the views on offer, the pleasant scenery failed to make much impression on the twenty two year old, as her distracted mind wandered elsewhere.