© Copyright 2017 - PoseMe - Used by permission
Storycodes: FF; friends; cyborg; vacation; travel; beach; sand; play; mistake; airport; controlled; process; label; conveyor; machines; washed; coated; boxed; foam; encased; packaged; transported; luggage; cons/reluct; X
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."
Ah, she thinks as all the noise and the hectic day fade away, I am so ready for a nap... and maybe a vacation.
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