Betsy Visits River City.
Back in her apartment, Betsy breathed a sigh of relief when she locked the reinforced door and locked the door and locked it again. Americans were very security conscious but had no idea about other ways of accessing such places. No worries though, as she had covered all the other entry points. She also checked her pixie defences, which were untouched. She still worried about that while she made herself some food, well, a lot of food. Then she went to her bedroom after eating it.
Squeezing past the machinery there, she got on her bed and removed her clothes, keeping her knickers on. She picked up the helmet she hated and carefully put it on and ensured all the electrodes were in place and functioning. She got herself comfortable in the bed with her special pillow to accommodate the helmet, and closed her eyes. When she first arrived she took the opportunity of removing all the bloody lights and flashing things that should have told her things but didn’t. She must have missed that day in school when they taught them all about such machines. ‘She’ liked this stuff and insisted Betsy, and the others, used them as often as possible.
Once comfortable, she closed her eyes and said, “OK machine, do your stuff.” It had taken her a long time to get the thing to respond to that order, at least some of the time.
It was originally programmed for a certain set of orders and didn’t have the capacity to understand what she said, probably because the circuits were all involved in other, more important, duties like trying to work out why the lights didn’t work.
Betsy knew the machine usually sulked and just did what it was supposed to, so she was surprised when it actually answered the way it was supposed to.
“Activating,” it answered.
The machine began to probe her mind. Betsy wondered why such things were necessary. She was capable and she didn’t like all this fuss and bother over something that would never happen. Her thoughts didn’t get much further because the machine switched her brain off in order to fulfil its function.
Betsy opened her eyes hungry. She was always hungry after this, as well as hot and sweaty. Grumbling and feeling like she just stopped eating ten minutes ago, she rose, dressed herself and squeezed past the machine and went to the kitchen to prepare another meal. After eating, she checked her mobile and found a voicemail from Vicky.
“Betsy it’s Vicky. Pearl hasn’t returned from shopping so I’m going to see what’s happened. See you later.” That was three hours ago and there were no later calls. She sighed and got ready to go out and made a note to herself to get more supplies in. She was onto her last razor blade slither. Some of the items would be difficult to get here and she would have to be resourceful, but she knew she was resourceful. Other items were easy to obtain. Just go to a supermarket and buy the guns and general fuck off knives off the shelf. They didn’t have any of the good stuff though. There was nothing that required skill to work it.
Before unlocking her door, she scanned the area and detected nothing dangerous. There were a lot of people with sex on their minds though. So much so there could be an orgy about to happen. Pity she would miss it. She liked orgies. She liked being in a sea of bodies, liberally coated with spit, semen and fanny juice, being gently moved in some sort of Brownian peristaltic motion among various limbs and body parts, her mind totally in the moment sucking and stroking, as and when the occasion presented itself, and being prodded and stroked and sucked in return, all through what becomes a sort of masturbatory hive orgasmic organism.
She opened her door, stepped out and received five knockout darts in various parts of her body for her trouble.