"Prepare for disinfection!" The airlock tech shouted over the din of the cycling
atmosphere. The armoured figure inside the small chamber turned around as pipes in the ceiling sprayed ethanol onto its metal suit. The chemical remanent the outside air washed down the drain. Warm air flooded the chamber, now entirely clean of any outside factors that would be unappreciated in Bunker 3. A door slid open opposite the entrance and the armour walked through it into a disassembly bay.
"Would you like to try our deluxe storage, for the modest price of only 40 extra minutes per day?" One of the techs said.
"No." Replied the armour.
"Then prepare for us to disassemble your bio-suit, honoured guest." The tech said, and he moved to the side of the room and pulled a lever. At once, several mechanical arms descended from the ceiling, all with various attachments like drills, clamps and lubricant dispensers, and began to disassemble the mechanical suit of armour. Parts of the armour were pulled away and deposited into a storage crate, slowly revealing the sweat and vinyl covered woman. The tech approached her with a computerised clipboard and stylus. "Please state your name, age, date of birth, cup size and opinion of the novel '1984' by George Orwell."
"Payton Wolf, 27, October 23rd 1998, C's and never read it." The woman said in a deep, husky, and tired voice, but one could still make out the slight annoyance and puzzlement as to why her cup size would matter. "Will that be a problem?"
"Not at all Miss." Said the tech, and he gestured to a rectangular portion of the electronic form. "Thumb print please." She pressed her thumb to the pad. "I have input your service time, which is to pay for your accommodation, food, storage and entertainment from 0600 to exactly 1042, is this time frame acceptable?"
"I suppose so." Payton said, still annoyed that 'The Legion of Humanity' had decided to set up here of all places.
"Please note that at you must attend service at your prescribed time every day until your departure, minimum stay time is one service plus time leading up to said term. The result of not attending a service or attempted to leave before the minimum stay time has elapsed will result in execution." The tech said, as he stepped aside and the door out into Bunker 3 opened.
"Whatever," Payton said, brushing past the tech and entering the bunker.
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It was only once Payton reached her allotted room when she allowed her gruff outer persona to drop. She instantly flung herself onto the bed and reached for the zipper under her chin. She drew it down, exposing the flesh of her luscious chest one inch at a time. The zipper went down, and down, and down, passing her navel and continuing along her wet vulva. The zipper's descent exposed a thin wire hanging out of her vagina.
"Oh fuck." Payton moaned as she tugged on the wire, pulling the small, vibrating, egg shaped device that it was connected to out of her. She pulled a small box out of one of her pouched that ringed her thighs and hit a switch, the egg stopped vibrating. Payton raised the egg on the wire to her mouth and sucked on it, lazily massaging her vulva with the other.
She had seen the posters on her way up here. The group known as 'The Legion of Humanity' were a splinter group from the hyper militaristic bunker 7, thrown out because of their near suicidal tactics and reckless security policy. In short, it was the fastest way to make sure she was converted. Sure mercenary work was fine and all, but the pay was dropping as humanity's resources were claimed by the robots and she had defeated everyone who posed a challenge and she wouldn't get killed for killing. That and there was something so deliciously naughty about 1: doing the exact opposite of what everyone else said to do and 2: joining a society made up exclusively of hot women-like people.
The posters had said that sign ups were at 1200 hours, Payton's first 'Service' was from 0600 to 1042, and if what she'd heard about the 'services' were true... well, she'll just have to wait and find out.
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She woke at 0530 the next morning, breakfasted and cleaned her vinyl catsuit before fully equipping herself. The radio next to her bed had turned on to wake her up, blaring the propaganda that she had expected, but an advert for the Legion made her perk up with one leg in the constricting material.