I threw her over my shoulder with no effort, like a pillow. I took her down a dark corridor to the last room. At first the room looks like an exercise...room, which it is except for the breeding bench. I put her down on the bench. I wrapped a soft leather strap around her neck securing her head in place, facing forward. My hands ran down the lines of her back, spine, ribs, full, dangling breasts. My hands are always moving, always working, cinching strap after strap into place, restraining her. ” ‘I don’t understand.’ ‘That’s because you’re not real.’ ‘He might never come again.’ ‘I don’t know if I want him to come again.’ A pause. ‘Are you happy?’ A long pause. ‘Yes. I have others. Friends. Family. Someone new.’ she smiles. ‘I’m happy.’ ‘But sad too.’ ‘Yes, sad too.’ ‘So why are you here?’ She thinks. Her legs relax, slowly moving away from her curled position. ‘I didn’t know I was happy. Sometimes I’m not happy.’ ‘Do you want to be real?’ Thinks again. Choosing.. More

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