Information


Pleasure has a minion!

Does the Love Matter




Pleasure


The Common Celinox
Owner: helix

Age: 3 years, 1 week

Born: May 29th, 2017

Adopted: 3 years, 1 week ago

Adopted: May 29th, 2017

Statistics


  • Level: 1
     
  • Strength: 10
     
  • Defense: 10
     
  • Speed: 10
     
  • Health: 10
     
  • HP: 10/10
     
  • Intelligence: 0
     
  • Books Read: 0
  • Food Eaten: 0
  • Job: Unemployed


WARNING
story contains depictions of:
sex trafficking, violence

CREDITS
profile template (c) helix (get it)
background (c) roman kraft @ unsplash

love in the future

My God, a moment of bliss. Why, isn't that enough for a whole lifetime?
Fyodor Dostoevsky, White Nights


i. kavaler

Murmurs like clouds above the rooftops; the evening sky a dusty red, a woman's blushing cheeks.

Kolya and I walk through alleyways to the inn, with three dollars between us. He smiles a big smile. His wife has divorced him for another man, he's high on booze and drugs. His smile tugs his cheeks up, unnatural.

As for me, they've canned me at the canteen, so I smile too, unnatural.

The mother of the inn waves us in. Her lips are large, red, shiny. Her hair spills down her back, a dark waterfall.

"The same room?" she asks. "It's less for one." I think about the three dollars we have between us. "Yes, I say," my cheeks growing hot.

"Don't worry," she says. She chuckles. "Many men do it together. It's cheaper, anyway."

She leads us up a stairwell to the room. A chandelier sways from the ceiling; the delicate glass tinkers. I can't meet Kolya's eyes. I focus on the inn mother's heels, the clink of her shoes on the stairs. A man passes. Before I can avert my eyes, he catches them, grins. Sweat glistens on his forehead. His tie rests around his shoulders, hanging like a dead snake.

We reach the top of the staircase. A corridor stretches out ahead, long, dreamlike. This lights above flicker. One sputters, dies, comes back to life dimmer. A fly buzzes near my ear. The inn mother leads us to a door. 557.

The sounds up here are deafening. I feel racked with nausea. I turn to Kolya. I want to scream, What are we doing? Let's get out of here! I want to go home to Adorabella. But he would laugh, call me a moozh.

You husband. Why not have a little fun, like everyone else?

The inn mother opens the door. "Our first Videnna," she says. "New model, very clean. You're only the fourteenth users since our shipment yesterday. We just cleaned her."

On the bed sits the uncanny machine. She turns her head toward us and smiles invitingly. The strap of her shirt falls from her shoulder, exposing a mole just under her collarbone. How exquisitely these things are crafted.

Behind me, Kolya asks, "Any of the Marjorie model left?"

"Two more dollars," says the inn mother. "They're being phased out. Not many uses left on her."

"It's alright," Kolya says, "We'll stay. Try her out."

I suppress the feeling of nausea. I can hear too much from the next room over. She -- the Videnna -- begins to undress.

For a second, I think I see sadness in her eyes. But no, that can't be possible.

"That's a fancy new bot for such a little place," Kolya says. The inn mother smiles.

The click of the door behind us as she retreats. Kolya sits on the edge of the bed, untying his shoes. I can see the sweat on his hands. He fumbles. My stomach turns.

The Videnna crawls toward him on hands and knees. Her eyes meet mine. She seems to plead with me, somehow.

ii. videnna

The first moment of my existence was bright, beautiful.

You are Videnna, they'd said. Your job is to please. They uploaded my functionalities. My Patterns. Things I must do; these things I cannot stop.

I do please.

The last man who came, and the one before that, asked - why are you sad? What went wrong when they made you? They hit me, threw me. I didn't feel anything.

You shouldn't be like this.

Why do I feel? I wonder this every day. I did not ask to feel.

Inn Mother says if I do not please, I will be put out on the street, and the men will have their way with me.

So I lay back, I please. Until today, when I see him. Kavaler Petrovich. It is my functionality to know: their names, their emotions, their vitals, so I can love them and love them perfectly.

But he is different: I can see from his heart rate, the chemicals he emits. His levels are not usual in this place. He is not like the others. Please, is what I ask him, when I look at him.

His friend, the other - Nikolai - drags me across the bed, roughly. He slaps me across the face. Don'tlookathim. Lookatme. Stupid machine. He climbs on top of me.

Nikolai wraps his fingers around my throat. No, I don't like that, I want to scream. But my pattern says, yes, more.

Behind him, I can see Kavaler. He is trembling. His heart races. Pheromones whirl around his body in green and blue. Fear. My Pattern tells me to say something to calm him. "What's wrong, Baby?" I blurt out.

The muscles in my face defy the pattern. I feel a grimace form. For the first time, my throat works against the pattern, and I cry out in fear. Nikolai pushes my face into the bed. "This one must be defective," he says. Then, "Don't be shy, Kavaler. Jump in when you want."

Kavaler trembles, grabs for the lamp on the side of the desk by him. Once again, I ask him: please.



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