He should be mad, he should demand an answer. He shouldn’t be acting like this. ‘Well, how ’bout we go get some coffee or something, so I can t...lk to you.’ Her voice felt weak. They drove in his car to the shop across the street. It was quaint, and like all the rest, smelt strong of coffee. Brook was feeling more comfortable in this atmosphere. She felt a little more in control. They sat down at a table in the corner and Brook sucked in a long breath. ‘Casey, I made a mistake the other day.’. It carried a small canister on it's back, probably some sort of breathing apparatus judging from the periodic hissing noise it emitted every few seconds. As it walked briskly into the room, we could see it was short, not much more than a meter tall. It was bipedal and had oddly shaped hands. They were gloved and appeared to be thick, elongated pads with four opposing digits on either side, generally modeled after a Venus flytrap leaf. It took a seat in an oddly designed chair and was. Afterall, he had built her new body for sex, and he had done a good job ofit. Her neural pathways had been properly programmed and her instinctscorrectly set up so that whether her struggling male soul wished it ornot she was now his sex-slave. He enjoyed the pink tendrils thatflashed through her aura as he readied himself to finalise herinitiatory sex session.She couldn't even remember her name right now. She had a vaguerecollection that she should have been objecting to what she was doing,but. Margaret was sitting by herself on a two-seater swing sofa, and the other two were lying on separate sun-loungers. He was now wearing just a thong which covered his genitalia. He was facing me when he dropped the thong and put his legs apart, so that they could see his balls dangling from behind. “Wow!” He turned round to face them. “Wow! Have you got golf balls in there?” I hadn’t really noticed before how big his balls were, I’d only focused on how low they hung, which must have been almost.