The statue glowed and the mass of realistic material shimmered before its shape began to change. When I stopped a wood nymph with long red hair stood ...here the material had been.A young woman cleared her throat and I spun and looked at her. She grinned, "that was ... interesting."I glanced at the door but it was still closed. She walked closer and looked at the nymph, "I was in the corner looking at the satyr."She looked at me, "are you making a fuck doll?"She was a short woman with golden. When the music began its hypnotic beat, and the colored lights began flashing in syncopation to the dazzling flashes in her brain, Darcie began dancing. Her hands slid over her body, squeezed her own breasts. She undulated and pranced and postured, using dance moves that had been drilled into her brain by a 100,000 virtual-reality repetitions in the mind-control chair, her body getting hotter by the second, her thoughts now channeled into the one hope that she might excite a club patron. More

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