Virtual Sex Madame

Author's note: this is an experimental non-erotica piece. Thanks for reading!

I made my way through the Multi-nation´s market on Wednesday night, heading to my weekly VSM appointment.

"You should go get ready for it," my boss said to me earlier, handing me a permit to leave my station before time, "you seem a bit down and I think you could use some relief."

I wasn't eager to show up for this. The idea of making love to a cold sex doll had never appealed to me, but it had now become a compulsory citizen duty so there was no way around it. All adults, both man and women, were expected to go at least once a week to relieve their sexual tension at the virtual reality club, using a robot doll as a companion. We had taken to call her V.SM: a virtual sex madame, and some simply referred to her as "the doll."

Well, I didn't want to meet the doll tonight.

"I would feel a lot more relief if I didn't have to go, sir," I dared saying. He gave me a deep look of concern, and then looked around to make sure no one had heard us.

"I don't want to have to report you," he said in a worried tone, "You know you have to comply."

"I know, it's just..."

"Just what?"

I couldn't exactly tell him what it was, I didn't even know myself. All I knew was that I had been dreading Wednesday nights for a while now and it filled me with an immense sense of guilt. Why couldn't I be grateful? I knew I should be content with this perfect arrangement for my human desires, yet I couldn't help to think I'd feel a lot more human if I wasn't forced to do it.

I couldn't say that out loud, of course. It was too much of a risk.

"I'm sorry, sir." I said, looking down. "I'll comply, of course. Thank you for your concern."

There was really nothing else to say or do. Just comply. Comply with everything, they said, and you'll be guaranteed a happy, calm, desire-free life.

"Hey there! Heading to the club?"

As I crossed the market street someone came from behind and tapped me on the shoulder, and I was met with the round, cheerful face of my old school friend, D.

"Yes, I'm heading there." I answered.

"Why do you look so down? Shouldn't you be happy?"

I'd known D for years. He was the kind of guy who didn't take anything seriously, not even our strict code of conduct, and he'd been reported so many times for indecent behavior - meaning, he had laughed in public, or talked too loud, or refused to go to his VSM sessions - that I was surprised he hadn't been kicked out of the our ward already. He was, in short, someone you could trust and open up to.

"I don't know. I don't think I can handle it anymore." I said in response to his question.

"Handle what? The sex?"

God, I hated that word. It made me cringe from the inside and made me want to hide under my bed and never come out again. But he'd guessed right. I did feared The sex, as he had called it.

"I wish I had no desires, none whatsoever," I cried, feeling desperate, "I wish I was free from that."

He walked down with me a few steps until we reached the waiting line at the club. Wednesday nights were the busiest days over there, as everyone preferred to take care of this obligation to make room for other citizen duties over the weekends.

"Human nature thrives on desire," D said, quoting from one of our textbooks, "it can't be helped. If you don't control your desires, your desires will control you, and then you'll be a thread to others."

"Yeah, I know."

"Come on, I'm just messing with you!" He let out an ample smile. I noticed people in line looking at him alarmed, probably thinking he was being indecent, "I don't believe any of that crap. You are a person, not a machine, you can't control what you want and what you feel any more than the animals in the farms can. You shouldn't have to do what you don't want to do, and do only what you do want to do."

"I don't know what I would want to do," I admitted.

"Don't you have a wife?"

"I do. Been married for five years now."

"Then why not have sex with her instead of a dummy?"

My face felt hot at the mere thought of it.

"That's dirty," I said, scandalized by his suggestion.

"It's not dirty at all, not any more dirty than doing it with a doll that's been used by hundreds of other people before you. Tell me, when was the last time you two went on date?"

"I...I don't remember."

"Are you serious?"

"We never meet. We have different schedules. We usually communicate by text or e-mail, it's more comfortable that way."

D shook his head.

"That's messed up. This world is messed up."

"It's a great honor to be a citizen." I remarked.

"Honor my ass. Look over there, see that lovely girl?"

He pointed to the market which was the opposite street from us, to a young-looking girl busy doing her weekly shopping. She stopped by a fruit stand, reading over her list -the list they had prepped for her, I was sure, - and was selecting what she needed.

"What about her?" I asked.

"Don't you think she is pretty?"

"She is...adequate."

That was the only flattering thing we were allowed to say about another, however, I had to agree: the woman was gorgeous. She had long brown hair which had come

loose under her cap (she probably hadn't noticed or she would have fixed it right away), her skin was of a soft shade of brown, similar to tea with too much milk in it, and she had big, dark eyes that seemed to me more alive than the entire market. She was not very tall, but she was slender, with a small waist and a gracious shape that even her uniform could not hide.

After she paid for three oranges she got lost in the crowd of uninformed citizens, out of our sight. I looked away, feeling dirty for allowing myself to stare at her for that long.

"Adequate? What does that even mean?" D said with a laugh.

"You would know if you read the Interaction and Conversation guide."

"Then I rather not read it and come up with my own description."

"How would you describe her, then?"

He paused for a minute to think.

"Beautiful."

I was sure others heard us, and almost expected the police to fall on us at any time. The line kept moving, growing shorter and shorter, and I wasn't sure whether to feel sad or glad that it was almost my turn so that I could escape this conversation.

"You can't just say that." I said, alarmed.

"She's not my type," he said, ignoring my comment, "but she is not bad. Given the option, - and provided she agrees to it - wouldn't you like to have sex with her instead of a doll?"

"Why would I? The V.S.M feels the same. So they say." I replied. I'd never been with a real woman before and I wasn't sure I really wanted to, either, but I couldn't imagine it being that much different.

"You can't compare the warmth of a person to one of those damn dolls. There's a myth around that you could hire a real person to do it with, but, hear me out, if you both agree to do it for free, then it doesn't matter right?"

"What?!"

Up until now I had believed him incapable of feeling shame, yet, when he answered this time, his cheeks had flushed red, and his eyes had a strange, naughty light in them.

"I met a guy the other day," he said, "Actually, I've known him for a while, but we've never had a drink before. Well, the other night we hit the bar and started talking about how messed up this world is and how we believe people should be more free and, hear me out, he said people don't really have to be rich to hire sex with other people. He said we could do it with each other for free if we wanted to and, you know, I thought I might want to give that a try."

I was startled by his suggestion, how could he even think about that? What about the nasty exchange of fluids, the disappointment of human imperfections, the smells, the sensations? Had he forgotten everything we learn during Sex Ed training?

"You could catch a disease," I replied, trying my best to hide my disgust.

"How can we catch a disease if none of us have ever been with anyone real before?"

"Still, it could happen."

"Oh, come on! You can't possibly believe that?"

"I've heard stories."

"But have you met anyone like that? Ever? You think anyone who is not perfectly healthy would be allowed to stay within these wards? Come on, man, think about it! We are all very good and clean."

"That's just...I mean..." I couldn't find a way to reply to him, it all just seemed so odd to me. "It's just not right."

"But it is right, I'm telling you, otherwise why force these meetings at all? it's because it's normal to want to have sex with someone you like that they even allow you to customize the doll to make it look like a guy or a girl or your what ever the fuck turns you on," he said, evidently disappointed on me for not following his abhorrent logic, "Don't you feel curious about it? How it might feel?"

I shook my head. We were taught sex was dirty, unworthy of evolved human beings such as ourselves. And until humanity advance into its glorious Ascension, were we would all be rid of such low desires, the best way to go about it was to keep them under control with the use of simulators, virtual sex madames and appropriate social conduct.

"It's my turn now," I said to him, ready to enter the club. "you should come in, too."

"No way, I'm not fucking a doll anymore. I'd give my guy a try instead."

"Then I guess this is goodbye." It pained me to say it, but I knew at least a dozen people had reported him by now, and it was unlikely I'll ever see him again. He simply smiled, waved goodbye, and started walking out towards the market, whistling a cheerful tune.

I got into my private booth and changed into the sterilized sensor suit, then tried to make myself comfortable as I lay on a reclining chair and put on the virtual reality helmet. The doll was there, too, hanging lifeless on the wall. Once the simulation began, she would come alive and move and do anything I asked her too.

I was repulsed by the mere look of it.

"Excuse me...how many times has she been used tonight?" I asked out loud, knowing the programmer on the other side of the booth could hear me.

"It has been perfectly sterilized and cleaned sir, there's nothing to worry about," came the dry, monotone reply.

That made me unease. There had been at least forty people waiting in line before me and there were only five dolls in this club.

"Any preferences tonight, sir?" the programmer asked as I took a seat, preparing myself for the night.

I let out a long sigh. A programmer's job was to upload and oversee the simulation. They had to ask this question every time, and every time my answer was the same:

"Whatever you have is fine. Pick one for me."

"Man or woman?"

This person must have been new. I was sure there had to be records somewhere of what I usually had.

"It doesn't matter," I replied, afraid to say anything more and get reported.

"Are you sure? I can make it anything you like. If you have a colleague, or a relative or anyone you fancy, just tell me and I can make it happen. It's safe. This is all perfectly safe."

"Don't you feel curious about it? How it might feel?"

D's words came rushing back to me. I realized there was something I wanted: I wanted something real, something beautiful.

Something like the girl at the market.

"I don't care, anything is fine, really," I said instead. That girl was beautiful, indeed. She did not deserve for me to use her likeness this way.

"This is a controlled environment, made precisely for you to experience your wildest, darkest, hottest fantasies. It's safe, and no one gets hurt. Don't worry, just enjoy yourself! Now tell me, what is it that you want?"

They were onto me. They'd noticed me. They knew I didn't want to do it, they knew of my conversation with D.

They were testing me.

D's words came back to me with even more strength than before. The panic of getting caught, of not knowing what was going to happen, of my impending doom, it was all too much for me. My heart was racing on my chest.

"Don't you feel curious about it? How it might feel?"

But I know how it feels, don't I?

"Don't you feel curious about it? How it might feel?"

Yes, yes, I was curious.

That's what I had wanted all along, the real desire that consumed me from within, which I hadn't noticed or had chosen to ignore, and it had now come to surface boiling hot, ready to consume me and to take away all I had worked hard to keep.

I knew now what I wanted: I wanted to be touched. I wanted to be held and kissed, to be told I was not disgusting or dirty or unworthy or undeserving.

I wanted to love. I wanted to be loved. I wanted to be human, with all the good and the bad that came with it.

And I didn't want to comply.

I looked at the plastic dummy, and I knew I couldn't do it. Not tonight. Not anymore. Not to this suit that had been used over and over, day in and day out by everyone from this ward. Not to this soul-less piece of plastic and wired. Not to a virtual sex madame, but to a person.

"It's all right, sir. We can take care of it for you."

An electric impulse was sent artificially through the connectors, releasing a calculated dose of endorphins and oxytocin in my brain. I felt the sweet relief of ecstasy relaxing my body, drowning my mind. But I was not satisfied.

In their eyes, I had been contaminated.

I was no longer a citizen.

I came home later that night, and sat at the kitchen table, staring blankly at out the window, knowing it would be a matter of time before they came for me. A whole life of complying wasted for a moment's doubt and hesitation. Human desire really was a dangerous thing.

I heard steps in the hall and mentally prepared for my end. But I was even more surprised to see the person walking in.

"Oh..."

My wife looked at me startled. I forgot she'd text me announcing her visit, and in all honesty, I had forgotten about her at all.

"What's the matter, sweetheart?"She took a few slow steps, staring at me with a mix of surprise and curiosity. "Are you happy to see me?"

She sat her shopping bags on the kitchen table. A single round orange felt from one of them, and rolled down the floor.

"Sweetheart, are you...crying?"

I looked at her for the first time in five years of marriage.

She had long brown hair and dark eyes.