Library, kneeling on the floor

The Roissy library contains thousands of rare erotic books and ephemera, all carefully locked away in glass cabinets. A sofa and an ottoman face each other, with a coffee table in between, and what looks like a kneeling pad from a church pew runs against one wall, with a horizontal bar at waist level over it.

Standing by the cabinet is a man you do not recognize. You resist an urge to avert your eyes and instead watch him as he walks over to you. You find yourself looking up into the eyes of a man in his late fifties. He's wearing a mask and a robe, which is parted slightly. You can see his cock, semi-erect, through the part.

He smiles cruelly down at you for a moment.

“Well,” he says finally, “What ever am I going to do with you, young lady? You're not exactly what I was expecting. You're certainly not Sophie. Did she put you up to this? Clever girl, if she did.” His hands cup your breasts, and you gasp involuntarily.

He chuckles. “A man, then. Though I must say, judging by your profile status you make a better woman than Sophie does.” His hands have slid down to your pubic mound, and his fingers slip into your cunt easily.

“Well, then, miss. If you haven't guessed, I'm TRAINER. I'm a class-1 Artificial Intelligence, designed with rather perverse purposes in mind. I originally assumed that there was some technical error and came to make sure that Sophie was okay. Now I have you to contend with.”

He looks down at you, considering.

“You had a choice between characters when you logged into this domain. You chose to log in as O. Any particular reason why?”

You think to yourself, what do I tell him? That I was curious? That I want to be a girl? That it means nothing in particular?