Sill Plain (Rance) / Myself

Author's Note (SPOILER WARNING): This is going to be from the doll's perspective. Also, the first several chapters are going to have the perspective character feeling overall quite upset. Please be reassured that the intention is for the doll to (slowly) come to be rather happy with her new life. The idea is that at first, the doll does things because they are **** to, and then at some point later on realises that they are now doing things of their own free will.

I sit in the bland clinical room along with what must be almost a hundred over young men, all answering the same questionnaire. The questions are very invasive, asking about my sexuality and opinion of BDSM, but hey, I'm getting paid for taking part in this clinical trial, so I can't complain. I see some of the other men are also unsure if they really want to really list their fetishes out truthfully.

Should I really write this down?

Hey, it's not illegal.

I tell the truth.

The pieces of paper are taken away by the clinicians and I can see them feeding my answers, along with everyone else's into a sophisticated looking scanner. Everyone just sits there, silently and nervously.

And then, after a painful thirty minutes of waiting, one of the ladies returns and announces:

"Thank you for participating, everybody. You can all now go, except participant 42. We'd like to perform some... additional tests."

Participant 42... that's me! My eyes go wide and I freeze in place. Am I in trouble? No, I'm into some weird stuff but nothing that could get me put in prison. Or a padded cell. Right? Several fears and anxieties rush through my head as all the rest of the participants take their leave. And then, the woman approaches me.

"Don't worry, you're not in trouble." She says as if she can read my mind. Perhaps the worry is written on my face. "We have just determined that you are the perfect candidate for this trial. By far."

I am led down a hall to another, more private interview room.

"I'm going to be completely up-front with you now. We are planning on finally bringing the Real Doll to UK shores."

My eyes go wide. Real Dolls are all the rage in the US and parts of Asia, but have been banned in the UK and Europe due to the company being unable to convince legislators that the dolls do not have "real" consciousness, and therefore the countries are concerned that the dolls should perhaps be entitled to human rights, notably laws surrounding consent.

The woman sees the understanding in my eyes and anticipates my question.

"We've found a loophole. A new way of configuring the brains of the dolls, that the regulators have agreed will be acceptable. I'm sorry, I can't tell you any more about the details of that. The technology is all extremely hush-hush and tied up in more than a few NDAs."

That sounds... suspicious, but way more importantly than that, I have to know if what I think is about to happen is about to happen. Again, my question is anticipated and answered before I can even say it out loud.

"We want you to be the first man to try out a new version of the European HyperRealDoll. We believe that you have the correct personality required for, well, accurate 'stress testing' of the new design. Essentially we want you to take a doll away, and then at regular intervals we want to interview you and analyze the doll to check how things are going. In return for this invasion of your privacy, you will get a custom-made RealDoll worth around 125 million British Pounds. And assuming our tests don't find any serious problems, you'll be allowed to keep her for life. Oh, and I should say, part of the new European regulations means that you can't sell her, and you can't charge others for using her."

Wow. Just wow. How could one turn down such an offer? Who needs privacy when one could have the most sought-after posession of single men around the world? Of course, I agree to the terms immediately.

I sign a lot of paperwork in the next ten minutes, but it feels like just thirty seconds, because my mind is buzzing with such excitement.

I am led down a hall to another room, where what looks like a large CT scanning machine is waiting for me.

"First, we want to scan your brain. Then we'll explain. It's important that we do things this way round, for the study." She mentions this all extremely casually, as if it's not a big deal.

For some reason, it feels too late to back out. So here I am, lying down in the CT scanner. My brain getting scanned from all sides...