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I must tell Simon soon. If I tell him, I can choose the moment; if I don't he will ask me, at the most inappropriate time. Finally, as the sun rises, I think of Yukiko. I jump off the bed, I want to run down to the basement to see how she is doing, but I know full well that I cannot leave the room until I am clean and presentable.This means showering, douching with cold water, and doing my eyes and hair. After all of this is completed, I put on yesterday's pumps, which really hurt as soon as you stand on them, and walk out to the kitchen. There were no instructions yesterday as far as how to dress, and that means no clothes. Nude I walk into the kitchen and notice the coffee brewing. Vicky must have started it. I check the coffee maker. It will take about five minutes for the coffee to finish brewing. I can go down to the basement and check on Yukiko for five minutes. I run down and find Vicky, also nude, emptying Yukiko's bladder. She drinks her urine, not spilling a drop, then. It was then he suddenly realized that all thepeople around, every last one he saw standing or sitting or moving about,was female."I'll be back shortly. I need to check on his injection," Pamala said toJulia. Pamala started to walk towards the door leading to the nursingstation then stopped and turned back towards Julia, with an amused smirk."Now, might actually be a good time to... install his little gift," shesaid with a tiny shrug. She turned back around after that, made her wayto the nursing station, and began talking with one of the women workingon a computer.Julia stepped over to Erica and looked down at him with a sadistic glintin her eyes. He looked like a trapped animal, small, petrified,surrounded by his betters, sitting there in a cute, pink, nursing dress.He was looking at all the women around him, trembling, struggling tomaintain composure. It felt so oddly satisfying looking at him so weakand pliant, just a simple injection away from starting to fill out thetop of his.
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“For a moment there I thought you were serious,” she shouted, throwing a bit of onion at him. “Don’t do that to me!”“I am serious,” said The Beast, deadpan. “My dancing could not be a more solemn matter. You should see my plié.”She grinned at him in amused disbelief. From there The Beast took control of the conversation, which led to Rose doing most of the talking. At home, her family had always spoken of their own affairs. Her role, when she had one at all, had been to listen and react as best she could to please them. The Beast, by contrast, quizzed her intently on the minutiae of her life, asked her opinion on the topics that arose, and requested clarification when her answers did not fully satisfy him.She found herself telling him of her mother’s death when she was still too young to fully understand. Of the sudden absence and the rooms filled with sadness; of the vague explanations and her mother’s half-remembered face. She spoke of the sudden sense that she had become surplus.

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