2
Erica Roberts, Interstellar Brides Processing Center, Earth
Everything was dark, but I could hear my warriors moving to surround me, touch me.
Claim me.
I’d been waiting for this for weeks, longing for them to give in and take me as one in front of the others…
That thought stopped me cold and my heart raced, the hard memory of the processing chair back in that cold, clinical room at the bride testing center intruded on my bliss, as did the pounding of my heart, not in fear, but in anticipation.
For as much as this woman’s mind, whoever she was, wanted this claiming, I wanted it, too. This wasn’t my body. In some far off, rational part of myself I knew that. But it felt real.
It was a dream. But it wasn’t. But it sure as f**k felt real. It was real, to her, and somehow I was to sha
