Free Curve Effect (A BBW Box Set of Contemporary, Science Fiction and Paranormal Romances) by Ann Vremont

"Halloween 2169. Epic fail. This is Morgan Macy…over and out.”
    Walking toward the far end of the platform, I hit send to broadcast the video to the inner circle of my Endscape profile then slid the card into the costume's only pocket. Stepping close to one of the train monitors, I growled. The sign either said fifteen or eighteen minutes until the next train. Either was too freaking long if the platform started filling up with drunks while I was dressed in the outfit.
    Minutes ticked down with no one else around and then the elevator door opened. Dreading a fresh round of males, I started walking further down the platform.
    Behind me, a strong, masculine voice called out. "Wait!"
    I groaned -- either the guy was another joker or a drunk looking for a fast fuck with an unengaged pleasure droid. Even though I had no intention of stopping, something about the voice, or the way the platform's acoustics familiarized it, slowed my pace.
    "Halt FU 269."
    FU 269 -- the letters and numbers were emblazoned across my ass in big black print in the exact fashion of a real pleasure droid’s call sign. This wasn’t the first male voice calling out my costume’s unit number -- just the first one I seemed to recognize.
    Blood rushed to my face. Perspiration flashed along my skin only to cool and evaporate a second later from the cold subterranean air. I picked up my pace, not wanting to find out if karma really is a bitch and that the voice ordering me to halt belonged to Vance Gemini, one of the spreadsheet jockeys from the investment house Tina works at.
    The chance to offer Vance a little good (or ill) natured mocking at Tina’s party had been half the reason I had selected the Fantasy Unit costume. I had been running into him off and on over last twelve months. For a numbers guy, he is really into books -- not just the stories but the physical objects that held them. We talked about our favorite reads, old and new, whenever we bumped into one another.
    Funny, smart, seemingly sweet during our conversations and undeniably drop-dead sexy, Vance is next to perfect. I'd say he is perfect, but Tina has complained over and over that he won't date real women with all their "complications." Not that he'd date me anyway -- ever. I'm more real than most women. No visits to the synth farm for me, no five-minute liposuction booth or bone restructuring over lunch to match whatever face is in vogue for the season.
    "FU 269, I said halt ." Encased in a purr, the commanding voice twined around my thighs, its effect like the warm, gentle grip of a lover. "Are you malfunctioning?"
    I stopped dead in my tracks. After suffering several blocks of lewd catcalls and ruder than usual gestures from the men on the street, Vance was the last person I wanted to see while dressed up like a bloated fuck droid. He was supposed to see me like this at the party, where I would be surrounded by a few friends. The big joke wasn't supposed to be me, alone with him on a platform after I had just run a gauntlet of groping male hands and whistles.
    "I want your time, 269." His light growl instantly teased my nipples to hard points.
    My shoulders did a little dance, trying to erase the sensitive puckering of flesh while I puzzled over his order. If it was Vance, he should know better than most that there are no big pleasure droids. Hell, there are very few big girls, period. There are pills for that, if one doesn't mind the side effects. There are needles and micro-surgery, too. There are countless measures for people willing to sign on the dotted line and pay every day for the rest of their lives.
    People like my mother.
    "I said I want your time. Turn around, FU 269."
    My jaw tightened as all the many reasons I had to be angry since leaving work finally coalesced inside my body. Vance knew. Not that it was me, necessarily, but that it was some real girl just like me with real feelings. Yet he apparently intended to be like every other jerk out on the street and teach