Irana woke in a dimly lit room; her dusky skin glistened with sweat.

She looked around, dizzily, trying to work out where she was.

Then she felt the strange weight between her legs…

She sat up with a start. The cylinder fitted between her legs made it look like she had a penis! She yanked at it but only hurt herself. It was firmly attached. It was also freezing cold.

“Frozen sperm”, the voice came. “Just waiting to be defrosted and pumped into you. It’s all firmly attached to your vagina; you’ll feel it getting warm, as the sperm is defrosted, then the whole load will be pumped into you. Shaun wanted his bloodline to carry on, and you are the best candidate to do it.”

“You don’t understand!”, Irana wailed. “Shaun wasn’t my boyfriend! He was my brother!”

“Good”, the voice said. “You should be even more compatible, then…”

The speaker clicked off, leaving Irana in silence…

Irana frantically tried to remove the cylinder. No way was she having her brother’s kids! The harder she pulled, however, the more it hurt. It felt like the cylinder was moulded to her body.

There was a toilet in the corner of the room. She went and sat on it, grimacing as the cylinder clunked against the seat. It was just forward enough to let her sit down and relieve herself.

She sobbed, quietly. How had this happened to her?

She knew of her brother’s death; he had been killed in a car crash months ago. It must have taken that long for her captors to organise this perverse torture. Why had they picked her?

She had spent a great deal of time with her brother before he died; they must have thought she was his girlfriend, as she had only been close to him for the last few years of his life.

She went back to her cot, holding the cylinder to stop it pulling on her. As she did so, she noticed it was starting to get warm…

“No! Please, don’t do this!”, she wailed, pulling at the cylinder again. The cylinder got warmer, then something started pumping in and out inside her…

Moaning, she slumped to her knees, ending up being propped up by the cylinder, which was now pumping hard inside her. She bit her lip moaning, her hands clamping on to the cot.

She lost all track of time as the cylinder pounded her. Everything just dissolved into a combination of ecstasy and shame…

She awoke lying on the floor by the cot; the cylinder was lying on the floor beside her, silent.

“Was it good for you, too?”, Irana said, quietly and ironically, looking at it.

Shuddering, she got to her feet, then weakly crawled back onto the cot, wrapping herself up to keep warm, and fell asleep.

She awoke back in her bed in her flat. Had it all been a dream, albeit a very vivid one?

Irana then looked at her phone. A week had gone past. Oh god, it really happened, and it was way too late to take the ‘morning after’ pill…!

She realised that her captors had arranged everything. There was even an appointment booked on her phone calendar for a ‘checkup’.

She also saw a now very faint line round her vagina, where the cylinder had been fastened to her…

A month later, the morning sickness started.

She was pregnant with twins.

What was she going to do…?