My friend's friend said “Keep lying to yourself. Eventually, even someone like you ought to get tired of lying. Maybe then you’ll start telling the truth.”
“Or he could forget that what he’s saying is a lie and never learn to tell the truth.”
“That too.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
“For the most part, yes. Life is all trial and error, and this dear lad happens to be our erotic guinea pig.”
“Erotic… you mean exotic?”
“No idea; I guess he’ll have to be content with being a regular guinea pig.”
“What happened to our last one?”
“Um… he died while we were testing gravity.”

My friend said "Now she really started to cry, and when Iestin didnt take her to the bed, but to a a deep set alcove, swathed in beautiful printed silks and muslins, intricately carved wood, and thick downy cushions, she was full on weeping."

My friend again said " Amabil visits often. Now I regret his company, and the attempt of friendship I had made. His interest is only in my womb. The perverted mind which controls him is filled with thoughts of how my being works, as if I were some creature hung up by a butcher. I prefer the soft measured beat of the child, than his leering eye and purring voice."