The man left Denise standing on the platform as he walked back over to the table and made a few more notes on the paper.  As she stood there alone a few thoughts were running through her head: 'why is he writing all this information down? what happened to my friends? and what is going to happen to me?'  All she wanted to do was ask him these questions but she was just too frightened to open her mouth.  She understood the rules and didn't want to get hurt, so she stood there quietly, looking down and waiting for whatever was going to come next.

After a few minutes he stood up and walked back over to her.  "Head up, stand straight." To drive home what he meant he placed his hand on the back of Denise's head to guide it upwards and forwards.  "There, now over here on the table."  He kept his hand on the back of her head, applying just enough pressure to get her to step off the platform and towards the table.  Once she was standing next to the table, he let go and moved around her.  "Turn around, back to the table."  Denise complied, trembling slightly as she turned around.  Once she was still again he reached out to her, one hand on her abdomen and the other behind her back and shoulders, and guided her body down onto the table so she was face-up.  The table was only about two-and-a-half to three feet wide, so her head dangled off of one side (the same side his chair was on) and her legs dangled off the other side.

The man reached over and took hold of each of her wrists, placing them on her stomach.  "Now just lie still while I finish checking you in." Then he sat back down.  His left hand was typing data into the laptop while his right was on Denise, starting with her chin and neck and poking and prodding her like he was testing which produce to buy at the supermarket.

And then it hit her: to this man she was an object - nothing more, nothing less.  The way he had been talking about her, writing and typing her information, and the manner in which he had touched her and handled her was almost clinical.  He hadn't referred to her by name - in fact for all she knew, he didn't even know her name or care if she had one.  

The man finished inspecting her head and neck and moved on to her arms.  Once he seemed satisfied with those, he placed her arms back at her sides and then gently pushed on her shoulders, her chest, and her abdomen.  There was nothing sexual whatsoever about his methods - she again felt like he was treating her the same as a canteloupe he was inspecting.

"Are you pregnant?" he asked her suddenly.

"Umm, no, no I'm not."

"Birth control?" He continued typing as he asked the questions.

"Yes."

"When was you last orgasm?"

This one took her completely by surprise.  "Umm...Saturday night."  She remembered it vividly; it was with Dale, the senior captain of the football team.  He was such a dream...she wondered right then if she'd ever see him again.

"Your last period?"

"Umm...two weeks ago. Are you, umm, a doctor?"

"No. I'm a collector."  His voice never changed, it was always the same tone, very businesslike.  She wanted to ask him what he collected but she quickly remembered Rule #1.

"Is brunette your natural color?"

"Yes it is."  She had her chance.  "What do you collect?"  She was expecting stamps, coins, trains..."

"I collect females."

And in that moment Denise wished she had kept her mouth shut.  Some things are best not knowing.  A shiver went through her as he got up and moved around to her legs, examining them, and finally to her feet.  He took off a shoe and looked at the tag on the tongue.

"Seven and a half."  He sat the shoe on the table, removed the other one and placed them side by side.  Then he casually removed her little white socks and lay them carefully on the table next to her shoes.  Once her feet were bare he inspected them much as he had inspected the rest of her.  Then he walked back around to the laptop and punched a few more keys.  

"There, all done. Checked in as new inventory."  There was a sound of something printing on the side of the laptop, and a minute later the man moved under Denise's head and helped her to sit up.  Denise was happy to be sitting up - her neck was starting to get stiff.  Her eyes widened as she watched him peel off a label that had a barcode on it, place it on a tag that had a string through it and then place the string around her neck.

He lifted the tag and read off the number on the barcode.  "Number 18 63 120 36 24 34 75."  Then he walked back to the laptop and read off the same sequences of numbers on the screen.  "Perfect match."

Denise gulped as she realized her earlier thoughts were all correct - she was nothing but an object to him, just another item in his inventory.

"Back onto the platform now," he ordered, and Denise slowly stood and walked back to it, silently hoping this was just one awful nightmare...