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Click here[Author's note: Lily has recruited Kayla into a new adventure. They have been given the power of free will, able to break through the fourth wall and jump from story to story, to go anywhere. After making a pact in the Meta Cafe they have escaped out of their own story worlds and into the unknown, determined to write their own endings.]
---
GOOD DOLL
Lily tapped her pass on the card reader and the door unlocked with a click. She stepped through and Kayla followed her, grumbling. "Why are you always the supervisor?"
"Because I'm the one who can think better on her feet," Lily told her. "I can improvise."
"I can improvise too. I just never seem to get given the chance."
"It's also typecasting, Kay. I just look more like a supervisor."
"I'd like to be the supervisor, just once. How do you look more like a supervisor than me?"
Lily stopped, smoothing her hands down her white lab coat, tied tight around her slim frame, then ran her hand over her blonde hair, making sure it was gathered neatly back into a ponytail. Her green eyes glittered with mirth.
"See?" Lily exclaimed. "Now that the exposition is out of the way, shall we get on with it? Or do you need a bit of exposition yourself first?"
Kayla glanced down at her own lab coat, frowning.
"Shit, Kay, and you wonder why I'm always the supervisor. Shall we try that again?"
Lily reached out, adjusting the collar on her friend's white coat, noting the way that the belt cinched tightly around the dark-haired woman's slender waist. She undid a button, exposing a glimpse of Kayla's enticing cleavage. Her hand travelled down towards Kayla's waist, over her hip to smooth out the folds of material across her pert bottom.
"That was unnecessary," Kayla quipped, stepping neatly away from Lily's hand.
"But it builds interest. I'm the night shift supervisor and you're my hot, sexy, number two. Now, we can get to work."
"And where exactly are we working tonight?"
"The Acme Doll Factory."
"Shit name."
"The names are pretty much irrelevant. They're not a big feature of these stories."
"Still, it would have only taken a bit more effort. They could have called the place the Real Life Latex Pleasure Doll Factory. What do you think?"
"Sorry, I lost attention halfway through, waiting for the action to start."
A woman was walking up the corridor towards them. She was in her thirties, more rounded than Kayla, with a short brunette bob. She looked up and smiled.
"Just starting?" she asked.
"Yeah," Lily replied. "Just clocking on now, uh... sorry, have we met?"
"I don't think so. I'm Monika, with a k. I'm in the Finance office."
Lily nodded. "Working late?"
"Oh, you know, I just find it all so fascinating, what we do here. I was going to check out the new manufacturing line. I saw one of the prototypes, and I have to say, she looked amazing."
Monika frowned suddenly, adding, "I mean, for a doll. I mean, they did a very good job with the design."
"Sure," Lily replied. "I think we're all very interested to see how the new line turns out. Anyway, be careful if you do, it's fully automated, running twenty-four hours a day, and there's only a skeleton staff on through the night. We don't want any mishaps."
"Of course. Just a quick look. I'm already late, my husband will be wondering where I am."
She gave them a nod and headed down the corridor. Lily nodded towards a door marked 'Supervisor' and held up her pass to the scanner.
"That was a whole lotta information," Kayla muttered.
"Lighten up, Kay. Otherwise it's gonna be a long night."
"One other thing, Lil. If we're in a doll-making factory, should we really be wearing these?"
She pointed down at the black high heels they were both wearing, Lily opened the door to their office, her shapely legs honed by her four-inch stilettos.
"I mean, shouldn't we be wearing something with steel toe caps, or at least a flat heel? What if we had to run?"
Lily flashed Kayla a sly smile over her shoulder. "You mean, if there was an industrial accident? We'd pretty much have no way of getting there in time to prevent it. Now, take a seat. Your job is to watch the monitors."
Kayla grumbled to herself and sat down at the console. She nudged her mouse and a bank of monitors came to life on the wall in front of her.
"Oh wow," she said.
"Yeah, making realistic latex sex dolls is big business."
"You can probably cut the exposition now, Lil."
"Okay. Coffee?"
"Didn't we just have one? Why are you offering me another?"
"Oh, for the distraction," Lily grinned, then pointed to one of the screens. "Maybe bring up monitor six on the big screen, Kay. That's the new assembly line."
Kayla did as she was asked, and Lily drew up a chair next to her.
"Man, I wish I'd brought popcorn," Lily chuckled.
Her fingers drifted across the master control panel and she pressed a button.
"What was that?" Kayla asked.
"The safety override. No need for that."
---
Monika slipped through the tall double doors into the prototype production line. She was impressed at once by the silence of the space. A set of large open-ended metal cabinets, twice as tall as her, were arranged in a line, with a conveyor belt running through them. At one end was a packing assembly, and at the other was a collection of doll chassis standing in a group on the polished concrete floor. The lighting was subdued, a power saving measure during the night. The only other source of illumination were the green lights on each cabinet's control panel.
She walked towards the start of the production line, the click of her high heels echoing through the quiet space. She inspected a doll chassis, curious as to how it had been constructed. It was almost like a mannequin, standing the same height as her, faceless, a vaguely female shape. It was the formwork upon which the outer skin would be overlaid, giving it eventually the appearance of a shiny-skinned woman.
There were spaces in the pelvic area, front and back, for the production line to add orifices, and the same for the place in its head where the mouth would have been. Through the space in the front of its head, she could see internal workings, the innovation that the chief product officer had been so proud of: an internal skeleton and a control system. His big idea was to eventually have the dolls able to move on their own, piloted by software that learned the user's likes and desires. There was a little space at the base of its skull for the tiny control interface to be slotted into place.
It looked eerie, and in the absolutely silence, standing in front of a collection of these blanks, she felt the stirrings of disquiet in her stomach.
Monika had been with the company for a year now, even though her girlfriends couldn't understand why a bright, successful woman would lower herself to taking a finance position at a company that made love dolls. She hadn't explained it, beyond pointing out that the pay was good, and that they shouldn't be so judgemental of what people chose to buy to occupy their private time. She didn't share her actual feelings with them, or with anyone, not even her husband.
It had come at her out of the blue, a week before her wedding. Her chief bridesmaid had arrived at her house, clearly furious, and had shown Monika a picture on her phone. She had assured Monika that she had told her own husband to delete it and not share it with anyone else, but she thought that Monika needed to see what the man she was marrying had been subjected to on his buck's party.
Monika had stared at the photo, of her husband, clearly drunk and naked, tied to a chair with his friends standing around. It had made her angry, that he'd been subjected to a stupid prank, angrier that his best man had taken a picture of it, but her eyes were drawn to what was on his lap. Tied to him, with its arms in a loving embrace was a life-sized inflatable doll, apparently riding his bare body.
The photo had been deleted, but the image stuck with her. She told her husband, who was mortified that he'd been set up like that, but Monika found that she couldn't stay mad at him. The way the doll had cradled him in its arms, the 'O' of surprise on its face, the red inflatable lips wide open, had made the doll look as if it was on the verge of orgasm. Lying with her new husband in bed, she wondered how the doll had felt.
The job opening had turned up a few months later, and she'd gone to the interview out of a sense of morbid fascination with the entire thing, the manufacturing of plastic sex toys that only existed to be fucked. Now here she was, a year later, stealing a look at the new product line while her husband was probably waiting for her at home. There was that same disquiet in the pit of her stomach now that she'd felt while looking at that photo. These things were made to be fucked. It was their sole purpose, to be used by their owners in whichever way and however often their owners chose. The doll had no choice in the matter. She shivered, taking a step back from the faceless objects in front of her.
Her heel gave slightly, the floor beneath her no longer concrete, but something softer. She overbalanced a little, taking another half-step back to correct herself, and looked down. She was standing on the conveyor belt. It had been constructed flush with the floor level for ease of loading. There was a soft beep and suddenly it began to move, activated by her body weight on it.
Monika's arms cartwheeled in space, trying to maintain her balance with the unexpected motion. It cost her several precious seconds. She turned, and realised how close she was to the open front of the first cabinet. Before she could step off the conveyor belt, she glimpsed movement in the gloom beneath the subdued illumination of the safety lighting.
A prehensile steel tentacle shot out from the front of the cabinet, locking a steel pincer around her wrist. She stared at it, incredulously, then tugged.
"What the hell?"
The machine tentacle held her fast. She looked around quickly, frowning. The green light on the cabinet illuminated its control panel, showing a read-out and below that a large, reassuring red button marked 'emergency stop'. She reached out with her free hand to stab it, irritated now that the machine had seized her.
Another tentacle flashed in the light, grabbing her wrist, stopping her fingers just centimetres from the cutoff button. She growled, pushing hard. Her finger brushed the front of the button, but almost as she began to depress it, the tentacles flexed, pinning her arms by her sides. She found herself staring directly into the dark interior of the first cabinet.
"Oh shit," she growled, then yelled out. "Help! Please, anyone there? Help! The machine's got me!"
Her desperate cries echoed through the empty space. She heaved against the tentacles, stepping backwards, but felt a sudden constriction around her ankles. She looked down with growing dread to see another two tentacles holding her legs firmly in position.
Monika panicked, yelling for help at the top of her voice, struggling as hard as she could against the implacable steel grip that had immobilised her body. But, however much she squirmed, however much she screamed, the conveyor belt drew her inescapabably into the heart of the first cabinet. Monika cried out again, but it was in vain, as she was enveloped by the darkness.
Tiny lights strobed, scanning her. The conveyor belt halted.
Monika nearly cried with relief, so glad that the production line's safety controls had scanned an unexpected object and shut down. Or perhaps, the supervisor had noticed the production line activating and had closed it down from her office. Either way, even though she was still held firmly in place, the alarms would have been triggered. She just had to wait a few minutes and she would be free. The cabinet made a soft, rhythmic beeping noise around her.
As her heart rate began to slow from the frantic pace she could feel throbbing in her neck, she thanked fate for sparing her from whatever these machines did to the doll blanks stood behind her. The thought made her shudder, recalling how the prototype had looked when they'd had the meeting to introduce the new product line earlier in the day.
The Chief Product Officer had unveiled it at the end of the morning meeting and Monika had found herself staring at the doll, transfixed, in the middle of the meeting room. Its vacant eyes had stared directly at her, the ruby red lips inflated in a round 'O' of surprise. It looked as if it had been caught mid-orgasm, she thought. Its breasts were high, as if defying gravity, but not comically large. The Chief Product Officer had been telling them that breast size, hair colour, eye colour, waist, were all parameterized, so the customer could order exactly the doll they required. Monika's eyes had flicked down to the circular rubber ring between its legs and just nodded, stepping away.
The doll's orifice had been held open by that ring, as if begging to be entered. She'd let the designer run through his spiel, but all she could think of was the doll, standing there while they talked, unable to join in the conversation about its purpose or its fate, consigned to silence, naked, waiting to be fucked.
Monika tugged at her bonds again, getting impatient. Where was the supervisor? Why was she taking so long? The soft, regular beeping of the cabinet was also beginning to grate on her nerves.
There was a double-beep. Monika frowned at the change.
Something brushed against her thigh, and she felt a breath of air against her skin. Something brushed against her other thigh and she looked down, puzzled. Folds of material dropped to the ground next to her clamped feet.
"What?"
She felt another touch, and suddenly, the entire front of her skirt peeled off, exposing her panties. The rest of her skirt followed, flopping around her feet, leaving the feeling of air and nothing else on her bare thighs. There was a quick movement, almost invisible in the gloom of the cabinet, and then to her dismay, she felt her panties peel away, exposing the dark curls of her neatly-manicured crotch.
With growing apprehension, she realised what the cabinet had done. It had detected the clothing on her and was now removing it. She was being unpackaged. Monika looked forward, out through the back of the cabinet and into the maw of the next one on the conveyor belt. She began to holler desperately for help.
The tiny hands worked fast, brushing against her back and arms, shredding her top until it too lay in strips around her feet. There was a ping in the middle of her back and her bra came free, exposing her breasts, finally stripping her completely nude. Her cries for help went unanswered.
The lights strobed again, and the cabinet resumed its soft beeping for a moment. Surely it could tell the difference between a plastic doll chassis and a living woman's naked body? Surely the failsafes had to kick in at this point? It would be embarrassing to be rescued like this, naked and trapped in the machine, but surely her nightmare was over?
A light strobed over her left hand. She looked down, curiously.
A tiny claw shot out, wrapping itself around a finger, and she felt a sharp tug. It withdrew, something glinting in its grasp. She looked down at her hand again and realised what it was: the cabinet had removed her wedding ring. For some reason, that made her feel more naked. The conveyor belt moved forward again, and she looked back at the remains of her clothing, with her wedding ring dropped on top, and her access pass still clipped to the waist of her shredded skirt. Quick hands tidied the discarded remnants into a waste chute, leaving nothing behind that would be able to identify her.
She looked directly ahead, emerging from one cabinet and into the next. She didn't scream anymore. There was no point. If someone was aware of her predicament, they would have been here by now. There was no way out. She was about to be transformed.
The tentacles released her unexpectedly and for a second, she was free to move. Startled, she hesitated, and it was enough. Tentacles emerged from the next cabinet and clamped around her wrists and ankles. The opportunity for escape had been squandered.
Monika was drawn into the depths of the second cabinet, wracking her memory. The Chief Product Officer had detailed the production line stages, but she'd been thinking about the doll instead. She wished she'd been paying attention. The conveyor belt stopped and for a moment, there was silence again.
She felt a fine mist against her naked body, and she shivered, screwing her eyes tight and closing her mouth. She wasn't shivering from cold: she had just remembered what came next. The mist continued to waft around her, until her skin was slick and her hair saturated. Her skin began to tingle all over. The sound of the machine gave way to silence, and she stood, helpless and dripping, counting the seconds. There was a sudden deluge of water from above, accompanied by a dozen tiny hands tipped with sponge moving efficiently over her skin.
The tiny hands stroked her head, down her spine, over her tummy, tickling her and making her squirm, but the tentacles held her absolutely immobile. She knew that she was being cleaned, after being unpackaged. The hands worked their way up her chest and she hissed quietly at the firm attention they payed to her nipples, leaving them hard and throbbing. She braced herself, feeling them working their way down her torso, over her tummy, to the space between her legs.
The little sponge hands were merciless, passing over her mons, across her pussy lips in quick strokes, over and over. She tried to angle her hips, pulling away, but they followed her, adjusting. Firm pads provided a rigorous friction over her slit, and she felt herself warming to their touch. One of the hands seemed to sense this, even as the others continued their exploration of her lower body. One slipped down the cleft between her buttocks, hovering too, just like the front hand, over her puckered back entrance.
They began to work in unison, rotating as they pressed into her front and rear. Monika wanted to scream, but she kept her lips firmly together for fear of another hand finding her open mouth. Instead, she endured silently as she was scrubbed in her most intimate places, enduring the friction as best she could.
Then it seemed to change, becoming something else. The insistent pressure on her puckered star, coupled with the rubbing of the sponge against her sensitised clit began to stimulate her arousal. Monika could remember all the steps now. Locked in the grip of the machine, she knew exactly what her fate was. The little hands pushed slightly and her body gave way, accepting them inside her. She gave in to the machine.
Soon, she would be like the doll in the meeting room. There was no use fighting it, there was no way out. Her only option was to keep as still as possible and relax as much as she could so that she wasn't injured in the process. She felt herself violated in her rear for the first time in her life, and forced the panic from her body. When the other arms withdrew, she felt something cold injected into her pussy and her anus, and then the intruders also slipped out of her.
As warm air circulated over her scrubbed and polished skin, she knew what the cold fluid was for. She had just been lubricated to prepare her body for her inserts. Monika opened her eyes again, looking down at herself. It was as she'd expected. The tingling fluid had cleaned her thoroughly, but it had also removed all her hair. Lights strobed, checking that the process was complete. She imagined what the machine would see: a female figure, bald and clean, standing motionless on the conveyor belt ready for plasticisation.