Payback on Gromet's Plaza Archive

The Sex Dolly Factory

Wed, 06 Mar 2019 00:00:00 +0000

(story continues from The Sex Dolly Factory 5)

Part 6: Karma

Ten years ago… All businesses have their ebbs and flows. One day you’re selling things like there’s no tomorrow, then, suddenly, tomorrow comes and you don’t sell a thing. Any one who tells you that a business can be predicted to run a profitable way is either trying to make you buy from them or is a paid consultant. No business can constantly preform at a top, profitable level for an infinite amount of time because time is the enemy. Times change, fads change, demand changes, and many businesses are left in the dust of history. The ability to change with the times isn’t the answer. The answer is to make the times change in your favor. Abigail Gillen is one of the most capable businesswomen around, but even she couldn’t save the local family owned toy factory from going under. She was hired as a turnaround expert after she saved an auto parts chain from drowning in debt, and started to make it into one of the largest retail chains in the country. She was unceremoniously released from her contract and replaced by her male assistant, and soon to be ex-husband, right before the big expansion simply because she was a woman and he felt he deseved the job. When a few compromising private photos of her were leaked to the board by her husband, who, incidently, took them himself, she was let go without any mention of a severance package. He replaced her at the helm, and she took everything from him in the subsuquent divorce. The first job she took after the divorce was with ‘Funnystuff Toys,’ a small toy manufacturer in the midwest United States. The owner, Phil Owens, was a shareholder with the auto parts chain she worked at before, so he was acutely aware of what she did for them, despite what her ex had done to her. He gave Abigail free reign in her contract to do whatever she wanted if she could turn the factory around. Also included were several thousand shares of stock as an added incentive to do good. Abigail wasted no time when she got to town, immediately going to the factory from the airport, wanting to see what she had got herself into. The factory was in a fairly large undescript building in the back of an industrial complex. This factory was built over 20 years ago, replacing the old factory that stood for almost 100 years across town. It became more cost effective to build a new factory than completing necessary upgrades and vital repairs on the old building. The building looked like a big concrete box with only two glass doors showing the way in. To the right was a fifteen car parking lot for management and visitors separated from the general employees parking lot by a road leading back behind the building. There were no discernable windows that she could see, but there were a few large ventilation pumps on the roof. She pulled her car into the first vacant spot in the smaller parking lot and the first thing she noticed when she got out of her car was the lack of any noise. You’d figure a factory would have some machines grinding away and echoing around the building, but there wasn’t a sound. A few birds singing and a light breeze flowing through some bushes by the road let her know that she hadn’t lost her hearing. Abigail opened the trunk on her stupid rented car and picked up her briefcase. (She couldn’t wait until the delivery service showed up with her Mercedes!) She closed the trunk and headed for the front doors without hesitation. It was almost 3 PM local time, and she wanted to see firsthand how the factory was being run before everyone left for the day. When she walked through the doors, she couldn’t believe what she saw. The doors opened into what looked like a large toy store, with the entire center of the room filled with boxed toys stacked like it was Santa’s workshop. There was no front desk to greet visitors or vendors. Instead, the exterior walls were lined with desks, and each desk had a person at it feverishly talking on their phones to someone. There weren’t any partitions between the desks, so everyone’s conversations congealed into one continuous squeal. Abigail walked around, oblivious to everyone else there, and tried to listen to what each person was doing. Of the seventeen people there, it sounded as if only three were making calls related to work. “Hey, you!” Abigail heard someone yell from behind her. She turned around to see a tall, well built man with dark brown hair standing at a desk against the wall pointing at her. Once he got her attention, she started walking towards her. “Is there something I can do for you?” he asked when he got close enough to her. Abigail wasn’t a short woman by no means, but the man was still about six inches taller than her, and about ten years younger. He had broad shoulders and a thin waist, with the build of a linebacker. “I’m Abigail Gillen,” Abigail said as she reached out her hand to the man, “I’m here to see Phil Owens. I wasn’t supposed to be here until tomorrow, but I wanted to get a jump on things if I’m going to help this company.” The man almost stood at attention once she said her name. He took her hand gently and gave it a comforting shake. “Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Gillen,” the man replied, “I’m sorry for the gruff attitude there. I’m Eric Biggs, sales agent. I just left a long stint the Army, and I’m still not used to civilian life. I’m used to giving orders, not taking them. I’m also used to being protective of my surroundings. I tend to question the appearance of new people wandering around here.” He gave Abigail a warm smile as he released her hand. The cute smile from the man candy warmed Abigail’s heart, among other things, and she gave a blushing smile back. “Oh, don’t worry about it,” she replied, “At least someone here noticed the change in the scenery. Is Phil here?” “No, he isn’t.” Eric said with some dismay, “He had to do some running around, getting things ready for you tomorrow. Is there anything I can do for you instead?” “Well, I was hoping to take a tour of the place and see what I have to work with. I also wanted to take a look over the corporate financials, give me something to do tonight over dinner. I guess it will have to wait.” “Not necessarily,” Eric replied with a smile, “Mr. Owens keeps all of that info in his office. I have the key to let you in. He told us that you are allowed to do whatever you need to get this place running again, so I can’t see any harm with opening a door.” “And you have a key to his office because…?” Abigail asked suspiciously. “Oh!” Eric chuckled, “In the Army, I worked in intelligence and security. My first week here was updating their security system and alarms. I have the keys to almost everything here. During the day, I sell toys. At night, I fight crime!” Both Abigail and Eric laughed. No one else in the room laughed; no one else knew that there were two people having a conversation in the middle of the floor. “May I suggest you do the office thing first? It might be better if you take the tour with Mr. Owens tomorrow, in case you have any questions.” “Good idea, Eric,” Abigail replied, “May I call you Eric?” “Sure, Abigail, as long as you don’t mind. This way, please.” Eric directed Abigail towards an open hallway on the right side of the room. As they walked towards it, Abigail was finally hearing sounds of machinery moving. Eric led the way down the hall to a door on the left. A set of double doors were at the end of the hallway, the same direction the machine noises were coming from. Stopping at the single door, Eric unlocked it. Eric opened it wide so Abigail could enter alone. This room was a rather large and opulent office, complete with a small bar, refrigerator, sink, oak table with eight chairs, large oak desk, and several expensive figurines and paintings all over the shelves and walls. There were three filing cabinets against the wall behind the desk. On the desk was the only computer she had seen so far in the place. To the right was what looked like a full bathroom. After Abigail fully entered the room, Eric pulled it closed behind her. “I’ll be at my desk if you need anything,” he said before shutting the door. Abigail walked over to the desk and put her briefcase on the floor to one side. She sat down to a stack of disarrayed scattered across its top. She skimmed over each paper as she arranged them, and she already was getting a bad picture of everything. Most of the papers were overdue bills and past date invoices. Others were from law offices, requesting information about one thing or another. One was a safety warning from the Better Business Bureau, requesting an immediate recall on one of the company’s toys. All of this information was distressing enough, but she was more upset with what she didn’t see: There was no papers showing any form of income or employee wages. She turned around and started opening the file cabinets. All of the drawers were half empty. The only files she was able to find were about how much money the company owed and to whom. There were no files on any of the company’s sales at all. No files on the company’s federal, state, or local taxes. She did find the files on all of the current employees, however all of the pages pertaining to their salaries was missing. Also missing was any information of a pension plan or unemployment taxes. Abigail slammed the last drawer of the filing cabinet she looked into in anger. She had been in business for a long time, and she knew what was going on. Phil Owens was stealing from his own company, and he took all of the files on the company’s income and employee salaries to doctor them before Abigail could see them. He brought her in to either try to save the place, make it look like a sound idea to close up, or, worse yet, use her as a scapegoat to hide his embezzling. Without the missing paperwork, she couldn’t figure out exactly what he had planned, but no matter what, it didn’t look good for her. She was wracking her brain on what to do, but then she saw the computer. Since it was the only computer in the place, she figured he would have all of his sensitive information stored there. She sat back down at the desk and turned it on. It was an older one, only 156 gigabyte with a 750k processor, and it took a little time to boot up. While it did that, she started looking through the desk for either computer disks or any other information about the businesses income. She found a few, but their labels didn’t point to financial information. One of the drawers was locked. She thought about breaking it open, but when she saw the request for a passcode as the first image on the computer screen, she had a better idea. She went and fetched Eric. “Eric, can I see you for a minute?” Abigail asked as she poked her head out of the hallway, “I need your help back here.” Eric looked up from his phone and motioned his hand to her, signaling the give him a moment, then he went back to his phone call. “Jim, can I call you back?” he said into the phone, “I have another fire to put out…. Yeah…Yeah… Tomorrow, about ten…Thanks… Give my love to Sue and the kids.” He hung up the phone and joined Abigail in the hallway. “How can I help?” he asked. Abigail quickly but quietly took him by the arm and almost dragged him back to Phil’s office. Eric put up little resistance, although he did have a confused look on his face. She turned around and pushed him into the office, then looked down both ways in the hall to see if anyone was looking, then entered the office as well. She quickly closed the door and locked it. “Did you put any security cameras in the hallway or this office?” Abigail asked in a stern voice, “Any microphones or silent alarms on any of the drawers in here?” “What? Well, no,” Eric stammered, “What’s this all about?” “How about this: Did Mr. Owens carry out any boxes from this office yesterday or today?” Eric didn’t even have to think about this. “He had some of the guys from the dock carry out about twelve boxes from in here and put them into a truck earlier today,” he replied, even more confused than a few minutes ago, “He said he was moving some of his art collection back home.” “Take a look around this room,” Abigail ordered, “Tell me what is missing that was here yesterday evening.” Still confused, Eric did what he was told. After about a minute, the confused look disappeared and was replaced with enlightenenment. “He didn’t take anything from here,” he said, “He took something else. He was hiding something. From you. He removed files of some kind. He’s stealing, isn’t he?” “Gold star, Eric,” Abigail enthusiastically said as she pulled him to behind the desk, “I have to know what files he took, and they might be on this computer. Also, one of the desk drawers are locked. Do you think you can help me with both of these?” “With pleasure,” he replied as he stooped down to the locked drawer. It was mere seconds and he had the drawer open. “Wow, I’m impressed,” Abigail said, “I’m surprised you didn’t go into the CIA instead of working here.” “They tried recruiting me,” Eric replied as he sat down in front of the computer, “But I was tired of traveling the world, fighting ‘The Good Fight.’ Besides, some of the CIA’s clandestine operations weren’t too appealing to me, so I figured it was best to just walk away. Give me a minute and I’ll have this silicone cracked in two.” He started typing furiously on the computer’s keyboard as Abigail started looking through the now opened drawer. What she found sickened her to her core. She pulled out three bank statements, all drawn on different banks. One was the business account, which barely had enough money in it to cover an ice cream truck’s weekly expenses. The next one was Phil Owens personal account, which had almost thirty million dollars deposited. The third was Abigail Gillen, with fifteen million dollars deposited. There was also a receipt from a bank that held the employees pension, showing that the account was closed and that a cashier’s check for thirty-five million was made payable to Abigail Gillen, CFO of ‘Funnystuff Toys, Inc.’ She now knew that she was going to be the scapegoat. “I was afraid of this,” Abigail said out loud, not realising it. “What?” Eric asked as he was still typing. He leaned over to her to see what made her make that remark. “What did you find?” “Here,” she replied, holding out the bank statements and the receipt, “Take a look.” He stopped typing and studied the documents. “That’s one hell of a signing bonus,” he commented as he glanced them over. “I just got into town this afternoon,” Abigail replied as she stood up, “All of these bank accounts were set up three days ago, and those are not my signatures. I’m being set up to take the fall, while he skips away to an extradition-free country.” Eric went back to his typing, and, suddenly, he stopped when the computer made an audible ‘Boop.’ “Yeah, we’ll see about that,” Eric coldly replied as the screen started filling up with various files and internet shortcuts. He rose from the chair so Abigail could sit down. Breaking into locked things was his forte, but he had a feeling that computer programs was her arena. And he was right. Within five minutes, she had found all of the information she needed, and she was pissed about everything she read. “Wow,” She gasped, “He’s been embezzling for decades. Only one third of the net sales went back into the business. Everything else went to an offshore account. He has almost eighty million dollars sitting in Panama, and a pending transaction for the funds from this account.” She waved the bank statement in his name over her head. “My God,” Eric whispered angrily, “We have to stop him. What can we do?” “Technically nothing but go to the police,” Abigail replied as she sat and thought for a few moments, “But I hate technicalities. Give me a few minutes.” She started typing feverishly herself, like a woman possessed. Eric tried watching the monitor as she zipped from one screen to another over her shoulder, but soon got dizzy. He had to take a step back and regain his senses. This was the second time in little over a year that a man was trying to screw her over, and, this time, she was going to fight back hard. She wasn’t about to be abused in a business setting again, and Phil Owens was going to feel the brunt of her anger. “There, that will fix him,” Abigail exclaimed after her thirty minute typing marathon. She sat back in the chair and crossed her arms triumphantly. “What did you do?” Eric asked as he leaned back over to look at the screen. All he saw was a Panamanian bank main menu screen. “I took all of the money he hid in Panama, all the money he had in the business account, and all of the money he had in this personal account and hid it somewhere safe. Just for fun, I also tracked down any other bank accounts he or his immediate family had and emptied them as well. Then I deleted all of the accounts at their banks. Right now, there is $120 million hidden in various banks around the world, and I’m the only one who knows where.” “Awesome!” Eric cheered as he gave Abigail a congratulatory slap on the back, “Now, to get rid of the evidence here. Here’s my lighter. Take this bank information into the bathroom and burn it. I’ll erase the computer’s hard drive. I have a friend who can follow up on erasing the internet traffic coming and going to this computer for the last seven days, just to be safe. Now, not trying to sound self concerned, but what about the employees and payday? Will they still have a job?” “Most likely not,” Abigail said as she walked to the bathroom with the papers, “But I’ll make sure that they’ll still get paid, reinstate their pensions, and give them a terriffic severance package. Just by seeing the accounts payable I know that this business is dead.” She lit the papers on fire and dropped them into the bathroom sink. She looked in the cabinet under the sink for a towel to clean up the ashes, but instead she found a pile of skin colored latex rubber. Thinking that it was an odd colored raincoat, she pulled it out, wondering who stuffed it down there. It seemed like it was a long overcoat from the amount of pulling she did. It wasn’t until she grabbed a handful of blonde wig that she realized it wasn’t a raincoat at all. “Eeek!” Abigail squealed in revulsion. Eric ran to the bathroom, thinking she had burned herself. He hurriedly looked into the bathroom and saw Abigail standing over a woman’s skin, sprawled out on the bathroom floor. He was speechless, so was Abigail, and he knelt down to take a better look and possibly identify the victim. He took hold of the pile’s ankle, gave it a squeeze, then laughed. “What’s so funny?” she asked angrily. “This is one of those blow up sex dolls!” he laughed, throwing the piece of latexback to the floor. “A what?” “An inflatable girl sex doll. You know, for when a loser is horny but can’t get a date? They buy one of these, blow them up, and have sex with the three holes in it. They come in all styles, sizes, races, and skin tones. I think they’re disgusting, but they’re a very big business. High quality dolls run into the five thousand dollar range.” “Really?” Abigail wondered aloud. She figured this might require some research, but if this perversion is big business, then why don’t she get into it? She has always worked for other people and almost every time it didn’t work out. Thanks to this Phil Owens jerk, she now had some serious starting capital and enough leverage to force him to sign over his factory for a bargain price. She couldn’t retain all of the employees, and she really thought that she shouldn’t considering their preformance when she first walked in, but she could go through what remained in their files to pick out the possible ‘Diamonds in the rough.’ There is one thing she had to do before she did anything else. “Eric, come tomorrow, no one here will have a job. You’ve helped me out here and gave me a lead on a possibly lucriative business opportunity. How would you like to work for me as the head of my security department? You will not have to answer to anyone but me, and I can guarantee your salary will be at least three times as high as it is right now, possibly more. Interested?” ********************************* This year, Saturday afternoon… Becky and her love dolly Keisha were driving over to Abigail’s house for dinner and to watch their online auctions end. Two weeks ago, Abigail put up some of the grade 2 sex dolls that were not selling, just to move the older stock out. She also listed Charlene, the hermaphrodite doll that she and Becky made from the one thief that they had caught almost a month ago. She originally thought about keeping it, but the novelty wore off quickly, and she wanted to see how much a doll like that would sell for. If it sells well enough, they would definitely make more. They arrived at Abigail’s just after 3 PM. Becky pulled up to the garage, intending to pull her car inside. It was still daylight, and she didn’t want any of her friend’s neighbors seeing the latex shine of her lover. It may cause some ‘issues’ with the neighborhood block commission. She honked her horn when she pulled up to the garage door, and, after a minute or so, the garage door rolled up. She pulled her car inside and parked next to her friend’s Mercedes. The garage door was already lowering when the two of them climbed out of her car. “Can you get the wine, please?” Becky asked Keisha as she pushed the button to release the trunk, “I’ll get the paperwork.” Without waiting for a reply, she walked back and opened the trunk. Inside, there was a ratty atashay case. “Yes, massuh, I’se live to serve,” Keisha sarcastically remarked. It has been transformed into an automotronic plastic doll for four weeks now, but it still resents the fact that it has to do everything Becky says, albeit she asks politely. It reached into the back seat to retrieve the bottle. Getting out of the car and now standing, it turned to see Becky looking at it frustrated. “Please, baby, stop acting like that,” Becky half begged as she removed the atashay case and closed the trunk, “You’re not my black slave maid. It’s starting to offend me when you talk like that. Besides dressing you in that maid costume the first time, have I honestly made you do something you didn’t want to do?” “Oh, let’s see,” Keisha replied, mockingly putting it’s finger to it’s chin and looking skyward, “Making me suck off one of my closest friends, and now making me sit while you sell him off in front of me?” “You didn’t suck him off,” Becky said as she came around the car to hug her dolly, “I stopped you before those luscious lips even got close to his dick. As for selling him off, well, you didn’t complain when we sold off your Asian friend, right?” “I hated Chang anyway. I was getting ready to put two bullets into his skull right before your knockout gas hit us. Good riddance to him, but me and Charlie, we’ve been through a lot. He was the closest thing I had to a best friend.” “He wasn’t a friend,” Becky whispered into Keisha’s ear, “He wouldn’t have got you into trouble if he was. Besides, you got me now. I’m going to be the bestest friend you’ve ever had. C’mon. Abigail’s waiting.” She gave her dolly lover a warm, passionate kiss on the cheek, then led her by the hand towards the house. Abigail met them as Becky opened the door into the kitchen. “It’s about time!” Abigail exclaimed when she saw them, “I thought the garage door got stuck or something.” “Nah, we just had a little discussion,” Becky replied as she put her atashay case on the cabinet inside the door. Keisha walked around her and handed the bottle of wine to Abigail. “Yeah. We were talking about how slaves have to be sold,” It said callously. “KEISHA!!!” Becky shouted in an embarrassed voice. Keisha turned and instead of seeing frustration in Becky’s eyes, this time her eyes were staring daggers. “Calm down, you two,” Abigail said calmly as she walked between the two of them. This argument was going on too long, and she had to do something civil before Becky did something she would regret. “Becky, are those the results of the AAD-623 test?” Becky was obviously seething, but she did comport herself before answering. “Yes, they are,” she replied while gritting her teeth, still staring at her attitude spewing dolly. “Please take them into the living room and prepare to give me a status on the results,” Abigail said in a soothing tone, trying not to talk down to her friend, as she put her arm around her shoulder and herded her toward the hallway leading to living room, “I need to talk with Keisha for a minute.” Becky picked up the atashay and angrily walked down the hall. Once she was out of earshot, Abigail turned to the latex animotronic. “I’ve been friends with her for a very long time,” Abigail began as she looked Keisha in the eyes, “And this is the first time I’ve ever seen her truly care for someone. She is in love with you.” Keisha crossed its arms in a defensive stance and tried to stare the taller woman down. “Oh, yeah?” Keisha replied in a demanding voice, “How can you tell? I’m the only one she’s ever forced a sex change on? Or turned into an appliance? Or electronically made to do her every whim, like a plantation slave? If she was really in love with me, she would be sucking my cock right now, instead of making me into a life-sized black Barbie doll!” “Yes, you have been forced into this change,” Abigail continued, “But you did break into our factory and you have seen too much. We couldn’t send you or your compatriots to jail and have the police look into our business. This is a just punishment for all three of you, as we see it. However, she is a lesbian. She didn’t become attracted to you until you were made into a female. She fell in lust with you, and had to have you. She wouldn’t be satisfied with having you as a normal sex dolly like the others, so she used her genius to make you as you are now: A walking dolly with full body motion and your own thoughts and opinions. She could’ve easily wiped away all of your free will and made you a virtual bimbo, but she didn’t. She wanted someone to love, and she hoped that that someone would love her back.” “Yeah, right,” Keisha argued, “She treats me like a doll. She buys me what she wants me to wear, makes me help her clean her house, makes me help around your factory, and most of the time tells me what to do in bed. When she goes out, she always takes me with her. I barely have any time to myself! Is that what love is supposed to be?!?” “Well, in a sense, yes.” “Okay, I’m confused,” Keisha said while shaking it’s head while taking a seat on a kitchen chair, “Explain this to me.” “Simple,” Abigail explained as she pulled another kitchen chair next to Keisha, “She buys you clothes that she likes because you probably never told you what you like. I heard you complain about the clothes you did wear before, but I never heard you ask for anything specific to wear, have I? She can’t get you what you want if you will not share the information with her. “House chores are something that every member in the family share doing. You most likely are thinking like a man, but the dirty dishes aren’t cleaned by elves who sneak into the house at night. Clean floors require a wet mop or a vaccuum on occasion. Clothing should only be worn one time in a week then be washed, not worn until they stand up by themselves. I can almost guarantee that she asks you to do chores, and doesn’t order you to do them. “She takes you with her everywhere she goes because she wants to spend time with you. Since most of her time is at the factory, that is where she takes you. She asks you to help while you’re there is for two reasons. One, she doesn’t want you to be bored. Two, she likes talking with you. She wants to get to know you, and the fastest way to form a friendship is by chatting with a co-worker. “As for your bedroom antics, have you tried taking control yet? I’m not saying you should tie her down to the bed and get out the candle wax or anything, but I am saying that you should try seducing her instead of waiting for her to tell you what to do. I’m not sure if this is a racial stereotype, and I apologize in advance if you feel like it is, but aren’t black men usually looking for white women to take control over and screw their brains out?” Throughout all of Abigail’s speech, Keisha sat there like a petulent child that was forced to listen to a Preacher’s lecture on evil. However, the last sentence she spoke caused the dolly to erupt with laughter. Abigail reacted with a smile of her own. “Okay,” Keisha giggled, “I’ll give you that one.” Abigail slid forward on her seat to put her hands on both of Keisha’s shoulders, making sure to have the doll’s attention. “Now I don’t expect you to fall head over heels with her the next time your eyes meet,” Abigail said with a soothing voice, “I would just like for you to give her a chance. She really is a sweet, loving girl. Talk to her as if she was your friend, not as if she was the warden of a jail. You might find out that you like her too.” “What about when she orders me to do something?” “I’ve only seen her order you to do two things over the past month, and one of those things she stopped you before you even started.” “Twice?” Keisha asked, “I only remember the blowjob. What was the other time?” “Shortly after that. You were so shaken up about the ‘almost’ oral sex you were being ordered to do, she ordered you to fall asleep to calm you down.” Keisha just sat there silenly, with a perplexed look on it’s face. “I don’t remember that,” Keisha responded, as it racked it’s brain for the memory, “She really did that?” “Yes, she did,” Abigail replied, “See? She cared for you back then, and she cares even more for you now. Do you think you can give her some slack for a little bit?” “Uh…Yeah…I guess so,” Keisha replied in a somber yet thoughtful tone. Abigail smiled widely then gave it a warm hug. “Thank you,” She whispered into the doll’s ear, “Let’s get into the living room before the little maniac sets something on fire.” Keisha giggled, then both made their way to the living room. Upon arriving, they saw Becky sitting on the sofa behind Abigail’s laptop with an incredibly stunned look on her face. She was staring at the screen wide eyed and mouth opened. She was gripping the screen tight enough to squeeze milk from a coconut. “Becky, what’s wrong?” Abigail asked when she noticed the shocked look on her friends face, and rushed over to her side. Keisha, surprisingly, also hurried to her with concern, and sat down on Becky’s right side. As Abigail sat down next to her, Becky turned towards her slowly as she handed her the laptop. Abigail, with a puzzled look on her face, wrestled the laptop from Becky’s death grip. She settled it onto the coffee table and opened the hinge wider so she could see the screen better. It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to the soft colors emanating from the screen, but, once she did, she too was shocked at what was showing. It was the online auction they listed their surplus dolls and the Charlene doll on. The other dolls sold at what they were expected to, but the Charlene, the sexy talking female doll with the built-in penis, sold for $900,000. “We gotta make more hermaphrodites,” Becky calmly whispered.

The Sex Dolly Factory

Thu, 01 Feb 2018 00:00:00 +0000

Part 1: The Special Order

Sylvia was excited for the first time in almost six months. She has been unemployed for that whole time, but it really wasn’t her fault. She was working as a secretary for a stock broker for two years, and she loved doing it, but the man took early retirement and she was transferred to a senior vice president for the company. He was married and in his mid-fifties, and a complete pig. From the first day she started, he was making advances toward her. She had to keep telling him no in a very polite manner, but he persisted nonetheless. As the days went by, he began making lewder and more crude comments, going so far as to offering her a raise for a blowjob on a regular basis. Besides the fact that she believes blowjobs are degrading to women and refuses to do them for any of the boyfriends she’s had in the past, there’s no way she was going to be treated as a whore. After three weeks of putting up with his advances, she quit and got a lawyer the next day. It’s the $15 million dollar lawsuit that is pending against the pig is what’s preventing her from getting another job. This leads her to today. She had placed her resume all over the internet, on every job searching website, and any place else that would take it. Finally, she received a phone call yesterday afternoon from an Abigail Gillen, owner of the Exclusive Products Company, a factory that made custom dolls and mannequins. Ms. Gillen asked her if she would like to come in for an interview as a customer service representative and personal assistant. Sylvia didn’t hesitate and jumped at the offer! She was told to be at the offices the next morning at 9 AM, and not to bring any cell phones or recording equipment. The explanation was that all of Exclusive Products items and manufacturing processes were proprietary, and there would be no interview if she even had one of them with her. The directions to the offices weren’t that hard to follow. It was a simple but long bus ride to the end of the line at an industrial complex, then a 20 minute walk to the correct building. She didn’t mind the travel, or the walk, because it was such a beautiful day. Besides, the exercise will be her reason not to go to the gym tomorrow. She did miscalculate the travel time however and still arrived almost 30 minutes early. The building looked about 30 years old, and had what looked like four floors. There were no windows anywhere to be seen with the exception of the glass front double doors, and even those were heavily tinted. She strained her eyes trying to look through the tint, but she couldn‘t make out anything inside. ‘Exclusive Products Co.’ was written in white block letters on the left door. The parking lot was rather small, with about 15 spaces available plus one that was reserved for the owner. A sign to the right of the doors read ‘Deliveries & Pickups’ with an arrow pointing around the right side of the building. She didn’t have to wait long though. About 10 minutes later, an older model Mercedes in near sale floor condition rolled up and parked in the ‘Reserved For Ms. Gillen’ spot by the door where she was standing. The engine stopped, and out climbed an attractive slender woman who looked in her mid-forties. She stood around five foot eight inches, had shapely hips, thin waist, and about a 34DD breast size. She was wearing a blue business suit, white blouse, and shoes with low heels. Her light brown hair was wrapped up in a bun on the top of her head. She reached into the back seat and pulled out a briefcase. She hit the fob alarm for her car then turned to Sylvia. Sylvia was thinking that her own looks might intimidate this older woman, for she was five foot six inches tall, long natural blonde hair, 38DD breast size, a soft but athletic build, flawless skin, and was wearing 4 inch heels to accentuate her build, but that made her appear taller. She really needed this job, and she decided to be as humble as possible, as well as some very minor self degrading for effect. She also quickly turned away and tried to button her own blouse all the way up to cover her cleavage. “Hello!,” Ms. Gillen said warmly as Sylvia turned back around to face her. She extended her hand in friendship and asked, “I’m guessing you’re Sylvia Farrel, am I correct?” “Um, yes, hi!,” Sylvia meekly replied, “I hope you don’t mind that I’m early do you? I like to be at all of my appointments a little early.” She reached out and took the other woman’s hand and weakly shook it. It gave the appearance that she was nervous, although she wasn’t in the least. Another ‘humble’ tactic. “No, not at all. I don’t see another car here. Did you get a ride?,” Ms. Gillen asked, as she simultaneously looked around the parking lot while she walked towards the front doors with the key extended. Sylvia turned to follow her and replied, “I took the bus. I had to sell my car a month ago to pay the rent on my apartment, and I didn’t have enough time to set up a ride for today.” “I’m sorry to hear that, dear,” Ms. Gillen said as she unlocked the right door. “Hopefully we can remedy that in short order.” She opened the door only wide enough for herself to squeeze through. “Would you mind waiting out here for a minute, Ms. Farrel, while I turn off the alarm?” “Sure. Like I said, I’m the one who’s here early.” Ms. Gillen smiled then slipped pass the door, quickly closed and locked it behind herself. It took five minutes for her to return and let Sylvia in. “My apologies, Ms. Farrel” Ms. Gillen said as she let Sylvia in. “The sensor on the factory floor keeps going bonkers, and it makes it difficult to disarm the alarm. The alarm company is supposed to be here on Monday to fix it.” “That’s okay, and please call me Sylvie.” Another tactic. Allowing a supervisor to call you by your childhood nickname gives them a false sense of authority. “All right, Sylvie it is! Please, call me Abigail,” Ms. Gillen replied. She held the glass door open wide so Sylvia could enter. She did a quick-step past her soon to be boss before she could change her mind. Beyond the door was a small white painted waiting room with four chairs and a coffee table. The carpet was dark black and was wall to wall. On the opposite side of the room was another door made of metal with a heavy deadbolt lock on it. Next to that door was a buzzer on the wall with a sign reading ‘Ring For Assistance.’ There was a clipboard with some papers attached to it and a pen sitting on the coffee table. “Now, Sylvie,” Abigail said as she locked the front door and walked around Sylvia, “I’m going to have you sign these confidentiality papers and liability forms. This is both a warehouse and a factory, so I need temporary medical coverage in case anything should happen to you here today during the interview. Also, there’s the agreement that you will not divulge anything you see here today to any outside party. Strictly legal documents to protect my company. Also, I’ll need you to empty out your purse and all of your pockets onto the table.” “Why?” “To see if you have any cell phones or cameras on you.” “Oh, yeah, right. You did say that.” Sylvia proceeded to empty her purse. None of her clothes had any pockets. She picked up the clip board and filled them all out as Abigail searched her belongings. She handed over the clipboard with the completed forms and started to refill her purse. “One moment, please,” Abigail said in an authoritative tone. “I need to frisk you.” “Excuse me?” Sylvia looked at her with surprise. “Part of the confidentiality agreement you just signed. I need to check to see if you have any hidden cameras or microphones on you. Please lift your arms out parallel and spread your legs.” With a puzzled look on her face, Sylvia slowly did what she was told. She understood what the older woman meant, but why didn’t she just use a metal detector? It could only mean one of two things: Either their current metal detector is not working or this lady is a lesbian. Either way, she needed a job, any job, no matter how humiliating the interview is, and that this isn’t done on a regular basis. Abigail swiftly touched every inch of Sylvia’s body through her clothes, including her groin, butt crack and breasts. She used a gentle but firm hand, and didn’t seem to enjoy doing it at all. While down around her ankles, she asked Sylvia to step out of her shoes so she could inspect them as well. She didn’t stop at any particular body part for too long, and was complete in under a minute. “Thank you, Sylvie,” Abigail said as she stood back up. She took her keys out of her pocket and headed towards the metal door across the room. “Once you get your things together, we’ll go to my office.” Sylvia eagerly scooped all of her things back into her purse without any order. She headed over to where Abigail was, and, as she unlocked the door and held it open, the young blonde walked in with a spring in her step and smile on her face. The heavy metal door slammed shut behind both of them. ********* The two women walked down a short but wide hallway that had two single doors on the left side and one set of plastic swinging doors at the other end. The hallway was also white with black carpet. A light humming noise could be heard coming from the fluorescent lights. Abigail led Sylvia to the first door on the left. “In here, please,” she asked as she opened the door to let Sylvia in. The room was roughly 12 feet wide and 15 feet long. There was a desk with a computer monitor on the far wall. A large backed chair sat behind it and two upholstered chairs in front of it. The wall across from the door had a row of filing cabinets. In the middle of the room was a small wooden table with four matching chairs. A couple of binders were on the table, all labeled ‘Product Line’ with various years on them. All around the rooms were plastic floor plants, and on the walls hung framed prints of kittens. “Have a seat,” Abigail motioned to one of the upholstered chairs. Sylvia took to the chair in rapid fashion, trying to exude eagerness. She sat upright with her knees together and her purse on her lap across her legs, trying to hide her breasts and hips. She tried to keep a smile on her face that wasn’t over the top but not looking forced. Abigail went around the desk and sat down. She opened up a folder and started skimming the papers inside. Peeking up, Sylvia noticed that it was a copy of her resume that she uploaded on one of the job sites. Abigail picked up a pen and jotted down some notes on the various pages as she went along. After a few minutes, she looked up at Sylvia. “Why did you leave your last job?” “Oh, boy,” Sylvia replied as the smile disappeared from her face. “I’m going to tell you the truth. My previous employer kept making unwanted sexual advances at me. He wouldn’t take ‘No’ for an answer.” “Oh, My!” “When he demanded oral sex from me, I left and hired a lawyer.” “Really?!?” “Yes. And a good thing too. The lawyer found another secretary that he did the same thing to, and if we can get her to testify, we’ll have an open and shut case. The thing is, until the lawsuit is settled, I have no income to live on.” “I’m sorry to hear that, Sylvie,” Abigail said with a sigh as she slumped back in her chair with disgust. “Between you and me, I hope you nail his tush to the wall.” She flashed the younger woman a devilish smile. Sylvia gave a light chuckle “I will!” “Well, your resume looks great. You have everything I’m looking for as a personal assistant. You have a pleasantly lilting voice, so that will be an advantage when talking with clients on the phone.” Abigail took a small notepad from the top drawer of her desk and pulled off a sheet of paper. She wrote something down on it, folded it in half, and slid it over to Sylvia across the desk. “Here’s what I can offer you in the form of a salary,” She said, but she didn’t remove her hand from the slip of paper. “However, before you look at this, I have to let you know something. Here at Exclusive Products, our main source of income is the manufacturing and selling of sexual devices. More specifically, sex dolls. We import them from overseas as well as having our own factory. The ones we make here are considered some of the best in the world, and they fetch incredibly high prices. Our methods in making them are a well guarded secret. We also make mannequins, but there are more horny perverts in the world than there are stores. I have to ask you right now: Would selling such items make you uncomfortable?” Sylvia sat there with a blank look on her face. Could she really sell sex toys? She wouldn’t even be here if she was able handle one old perverted pig, so how would she manage with them on a daily basis? Then she thought for a moment. Her body could work to her advantage this way. She could wear the most revealing business attire she could find. The perverts would be so turned on by just looking at her, they’ll have to buy a doll just to get their rocks off! An extremely wide grin ran across her face. “Yes, I think I can do that.” “Good!” Abigail let go of the paper and Sylvia opened it. The number written down there shocked her. Her eyes got as big as saucers and her mouth hung agape. “Seventy Five Thousand Dollars?!?,” she exclaimed. “Just to help you sell sex toys?!?” “Yes,” Abigail replied as she sat back down in her chair. “Plus a percentage commission when you help close a sale. Interested?” “When Can I Start?!?” “Tomorrow, but first I’ll give you a tour of our operation. Do you have time for that today?” Sylvia jumped out of the chair like she was sitting on a spring. She was smiling so hard that her cheeks turned red and started hurting a little. “I would be delighted! The more I learn today, the easier the transition is tomorrow!” “That’s the spirit!,” Abigail replied with a grin of her own as she stood up. She reached out her hand again as she walked around the desk to Sylvia, who was literally bouncing with excitement. They shook hands again, but this time Sylvia lost her composure and shook Abigail’s hand vigorously. She winced a little as her wrist was wrenched in more ways than it was supposed to, and, upon noticing the discomfort, Sylvia let go abruptly. “Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!,” She quickly said in succession, “Please excuse my excitement! Oh, wow! This is triple my last job paid me! I feel a little light headed!” “That’s understandable, dear,” Abigail said as she shook the pain from her wrist. “You jumped up a little too fast. Breathe a little bit and compose yourself. I’ll take you to the break room. I keep the fridge stocked with assorted flavored waters for the employees.” Sylvia came to her senses in short order and, with a little help with balance from Abigail, walked out of her office. They turned left and went to the next door over. Inside was a well lit room with three round tables, about two dozen chairs, a table with two microwaves, and an industrial size refrigerator. “Here we go,” Abigail said as she helped Sylvia to a chair. “By the way, I can’t help noticing your blouse. It’s beautiful. ‘Vera Wang‘?” “Versace. Real silk. I made my last boyfriend get it for me two years ago. I think he’s still paying for it.” Abigail nodded, smiled, then walked over to the fridge. She opened both doors wide so all of the contents were displayed. There were a few brown bags, clear containers of liquid, and thermal lunch boxes on the left side and the right side was stocked with sealed 20 ounce plastic bottles of flavored water. “What flavor would you like?” “ Cherry, if you don’t mind.” Abigail pulled out a cherry, closed up the fridge, then walked it over to Sylvia. She made short order of the bottle’s seal and gulped down one quarter of it’s contents. She lowered the bottle from her lips with a gasp of air. “Mmmm,’ She said, “This stuff is good. If I can have this every day, I’ll consider it a major perk!” She lifted the bottle up again and took another swig. “Now, if you’re ready, we can star the tour. You can bring your drink if you want. The warehouse can get hot during the day.” “I’m ready when you are!,” Sylvia replied without hesitating. She stood up and walked over to Abigail. Both women then walked out of the break room, turned left, and went through the plastic double doors. **********

The Sex Dolly Factory

Thu, 01 Feb 2018 00:00:00 +0000

story continues from part one

Part 2: Care and Maintenance

The Sex Dolly Factory

Thu, 01 Feb 2018 00:00:00 +0000

(story continues from The Sex Dolly Factory)

Part 2: Care and Maintenance

It’s only 10:30 in the morning and Abigail Gillen, owner and operator of “Exclusive Products Company”, has had an extremely profitable day. She had just sold off a grade 4 sex dolly that she literally made earlier that day for five hundred thousand dollars. The owner didn’t want the dolly’s voice modulator programmed or anything; he started testing it right there on the warehouse floor. The man was so excited to have the doll made out of the greedy little whore who was suing him, and the company he works for, for $15 million dollars just because he was complimenting her on her appearance, that he couldn’t wait to take it home. As he was having his dolly perform oral sex, Abigail was in her office attending some paperwork. The man gave her a briefcase full of money, and she quickly but diligently counted it and made sure all of the bills were real. Upon finding everything satisfactory, she closed the briefcase and took it over to the rows of filing cabinets on the other side of her office. She placed a key in the lock at the top of the middle file cabinet, turned it, then pulled on the second drawer down. The whole cabinet slid away from the wall on metal runners, far enough to gain access to the floor safe underneath it. She opened the safe and placed the briefcase inside, closed it, then slid the filing cabinet back into place. The key was removed and then she side-stepped to the next cabinet over on the right. She opened up the top drawer of this cabinet and pulled out a sealed manila envelope with the words “Care & Maintenance of Deluxe Dolls.” The packet was only about ¼ inch thick. She carried it back to her desk and started up her desktop computer. She went over to the break room, the next room over, and poured herself a cup of coffee while her computer warmed up. She returned, sat down, entered her password, then started to print a combination invoice and receipt for the man’s purchase. The printer was in the bottom drawer of her desk. It printed up in a standard, easy to read format, and she gathered it and the envelope together then started back for the warehouse floor. This whole time in her office took a little over 20 minutes. As soon as she opened the doors to the warehouse she was hearing the man grunting loudly. He was over by the packaging tables with his dolly still on the floor, its head pinned against the edge of the table as he was thrusting his penis violently inside its oral cavity. ‘Sylvia was right,’ Abigail thought to herself, ‘This man is a pig.’ She walked towards the man, making several “Ahem” noises as she got closer, but he was not acknowledging her. He was on a mission, obviously attempting to reach his goal. She was able to see that the man had both hands on the dolly’s head for balance, and heard the proper sucking sounds coming from the oral cavity. She was relieved with this because the man showed up too early and she didn’t have enough time to finish the procedure with the doll. The doll didn’t have any moisture added to it before its first use, only the moisture that was still there from the completion of the transformation process. After she took three more steps closer she realized why it didn’t matter. The man had a small penis, probably only five inches long erect. She had to stifle a giggle. Suddenly, the man gave out a loud groan and stiffened up his spine. He unloaded his orgasm into his dolly’s mouth, and kept his penis inside until every last drop was sucked out. Gasping, and with a wide grin, the fifty-ish year old man finally took a step back and zipped up his pants. “I take it that you’re satisfied with your purchase?” Abigail asked, still trying not to giggle. “All I can say is ’Wow’,” the man replied, still trying to catch his breath. “If its other holes are as good as that was, I may be dead soon, but, by God, what a way to go!” “Please, kill me,” The doll whispered loudly in a recorded sounding voice, “Don’t make me live like this…” The man crouched down to look into his doll’s eyes. He put his left hand behind the doll’s neck and pulled it forward, away from the table, and closer to his own face. With his other hand, he started kneading one of the doll’s breasts while fingering the nipple. The doll let a whispering, recorded sounding sexual moan. “Why?” he asked as he looked into its eyes, “You seem to like it. You’re moaning like a hooker in heat. I’m going to enjoy sticking my cock in you any time I want, any way I want, and I’ll savor every second of it. Because of you, my wife left me and is talking divorce. She and my stepdaughter are planning on taking everything I own because of your silly lawsuit. Now, since you’re no longer around, the lawsuit will go away and she’ll come to her senses and stop this divorce talk. I’ll have her back, and I’ll have you any time I want you.” “Oh, God, please…,” the doll begged. If it had some water inside it, it would be crying. “There are still a few things we have to go over,” Abigail said over the man’s shoulder. “And we must go over them quickly before my employees start showing up for their shifts.” “Sure,” the man replied as he stood back up. He turned to face Abigail. “What else do I need to know?” “First off, here’s your receipt for the doll,” Abigail said as she handed over the piece of paper and the envelope. “Also, here’s a packet for the care and maintenance of your new dolly. Please read everything inside the envelope and keep them with your important documents. If and when you pass your dolly on, via as a gift or in your will, the new owner will need to know these things as well.” “Like what?” “Well, the dolly’s exterior is made of latex. Some people have allergic reactions to physical contact with latex, and anyone who uses it should be aware of this. “Second, at least twice a week the owner must pour two cups of tap water with a tablespoon of vegetable oil down the dolly’s throat. This is used as fuel for the dolly as well as keeping its orifices moist and lubricated during use. It can also cry, especially when it’s hurt, if you wish to punish it, but any hits will not leave any marks. Keep it away from sharp objects, but the latex can be repaired, however it will leave a scar. The minerals added to the tap water helps with the upkeep of the internal machines, like the vibrations and sucking motions. Also, the oil helps keep the latex from drying out. We suggest using the routine of every Monday and Friday, and making a habit of it. Once a month you should crush up a multivitamin in with the water. Preferably, something heavy in zinc and iron. “Third, prolonged exposure to the sun or extreme cold can irreversibly damage the latex. Do not take it outside if the temperature goes below 45 degrees Fahrenheit unless it is packed inside an insulated carrying case. It will float in a pool, but the use of sunscreen or water resistant oil is recommended first. Chlorine can dry out the exterior faster than UV rays. “Third, this dolly, if taken care of properly, can survive for an estimate of 20 thousand years. It will not age. Since no one will live that long, you MUST make preparations for when you’re gone. This is why I strongly suggest that you select a programming routine for its voice modulator. You don’t want it saying the wrong thing to the wrong person, do we?” “I understand,” the man said as he looked at his receipt. He then turned towards his doll again. “Hear that? I made you almost immortal. You’re going to be someone’s fucktoy for the next few thousand years. You should be thanking me.” The dolly replied with muffled whimpering noises. “I want her to keep speaking her own mind. It excites me more than you know. I’ll look into making some provisions on what to do with it after I’m gone, but, for now, I’m gonna have a lot of fun. If there isn’t anything else, I’ll get out of your hair.” “No, that covers about everything,” Abigail said, as she headed over towards the docking bay door. The man lifted his dolly up by its waist and threw it over his shoulder, then started to follow her. The dolly was sobbing uncontrollably as he walked, not able to move or change the blank expression on its face. “If you have any questions or concerns, feel free to call.” “Thank you, Ms. Gillen. A pleasure doing business with you. You do excellent work. If things don’t work out with my wife, I may have two new candidates for your services. Would you mind if I recommend you to a few of my friends?” Abigail hit the button that raised the dock door. “We prefer that you give us the names of your friends so we can do our own background checks before we say yes or no to potential clients. You never know what some people have hidden in their closets. When Mr. Ogontz told you about us, we had already investigated you for five weeks before giving him the okay to let him talk to you. What we do here isn’t exactly legal, so we have to be careful.” “Oh, yeah, I can see that,” the man replied as he started through the docking bay and towards his car. “I’ll call you later on with my friends’ names, probably next week, depending on how much vitamin E I can handle.” He stopped at the back of his car, placed his dolly on the ground, turned back and waved goodbye to Abigail, then opened his trunk. He then picked up his dolly and proceeded to put it inside. “Please,! Oh, God! No! Stop!” The trunk closed, and that was the end of Sylvia Farrell ************

The Little Black Book

Sun, 03 Dec 2017 00:00:00 +0000

The right book can change your life. A young man is given a very special Little Black Book by a mysterious Gypsy Fortune Teller. He uses the magical book in an attempt to seduce the office bitch. How that turns out is very interesting.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

I don’t usually pay any attention to the fortune tellers at the street fair that is set up each Sunday along the sidewalks near my apartment. I know they are all fakes. I haves heard their spiel so many times I can almost always predict their next line. “I see trouble followed by joy in your future,” is one of my favorites. They kind of annoy me, always calling out to everyone promising to tell them the darkest secrets of their past and future. The only thing for sure about them is that everything they tell you is a lie. But this one was different. She was sitting absolutely silently at her small table as the crowd passed by staring into her fake crystal ball.

Right or Wrong

Sat, 21 Oct 2017 00:00:00 +0000

Darius & Delores appear on a BDSM game show, Right or Wrong. When a couple just graduated from college and burdened with debt decide to appear on the BDSM-themed game show “Right or Wrong,” interesting things happen.

“We can’t go on that show!” Delores Tucker exclaimed. “We don’t have the thousand dollar entry fee… … and what if we’re wrong!?”

“We have at least that much coming in our income tax refund,” Darius replied in his most soothing voice. Then he added, “And we don’t have to go to the highest levels.”

Rain Gauge

Fri, 08 Jul 2016 00:00:00 +0000

Tiffany was a genius at predicting things. Although she made her money, lots of it, forecasting financial trends, she was good at predicting nearly anything, from the outcomes of sporting events to the winners of political contests.

Tiffany was a petite woman, but her small stature belied her power. Roomfuls of people in conservative business attire hung on her every word. At only 25, the dark-haired woman was used to being the center of attention even though her audience was typically at least twice her age. Her words translated into large sums of cash.

Convoluted Knots

Tue, 02 Dec 2014 00:00:00 +0000

Luke was unlike most of his fellow college students. While he studied hard, he also needed his time outdoors, and doing sports. He particularly enjoyed sailing, and rock climbing, and it was not easy to find a college where he could practice both, but he did.

One day Luke got a visit from his dorm buddy Mike. But Mike seemed embarrassed. “Luke, I need to ask you something, but I can’t tell you why. With all that sailing and climbing you do, you must be pretty good with knots, right? Do you think you could teach me how to tie a couple of proper knots?”

Auction Part 4

Mon, 12 Dec 2005 00:00:00 +0000

continues from part three

Part 4 - Luggage

‘Today’s the day’ Karen thought. All week long Zoe had been promising something special. In her usual cryptic way, she would not give any details, just telling Karen to keep her weekend free and her bladder empty. ‘One little ‘I’ve gotta pee’ incident and she’ll never let me forget it’. This morning was even more frustrating. Zoe had practically pushed her out of the apartment insisting that she go to the gym then get some breakfast because Zoe had work to do. Could Zoe have changed her mind about today?

The Sex Dolly Factory

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

Part 1: The Special Order