The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Charlotte the Harlot

By Cordelia Speedicut

Chapter One

Margo basked in the sunshine, her thighs spread wide, enjoying the foot or so of thick cock throbbing inside her.

“I hope this doesn’t mean you intend to forgive him”, said Ginnie, as archly as possible given that she was busy pleasuring herself with a ‘rabbit’ vibrator. She gestured with her free hand from across the solarium, her generous tits jiggling merrily.

With an effort, Margo focused enough to smile. It was true that her own cascading waves of orgasmic pleasure were tempting her to excuse Al’s previous offences. And watching Ginnie’s bouncing boobies, she was even prepared to forgive her.

To be fair, her friend had been a huge help; but she’d also contributed to Margo’s current difficulties, tangentially at least, because she owned ‘Naughty Giselle’s Boutique’ down at the mall. Still, before Al arrived on the scene Ginnie had only teased her from time to time, by showing her some of the shops various toys and accessories. Back then Margo had been a shy young thing, unable even to bring herself to go inside the place. She was nervous enough just visiting Ginnie’s apartment, for fear that yet another new novelty item would be conjured from behind the couch.

But then she’d met Al, and there had been some lovely dinners and romantic walks, followed in time by some seriously hot sex. And it had been Al who’d gradually persuaded her to go beyond what he called ‘vanilla’ sex (a flavour she was quite fond of, thank you) to experiment with the edgier side. Ginnie had just been there with the discounts.

Margo had always been reluctant, but he was charmingly persuasive. She’d moved up to leather skirts and latex undies (inside the apartment only) when she and Al fell out over something she considered trivial—she’d had coffee with another guy.

After that, she had seen much less of him for a while—he’d said he was working on a project. Then he had turned up with a peace offering ... a fresh kink. It was a DIY latex bodypaint kit. The box had a photo of a smiling model wearing what appeared to be, at first glance, a red latex body suit. On further examination, you could see it was a shiny coating of some sort of rubber paint. Underneath was a picture of a spray gun, and a slightly incoherent message assuring that it “drying in sixty seconds—to be washable with soap and water”.

She’d been suffering a bit of withdrawal from Al’s charms, but still needed some serious foreplay and a good deal of wine inside her before she was ready to go ‘all the way’ and try it out. However, once he’d begun the process (after donning a rubber apron and gloves), she found it to be quite enjoyable. He started with her back, spraying with smooth even strokes—it was tingly cold for the minute it took to dry. It wasn’t until he made his way around to her chest that she could actually see results. It looked better than she’d hoped—a thin layer of material gave her naked body a bright red sheen. Yet it concealed little—when he got to her breasts, for example, you could still see the puffiness and darker shade of her areolas and even the faint crevices at the action ends of her nipples.

Leading the way with caresses, Al sprayed her completely, from chin to waist, before moving back up to her head. With many assurances that it would turn out just fine, he had her sit on a chair and hang her long thick hair over the back. Then he carefully sprayed and combed the stuff through, and massaged it down to her scalp.

After a coating over her ears, he shifted operations down to her feet (she spread her toes for the stuff to dry evenly) and worked his way back up. By the time he got to her groin, she was seriously aroused—actually, she couldn’t remember having ever being so excited. He spread her butt cheeks and coated their contours evenly; then had her hold her own legs wide apart so as to spray a layer over her smooth-shaved mound, swollen clit and flower-petal pussy lips. She was already trembling when he abruptly thrust the spray nozzle inside her and gave an extended blast.

Once he’d filled her with a good quantity of latex, he took the nozzle out and pressed his rubber encased fingers in, and began to spread the stuff around (while nibbling on a nipple) ... whereupon she finally came. She was still in the throws when he climbed aboard her slithery body and proceeded to give her a serious fucking.

She screamed through three more-or-less continuous orgasms until passing out ... just after Al began spraying her face to complete the costume.

* * *

She woke up stretched flat on her back on the floor of her living room, with her arms at her sides and the sun in her eyes. Groggily she lifted an arm over her face. That was way better—now the sun was just a dim red disk.

Slowly her mind focused. What the fuck, she said ... or rather, she meant to say. Nothing came out—not words, not air. She felt panic, but there was no adrenalin rush, nor the usual pounding heart. No heartbeat at all, actually.

Stunned, she held her translucent hand in front of her face. She was a ghost! Except ... while she had no previous experience being dead, it seemed to her that she should be, well, misty. On the contrary, she was distinctly shiny, just like last night.

She pinched one red hand with the other as hard as she could. It felt real enough, although it didn’t hurt.

Abruptly, she jumped up, and found herself launched at the wall. Proof of her solidity was forthcoming, as a picture fell on her impact, while a lamp was knocked over on her wild rebound. For her, if not the furnishings, it was as though gravity had been turned way down.

She sorted herself out and moon walked (ala Neil Armstrong, not Michael Jackson) over to her full-length mirror. There stood the reflection of her red latex coating ... only the morning sun was shining right through. No bones, no nothing. Clearly she was no longer inside it, even if she was somehow looking out. It resembled a Margo-shaped balloon, with latex hair and even latex eyelashes. Mind, it wasn’t an exact copy. It had pneumatically exaggerated boobs and butt, and the neck was longer than before. On the other hand—oddly enough—her freckles had somehow transferred over.

It—she—was wearing a velour tube top that she’d recently bought at cost from Ginnie, which was distinguished by the pair of large holes through which her breasts protruded. The color was so close to her own that it stood out only by its soft texture against her sheen. The only other thing she wore was a silk collar around her elongated neck, one she’d never seen before, in the same red as the rest. She gave it a little tug—no seam and not enough stretch to pull over her head. She had no idea how it had been put on her.

There was one other addition: on her left shoulder was an inflation valve just like the one on her beach ball. As if this wasn’t alarming enough, she was holding her mouth in a perfect O. She clamped it shut in a frown, but it was too late. She’d already seen inside. She’d seen something like it before, when Ginnie had taken inordinate pleasure in showing her what was billed as a heavy-duty sex doll—“As rugged as your favorite pocket pussy”, the packaging had said. And now, behind her teeth (which seemed to be made of the same soft red stuff as the rest of her), was a similar sphincter-like opening. Beyond that, she knew, would be an elastic-walled sack, thick enough not to collapse under her internal pressure and strong enough to take a fair amount of hard service.

Which meant ... she sat down, bent her legs wide into impossible positions, and then folded them behind her head so as to give her clear access to her nethers. Sure enough, the same re-engineering had taken place down there—perfectly reproduced inner and outer pussy lips (plus a plump, oversized clit) all open and welcoming, but backed by that creepy tight aperture that could grip any size of cock.

Al’s fetish bodypaint had somehow transformed her into an inflatable sex doll, and she knew her only hope was to beg him to turn her back. But first ... first she had to satisfy an alarming craving that had been building ever since she’d woken. Every touch to her skin (or rather surface) had made her hornier, and now that she was focused on her cunt she needed to get off.

She proceeded to probe and prod for all she was worth. All that fingering definitely took the edge off. But, wonderful as it was, she couldn’t quite get over.

After brief consideration, she went into her bedroom and emptied her bottom drawer onto the bed. Then she rummaged through the pile of sex toys Al had given her. Then she hurried back to the mirror carrying ‘Black Jacque’—an oversized dildo with a fat testicle-shaped palm grip. Previously, she had only ever rubbed it carefully across her crotch. Now, with a forceful twist, she quickly had the thing’s head lodged inside herself. Which was definitely nice.

Then she tried experimentally pulling the thing in deeper. She could feel her inner pouch-pussy stretch as she did, which was even nicer. And—bonus—she could still see it while it was inside her.

Before she knew it, she had Jacque’s ballsy hilt mashed against her happy clit. She began to enthusiastically crank it around, and watched it swirl around inside. Occasionally, its bulbous nose would force her belly to bulge outwards, or would push out a mound where her tailbone used to be.

Delightful as this was, no orgasm was forthcoming. She was headed back toward the bedroom for another toy when she noticed the box the bodypaint kit had come in, laying on the table. She stopped and stared, and Black Jacque slipped out of her to land on the floor with a thump.

The lid now featured a cheesy painted image of a big-boobed doll, posed in a clumsy standing position and dressed exactly as she was now. It was a crude but accurate version of her own reflection, right down to her mouth—which, she realized with horror, was again fixed in the open oval expression of surprise she’d first seen in the mirror. From behind the lurid, puffy lips in the illustration winked a reinforced fuck-ring, and she realized that her face would always relax into that position unless she concentrated on it.

In giant red letters, the label said:

“CHARLOTTE the SCARLET HARLOT”

Then, below, it continued:

“Lifesize Inflatable Sex Toy with Realistic Features”

Alongside her picture was a cartoon bubble, in which she was telling her prospective customers:

“I love to be ridden hard! Fuck my firm mouth!

Fill my plump pussy! Tit fuck my luscious melons!

Use my tight rosy butt cheeks!

I’m the horniest babe you’ll ever meet!!”

She would have blushed if she were able. It was dreadfully, delightfully true.

Finally, at the bottom, were some instructions.

“Inflate to desired pressure—water-based lubricants recommended—clean after use with soapy water. Satisfaction guaranteed!”

Well, crap. Maybe, she thought, she should get a grip and call Al to deliver some serious grovelling and pleas for mercy. When she tried, she got the extremely unwelcome message that his number was no longer in service. Now she really was screwed.

At a loss, she dialled Ginnie.

Her friend picked up on the second ring. “Hey, girl—how ya doing?”

Margo cursed—silently. After a few moments of dead air, Ginnie said, “Hello? I don’t know if you can hear me, but that cell phone of yours has crapped out again. Call me back.”

Once she was sure Ginnie had disconnected, she texted her: sorry—not able to talk now—literally!—me & al had a fight and now i need ur help—come asap

The answer came right away: u didn’t piss him off too much, did u?

maybe

al, aka aloysius, no last name, who you heard was an ex—jesuit? as in excommunicated?? and is now a practicing sorcerer & probably part time necromancer??

sorta looks like it

i’ll b there as soon as i can lock up

thx—pls don’t freak when u get here—i really really need u—margo

Once she was sure Ginnie was coming, she went back to trying to take care of her itch. If Jacque couldn’t bring her off, it didn’t seem likely any of the other toys would. On the other hand, something stretching her was better than nothing.

Her glance fell on an improbably big butt plug. She’d been afraid of it before, but now she thought the thing had possibilities. Not that she actually had a butt hole any more, but ... Sure enough, after a brief struggle, she’d forced the bulk of it into place, with her cunt ring clamped on its neck. It was enough to take the edge off. Plus, now that puppy was in there, there was no way it was falling out on its own.

There was still the matter of her idle mouth. She found the fallen Jacque, and pushed it past her lips. Definitely double the pleasure, she decided. Bolloxy grip in hand, she forced it deeper. When it pressed the back of her neck outward, she paused to savor that odd (but pleasant) sensation; then she tipped back her head and rammed it deep down her throat.

After spending an enjoyable ten minutes churning the thing about, she pulled it out and examined it. Even on the outside, Jacque had never failed her before, but now...

Maybe, she decided, the Iceman could do it. Yet another toy she hadn’t actually tried out, the frozen liquid-gel dildo promised fresh, if frosty, sensations. She tossed the disgraced Jacque aside and went through to her kitchen to fetch the thing out of the freezer.

* * *

The door was unlocked, which struck Ginnie as odd but not necessarily a bad thing. Margo’s text had been seriously disturbing, though, so she stepped in carefully and called her friend’s name. No response—only a faint beeping. Not so good. Nearby, on the floor, lay a D-007 phallus in black. Definitely not good. It wasn’t like Margo to leave incriminating toys around. And into said category fell the empty box over by the couch. ‘Charlotte’ wasn’t one of her lines. She wondered where Margo would have got it—and why.

Nervously, she followed the beeping to its source. It was the refrigerator, complaining that its door had been left open. Or, more exactly, jammed open by a life-sized inflatable doll standing rigidly with one arm in the freezer compartment. Presumably this was the Charlotte doll—but what it was doing propped in the fridge was anybody’s guess.

Ginnie pulled the thing clear so she could shut the door—not so much in the hope of keeping Margo’s milk from going off as to make the annoying beeping stop. The doll was light enough to tuck under her arm; she took it back to the living room and stood it against the wall in the sunshine. The thing was far more sophisticated than the crude one she’d teased Margo with. She had catalogue items with similarly lifelike sculpting, but they were expensive things solidly build of thick silicon over armatures of carbon fiber. More like robots, really.

Unusually for an inflatable, ‘Charlotte’ had subtle detail, right down to its hands and feet—and face, if you ignored the hokey open-mouthed expression ... finally, she noticed it also had an uncanny resemblance to Margo. No wonder, she thought, that the poor girl had been freaked out. Then, as she watched, the thing slid down the wall and folded up into a particularly pitiful—and human—position, with its arms wrapped around its knees and its face buried.

The doll sat like that and trembled for a bit, while Ginnie edged away from it. Then it abruptly lifted its head. Its blank eyes seemed to stare straight at her, and its mouth was now pressed into a wistful half smile.

“Margo?”

The doll nodded.

“Oh my God! It is you, isn’t it?”

A shrug, and then Ginnie got the hint. She dug Margo’s i-pad out of a desk drawer, switched it on and dropped in the lap of her unfortunate friend.

Margo began to type: i was so scared!! i thought i was stuck like that—as charlotte, forever! She shuddered.

“It was sorta like you thawed out in the sun. You should maybe stay outa the fridge.”

That earned a hard stare, but then Margo seemed to reflect a moment, and typed, i woke up this morning in the sun shine.

“Best we keep you warm, then. Um. Why Charlotte?”

charlotte is real name—always hated it, so i use middle name—margaret—never told al—now i can’t get hold of him—he’s vanished.

“I know—I tried too, before I left the shop.” Ginnie sat down next to the re-minted Charlotte and then reached down to touch the oversized, joke butt plug in what could be considered a familiar sort of way. “Did he do this to you, too?”

Charlotte’s shoulders shook—Ginnie couldn’t tell if it was with amusement or grief. i did it—i’m so randy now—like all the time!—i can’t get enough—and i can’t seem to cum—ginnie, i need it so bad!

Ginnie wrapped her arm around Charlotte’s shoulders. She was surprised at how pleasant the latex skin felt. “Can I help?”

A little nod. yes, pls.

The last time they had sex together had also been the first time. Although Ginnie was avowedly bisexual, Margo had needed a good deal of tequila under her belt (and a bit of friendly teasing) before being persuaded to help test drive Ginnie’s latest product—a top quality, flexible, double-ended wang.

The evening had ended to their mutual satisfaction—although at two feet in length, the toy wasn’t seriously practical—and they’d agreed they had to do it again soon. But that had been two months before; Ginnie assumed that sober reflection had changed her friend’s mind. Well, perhaps it had, but now ... well, that model 24-4-2 dildo should still be in the bedroom.

“I’ll be right back,” she said, then jumped up and hustled to check. Yes! There it was, among the selection of multicolored sex toys spread out on the bed. Poor Margo, she thought; then she quickly stripped, before scooping up the double-ender. When she returned, Charlotte was already on her back with her legs pulled wide and the butt plug unplugged.

Ginnie had intended to experiment with some tongue work, but Charlotte was clearly desperate for the main course. There was nothing to do but oblige, although technically she herself wasn’t quite ready. Even so, the long toy slid into her cunt easily. She held the weight of the cumbersome thing inside herself with both hands and grinned. There was something like eighteen inches hanging between her legs.

Charlotte would have licked her lips in anticipation, except for the difficulty of no longer having a tongue. She settled for waving her feet in circles and humping her bum up and down. When Ginnie pushed the free-end knob into her, she shuddered with pleasure.

Both of them were surprised to find how much wang Charlotte could accommodate—which was essentially all the rest of it. It looked quite spectacular in there—it was up behind her shirt, but the tip would sway into view through the window of one, then the other, of her see-through breasts. The thing occupied so much volume that her increased internal air pressure made an outie out of her innie; but unlike her belly button, her mouth pouch was evidently designed to resist that fate. Nonetheless her tits expanded and, spectacularly, so did her nipples—as well, she suspected, as her head.

After a substantial amount of wang thrusting, and of clit grinding around the shaft of the thing, Ginnie had to take a rest break. She collapsed on top of her pillowy friend, having cum twice. But ... “Um. How was it for you?”

Charlotte smiled and shrugged—as best she was able, being pinned (in several senses) to the floor.

“Oh, sorry,” said Ginnie, and rolled over.

As they were still connected, the result was that Charlotte finished up on top. However, her own weight wasn’t nearly enough to offset the tension in her stretched pussy-pouch, so she bounced back up along the shaft inside her. She reached equilibrium supported by about a foot of wang between her and her friend.

Without meaning to, Ginnie laughed out loud. “Sorry,” she repeated, as she brought the dildo to the vertical with one hand and passed up the nearby i-pad with the other.

The slight extra weight of the device caused Charlotte to slide back down a wee bit, and she trembled with pleasure. that was really great!!! but i didn’t cum—that prick al must have fixed it so i need the real thing—but how do i get fucked???

“I think I got an idea. My brother Dave is back in town. Have you ever met him?”

A head shake—no.

“Good—then he won’t recognize you. Wait right there while I call him.”

Charlotte waggled her legs and smiled—like she could go anywhere. She watched as Ginnie carefully used her free hand to tip the end-table enough for the cell phone to slide into her grip.

“Heya, Davey—how’s it going? Good, good ... nuthin’ happening? Me neither ... listen, could ya do me a favor? Only I’ve got in a new line of dolls to check out ... Yeah, I know ... Yeah, you were right to refuse, before, the last one was crap ... Well of course it’s still in the shop, no one will buy it ... No, really, this one is like a hundred times more lifelike. But I need be able to say that a guy I really respect and trust—no names, natch—to say that this guy has tested the thing and approves ... Well, nowish, actually—I’ll bring her, uh, it right over ... Yeah, get right on it, ha ha, but keep it as long as you like—I want a fully informed opinion. You know, durability and stuff ... Thanks, bro, yer a sweetie. Ciao!”

She looked up at Charlotte. “Okay—its all set. Remember, he has no idea about Al’s existence, far less what he’s capable of. He thinks you’re ... well, inanimate. So if you want to get fucked tonight, don’t let him find out otherwise and scare the crap out of him. Let’s roll!” After disconnecting themselves, Ginnie added, “There’s no way you’re riding in the car like that.”

Charlotte lifted up one of her long coats questioningly.

“I’d still see through your bright red head, fer fuck sakes!”

Charlotte shrugged and pointed at a pair of sunglasses and hat near the front door.

“Even if it worked—which it probably wouldn’t—how do I deliver you to Dave like that? Just say, ‘Here’s the love doll I told you about—I just thought I’d get her ready for your date tonight’? Nah, sorry—you gotta go in yer box.”

It took a moment for that idea to sink in, and then Charlotte backed away, her hands in up front of her in the international Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! signal.

“Ya wanna get laid or not?” asked Ginnie. “Don’t worry. If Al wanted you to be permanently froze, you already would be.” And with that, she gently pulled the plug out of Charlotte’s shoulder valve.

For Charlotte, the sensation was understandably unusual. As, with a faint hiss, she deflated into a puddle of material on the floor, bits of her began touching other bits they never could have before. When Ginnie began to fold her up (shirt and all), this was even more noticeable—she was pretty sure her left big toe was mashed against her right cheek. It took several attempts to get her to fit in the box—her two fuck-pouches were bulky because of their reinforced structure, and needed to be packed side by side. At one point, her collar slipped half way over her mashed head, before Ginnie stuffed it back down again. So that’s how it was done, she thought.

* * *

Once packed, she found that it was quite relaxing being bundled in her box. For one thing, the need for immediate cock had eased; plus, whereas time had passed slowly while she’d lain face first in the frozen peas, now she sort of dozed in and out, like that time she’d got the good drugs at the dentist. She remembered surfacing to hear car doors slamming, and then again when she was delivered to Dave. It seemed as though only a few minutes had passed when her lid was removed, and warm lips were forcing hot air into her core. That was exiting—she came at long last, twice, and had to struggle to force her body to relax into its default doll position.

Once she had been inflated until her collar and rude shirt were snug again, he leaned her against the wall, just like his sister had (except for parking her in a sunbeam), then sat down and stared at her. Fine, she thought, and proceeded to case him out. He was good looking—Ginnie better have a good excuse for not introducing him ages ago. There was obviously no sign of a girlfriend around the place.

After a full minute, he shook his head and muttered, “I don’t know how Ginnie talks me into this shit. Too real is almost as creepy as half alien, like that last doll she wanted me to test. It’s not as though I never get any dates. You, ‘Charlotte’, can wait ‘til after dinner.” With that, he got up and left the room.

Hey, thought Charlotte. I don’t have to put up with that kinda crap. Only, she realized, she would—and not only for the prospect of another orgasm. She’d cooled off since she’d been re-inflated, and there seemed to be a window open somewhere. She’d frozen up again. You’ll never get a date if they find out you talk to blow-up dolls, she thought, sulkily.

When Dave finally showed up again, though, she was inclined to forgive him. His shirt was off and he looked thoroughly embarrassed, but he was clearly determined to carry out his assignment. He tucked her under one arm and carried her to the sanctuary of his bedroom—and sure enough, there was the open window. Having laid her on his bed, he studied her again, but this time it was more a question of deciding his approach. Eventually, he nodded, and then took off his pants and boxers. She was pleased to note that his cock was bigger than Al’s was—which, she had to admit, was as much revenge as she could hope for under the circumstances. And, so far, Dave’s dong was only faintly interested. He broke out some lube—which Ginnie had, no doubt, helpfully tucked into the box—and began to prepare himself. Luckily, Charlotte currently had no need of foreplay.

Once ready, Dave finally had a go at posing her, spreading her legs wide and lifting them onto his shoulders. Then at last, with a faint air of distaste, he drove his cock home. The look of surprise on his face was a joy to Charlotte—although not as much as finally getting the stimulation that Al had forced her to crave. She came almost immediately, and although still frozen, she felt her pussy pouch begin to massage its meaty contents. His eyes opened wide, and through her haze of steady-state orgasm, she watched him try to puzzle out what was happening. “Kinetic springs,” he muttered, before giving way to his own lust.

He proceeded to give her the hard ride she’d formally asked for on her box lid. Once or twice, she was a little afraid of exploding, but trusted Al to have intended her to last like this forever. When Dave eventually came, her vibrating vagina-simulator brought him back within moments. Gasping for breath, he pulled his reanimated tool free, and considered his next move. Deciding, he flipped her over and folded her into a kneeling crouch position. Charlotte, briefly lucid again as she anticipated his reentry, felt her nipples stretch as her internal air pressure increased slightly. She wondered how he supposed a simple blow-up doll could be made to hold any position like this—short of magic, of course. And then he was inside her again, hands gripping her hips and pounding hard from behind, and she gratefully launched into another mega-cum.

After, he had enough left to rotate her around and fuck her face. His urgency had subsided; it was a slow fuck, and he held her almost tenderly. Once he’d cum again, he eased free and collapsed on his back beside her. As her own orgasm subsided, she though he might nod off to sleep, but he roused himself and got up. Then he picked her up—she’d toppled on her side, although she held the doggy crouch she’d been left in—and lugged her into the bathroom. There he climbed in the tub with her, and then showered both himself and her—flushing her top then bottom with the shower wand, before leaving her there to dry.

The hot spray had thawed her, and she had to remember her promise to Ginnie not to startle him by moving. In any event, not being able to talk would complicate explaining herself. Not that ‘Hi, I’m Margo’s soul trapped in your doll, pleased to meet you,’ would likely have gone far in that regard, anyway. She considered poking around in the kitchen, or something, but knew she would probably cool down before she could get back; and anyway, she was perfectly comfortable where she was.

* * *

The next morning Dave came in for a pee. Then, to her dismay, he pulled out her shoulder plug and proceeded to deflate her. Carrying her draped loose over his shoulder, he squeezed out the last puffs as he took her down the hall to her box on the kitchen table. Like his sister, it took him several tries to get Charlotte to fit, but then the lid was on and she was back in the drifting fog. She heard doors slam, and a car engine start; and then another slam, although she had no idea how much time had passed between. Then the tinkle of a small bell, and muffled voices.

“Good? It was great! That was the problem. If I keep her any longer, I’ll start talking to her ... more. Sorry, Ginnie, I’ve got to look up Wendy—I need someone alive.”

“Isn’t she the one who didn’t want commitment? The one who only wanted to see you for rough...”

“Exactly. I’ll call you on the weekend.”

And then Charlotte felt the warmth of breath entering her. She didn’t cum this time, but it was a near thing.

Once her bung was in, Ginnie poked her to test her pressure. “That seems about right.”

She looked around and recognized the back room of the Naughty Giselle’s Boutique. The clock on the wall said 12:30—presumably of the same day, although she couldn’t be sure.

“Well,” said Ginnie, “That didn’t go as well as I expected. Still, you got laid. And I got another idea. Some frat boys called this morning, wanted a doll. I’ll substitute you for ‘Vinyl Vickie’ here, and tell ‘em I’ve upgraded them to a better model—one week rental at the same price.”

That sounded promising.