Doll Parts
By BluejayGS and CG
Part 1: The Procurers
Her name was Sly. It had been Slinalia Lambert, once upon a time, when she’d been pulling solid As in high school and looking towards college.. She knew she wasn’t getting help from anyone; scholarships somehow never found their way to her school in Flint, and since her father had lost his job with three-quarters of the city, her family was only barely getting by, with nothing left to send her to college. The empty husks of manufacturing plants had always taunted her, but until she turned 18, she had no idea that they weren’t really empty.
“We can’t do much, ‘Lia,” her father had said during her senior year of high school. “But there’s a company that hires smart girls like you. Maybe you can save up and work your way through Eastern Michigan or something.” And he’d handed her a pale blue flyer with a phone number and an address. She couldn’t make an appointment fast enough.
From that day forward, Slinalia had been no more, and Sly had risen from the ashes. Over ten years, she’d worked her way up through the ranks, using her intelligence and breathtaking beauty to her advantage until she was the plant manager for Ram Manufacturing, the well-paid buffer between bored executives and base procurers. She’d built up networks of connections with gangs across the country, arranging with them for them to send her the brainiac sisters who would never be able to attend college without the money Ram paid.
Of course, the little fact that none of them would give a damn about college once their training was complete never came up. Who needed college when there was so much raw material to gather? The memory of it brought her tongue across her lips, and she remembered that she had two appointments for potential procurers that day- no, “entry-level direct marketing” positions, she reminded herself. “$50/hr, paid on-the-job training included” tended to get people’s attention.
On-the-job training- that meant that she could finally get out of her stuffy office and back in action. Just the thought of gathering more material made Sly want to touch herself, and her muscular hands slid under her overalls and into the scant bra that she only wore to keep everything from falling out. “Gathering more material”— what a bloodless way to say “grab beautiful women off the streets and turn them into unbelievably sexy fuckdolls”. She laughed at the euphemism, but the fantasy of more perfect mindless women helplessly eating her out twisted her face into a blissful smile and relaxed her body as her busy hands took her over. As smart as she had been, and as good as she was, she was just as programmed as any of the procurers she supervised, and part of her knew it, and part of her loved it.
Paula, her assistant manager, stood in the doorway, watching with a lusty grin on her face, but she’d always been a nastier soul than Sly could ever be. She’d needed to be tamed to become a procurer; growing up as the daughter of a gang boss, she’d been shaking down deadbeats since she was twelve. Sly had dreamed of college, but for Paula, this was the only college she’d ever need; here, she could learn the management side of the sleazy businesses. That had been her plan nine years ago, but her inventively cruel mind had long since been molded into that of a soulless procurer, the kind of woman who would sink her wrench into a mother in front of her child if the mother fit her target measurements. She was in charge of the large jobs, the raids on nightclubs and spring breaks where they could gather tens, even hundreds in a single night for the larger orders and for backstock. After satisfying herself with a minute or two of mocking voyeurism, she said, “You gotta get out more often. What, you afraid I’m gonna steal your desk? Ain’t nothin’ here worth my time. Thought you might wanna know the new stick girls are here, and you gotta see one’a them!”
Sly blinked herself awake, regretfully letting go of her fantasy and taking a large swig out of her water bottle to cool herself off. “Thanks, Paula. Are they dressed to impress? Guess they don’t fit the blueprint if you’re telling me they’re waiting instead of telling me they’re on the assembly line. We need all the help we can get with this new order from—” She picked up the paper from her desk and stared at it, her brows drawing together. “Mumble? Numb-by? God, why can’t these damn Indians pick a name and stick with it? They want 250 of model X7234.”
“Another large group of pansy-ass pretty white girls? Damn, we just got done giving New York their early Christmas present! When we gonna make some good old fashioned hos?” Paula complained, leaning over Sly’s desk, short hair falling forward into her eyes.
“I think we’ve got a few 4X orders coming in. I’ll put you in charge of those while I break in the new procurers. I heard the last batch broke down after a couple of weeks’ straight use. I know you can do better than that. Let’s show Cherry Hill that they can’t hope to match us,” Sly said, as much to get Paula out of her hair as anything else.
Paula bared her teeth in a grin. “That’s more like it. Gimme the specs on this new batch, anyway. Might get bored and help you out.”
“Can’t remember what X7234 is supposed to be?” Sly asked with the slightest hint of a taunting edge to her voice. “American Pride, remember? 5′6″, weight adjustable plus or minus five to 55 pounds-what the fuck? Oh, right, India. Stupid people can’t even drive on the right side of the road. So that’s...” She rummaged through her desk and came up with a sheet of paper. “Right, 120 pounds, plus or minus ten. All right, that makes sense. White, blonde, blue-eyed, for use in a new cricket league—”
“They playin’ with bugs?” Paula interrupted, her face twisting into a very unattractive expression of confusion.
“Nah, some weird British sport. Already paid down- good, none of this leftover shit we got stuck with when the damn Russians bailed. Extra-special hospitality programming- they have to be ready to serve the VIPs at any time. Least I think that’s what they want. These Indian guys use way too many fancy words,” Sly grumbled, years of reprogramming having long since drowned out the little voice in her head that told her she’d known what all of those words meant once upon a time. “Clear out. You’ve got whipping dolls to plan for, and I gotta change into my play clothes for the new girls. If you want to get an eyeful, wait until later.”
Paula snickered, a low and ugly sound, and got out of the office. Sly climbed out of her overalls, unsnapping a few of the more tender connections, and into a royal blue skirtsuit that one of her previous victims had left behind. The red tank top that went with it, and the long sleeves of the jacket, both itched like crazy, and she already missed the feel of the denim against her skin, but she reminded herself she’d only need to be in it for a few minutes, just long enough to take the new recruits off guard. The pumps almost knocked Sly off balance until she took a deep breath and sensually adjusted her bra and pantyhose. Just like that, she fell into character. Her beautiful face lit up with a radiant glow. Dressed up like this, it was easy to remember that she’d only avoided becoming a Cocoa Ho because, at 5′10″, she was just a little too tall to fit into the molds.
A few steps in her office got her used to the high heels, and she smoothly made her way into the waiting room. It was like stepping into another world, far away from the grit and dirt of the factory. Here, the walls were whitewashed, and everything sparkled, especially the bright blue ram logo on the wall behind Cathy’s desk. The secretary’s sweet, blonde good looks and pastel blouse might have seemed out of place to anyone who knew the company’s line of products, but when she pushed back from the desk further than the average pretty blonde would, revealing her 6′5″ height, she seemed to fit right in.
Looking at her was a good reminder to Sly as to why Paula should never be put in charge of planning raids, just pointed in the right direction and set loose. If Paula hadn’t thought it was a brilliant idea to raid a Christian praise party for the “Let’s Have Sex Barbie” line, they never would have run headlong into the buzzsaw of Cathy, who might be a meek, proper Christian girl, but who wasn’t about to let all kinds of sinful atrocity go on around her. It had taken three direct crotch hits to take her down, and even then they hadn’t known what to do with her. Too pretty to waste, too big to use (unless someone decided to remake “Attack of the 50-Foot Woman”), she’d ended up the receptionist: sweet enough to charm potential employees or merchandise, but imposing enough to make any door-to-door salesman run away from the building and never come back.
“Your job seekers are in the lounge and ready to be interviewed, Mrs. Smith,” Cathy said. Sly glared back at her. Eight years, and that was still the only way Cathy got around Ram’s informality. She reminded herself once again to train Cathy out of that when there was time, but there was a task ahead of her.
“You offered them the free chocolates, right? I took longer than I planned,” Sly said with a plastic grin. Cathy nodded and pointed at the two job seekers, who were completely enthralled by the ‘70s “women in prison” movie playing on the television.. Between the drugs in the chocolate and the subliminals in the movie, neither woman would move a muscle until she got their attention. The drugs would keep them oblivious to anything they might find strange until it was too late; the movie began the process of molding the two into procurers by making them completely and only attracted to women.
She took a close look at her two new charges. The first, a white brunette with a hard-looking face and impressive biceps that her white tank top showcased, had a smirk on her face while watching the video, and Sly suspected that the subliminals were overkill there. The other... Sly’s mouth started watering at the sight of the smooth-skinned ebony beauty in her short red velvet skirt, elegant matching jacket, and black top. If the Cocoa Ho line had been producing, Sly would have taken her, and even though it wasn’t, her hand crept towards the small wrench in her purse.
“Two inches over the line, Mrs. Smith. I already checked the blueprint for you,” Cathy admonished. Sly’s hand dropped away as she sighed.
Then again, having someone that beautiful around her all the time on the assembly line might have its advantages, and at least it’d be better than having to see Paula’s scowl all the time. With that in mind, she walked in front of the television and awoke the pair from their trance, booming out, “Welcome to Ram Manufacturing! Your names, please?”
“Felicia,” the one in the tank top said.
“Melody,” the one in the skirt and jacket replied. Unlike Felicia, she was obviously trying to keep herself from staring at Sly’s chest, and just as obviously, she was failing.
Sly bit back a smile. Two very different women, if she pegged them right. With that nose, and the hint of an accent, Felicia’d probably come from one of their connections in Brooklyn, sent over because there wasn’t much room in the Family business for women, no matter how tough they were or how many wiseguys they could take in a fight. Melody, on the other hand, was obviously someone born in the wrong place who wanted any ticket out, a perfect sucker for the pale blue fliers posted all over inner cities across the country. Both of them were perfect in different ways for the job ahead of them.
“Any questions? Good. I’m going to need you to get into uniform. No one can be out on the factory floor out of uniform. Don’t need that skirt of yours ripped off, after all,” Sly said, letting her gaze linger on Melody’s legs. Melody looked away, torn between embarrassment and arousal and still too stunned to be intensely either.
Sly led her two newest charges down the hall to the changing room. Everything would be shed here: pretenses, clothes, scruples, and memories. She took out her wrench and set it to its lowest setting to create a light yet firm trance that her victim wouldn’t be able to break out of until it was too late. Hiding it in her hand so that neither would see it, she approached Melody first, since she seemed more likely to resist. “We need you to take all your clothes off and put them in the bin over there, then step into the shower. There’s no such thing as being too careful when it comes to sanitation and safety,” she said, letting just enough light escape from the tip of her wrench to confuse Melody into not being shy about removing her clothes in front of strangers.
After a moment, Melody stepped out of her heels and took her jacket off. As she turned around to neatly put things in the bin, Sly adjusted and readied her wrench again, tapping Melody lightly on the back of the neck and whispering, “Everything.” The wrench sent a relaxing, mind-numbing shockwave into Melody’s brain so that she stripped down to her bra and panties. But there she stopped and turned around, her eyes as big as saucers and her jaw slack.
“Everything,” Sly repeated gently, making sure nothing woke up Melody’s slightly sleeping brain.
“All right, Miss... Miss...” Melody found herself stammering as she tried to think of her future boss’s name.
“Oh, just call me Sly!” Sly said in a cheerful yet commanding voice as the wrench in her hand left faint patterns of light on Melody’s face. Melody was too busy blinking away her disorientation to notice that her hands were removing the bra and panties. A nudge from Sly’s free hand sent Melody into the shower, and Sly shut the door behind her before checking on her other charge.
Felicia was already naked, and it only took a quick pulse of light to get her into the shower room- the trick there was keeping Felicia from being too distracted by Sly’s body. Once Felicia had shut the door, Sly grinned wolfishly and hit the pair of buttons that would start the procurer manufacturing process in each cubicle. By the end of their shower, both Melody and Felicia- or whatever she chose to call them later- would become half-mechanized sexual predators who would crave seeing other women in states of torture, be able to thrive on three meals a week, and go three days straight without sleeping a wink; the only rest they would need would come after their quality control sessions with new dolls. The thought, and the memory, of those quality control tests almost made Sly melt in delight right then and there, and the image of her new charges- especially delicious Melody- joining her caused her to fix her gaze on Melody’s stall through the slit cut into the wall.
In the shower, Melody started to awaken slightly. Something was not right about this at all. There were to many strange and perverted thoughts racing through her head, and none of this matched up with what she thought she had read on the flier. Thoughts of having sex with a woman strapped to a torture rack, all but raping a woman with a taser, and other strange fantasies were flashing in front of her eyes, taking root in her brain, pushing out what had been there before. Terrified and panicking, she banged on the door, screaming for Sly, but her resistance only lasted for as long as it took the water to come on. As it hit her skin, accompanied by a cloud of steam, her mind started to spin.
Of course, she had no way of knowing that the warm water and the sweet-smelling steam were both mixed with chemicals designed to wash her brain along with her body. All she knew was that she was hot and aroused. A little voice in the back of her head screamed that this was wrong, but she couldn’t stop, and with every sensual caress of her breasts and body, the voice quieted a little more. She barely even noticed when the ideas that turned her on shifted from simple torture porn to the prospect of finding new women to bring to Ram, only that her hands had moved away from her breasts and to her pussy. Her fingers were not enough to satisfy the lust inside her, and she looked around the stall for something to help her out, clapping her hands in delight when she found a vibrator sitting where the soap would normally be. She stuck it inside and thumbed it up to the maximum setting.
The effect was overwhelming and instantaneous. As the vibrator was designed to, it sent a wave so overpowering that Melody’s body went completely rigid with pleasure. The shower and steam automatically stopped, and a compartment at the back of the stall opened, revealing a memory foam mat that Melody fell into. As she sank into it, another panel unfolded from the wall, sending various wires into her body. A few minutes passed before the panels opened up to reveal Melody, her face blank, her mind awash in pleasure and torture porn, and her fate sealed. Nude but for the silver connections along her body, she sleepwalked out of the shower.
Sly was waiting for her with a smile, having changed into her uniform, and she helped Melody into the thick socks, minimal bra, overalls, and work boots, making sure that every wire matched its proper snap. Melody shivered with pleasure. Felicia, already dressed, watched from the corner, occasionally reaching under her overalls or between her legs. Washed clean of their tattoos, body hair, morals, and memories, Sly’s newest procurers were ready to serve.
As they made a show of reading their contracts, Sly looked them over and found them good. They’d both be good in different ways. Felicia- Lisha now- would be one to grab and tag without thought, filling out orders for different lines with speed and without remorse. Mel, on the other hand, would find the women who fit the blueprint to the letter, the ones that wouldn’t be too much of a problem on the line. With contracts in hand, she led them out onto the factory floor for the first time, where they could see the naked women being lifted through the different stages on chains, wrapping up the last shipment of the Sailor Screw schoolgirl line. Lisha and Mel watched, fascinated by the process, but a little bit of remaining Melody caused Mel to shiver slightly in revulsion.
An untrained eye wouldn’t have noticed the resistance, but Sly had been at her job too long. She put her hand on Mel’s shoulder, gently tightening the connections, and causing a little shock to conduct through the snaps to bring Mel back into line. In a calming tone of voice, Sly said, “The line’s rushing things. It’s those whackjobs in Osaka- shipping takes an extra month, so that means we gotta go a lot faster than we’d like. Don’t worry- those’ll be done by the time it’s your turn to make your own, and we’ll have a new blueprint without those creepy anime eyes.”
Mel accepted this, as she was trained to do, and the three of them moved past the assembly line into the back room, where Sly checked in with a broad-shouldered, round-faced woman. “New trainees?” the woman asked with a fake smile..
“Sure are. Mel, Lisha, this is Carla, our wrench wench. Know her and love her, or you don’t get toys. Carla, gimme my bag.” Sly could barely contain her glee at the prospect of hitting the road again. Lisha’s eyes were fixed on the rack of weapons; even if she had no clue how they worked, they looked interesting, and as she studied them, her implanted memories began to kick in. A bloodthirsty smile creased her face.
Mel’s reaction was slightly different. Some part of elegant, ladylike Melody was still fighting the last stand, and she recognized the wrenches as part of what got her into this state in the first place. But she wasn’t sure whether this state was a bad thing or not, and as Carla bent over to pick up Sly’s bright blue and red golf bag, she knew she was helpless to resist. Fantasies of procurement danced in her head, making her uncontrollably horny. Lisha noticed quickly and locked lips with Mel, both their hands wandering.
“Aw, ain’t that sweet? Your new hires are already learning to work together,” Carla said girlishly as she opened up Sly’s golf bag and put away the small handheld wrench. Sly looked through, sorting through the longer-shafted, double-ended wrenches that looked more like canes.
“I dunno which to pick. Big Bertha or the 2-iron? Blueprint’s only X, but I want ‘em to know how to do it right. God knows Paula’s not gonna do it.”
“I hear that. Take the 5-wood. That’s close enough to the model they’ll be handling, with enough battery power to last the night, classic styling so no one shits a brick, and low enough output to keep from frying the new dolls,” Carla decided.
“All right, then. You two done over there?” Sly asked pointedly, which caused Mel and Lisha to let go of each other like they’d been burned and snap to attention. “You better have been listening to Carla the first time, ‘cause I’m not giving that lecture again later. At least you’re getting to know each other. Good. I was worried your differences might get in the way, but looks like the overalls were the only thing in the way. Time to learn how to use the most important tool of the trade: your wrench. Every model is different, but they’re all designed to numb and disable the mind of anyone it touches. It can be placed in several areas, with different ways of showing the same effect. Lisha! Get your paws off my bag! Carla will take you from here. Pick ‘em out quickly, ‘cause we got an order of 250 in and I want 25 found and crafted by the end of the day before I send you out on your own routes.”
Carla picked up her cue and led Mel and Lisha over to the racks. “All the way back, gals, the little ones are for in-house use only. They don’t have enough juice for what you gotta do. Let’s see, you two are assigned to custom order fulfillment, so you’ll want something double-ended and long-staffed- never know if you’ll get twins or something.”
Lisha chuckled and went immediately for a cold steel model with a head that made no pretenses at what it was for. She stared briefly at the controls and buttons before giving it an experimental swing and hitting Carla right in the leg.
“Aren’t you lucky I activate ‘em after you leave the building? And that the overalls provide insulation from shit like that? ‘Cause otherwise I’d have to take that thing out of your hands and wallop you good with it,” Carla said with a broad smile. Lisha looked sheepishly down at the floor, but with her hands wrapped tightly around the shaft of her cane. Mel, having learned her lesson from Lisha’s mistakes, selected a shorter, multi-colored cane that disguised itself better and had several functions. She made sure that she was well away from Carla before taking a test swing. It felt good and natural in her hands as the programming settled even further into her brain, the wires sending a gentle pulse of electricity through her and stimulating her pleasure centers.
“Very popular choice. Not as effective in terms of raw power, but good for the world outside,” Carla said as she led the two new recruits out of the stockroom and back out to Sly, who had set up a projector and a pair of comfortable chairs. Sly flipped the projector on and watched as Mel and Lisha fell into its patterns and were fed the new blueprint. From that second on, until their next reprogramming, they could only be aroused by women who were 5′6″, between 110 and 130 pounds, and white; they would be uncontrollable if the woman was blonde, natural or otherwise. Within minutes, they were locked on their target. Their hands tightened around their wrenches, their mouths watered at the thought of new flesh to make into dolls, and their wide eyes absorbed everything they saw. As deep as they were, Sly didn’t even need to call their names to get their attention. She clapped her hands sharply, and they followed out to the garage, where she sat them down in the backseat of her jet black Hummer. Not quite the battered old Econolines they’d be driving when they were set loose on the world, but rank had its privileges, and Sly meant to exercise as many of them as she could.