Forever In Debt
Part 2
Cathy sat up in bed, cold sweat covering every inch of her body, the same reaction she’d had every morning to the same dream she’d had every night since that fateful day in 2002. Her memories haunted her, reminding her that she was trapped, that she needed to break free, and she was sick to her stomach, both at what she had done and what she would have to face as long as she remained imprisoned.
She looked around, establishing that she was in her suite, in her own bed, everything pink on pink on pink. Her hands stopped shaking when she looked at Lilly- or at least the doll she had been told was Lilly. Rationally, she knew that it was just a random unsold Let’s Have Sex Barbie- she even had the larger than life box in her room to remind her of this. It might be Lilly, it might not. Six years at Ram had left her with a certain cynical edge about things. But she could pretend.
“Good morning, Lilly! Sleep well?” she asked the naked doll next to her.
Lilly gave a little preprogrammed stretch and yawn, then got up and put on a comically oversized blue t-shirt with Ram’s logo and slogan on it. While Cathy headed for the shower, Lilly started making the bed.
This was where her choices- such as they were, given that the only reason she was there in the first place was because Sly and Paula had needed to get out in one piece- would begin. The only saving grace was that she could never become a doll; the molds weren’t designed for someone with her outlandish height and thick build. As long as she hung on to her soul, she could fight the insidious pressure Ram put on her to become a heartless procurer. She dreamed of escape sometimes, and found herself coming around to the same question over and over again: could she live with herself, and the things she had to do for Ram, long enough to get out?
The first choice was in the shower. The hot water would relax her, and the special soap would addle her mind, leaving her a giggling secretary who couldn’t think enough to get out. Some days she didn’t mind that. This time, she grabbed the generic soap and hit the cold water to jolt herself further awake. Her shower was brief, and she dried off with quick, rough strokes before changing into the pink and lavender skirtsuit. This was a good day, one where she was more aware than normal, maybe even the one where she could get out.
Then again... her gaze was drawn to the framed newspaper article under the needlepoint on her wall. It would be easy to get out and impossible to be believed. And Ram had had nothing to do with that. It had all been Ted Baker Baptist College’s doing.
School Massacre: 15 Ted Baker Students Slain by Terrorists; 4 groups claim responsibility, the headline said, and it told of how Cathy had given her life to subdue the four gunmen who pumped a superhuman amount of lead into her body, accompanied by a picture of her parents weeping, American flag in hand. On her more optimistic days, she thought that her parents hadn’t fallen for the story, since obviously the body could never be produced. But when she turned on the television, where Jessica ranted and raved on her husband’s show about how those who doubted the word of God were no better than bin Laden himself, with pictures of her fallen classmates in one hand and a battered Bible in the other, Cathy’s heart sank. She was well and truly trapped in this hell on earth, and if she didn’t do the minimum they asked of her, they would force her down the path to becoming a procurer. Better the small sin than the big sin, even though she knew that was Ram’s rationalization programmed into her head, the same way they had shortened her name.
“Breakfast ready, dear?” Not that a banana could take very long to prepare, but the chocolate milkshake that contained the mindnumbing chemical cocktail that kept her docile and obedient took a bit more work. She’d fought against it early on, sometimes needing to be restrained until it could be poured down her throat. But six years down the road, she was resigned to it, and it did make her more able to do the things Ram asked of her. “I just need to get to work,” she said as she approached Lilly at the small kitchen counter, bent down, and kissed Lilly softly on the cheek.
There were few things she was proud of during her time at Ram. Reprogramming Lilly into a proper housewife with a few wild qualities was one of them. It had taken three years to make Lilly into something more than just a sex doll meant to teach German teenagers how to treat a woman in bed, and Cathy would never consider one moment of those years a waste. When she considered the things she had seen-and done- for Ram, falling in love with another woman was far from the worst abomination she could commit. Lilly had given her the only sexual pleasure she had ever felt. It only made sense that she would fall in love with her, even though consciously, she knew that this was just another chain to keep her loyal to Ram.
The smooth feel of the pink glass Lilly put in her hand jarred her out of her thoughts, and before she could have second thoughts, she chugged it down in two swallows. She could feel it coursing through her veins, freezing both body and mind until she could neither move nor think. She stayed that way for close to ten minutes, her eyes open but unseeing, her pulse slow and even, her mind open to anything. Then she blinked rapidly and her arms fell to her sides, but there was still a vagueness about her, like she wasn’t all there.
“Time to go to work, honey. See you tonight. Don’t forget your lunch,” Lilly said cheerfully. Mechanically, Cathy took the large paper bag and heart-shaped box of chocolates from Lilly’s hands, walked out the door and went to her desk in Ram’s waiting room. Her computer was on and waiting, with her marching orders for the day on the screen. She put her lunch down on the desk, absently moving the vase with its sprigs of baby’s-breath out of the way, and picked up a pile of folders before heading out to the factory floor for her first task.
“Good morning, Cathy!” Sly called out with a knowing smile, recognizing that Cathy was in an all-business mood and probably hadn’t even touched her banana.
“Good morning, Miss Smith,” Cathy replied, still too out of it to make out the differences between the sets of overalls and bare cleavage that walked the halls.
She passed the production line without a second look, going straight to the back. Several procurers were lying on the floor, enjoying their two hours of dead sleep after the quality control test. A batch of Petra Puta dolls, destined for drug lords in Columbia, waited in a neat, identical line of tight white miniskirts, bikini tops, and stripper heels, their curly black hair tumbling artfully around their tanned faces. At a preprogrammed cue, they walked into their boxes and struck the same racy pose. Cathy sealed each box, took out the price gun, and stamped each box with the price- fifty thousand dollars was the going rate for each. Once that was done, she left them to be loaded and shipped, and opened an access panel in the last machine on the line. A thick stack of computer paper awaited her: these were the reports describing each doll’s former identity, including their family, employment history, school affiliations, and other ties that might cause problems.
As she headed back to her desk, she saw a procurer waiting for her next assignment, and an unexpectedly naughty smile crossed her face. “Oh, Miss Smith, I think it’s your turn to do laundry today,” she called out.
“Oh, hell no, it ain’t. Let some other sucker do it. I’m just dropping off my load.” But she trailed off as Cathy neatly dropped a pair of soaked panties from one of the dolls between her breasts. It was one of Cathy’s small comforts- she’d grown to realize that since the procurers’ breasts were the most sensitive parts of them, it would only take one swipe there to get them to do whatever she needed them to do.
“Oh, really? Think about all those dripping panties on top of your breasts. Think about the smell, the feel of them. I know you want to do laundry until there’s nothing left,” she whispered in the woman’s ear. Eyes glazed with lust, the woman picked up a pile of clothes and took it to the laundry room, supporting it against her chest.
“Rare form today, Cathy,” Sly remarked, passing by with another of her knowing smiles. Cathy shrugged it off. She just felt like doing her job for a change. With that in mind, she went back to her desk and started the next step: erasing the lives of the women who had become dolls. Using the information forcibly extracted from their minds during the manufacturing process, she logged into their e-mail accounts, called from their cell phones, and otherwise deflected any potential inquiries. Coming up with excuses for them almost became like a game, and she had to remind herself every so often that the best lies were the simple ones. So she mostly contented herself with tragic deaths, deportations, visits home, and a few random elopements. Buried in their fates, she could forget her own; as bad as things were for her, at least she wasn’t a fucktoy for some drug lord.
She was just finishing the last one when a small throat-clearing noise got her attention. She looked up from her computer to meet the gaze of an extremely attractive young blonde in a tight sweater. “Hi, sorry to just walk in like this, but I heard you were hiring and I need a job now or I’m not going to be able to go to school this semester,” the blonde said.
Still caught up in the rush of euphoria at her own escape, Cathy smiled. “Sure, just need your ID while I fill out some of the basic details on your application,” she said, making sure not to stand up and reveal her height. “Why don’t you wait over there while I get someone to help you? Would you like a chocolate?” She picked out a cherry-filled crème and passed it over to the blonde, taking one for herself after a moment’s thought, and changed the channel to a music video station.
“Thanks so much!” the blonde said, eagerly popping the chocolate into her mouth as she settled into one of the comfortable chairs. Cathy’s smile only broadened at the thought of what was going to happen... to both of them. She swallowed her own piece of chocolate and took out her well-thumbed Bible, letting it fall open to the tale of Sodom and Gomorrah and waiting for the cherry chocolates to take their steamy grip. Before long, the subliminal-laced music videos had the young job applicant enthralled while the chocolate made her hornier by the second. Without the video, she would have been all over Cathy, but the video was designed to hold her in place for as long as possible.
Meanwhile, Cathy drifted into her own, faith-based fantasy, her long legs spreading under the desk, one hand creeping up her skirt, the other holding the Bible open on her desk. She was soon oblivious to the descent of the woman across from her; instead, in her mind she was the centerpiece of an orgy of Biblical proportions.
“All done, Cathy. She’ll make a great Betty Boobs doll- those tits are the right elasticity for the implants, and we’ve had an order waiting two weeks. But for God’s sake, can you make them stop humping the table? I’m tired of cleaning shit off my wrench,” Sly announced, awakening Cathy from her fantasy with a jolt.
“Can’t have sodomy without Sodom,” Cathy replied, out of breath, as she quickly headed to the bathroom to clean up.
“No, you can’t, can you?” Sly chuckled and changed the television over to the “women in prison” movie, sure this time that Cathy had properly desensitized enough to become the fearsome procurer Sly knew she could be.
But Cathy’s past fantasy had brought her back down to earth, and she laughed off the bad movie and its even more badly hidden message. She and Sly had done this dance before; she’d slip enough that Sly or another procurer thought they could make her another soulless demon who existed only to rape, torture, and kill, but as far down as she went, something would always bring her back to the middle. With a small smile, she flipped the television back to a news channel, took a turkey and cheese sandwich and a chocolate bar out of the paper bag, and consulted her schedule. Another batch of Petra Putas would be ready, so she’d have to deal with their pasts and prepare them for shipping before the day could end. She reached for her chocolate bar to provide some more anesthetic when the phone rang.
“’Allo, love, Nigel here!” an all-too-familiar voice, colored with a Cockney accent, bellowed.
“Oh, hi. So, um, how’s the fog over in London?” Cathy replied nervously.
“Wouldn’t know, love, I’m on your side of the pond. Just landed with a flock of thirty-five birds looking for your nanny agency. Must say, a few are cracking and sprightly enough for some of the other jobs you offer.”
“Oh, um, thanks for the warning,” Cathy replied, turning an unlovely shade of green and trying to keep herself from throwing up on the receiver. While Nigel was one of the few people at Ram she could deal with, because he was a businessman instead of a torturer, she would never understand why so many Brits wanted, craved, even prayed to be turned into dolls. The Britbots- Sly’s name for them- were a loss leader, sold as British nannies at whatever they could get for them. Most were unsuited, by age or by build, for the other lines. But a willing subject was too good for Ram to pass up, so the devil’s bargain with Nigel had been struck, allowing him to take possession of the volunteers’ earthly goods in exchange for the constant flow of willing subjects. “Um, you can bring them in whenever you’re done going through customs.”
“Right, then, about twenty minutes.”
Nigel hung up, and Cathy let out a heavy sigh. Knowing that she couldn’t bear Nigel and his antics without help, she finished her sandwich, then nibbled on the chocolate bar, fading into a light trance as the drugs took effect. But she was determined to keep at least some part of herself that afternoon, so she only finished half the bar, leaving the rest for some other time.
She would have a little time before Nigel and his flock arrived, and it had been a long time since she’d read the Song of Songs. Within a minute, her jacket was off and her hand was under her shirt, idly tracing the lines of her breasts where they strained at her bra.
“Hullo, love!” the cheerful greeting came, and Cathy had just enough warning to get her hand away from her shirt before Nigel entered with a trail of women behind him. The chocolate and fondling hadn’t done enough to ease Cathy’s tension as the various women gleefully filled out their paperwork and handed it to Cathy with blissful expressions on their faces.
“Are you the one who exterminates our past existence?” a redhead piped up, reminding Cathy of why the Britbots annoyed her.
“Something like that,” she mumbled as she groped for the button to buzz Sly.
“Most excellent!” the redhead replied with a broad grin.
“Miss Smith? Nigel and his... clients... are here,” Cathy said into the intercom, exhausted from trying to keep the chaos under control.
“Does this button turn me into a robot?” a blonde asked.
“No, that’s the button to unlock the toilet! Excuse me! Excuse me, miss! That’s the trash can, not R2D2!”
Finally, shortly before even Cathy’s patience ran out, Sly arrived with backup to take the willing subjects to the factory line. Cathy watched them go, remembering everything she’d been told, including the claim that the Britbots were the hardest of all to produce. She’d always found that the hardest lie to believe out of all the ones she knew she’d been told.
The idea of such gleeful mass suicide shook her to her core, and she nibbled on her chocolate bar to insulate herself from the thought. She sighed with relief as the chocolate took hold, then turned back to her desk and the next batch of Petra Putas. This time, she was more alert and read the lives that Ram’s soul thieves had put to an end, unable to turn away despite her remorse, every one of them searing into her memory. She turned more and more often to her sweet escape until the bar was completely gone and her hand hovered over the bright wrappers of the heart-shaped box, but she pulled away, grimly moving on to various DMV databases to erase the records of those who had been under 21 and compiling data to make fake IDs to sell to teens of those who had been over 21.
But every so often a name would pop up, and she would remind herself of who the person had been. Melissa Hernández: 23, nursing student, Jersey City; Gabriela Diaz: 22, graduated with honors, accepted at UT-Austin Law; Jacinta Rivas: 19, dean’s list at USC. She erased them with the brutal efficiency she had become known for at Ram, hacking into the proper computers and deleting the records thoroughly.
And every time she had to open the internet browser again to go back into the database from a different spoofed IP, the homepage someone with a twisted sense of humor had set for her came up again, snatches of lyrics imprinting themselves on the back of her eyelids as she worked. Weak as she was, she was locked in this prison with no real way out. She was dead to the world, after all, and even if she were able to escape, how could she show her face? She was, after all, now a drug-addicted lesbian, drawn into this trap slowly and surely over the years. While she loved Lilly, and took pride in how she’d rebuilt Lilly into a proper Christian wife, women were not meant to lie with women as they did with men. And while she probably could shake the chemicals in the chocolate, she had still turned to unnatural means to solve her problems. Frustrated and despairing, she smoothed out her hair, wincing as a strand caught itself right under her fingernail, and looked down at the computer clock. It was only three, which meant she still had an hour before the shipment would go out, and she didn’t think she was going to make it.
A supply run would do her good, clear her head as much as she could allow it to clear, and they did need quite a few things, because it had been a long time since her last supply run. Lilly could take care of last-minute checks on the new shipment. But as she prepared to call Lilly in, two saleswomen, a blonde in a black pantsuit and a brunette in a brown jacket and skirt, entered. Cathy somehow managed not to bury her face in her hands in despair at what was rapidly turning into the second-worst day of her life. Instead, she rose from her chair and stretched, emphasizing her full 6′5″ height and broad build as much as she could. “Can I help you?” she inquired, her voice frosty. The brunette backed away nervously, but the blonde remained undaunted.
“Good afternoon! We were just in the area and wanted to see if your company was interested in a subscription to Consolidated Business Solutions. We can make all your office problems go away! No more missing work and leaving the desk to a dumb intern for another supply run! We can take care of all your supply needs, and for the first year we offer free delivery!” she said. The last thing Cathy wanted to hear was a reason to stay in the office, because she knew in her bones that if Sly heard about it, she’d take them up on the deal in a second, dragging Cathy further into the tar pit until she was permanently out of sight.
“No thank you,” Cathy said, biting out the words as harshly as she could. She looked down at the brunette, who was clearly intimidated and trying to get away. She knew the brunette was disconcerted by the crumbling façade of the building, the lack of cars in the parking lot, and the thick blast doors that separated the waiting room from the factory floor. That fear could be enough to make her run before anything worse happened, and Cathy did everything she could to enhance it so she could spare the brunette’s soul. But the blonde wasn’t taking no for an answer, countering every point Cathy brought up and irritating Cathy to no end.
“Look, miss, we have our stores, we get our supplies, and we’re happy with what we have. We keep our factory moving and our costs low by now hiring fancy delivery services. Sorry to waste your time, but please get out,” Cathy finally snapped, directing her last two words at the brunette, who edged back towards the door without thinking.
“I’d like to speak to your manager,” the blonde shot back. “You’ve been very rude, and I doubt a sideshow freak like you has the authority to make the final decision.”
Under normal circumstances, the blowoff would have been enough to make her lose her mind, but being called a sideshow freak on top of that sent her over the edge, and before she could think better of it, she buzzed twice for Sly, the signal that she had new recruits. She took out the box of chocolates and made her selections as she measured the two, giving the brunette one more death glare to try and scare her off before it was too late.
The blonde was pretty enough, with the stereotypical curves in the right places; she seemed like the type who would use her body as one of her top selling points if necessary. Cathy mentally reviewed the orders in the queue. Someone with the build of this blonde would fit in a lot of lines, and there was a large demand for Capital Cuties, especially with the price war raging in that market with Cherry Hill’s MW model. But the blonde had a killer instinct and no scruples, from the way she’d resorted to name-calling to do her job. Cathy pulled out one of the gold-wrapped chocolates that started the procurer creation process.
Then there was the young brunette, who really shouldn’t have been in this mess in the first place. She was moldable enough, but a little too broad-shouldered to be a proper doll. On body type alone, the blonde should have been the doll and the brunette the procurer, but Cathy couldn’t do it, not to an innocent bystander whose only crime was being loyal to her job and her co-worker. She didn’t deserve to become a soulless predator. Cathy pulled out a pair of triple chocolate overloads, the kind that allowed her to numb herself completely when things to too bad, then picked up the phone and pretended to call.
“All right, ladies, Miss Smith will be here in just a few minutes. Why don’t you sit down and have some free chocolates on us?” she said to the two saleswomen, unobtrusively flipping the channel to the women in prison movie and turning up the subliminals to max capacity.
Still the blonde would not let up. “We can deliver those as well. We have contracts with several different companies, suited to—”
“What do you think we make here?” Cathy interrupted. “It’s all right. You had no way to know. We have our own secret recipe that caters to a very limited market niche. That’s why we hide out behind that crumbling façade.” She offered a grin. The blonde changed her tune and seized both chocolates out of Cathy’s hands. Cathy didn’t relax until the brunette had the green-wrapped triple chocolate overload in her hand. She waited as each woman devoured her chocolate, knowing that they would take effect soon enough, and trying not to laugh at the blonde’s stage antics. But soon the blonde was drawn in by the women in prison movie, settling into one of the chairs with a hand under her blouse, while the brunette hadn’t moved an inch, her eyes wide, her breathing even, her hands dropping to her sides.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to do this, but I couldn’t let you leave. Come with me. I promise you won’t feel any pain,” Cathy said, leading the woman to the bathroom, with an oversized “Made in America” T-shirt in her hand. She didn’t like to remember it, and liked the idea of using it even less, but Cathy did have a small wrench, used only to keep anyone from running for the police. She’d only ever hit anyone with it once, and that was by accident. “Change into this. Don’t put anything else on.” The brunette immediately undressed, not having enough mind left to hesitate. When she was finally naked, she draped the shirt over herself and stood there like a mannequin.
Cathy held up her mini wrench and said, “This will put you to sleep and make you very hot. I don’t even know if you can hear me anymore, but if you can, please understand that I’m only doing this so you’ll feel nothing. At least that way your soul can remain pure and you can go in peace to Heaven. Don’t try to wake up, no matter how much they try to make you, just let go and go into the abyss. That’s the only way you can be free. I’ll pray for your soul, because you were innocent, and I’ll make sure they remember that.” It was hard for Cathy to hold back the tears as she did the unthinkable and fastened the wrench to the back of the brunette’s head. Before the brunette could melt to the ground, Cathy gathered her up, laid her out on the couch, and handed the wrench to the blonde, who didn’t notice, still taken by the movie. She laid a kiss on the brunette’s forehead, and when there was no response, she smiled; it meant that the woman was completely numb and would never suffer again.
She went back to her desk, took out her Bible, and turned to Psalms so that she could pray for the souls of the women she’d led into the abyss that day: not just the one she had dealt with so tenderly just before, but the ones who had sought it, and the young blonde who just needed some quick cash for college but would never have to worry about school again. The tears rolled down her face and her body shook, but she dared not beg for forgiveness, for she knew there could never be any.
Sly came out and saw the scene, recognizing immediately the choices that Cathy had made, and understanding that no matter how low Cathy had gone that day, she hadn’t gone low enough to go to the showers. Too much emotional involvement, making the bystander into the doll and the other one into a procurer just because Cathy thought one was innocent and the other less so. She summoned Paula out to carry the brunette to the assembly line, then corralled the blonde and led her towards the showers.
“I’ll make your new one a Music Box Girl, then. Czechs’ve been asking for a lot of them, so she won’t be around here long. She’s short enough and strong enough to take the complicated bending, and there’ll be no sex and little pain. Look, you look like shit, and people are gonna get the wrong idea if they come through here. Go back to your suite. I’ll handle the shipment,” she said to Cathy. Cathy, hands still folded and lips still forming the prayers she had become all too familiar with during her stay at Ram, didn’t acknowledge her. “You been eating the triple chocolate overloads again? I told you to lay off those.”
Cathy shot to attention, startled. “Oh! Um, thanks, Miss Smith,” she said with a shy smile. She stepped away from her desk before Sly could get a chance to see that her eyes were completely clear- a little reddened from crying, but sharp and focused, the day’s dose of chocolate completely worn off- and returned to her room, the pink prison where she could see Lilly coming to her. Her heart melted at the familiar sight of Lilly’s beautiful face, domestic smile, proper skirt and blouse, and gentle air.
But one look reminded Cathy that Lilly was not so sweet as all that. Nothing could disguise the trampish strut that caused Lilly’s skirt to ride up so that Cathy could get a peek at her panties with almost every step, or the way that her frilly blouse clung to her tightly enough that her oversized breasts were about to pop the buttons, not even the robe, t-shirt, and shorts she was carrying for Cathy to change into. “You’re home early, honey, what a lovely surprise,” she said, her voice sweet.
“Things got rough today. Some people don’t know how to take a hint,” Cathy replied, taking the change of clothes and heading into the shower. A blast of cold water would help scrub the filth of the day off her skin.
“Good thing I made meatloaf!” Lilly called back. She set a newspaper and an ice-cold soft drink down on the table and turned on the TV just in time for Cathy to emerge from the shower, changed and as comfortable as she was going to get. While Cathy caught up on the day’s events, Lilly climbed up on a stepstool and massaged Cathy’s neck and shoulders in a way that might have been more sexual than relaxing, but was still greatly appreciated. She needed to forget that day as quickly as possible, and Lilly’s hands were the best way she could think of, especially when followed up by meatloaf just like her mother used to make. Comfort food had been the first thing she’d programmed into Lilly’s mind, or at least the first thing that had taken hold properly.
“It was bad today,” Cathy finally said when Lilly brought the plates to the table. “I had to make someone innocent into a doll.”
“Oh, dear. If you need to finish what you were blinding yourself with, I’ve been brushing up on my Bible study,” Lilly replied with a wiggle of her eyebrows.
“No, not like usual. This wasn’t just another one of those innocent college kids who comes in with the flier or something and I just set up the television and let it drag them down. I had another of those, too, but I can almost become used to those, and that scares me. No, I had to do it. I had to use that... that thing!” She started to shake with the memory of it, and how it had almost felt so good in her hand, and how trusting the mindless brunette had been.
“Oh my! How? Why?” Lilly asked, and she almost seemed human in her shock and concern.
“They couldn’t let her leave, and if I didn’t do it, one of them would have done it much less kindly.”
Lilly’s face lit up with sudden understanding. “Ohh! You made her a milkshake, didn’t you? So she wouldn’t feel anything? That was sweet of you.” She smiled at Cathy, who knew better than to be surprised that Lilly knew the process; after all, she’d been the one to teach Lilly her job just in case she needed someone to cover the desk.
“I was so upset even they felt sympathy for me. That’s why I got sent home.” Cathy paused. “At least she’ll only be a single X model, and probably won’t be used for sex. At least that’s what I was told. I don’t know what to believe anymore.”
“You can believe in me!” Lilly chirped, crystalline blue eyes looking out of her plastic doll face. Cathy just shook her head with a fond smile and let Lilly take care of the dishes while she returned to her newspaper. A few minutes later, the dishes done and drying in the rack, Lilly walked over to her Cathy and settled into Cathy’s lap like a kitten, fitting perfectly in Cathy’s arms.
“Are you my lover or are you my keeper?” Cathy asked, and not for the first time. Usually Lilly let it go with a giggle or a tickle to make her forget. But Lilly seemed more responsive to her moods than before, closer to human than Cathy could ever recall seeing her.
“You love me, and you made me into something more than a doll. I feel it. You love me, and that means I love you.” Her words rang with sincerity, and Cathy almost dared to pretend that this was real, even though she knew it would be a worse sin if it were. Then the moment of deep spiritual connection passed, and in a more playful tone of voice, Lilly continued, “You weren’t going to trade me in for that gymnast, now were you?”
Unexpectedly, even to herself, Cathy burst into laughter and kissed Lilly full on the lips. Rationally, she knew that she’d just taken a hundred pounds of clay and molded it into her own image, albeit somewhat smaller, and that anything Lilly said or thought or did was related to something she had taught her little Barbie to do, but rationality had no place there and then. She chose to believe that there was more to Lilly than what she and Ram had put there.
The laughter soon turned to naughty giggles as Lilly’s hands wandered over Cathy’s body, and Cathy returned the favor, then descended into sensual coos as Cathy relaxed, letting Lilly slide her hands up Cathy’s shirt and massage her breasts. Lilly’s original Ram programming came to the fore, and she knew right where Cathy’s most sensitive points were; with a few strategic strokes Cathy was completely molten, and Lilly led her to bed. In a dreamlike haze, Cathy undressed and lay down in bed, wanting Lilly more than ever as Lilly stood between Cathy’s legs and did a naughty striptease, then knelt and had at her giant lover. When Cathy came with a low, almost ashamed moan, Lilly left off the amazing thing she was doing with her tongue and crawled into Cathy’s arms, letting Cathy finger her to climax. Lilly, of course, was not shy about revealing her arousal, and she easily hit the eerie high note of a satisfied doll.
The afterglow, as it always did, caused Cathy to yawn and stretch, leaving her so sleepy that she barely had time to change into her nightgown and toss one to Lilly before drifting off to sleep with Lilly nestled in her arms as yet another cycle of her imprisonment completed.
And as she drifted off, something began to stir in the back of her mind.
“Remember, Catherine, no matter how pious they sound, things that you hear that aren’t what you believe are the words of Satan trying to ensnare you. Be true to yourself and learn as much as you can, but stay pure, stay smart, and don’t come back with someone else’s name!”