Gromet's PlazaLatex Stories

The Doll Factory 6: Only Myself to Blame

by AmyAmy

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© Copyright 2010 - AmyAmy - Used by permission

Storycodes: F/f; M+/f; D/s; bond; bdsm; plastic; machines; chast; hum; mast; mc; bodymod; cons/reluct; X

The Doll Factory 6: Only Myself to Blame AmyAmy F/f; M+/f; D/s; bond; bdsm; plastic; machines; chast; hum; mast; mc; bodymod; cons/reluct; X continued from part 5

Part 6: Only Myself to Blame

Four weeks have passed. It seems something is holding up progress on the project. Jared is becoming increasingly tense. Every night without fail, for twenty-seven nights, the Doctor, or as I must call her outside of work, Mistress Alex, has come to my house. The routine is always the same: Mistress Alex arrives a short time after I cable myself spread-eagled on the bed, she removes my chastity belt and I sixty-nine with Susie – as I have grown accustomed to calling Susan the not-as-perfect-as-I-first-thought receptionist.  

I have a couple of hours each night to call my own. If I have to shop for food there isn’t much time to do anything else apart from cook and eat. Sometimes I even indulge in takeaway. I would do that a lot more if there was a decent place nearby. Occasionally, I spend the half an hour of freedom remaining to me simply hating the Doctor. I consider ideas such as punching her in the nose, or more extreme violence that might earn me a court appearance. I’d like to see how she and the company deal with that.

Every lunchtime she comes to the room where I always receive my injections from her. Everyone, including her refers to it as mine but I think of it as her room. She rules there, as she does elsewhere.

Usually, it goes like this:

I have been on the “dialysis” machine all morning. Now, I long for the days when it seemed pointless and appeared to do nothing. Recently, it seems to be doing all kinds of things, none of them good. It gives me a pounding headache, heart palpitations, the sweats and often I see lights or hear strange noises. Sometimes it feels as if I am on fire, or freezing cold. Lately, I have been blacking out for brief spells while attached to it. As a safety measure the Doctor straps me to the bed, though it is only one strap around my waist – hardly any kind of restraint at all. I don’t believe the pathetic dialysis story for a moment, but I have no idea what it’s actually doing to me.

When I’m done suffering on the machine, the Doctor disconnects me. Then she takes off her white coat and hangs it up. The routine is burned into my mind. She never varies it much. It is the daily routine that wears me down. It simply feels normal to do what she asks of me now.

The Doctor locks the door and pulls down the blind. Then she gets out her lunch, usually it is sushi, beautifully prepared and kept in a little insulated box so it’s chilled. She gets out my lunch, which is a dull protein shake in a sports bottle.

She sits down at the table to eat. She lets me finish my drink before I must get on my knees. Then she hitches up her smart business skirt and slides forward a bit on the chair. I spend the rest of the hour with my face buried in her snatch, as she calls it. I am beginning to use her words for things like that because when I use a different word with her she becomes irritable.

She makes me kneel because she knows how difficult and painful it is for me to bend my legs. When my plastic leggings have been bent severely they do not want to bend back. Often I find I am unable to stand up afterwards without her help and must remain stuck kneeling on the floor until she “notices” me.

They installed a shower cubicle in the room at the same time as they furbished the new gym next door, and afterwards I have a shower and try to wash away the smell of her, but the stink of her is so ingrained in my nose and mouth that I am never really free of it.

 I don’t think she wants everyone to know what is going on exactly, though some people must suspect. Jared is not as friendly as he once was. I think he knows I have to be her bitch and it makes him uncomfortable. I don’t think he is senior enough to say anything against the Doctor, so he lets it happen and feels guilty about it.

Sometimes she becomes irritable anyway, for example when I do not lick her pussy completely to her satisfaction. If she is irritated, later, at night Susie is not permitted to let me cum when we sixty-nine. We keep on going at it, and I may give her several cums but she keeps me on the edge, always wanting more.

Sometimes when she is doing this I cooperate in my own denial because I know if she lets me cum when she is not supposed to then she will be horribly punished. I don’t have to help her very often though, as she is very good at what she does, and so far there have only been twelve nights I’ve been denied. I suppose it is nearly half. It seems to be happening more often lately. Maybe I am not doing so well.

When I’m denied my fix it’s like torture. I lick and suck, on and on, pleasing Susie, until eventually at some point I am allowed to stop trying. The Doctor may make it go on for hours and I always start tired from a hard day of exercise. The next day after a long session I am always in a muddle, extremely frustrated and prone to mistakes, which everyone notices, especially the Doctor. On those days I find it hard to concentrate on anything but my snatch. Fortunately, the Doctor does not seem to need much sleep and is not automatically always irritable on those days.

When I am really strung out sometimes I can cum simply by working on my nipples … sorry … my tits. I would never have believed it possible before, but I’m just so sexually tense. I think if I was frustrated long enough I would just cum anyway, without doing anything at all. As the Doctor doesn’t think I can have orgasms with the belt on, or perhaps because she doesn’t care, she hasn’t prohibited me from having them – unlike poor Susie who is only allowed to cum on the Doctor’s say-so.

When the Doctor gets particularly annoyed, she unlocks my belt and puts in a vaginal plug made of hard plastic. It engages with the slot in the front via the “keyhole” at the top then slides down into position. Once the belt is locked on there I no way I can possibly remove the plug. Not only do I feel continually filled, with an attendant increase in the all-consuming sexual tension that builds up inside me, but it transmits every tiny movement of the belt right up inside me. Sometimes, if I am really on the edge, this can help me cum, but mostly it just makes me feel uncomfortable, sore and bruised inside. It isn’t anywhere near as sexy as it sounds.

I have become strangely fond of Susie, though we never get to speak to each other now. I don’t have to go to her office to collect my pay and we never meet without the Doctor present. We both share the fear and need for her. She is this huge black hole in our lives that everything else orbits around. It’s been longer for her. I see that hollow look in her eyes and guess that maybe one day it will be in mine too. Perhaps it is there already. One day I will smile at people and giggle politely, and dress however the Doctor chooses, but inside me will be nothing but fear and a desperate awful longing for freedom and release that can never be satisfied.


Today though, things are different. Last night I called the number that the stranger Lauren left for me. I have decided to do something about the Doctor. However, to spice things up further, Jared has just told me we are ready for stage three.

“Please, can you explain what will happen to me?” I say.

“In some ways it’s simpler than the change from stage one to two really, but it is also more profound,” he says, apparently eager to explain and talk about what will be happening – even to me. “We are going to add some new parts to your monitor system.”

 “Is that all there is to it? Just some new monitor parts?”

“Yes, though they are … significant. You will be totally enclosed by the sensor system when it’s complete, which I imagine is quite an intimidating thought. We won’t complete the stage three changes all at once, but you must be completely covered before we can go to stage four. You’ve done all the hard work you need to. I hope this will be an easy stage, just preparing for the next stage and doing a few tests. Afterwards things get harder emotionally. I’m not sure if you will want to go to stage four.”

“Thank you for the thought, but I am going all the way. I made a promise to everyone that I would, including you personally,” I say.

“I’m serious. I’ve been giving some thought to it and maybe stage four or beyond are not something we need to ever do with you present. I’m going to try and talk Gideon around after he’s on top of the world over stage three going smoothly. I certainly won’t hold you to such a hasty, uniformed promise.”

“Thank you, but there’s no need. I’ll do what is necessary,” I say.

That look comes into his eye and he glances away. It’s as if I told him that I was in love with the Doctor, like something horrible just happened and he feels sick. Yes. That’s an idea.

I want to get it out, get it over with. Out of nowhere I blurt it out.

“I’m in love with Doctor Merriam. We’re having an affair. Actually, at first I was infatuated with her and she rejected me, but now I think she feels some affection for me. I can’t let her down. She’s my entire world,” I say.

Even though this fake revelation was planned last night I’m filled with conflicting emotions now when I say the words: I’m not sure if I’m making a cry for help, being hilariously ironic, or actually trying to convince myself of it by saying it out loud. Maybe it’s just what it seems, an admission of the truth, a truth I’ve been running from. Perhaps the Doctor is karma? Perhaps she was made for me: what I so richly deserve.

“Why are you telling me this Kelly?” He says.

“I know everyone is laughing at me,” I respond.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” he tells me.

“No. I’m sorry, you’re mistaken. I understand completely,” I say. “I adore her and she loves me as I am; something nobody else has done.”

“Are you insane? She’s robbing you of everything you are.”

“No. She’s making me into somebody better; making me grow up.”

“Dammit… If Gideon did this… If he’s done it to make you keep going I’ll never forgive him. You have no idea what’s been done to you,” he snarls, grabbing me by the shoulders like people do all the time in daytime soaps.

“Please, you’re frightening me,” I say, as if it was scripted. Nothing sounds real to me, even my own words. Things got too weird from the point the Doctor put the belt on me and I just let her get away with it.

Still, he isn’t making sense. How could Gideon be to blame for a sick infatuation that was born in my own heart? I might be totally under the Doctor’s thumb but that doesn’t determine my feelings, just my actions. I’m also sure that the Doctor follows her own agenda most of the time. She would not be bothering with me just to please him.

Suddenly Jared is calm. He pauses and takes a couple of steps back.

“I’m sorry. I was confused. Please ignore what I just said. Don’t ask the Doctor or Gideon about it, it could get both of us into trouble and it was just a mistake,” he says.

I’m not under special orders to spy for the Doctor, so I guess I can forget to mention it to her unless she asks about it specifically. It’s not like I chat to her much. She likes my mouth employed for other things besides talking. I am amazed she hasn’t devised an excuse to keep me continually gagged.

“That’s alright,” I say. “I just wanted you to know that I’m committed one hundred percent. I have already signed all the documents and releases. You can do what you like with me.”

“If that’s the case, I think we can start right away then,” he says somewhat coldly. This was not something I expected. This is not in the plan. I will need to phone again tonight and explain what has happened.

He brings up Gideon on his computer screen.

“Gideon, did you know that Kelly has signed her releases up to stage six?” He says.

“What? Are you sure? I haven’t seen anything. Have you checked with personnel? It would be a bit of a gift if she has though, wouldn’t it?” Says Gideon.

“I’m checking now,” says Jared. “Yes. There are scans of them in that directory they dump all the NDAs in.”

“Is she with you now?” Says Gideon.

“Yes. She’s right here and rearing to go.”

“That’s the kind of news I like to hear: we might have something to show the tourists when they show up after all. I’ll start booting the updated ADAM control system now. Bring her over.”

Gideon buzzes us through the door that reminds us that we must be “Authorized Personnel Only”. I feel like I’m hurtling forward towards something terrible, but it’s better than the suspense. The sooner things come to a head the sooner I can see the shape of my life ahead.

I don’t believe there is any hope of a normal sex life for me after the Doctor. The best that can happen is that I end up living alone and celibate. More likely, and these grim scenarios play through my head quite often now, I end up the sex-slave pet of the Doctor or somebody exactly like her to whom she has sold me. They inflict cruel piercings and tattoos on me, always keep my restrained; bound with no chance of escape; they pass me around as a favor at lesbian orgies where I must perform acts too foul to describe – things that haunt my mind inspired by the Doctor’s casual comments.

Now I have a plan, albeit a fragile one, to escape her, but it’s not really much of an escape, more of a frying pan to fire style leap of doom. I know that even if I get out of here I will never find the intensity of sensation and emotion in vanilla sex that I have now – an ordinary life would seem dull and tiresome by comparison. I’m starting to think I don’t know what I want, that I just grasp at whatever seems to offer the surest and most complete despair.

Gideon is at the operation terminal for ADAM. He’s waiting for something and there’s a progress bar on the screen.

“You’re uploading the latest version?” Says Jared.

“I’ve updated it seeing as she’s so eager to push ahead. We can put the new parts on one a day instead of one a week,” says Gideon.

“Didn’t we say no to that sort of schedule before because of the psychological factors?”

“That was Merriam’s call, and it seems that Merriam has changed her mind on the subject.”

“When did that happen?” Says Jared, clearly surprised.

“Just now when I called her to ask about it,” says Gideon. “You don’t want to hear what she said; that woman can be hard to deal with sometimes.”

Jared blinks.

I don’t think I want to hear it either, as knowing the Doctor it was intended as another hammer blow to my fragile self-esteem. When I feel like convincing myself that she cares for me in some way I imagine she does that because she has abandonment issues and just wants to keep me needy and dependent on her. I’m pretty certain that at least the last part is right.

The progress bar reaches the end with a melodic ding.

“Kelly, please get undressed and climb onto ADAM,” says Gideon.

In my first encounter with the machine I was initially terrified, but it wasn’t unpleasant, in fact parts of the experience bordered on the euphoric. I am quite looking forward to another go.

 Then I remember I am wearing the belt. How could I forget? They will see it. There won’t be any room for doubt what it is. Will they have to fetch the Doctor to remove it? If they do she is sure to take it out on me later.

I decide to strip and let them decide what to do.

Today the Doctor has instructed me to dress in white spandex tights and a black unitard with a little tennis skirt as token camouflage for the outline of my chastity belt. The short skirt means I have to be careful how I move or else people can see where the rear chains of the belt cut into my bum.

I have to wear high-heels because I can’t straighten my ankles: the coatings on my legs were never designed to allow that. Today I have on ridiculous platform shoes with brushed-aluminum soles and heels along with black uppers and criss-cross straps that reach to below the knee. The Doctor likes to make me wear this style of platform shoe with treacherous stiletto heels in different colors and types of material as nobody but a porn star or a prostitute would ever be seen dead in them. Walking in them is always challenging and I am amazed that I haven’t broken an ankle yet.

When I peel off the leggings Jared immediately notices the belt. I am already blushing a deep shade of red in anticipation. I didn’t think that his seeing me like this would humiliate me as much as it has. He turns red as well. I am quite shaken but I am learning to hide even my most extreme emotions. Is that what Susie does? Can she be breaking inside and smiling on the outside; a rosy red apple rotting at the core?

“What the … What the hell is that?” He says.

“It’s a chastity belt,” I say before Gideon can put forward an explanation that embarrasses me further. “Will it interfere with the machine?”

“It’s going to have to come off,” says Gideon. “ADAM won’t like it.”

“Doctor Merriam has the keys… I think,” I say.

“You better go and get them off her Jared,” says Gideon. “Kelly, you can stay here,” he says to me.

Jared doesn’t say anything, he just leaves.

I wonder if Gideon is going to try to force me to give him a blow-job now or something while we are alone. Why else would he not have sent me instead of Jared?

He doesn’t. I’m getting so used to the Doctor that I’m starting to think that everyone acts like her. I guess he didn’t want to waste time while I got dressed and undressed again. He just tells me to take off all the port covers on my plastic leggings, corset and gloves, then simply ignores me, busily typing and clicking at things on the screen with his computer mouse.

Part of me is angry that he isn’t attracted enough to me to take advantage of his position. It shows me just how much of the Doctor has got into my head, but just because I know they are something vile that’s been put into me doesn’t mean I can get rid of thoughts and feelings like that.

Eventually, Jared returns with the keys.

“Excuse me Jared, did the Doctor seem angry?” I ask immediately.

“Not in the least. She seemed to find it funny,” he says grimly. “Is Merriam authorized to do this sort of thing to Kelly?” He says to Gideon.

“I think she might see it as being under the purview of human resources,” says Gideon, “seeing as she’s the shrink she can dream up any reason she likes for such crap. I sure as hell didn’t approve it if that’s what you mean. The girl’s got a sub-dermal contraceptive implanted in her, a belt is entirely unnecessary.”

This is the first I’ve heard of a contraceptive. When did I acquire that? Some rusty cogs clatter into position in my brain – the scar on my shoulder – they had all this planned from day one?

The Doctor’s lack of anger doesn’t completely reassure me, as she might be laughing at how I’ve handed her an excuse to do something extreme to me.

“I guess contraceptives can fail,” I say. They both look at me as if I said something really strange. They do that a lot these days. Is it so weird that I’m not as silent as a doll? That’s what I feel like sometimes: a doll whose ring-pull has been yanked out, chopped off and locked in a box by the Doctor.

“Just get that thing off her and we can press on,” says Gideon.

Jared gives the keys to me. “I’m not touching it,” he says. Am I that filthy to him?

I remove the belt and put it down on top of my clothes. I suppose I will put it back on after we are done if I can.

I lie back in the ADAM chair and wait for the process to begin.


I feel deliciously naked lying in the ADAM machine without the belt, even though I still have the corset, the plastic stockings and the shoulder length gloves on, they seem like nothing compared to the solid weight of the hard steel chastity belt.

Gideon starts the program and the chair comes alive under me, exploding from something solid into a swarm of moving arms and feelers. I feel like I’m floating in a cocoon of myriad little probes that support and constrain me, because I am. I’m held and caressed at the same time. It takes me up towards the main body of the machine, hanging above me like a predatory insect about to consume its prey. And though its shape is insectile, I feel no threat from it – its white and black enameled metal bulk reassures me, a familiar place.

Electrical cables and pipes carrying fluids are plugged into the ports in my plastic parts. Just like before the old covers split open like burst banana skins and mechanical arms peel them away. Underneath is my naked skin, glistening wet, and as white and waxy as the skin of a corpse. I try to get a good look at my thighs where the tubes went in, but ADAM tilts back my head, clamping a clear plastic mask over my face and forcing a thing like a diving regulator into my mouth.

The first gasp of air I take from the intrusion is like a rush of pure oxygen, cold mountain air, faintly strawberry ice-cream flavored with a hint of rose petal. I never want to breathe anything else again. I’m sprayed all over my body with a pleasant mist of the blue goop. My skin tingles with all the sort of invigoration that they promise you in the adverts for bathroom products but never deliver.

Even though I can catch random glimpses of my body, in a strange way it feels as if my real skin has been stripped off me. I feel beyond naked: flayed, as if a part of me is missing.

The machine ADAM begins to fit new replacement parts. My new skin begins with a single seamless component. It slides on over my legs. It’s as if a suit intended to cover my entire body in perfect detail, hands and feet included is stretched incredibly wide open at the neck. The suit unfurls up my body. ADAM spins me about, twisting my limbs hither and thither, fitting me into the new cover and sliding my arms into place.

It feels like a dance, a breathless dance that I wish would never end, but sadly it does. Spray arms shower me clean with a tingling bath of warm water. Though the end is approaching I anticipate the ‘testing’ phase yet to come.

The machine freezes and most of the manipulators back off, leaving me floating there, weightless. I breathe the air from the mask. I feel renewed. It’s as if the machine worships me, an attentive and gentle lover who never judges or finds me wanting. I don’t want ADAM to ever put me down. Why can’t this be my future?

The coating wrapped around my body and limbs begins to tighten. It feels delicious to be gripped to firmly, so evenly, it’s tight, constricting, restraining, and yet never pinching or painful.

My new skin stiffens suddenly, then ripples furiously, in a way no material made by man can possibly move. I know what comes next. A rush of different sensations: heat, cold, touch, numbness, pain and … relief. I shriek my agony into the mask and then it’s over. I plunge into release and afterglow ten times better than any sex has ever been.

To my surprise the diagnostic doesn’t end. I find my limbs twitching, moving outside my control, whirling smoothly through mathematical arcs traced by a machine. The movements are impossible things beyond my ability. They are not my movements, but this new suit is clearly not stiff or restrictive like the old one was.

I sink back down from heaven as the machine brings me to earth. I take my time to study what it has made of me. The stockings that previously ended below my crotch now extend upwards, stretching to merge with the corset which itself merges with the chest-piece that is seamlessly one part with the arms with their attached gloves. A single smooth skin covers my body up to just below my chin.

I am relieved to see that there is a clear area around my groin where my sex and bum-hole are exposed. I correct myself, my snatch and asshole are still exposed, no doubt for the Doctor’s benefit rather than mine.

It is not just tight clothing. I know it is somehow part of me. Where the skin ends it seems to sink into my flesh. The chest cover seems to have added two cup-sizes to my breasts, along with rather fancifully designed and prominent nipples.  The glistening black pits of metal-lined connection ports are studded all over the chest piece.

Jared steps forward to help me up. Cautious after last time I let him help me, but I have no problems. In fact I can move far better than before.

“If I’d known it would feel like this I would have begged you to do it earlier,” I say.

“It couldn’t be done much sooner than this,” says Jared. “We barely finished this design a couple of days ago and your data was a bottleneck: we had to get more before we could move forward at all.”

“Yes, speaking of data, you should put her on the updated machine in informatics now, the one with full hook-ups,” says Gideon. “Leave her on it all night until we’re ready to start again tomorrow.”

I don’t like the sound of this new arrangement that Gideon has suddenly sprung on me. When will I get a chance to warn Lauren about the change of plans? I need to get away from these two geeks.

“Why didn’t you warn me about that part? When will I get to eat?” I say. “Can I go and eat now?”

“Eat?” Says Gideon. “I strongly advise against it. You mustn’t have any solids from now on – or liquids other than water for that matter. You need to get on that machine as soon as possible if we’re going to complete the entire stage in just three days.”

“Nobody mentioned that. I would at least have had something…” I say, trailing off. Jared wants me to follow him out.

Do they really mean it? Goodbye to food, my remaining pleasure? I wish I had time to be depressed about it, but other things are on my mind.

I don’t even bother to pick up my clothes or the belt. They seem redundant somehow; the soiled artifacts of a past life.

I’m getting really worried. If things keep on like this I’ll have no chance to go home at all, and no chance to make a call. It hasn’t escaped me that stage four probably won’t allow me to leave the site at all. Possibly, I’ll be so incapacitated that I can’t do anything. It’s all backfired badly. This scheme was just supposed to provide a way for me to get Lauren into the ADAM room, and without coordinated timing that can never work. The whole thing could be over before she even hears about it and it will all be too late.

I’ve never used the bed in informatics, though I’ve seen it every day since I started. It’s like a slab of smooth white foam on a hospital bed frame. Numerous hook-up cables extend from its edges. I remember the huge snaking cable from it that extends right into the heart of the computer systems.

Jared helps me up onto the bed and I sink into the foam. It moulds comfortably to my shape, bearing my weight evenly. It’s far more comfortable than my bed at home, and the foam quickly heats up and becomes very warm. I feel as if I’m floating.

Jared connects all the cables for me. For all practical purposes I am completely immobilized. I can’t move a limb or flex a muscle without fighting against some cable with less than an inch of play in it. I couldn’t break free even if I tried. Finally he connects up the clear tubes that feed my blood in and out and sets the machine to prime the pumping process.

A row of lights on a control board attached to the bed all turn blue.

“Do you want me to sit with you a while?” Says Jared.

“There’s no need, I’m used to just lying here, bound and motionless, doing nothing while you measure me,” I say, “I’ve done it for weeks now. I consider it my profession.”

“I’d call Merriam, but honestly I’d rather not let her in here if I can help it. I know you say you have a thing with her, but I find her somewhat abrasive,” he says.

“All my life I’ve been fucking everything up; at least she isn’t surprised by it.”

“I think you’re a smart woman who just needs the right sort of help. I may not know what that help is, but I don’t think Merriam has your welfare in mind at all. She only wants to make you worse.”

I think he’s right, but I don’t answer. There are other days when I think exactly the opposite. I just close my eyes and wait for him to go away. After a minute or so he does and I’m left alone in the darkness with the hum of the computers and the noise of the blood machine.


I dream that the Doctor comes to me in the night and makes me pleasure her until I’m exhausted. I awake tired, anxious and hag-ridden. She won’t let me rest even in my sleep.

Kaiser is first into the informatics area where I’m helpless on a hospital bed, secured by more than a dozen thick data cables that probably plug straight into my soul.

In a sense, I’m naked. I’m covered in white plastic from my toes to my neck, but there’s a section cut out around my genitals and bum-crack. Kaiser is staring right at it like he’s never seen a girl’s bits before.

“Wow,” he says.

“What?” I say.

“You are like, shaved, down there,” he says.

The Doctor demands I keep myself devoid of hair down there – though I’m sure ADAM would have removed any hair it found anyway. I don’t mind; I can understand how unpleasant it would be for Susie to deal with, night after night. It also helps me to keep clean under the foul chastity belt too.

“I know,” I say. “It’s also rude to stare.”

“When you are able to move and eat again, do you want to get lunch with me?” He says.

I wasn’t expecting this. It’s a bit early in the morning for my brain to work, and I’ve had the blood machine – as I call the thing they pretend is a dialysis machine – I’ve had it stuck in my all night, and it usually makes me feel pretty weird and sick.

“Are you asking me on a date while I’m plugged in like a USB drive?” I say.

“Sure. Is that wrong?” He seems momentarily concerned that he’s violated some communications protocol that will cause his data to be summarily rejected as “bad packets” or something.

“Not wrong, but I think the usual tactic is to go for something a bit more romantic,” I say. I can’t believe I’m having this conversation, but then I seem to think that all the time now. I’d really like to say something hostile to him, but I’m completely at his mercy – better not to annoy him.

“So, will you do it?” He says.

“I don’t know right now. Ask me again when I’m a human being not a USB stick,” I say.

“Sure,” he says and wanders off to log into his computer, no doubt to poke through my data. It never occurs to him to offer to unhook me, and why should it? I didn’t ask him to help me.

Half an hour later Jared comes in.

“Hello Kelly,” he says. “You still on there?”

“Nobody said I was finished,” I say.

“It’s all useful data,” he says, “but you can come off now if you like.”

“If I like?” I say. “You have a funny sense of humor.”

“Sorry, that didn’t come out the way I intended,” says Jared.

I consider that at least the Doctor screws with me on purpose, these blokes just don’t have a clue.

“I should think I need to get my injection very soon,” I say as Jared unhooks the cables.

“Good news on that front: injections are over,” says Jared.

“Yeah. I guess that actually is good news. Do you need me right now?” I ask.

“Probably not, but don’t eat anything. You can drink water but you shouldn’t need to because the hook-up hydrates you intravenously,” he says.

“It’s great to know that you can forget about me for days and I won’t die,” I say testily.

Once free, I hurry to the injection room where my phone is stashed. It feels strange to be in “bare feet” without any high-heels. Sure, my feet are covered in plastic, but for the first time in weeks I can place my heel directly on the floor if I try hard enough. It feels wrong to do it and instinctively I walk on the balls of my feet. I can move so quickly and easily in my new skin that I’m inside the room in a flash. I guess it also helps not to be wobbling along on six-inch heels and platform soles like mini-stilts.

Unfortunately, my plan is ruined again. The Doctor is there waiting for me. She always manages to bring me down somehow.

“You’re nearly late Kelly,” says the Doctor. Is she just being a bitch or doesn’t she know the injections are over?

“I’m sorry Doctor, Informatics kept me wired to a bed until this instant,” I say. “They told me there are no more injections.”

I know I should be dreading this encounter. I’ve just handed her a perfect excuse for some kind of punishment. I find myself vaguely curious if she’ll bother.

The belt and my discarded clothes are lying on the bed. I consider getting dressed, but the clothes are things the Doctor made me wear. I feel better without them. I have some track-pants in my bag. I’ll put them on later.

She gives a dark smile. It reminds me of a crocodile. “From now on you belong to them and their computers, but don’t imagine I will ignore that you showed your belt to everyone – that was a betrayal of something private between us. I’m extremely disappointed Kelly.”

Of course, I don’t answer. I’d thought she wasn’t angry about that. I was wrong. Should I have found her right away and tried to make amends? I didn’t do that either, she must be furious… My blood runs cold at what she might to do me over this. She has left me traumatized for days over far more trivial mistakes.

“This is probably the last chance you’ll get to cum for months. There’s nothing to stop you now,” she says. “You’re running around showing the whole site your cunt, so why aren’t you busy playing with it too?”

I wish she hadn’t pointed that out to me. I think she wants to watch me do it. I’d been thinking about touching myself for a long time before I fell asleep, but until now I had other things on my mind, like taking a pee and making an urgent phone call. I still need to do both.

“Do you know what ADAM is Doctor?” I say, hoping that nosy questions will make her leave.

“If you were supposed to know that Kelly, you would have been told,” says the Doctor.

“I’m sorry, I have to pee,” I say, going into the little toilet cubicle. I leave the door open so she can still see me. I don’t like her watching me on the toilet, but I suspect she enjoys it.

“The less you know the better it is for you,” she says, “people who don’t know things don’t have to be kept quiet.”

Her words have a sinister tone. I can’t decide if she’s threatening me or explaining how being kept like a mushroom is making me safer – helping me walk away from this one day.

She follows me into the toilet cubicle, crowding uncomfortably close as I sit trying to pee, deliberately invading my space. I have the horrible sensation that she’s going to do something unpleasant.

She hitches up her skirt and sits down on my lap, her legs either side of my body. I’m looking up at her. She buries her hand in my short, spiky hair and tugs my head back and kisses me hard and deep. She fills my mouth with her tongue and holds the kiss forever. My nose is blocked by her cheek and I feel dizzy for lack of air. I feel myself go wet for her. I return her kiss, hot and passionate. She knows exactly how to press my buttons. I’m gasping for her. There is a part of me that wants to go down on her right now.

She grabs my breast, rubs her thumb across my nipple – I feel almost nothing, I wouldn’t know what she was doing if I couldn’t see her do it.

“They’re turning you into a doll. Living women terrify them, but I don’t like the doll as much as I like you,” she says.

“Doctor, do you think there can be a life for me after this?” I say.

She looks at me as if I’m a child in need of comfort. She pops a couple of buttons and presses my face between her breasts. She’s wearing a black-silk blouse under her shirt jacket. Her breasts are big, hot and very firm. Her blouse undone reveals a lacy black underwire bra. I wonder if she has implants because I can’t imagine breasts as big as hers defying gravity the way they do otherwise.

“You were picked for this role because of your natural talent for compliance. Despite your intelligence, you are completely at the mercy of your urges and that makes you the sort of person who is very easy to control. Don’t you feel those … urges … now? ”

With my face pressed into her I’m wrapped in her scent, part natural, part artificial. Her perfume is something expensive, heavy and musky.

“But… Doctor, how can you explain that I have a history of doing exactly what I’ve been told not to do?” I mumble, my hand sliding down to cup her soft but firm ass cheek.

“As I said,” she says, sighing heavily as I knead her ass cheeks, “you’re at the mercy of your urges, not your best interests. The urges themselves can be manipulated, and so you can be controlled.” She adds exactly as she slides her hand down to touch my clit unexpectedly.

Caught by surprise, I almost jump off the toilet, and then as she catches my nub between her fingernails, my breath catches in my throat as I feel her prepare to pinch. Then she backs off, gently teasing me, sliding her fingers inside my lips.

“You are just doing exactly what you want. It’s your ‘wants’ that are altered, then your actions follow like a dog on a leash. You always invent some way to blame others for the things you do, but you always do as you please no matter how awful the consequences of the action. The excuses you come up with to hide this behavior from yourself can be absurd sometimes.”

Catching me by surprise again at the end of her word salad, she catches my clit between her finger and thumb and squeezes really hard. I bite down on my lip, holding in a scream. I writhe and she pinches and pulls. I feel myself cumming despite, or because, of the pain. It feels so good to finally feel some release.

“What do you suppose is the future of a person who is helpless to do what’s good for them in the face of a tempest of self-destructive whims?” She asks as I writhe and moan on her hand.

She lets me go and I gasp for breath.

“Can’t you … cure me Doctor?” I say between breaths. I have to laugh inside at this one, as if she would if she could. I guess I know I’m doomed, with or without her “insights”.

“I can’t cure you of being who you are, but perhaps I could change how you feel about that person,” she says.

“Don’t I have any choice in it?” I ask. I don’t suppose I do have much choice really: I know how hard it is for me to go against the Doctor. I wanted to make her go away and here I am humping her hand in the toilet.

“You’re not that stupid Kelly: it’s all your choice, she says. “When they are finished with you, if they are ever finished with you, they’ll probably give you back to me for debriefing. But we both know that if they ever let you go, you’ll be begging me to take you in and never release you. I think I’ll give you to Susie as a pet. Would you like that?”

“Who will you make me be?” I ask, genuinely curious what she expects to happen.

She laughs. “Who are you going to be? You’re going to be exactly who you are now. People don’t change overnight Kelly. You have to work for years to be somebody better and you can never give up: that’s real life. Giving up your decisions to somebody else takes a lot of strength and commitment too – I don’t think you’d do very well at it, at first – despite the pretence you make of being forced against your will, you never do anything you don’t want to. Just look at how you’ve behaved recently? You constantly act out to get my attention.”

“Doctor, didn’t Lilith disobey Adam?”

“That’s a peculiar question and something of a non-sequiteur Kelly. Who mentioned those names to you?” A strange question, as I’ve mentioned ADAM on many occasions, including just a moment ago.

“Gideon,” I say lying. The Doctor stands up, tugging down and straightening her skirt.

She shrugs. “Gideon is over-fond of his mythological names.”

“I thought Lilith was in the bible,” I say.

“I doubt that she is Kelly, at least not in the way that Gideon thinks of her. That story you allude to about her being the first wife of Adam is something comparatively recent, but Gideon likes to be clever with his names, not simplistic. In the beginning Lilith was a storm goddess. Like all strong female archetypes she was recast as a demon and harbinger of death and her worship suppressed by patriarchal cultures.”

“How do you know so much about her?” I say.

“I’m a psychiatrist Kelly, and I should consider myself an ill educated one if I were not fluent in symbols and mythology.”

“Of course,” I say. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry about the belt. It all just happened so fast.”

“I won’t forget your betrayal. It was hurtful Kelly, really hurtful. You’ve tainted me with gossip as well as yourself. I’ve always made it possible for you to keep things between us private,” she says as she buttons up her blouse. “I know you only did it to humiliate yourself, and to make me punish you; that’s how your mind works. Well, good for you Kelly, the entire company know you’re a slut, and this time you’re going to get exactly what you wished for, and it will … last.” She says, spinning on her heels and leaving.

Apparently, she has made her threats and done her damage. Now she’s going to leave me to sweat. She still has a knack of putting me in the wrong and leaving me seething with doubt and fear, but I don’t spend long thinking about her almost certain revenge. I fish the phone out of the gym bag full of spare clothes, gym-safe shoes and dirty towels and finally call Lauren. My call is only just in time.



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