Dressing Deborah

 

Deborah checked the work order. It called for various unimaginative standard features to be added to the basic unit. Package 7A. Accessories 3-5. Options 7 and 12. Boring boring boring. What she wouldn't give to throw in accessory 12 with an option 9. Deborah slid the 7A between her legs and into herself. It automatically inflated to lock into place, she checked it for slippage. There was none. She ran her fingers around the edge. It ran smoothly from thigh to thigh. The seam was barely perceptible. But the customer had specified option 7, which was seamless (like a doll). She sat spread legged on the open framed preparation chair. Carefully she adjusted and tightened the velcro straps from calve to midsection. She reached for the modified paint sprayer. It had been modified to handle a thick latex spray.

She fired several test sprays onto a cardboard sheet to check the color and consistency. This stuff was a bitch if it ran or spotted, impossible to fix if the spraying went badly. She had to be especially careful. This was also the reason for the straps; to prevent any movement before the drying was complete. The surface on an option 7 had to be perfectly smooth or the illusion of the effect would be lost. She did a good job as far as she could tell using the mirrors strategically placed around the chair for just this purpose. Deborah flipped through the catalog of parts and accessories to be sure of which plug was number 12. Twelve was the vibrating extra large pony.

Did all men think the female ass was a three lane double wide superhighway?

She checked it for positive function. It buzzed like a nest of enraged hornets. That would go on, or more correctly in, last. She'd have to dry first. Deborah concentrated on the upper torso, which she could work on without moving her lower half which was busy drying. The number three was semi-rigid neoprene titty caps. The 4 meant hard aureole shields in a bright red mannequin color. The tight caps pushed easily on once she had excited her tits with an ice cube. the tightness of them kept them firmly in place. They were extremely uncomfortable. Deborah rolled her fingertips over the caps. She couldn't feel anything. Next she glued the shields over her more than ample aureole's. They were stiff enough to be bulletproof and hard enough to be used as body armor. Some men were such selfish bastards. This rig was completely a male fantasy with nothing in it for the woman. Unless, of course, she was into being a bondage babe and total sex toy. A thing rather than a person. Thankfully; Deborah was...

She'd have to respond to the customers visual que's. She sure wouldn't feel anything (except the plug) all "plastified" like she was... But what the hell, the job paid exceptionally good. And the helplessness alone would probably get her off. And better still; for six to eight hours work (including the "make-up" period) she could make what she could have as a secretary in about six weeks. But; best of all, she basically worked for herself, which had been a life long dream. Working freelance was very satisfying. "Big Toys for Big Boys" was her current assignment. Great benefits, AND they paid the highest freelance rate. And she liked to be paid... especially at the top rate.

Five with the three meant no human expressions and a silicone mouth liner. Deborah frowned at this. She could either spray her face (which was a pain in the ass) or use a translucent mask with liquid latex to smooth out the seams. She was so glad she had had the mask made custom from a mold of her face. It saved a lot of time and trouble. The only touchup areas would be around the eyes. She was almost dry now around the crotch. Delicately she tested the area. Another few minutes.

Next she put the latex gloves on. They fit tighter than her own skin, and with a little tugging came up to the midpoint between her elbow and shoulder. Another area that wouldn't need extensive re-spraying. The other custom glove gave her more trouble, but eventually came up as far as the first. She sprayed one seam (where her upper arm met the glove) and everything on that side she could reach down to her toes. When she was dry enough to continue she did the other side. She removed her hair and put on the shiny blue wig that had been requested. She did miss her real hair, but it was just one of the drawbacks to this kind of work. She could always grow it back later (when she was wealthy and retired by 35). But for now, it was easier to make hair completely interchangeable. Hell, some guys even liked to undress her completely, right down to, or more accurately up to her hair. She didn't get the bald mannequin thing but she wasn't paid to wonder about the customers preferences. Her job was to give the customer what he, or occasionally she, wanted.

Service with a preform plastic smile.

Next Deborah fit the sterile liner into the open mouthpiece and secured it over her tongue and dental work. This setup had really bothered her at first, until she had learned to suppress the gag response. Tonight's customer was going to do more than french her, but as long as the liner was in place it didn't really matter. That was what the liner was for. She hoped he would use her in good health and have a marvelous time. Satisfied customers are repeat customers. And generally tipped better upon turning her in and getting their deposit back. More often than not she went home at the end of the day with most of the deposits. It was because the inside of her mouth was so spacious. With any luck she'd hold his whole load. Guys seemed to like it best when she took it all and didn't spill any. They were always amazed at her capacity. It was a selling feature and one that kept customers requesting the "Debbie" doll. 

She looked to see what the work order said concerning feet and toes. It didn't specify. No doubt a mix-up when the order was placed. See looked at the clock on the wall. The main office was closed. They probably wouldn't have been able to reach the customer so close to delivery time anyway. She'd have to take her best guess. The little details were more important to some people than others. She perused the work order and all its details. She opted for the ankle highs and sprayed the seams smooth. Other than the body spray to even out her color and texture she was just about finished. 

Lithely she made her way to the round tube shaped booth in the corner and stepped onto the pedestal. The door slid closed and the countdown to spraying automatically commenced. Suddenly Deborah realized that she had forgotten several very important details. Before the sprayers could lower she punched the emergency stop and slipped out of the booth. She removed the hair. She re-entered the booth and hit the start. The sprayers descended, the base began to rotate, and her transformation was completed. She stood with practiced poise; even her breathing was so shallow as to not disturb the drying process or cause the slightest imperfection in her smooth finish. Her glistening flawless finish was as perfect as the paint job on a porsche. The only difference was that she was pinkish rather than cherry red.

She dried in about twenty minutes; enough so for her to finish accessorizing. She picked out a shiny black vinyl halter, with matching elbow high gloves and a matching mini that maximized the view. She re-attached the wig and took a moment to pick out just the right pair of insanely high spiked heels. She couldn't avoid the tail any longer so she inserted it. It went in with a wet almost grateful sound. She flexed her ass muscles around it. It was unyielding and she kinda found it less than unpleasant. In time she might even really like it.

Deborah methodically double checked every detail in a floor length mirror. Everything checked out. Only the pickup and delivery details needed to be finalized. She phoned the delivery service. She was told it would take about twenty minutes. She told them that would be fine and hung up. Twenty minutes would give her just enough time to get everything in order. Deborah moved over to her customized shipping crate and climbed inside. She couldn't believe that the idea of being freight (a mere object) was so exciting in and of itself. She wiggled a little to get properly comfortable, not that it would really matter in a few moments. She adjusted this and that so she would give a good presentation when she arrived. When everything was right, she opened the little box labeled 7A Kit. Inside there were a number of hypo's. She checked that the color coded solutions matched the work order and were filled to the proper number of CC's for her weight. Everything matched. Weight, times, effect, figured by duration. Everything was ok here too. A foul up her could have serious long-term side effects or worse.

Deborah attached the first hypo to the needle port installed inconspicuously in her lower back. She put the needle back into the case and set the case along with its instructions where the client would immediately and easily find it. She didn't have long to wait. The stiffening agent went very quickly to work. She loved this part. The helplessness. The loss of power to move, over her life. The rush of being a victim. Complete helplessness. This was ten times better than getting tied up or cuffed. It was so much more helpless. So much more total and satisfyingly dominated Deborah moaned one last time as the unending ecstasy and paralysis locked her up. As Deborah transformed into a 7A "Debbie" unit. Her vocal chords and jaws went first. Not that with the mask setup, she had much jaw movement anyway, or anything to say.

She checked the 7A kit one last time, while she still could. The first hypo in the 7A kit carried the nickname Rob. Because it robbed its victim of voluntary movement. Sometimes it was called lock-jaw because it's effects set into the face area first. All the hypo's had been given male names that described their effects by the products (meaning her and the other girls working for "Big Toys" and outfits like BT). Willy produced a numbing of certain parts of the brain, producing a zombie (will-less) or robot like effect. MC junkies particularly liked that one. Stan was for statue-iffection. Cuz you ended up standing, or sitting, or otherwise frozen like a statue. Stiff and hard, completely immobile, for those who liked that sort of thing. Willy's main setback was it worked so quickly that the position was seldom satisfactory for anything but viewing. But some people liked that. Few of Deborah's clients ever used Willy on her. Bob on the other hand was an oral sex enhancement solution. No real description of Bob's effects were necessary. Except that it made this activity many times more desirable, so much so, that many customers used it exclusively. It's effects were so strong on some of the "girls" that they actually preferred oral over the other options. Better living through modern erotic chemistry, Debbie concluded humorously.

As she lay there "prepared", Debbie considered how likely it was that she would be given a Willy Bob. She had almost 15 minutes before pickup so she had lots of time to consider. She could do little else. But considering the work order, it seemed the most likely, but not by any means the only possibility. So little imagination. All the treatment hypo's being interchangeable to produce mixed effects she couldn't be absolutely sure. Though, the work order for this job had specified that the unit should be received in a conscious but doll-like state. So Deborah had "Rob'd" herself. She figured she was in for additional treatment (shots) before the day was over. But that was really not her concern, as from here on in, she was along for the ride, and was being paid to be whatever she was required to be, NOT to think. If she was Willy'd she wouldn't be able to think.

Debbie 7A was completely ready now.

Only her thoughts moved. She was semi rigid, glassy eyed, completely pose-able, and essentially helpless.

Now she didn't have to wait long to be picked up. The delivery man was (as always) prompt. He used his special pass key (as he had many times before), and entered his pick-up code into her security system. The last thing anyone wanted (especially her) was for her to be accidentally picked up by the "wrong" party. That could be really really bad.

The delivery man entered, and got right to work. The box was by the door (where it always was), so he only had to add a little packing material (a detail Deborah obviously couldn't handle herself). Of course, this was for appearance more than anything. The box was designed to protect her completely in shipment. He had only to secure the lid, and load the newly transformed "Debbie" unit onto a two wheeled dolly and he was ready to leave.

Really nice work he observed, as he copped a quick feel of her latex boob. "Shame on you . Baaaaaad old delivery man," Debbie thought helplessly. She would have laughed if she could. The delivery man paused again; this time to briefly imagine what it would be like. Someday he was going to have to order himself a Debbie, this Debbie, for the day, he told himself loud enough for her to hear, hardly even realizing he had voiced his thoughts aloud.

"Maybe for my birthday....", he mused, as he started rolling her into the hall, towards the freight elevator. But for now, he had a very tight schedule to keep, a job to protect, and a ton of deliveries to make. He had to deliver "Debbie".

But someday... he told himself... some day. Bill swung the freight doors at the rear of the truck shut and secured the truck as soon as the inanimate "Debbie" was loaded. Bill then started towards the cab. He paused again, a few feet from the doors. "Some day Debbie," he told her loudly through the doors as he resumed walking toward the cab (though he was not sure she could even hear him). "Someday I'll be the one taking you home...."

Debbie had heard, and Debbie was amused, even though she couldn't show it. It was the idea of being wanted so badly that she enjoyed the most. Most, next to the helplessness and the idea of being; "C-o-n-t-r-o-l-l-e-d".

The truck now was rolling down the street towards its' next destination. Towards her destination. Towards her delivery. She could feel it even through the padded box. The motion of the truck, the road, the pot-holes. The anticipation was almost unbearable. But Debbie wasn't worried. Another "Big Toy" customer would soon be satisfied. Very satisfied. Debbie ALWAYS satisfied. Because she took such care in preparing herself, dressing, becoming the perfect product, perfectly packaged and presented.

But most importantly, she told herself wryly; customers that rented the one and only top of the line "Debbie" never had to worry about stuff like her deflating. Debbie didn't deflate like the competition. Big Toy products were durable. Debbie was very durable. And versatile too... and as soon as she was un-crated she'd prove it!

 

26.11.07