The Sex Dolly Factory

Part 6: Karma

Ten years ago...

All businesses have their ebbs and flows. One day you're selling things like there's no tomorrow, then, suddenly, tomorrow comes and you don't sell a thing. Any one who tells you that a business can be predicted to run a profitable way is either trying to make you buy from them or is a paid consultant. No business can constantly preform at a top, profitable level for an infinite amount of time because time is the enemy. Times change, fads change, demand changes, and many businesses are left in the dust of history. The ability to change with the times isn't the answer. The answer is to make the times change in your favor.

Abigail Gillen is one of the most capable businesswomen around, but even she couldn't save the local family owned toy factory from going under. She was hired as a turnaround expert after she saved an auto parts chain from drowning in debt, and started to make it into one of the largest retail chains in the country. She was unceremoniously released from her contract and replaced by her male assistant, and soon to be ex-husband, right before the big expansion simply because she was a woman and he felt he deseved the job. When a few compromising private photos of her were leaked to the board by her husband, who, incidently, took them himself, she was let go without any mention of a severance package. He replaced her at the helm, and she took everything from him in the subsuquent divorce.

The first job she took after the divorce was with 'Funnystuff Toys,' a small toy manufacturer in the midwest United States. The owner, Phil Owens, was a shareholder with the auto parts chain she worked at before, so he was acutely aware of what she did for them, despite what her ex had done to her. He gave Abigail free reign in her contract to do whatever she wanted if she could turn the factory around. Also included were several thousand shares of stock as an added incentive to do good.

Abigail wasted no time when she got to town, immediately going to the factory from the airport, wanting to see what she had got herself into. The factory was in a fairly large undescript building in the back of an industrial complex. This factory was built over 20 years ago, replacing the old factory that stood for almost 100 years across town. It became more cost effective to build a new factory than completing necessary upgrades and vital repairs on the old building.

The building looked like a big concrete box with only two glass doors showing the way in. To the right was a fifteen car parking lot for management and visitors separated from the general employees parking lot by a road leading back behind the building. There were no discernable windows that she could see, but there were a few large ventilation pumps on the roof.

She pulled her car into the first vacant spot in the smaller parking lot and the first thing she noticed when she got out of her car was the lack of any noise. You'd figure a factory would have some machines grinding away and echoing around the building, but there wasn't a sound. A few birds singing and a light breeze flowing through some bushes by the road let her know that she hadn't lost her hearing.

Abigail opened the trunk on her stupid rented car and picked up her briefcase. (She couldn't wait until the delivery service showed up with her Mercedes!) She closed the trunk and headed for the front doors without hesitation. It was almost 3 PM local time, and she wanted to see firsthand how the factory was being run before everyone left for the day.

When she walked through the doors, she couldn't believe what she saw. The doors opened into what looked like a large toy store, with the entire center of the room filled with boxed toys stacked like it was Santa's workshop. There was no front desk to greet visitors or vendors. Instead, the exterior walls were lined with desks, and each desk had a person at it feverishly talking on their phones to someone. There weren't any partitions between the desks, so everyone's conversations congealed into one continuous squeal. Abigail walked around, oblivious to everyone else there, and tried to listen to what each person was doing. Of the seventeen people there, it sounded as if only three were making calls related to work.

"Hey, you!" Abigail heard someone yell from behind her. She turned around to see a tall, well built man with dark brown hair standing at a desk against the wall pointing at her. Once he got her attention, she started walking towards her.

"Is there something I can do for you?" he asked when he got close enough to her. Abigail wasn't a short woman by no means, but the man was still about six inches taller than her, and about ten years younger. He had broad shoulders and a thin waist, with the build of a linebacker.

"I'm Abigail Gillen," Abigail said as she reached out her hand to the man, "I'm here to see Phil Owens. I wasn't supposed to be here until tomorrow, but I wanted to get a jump on things if I'm going to help this company." The man almost stood at attention once she said her name. He took her hand gently and gave it a comforting shake.

"Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Gillen," the man replied, "I'm sorry for the gruff attitude there. I'm Eric Biggs, sales agent. I just left a long stint the Army, and I'm still not used to civilian life. I'm used to giving orders, not taking them. I'm also used to being protective of my surroundings. I tend to question the appearance of new people wandering around here." He gave Abigail a warm smile as he released her hand. The cute smile from the man candy warmed Abigail's heart, among other things, and she gave a blushing smile back.

"Oh, don't worry about it," she replied, "At least someone here noticed the change in the scenery. Is Phil here?"

"No, he isn't." Eric said with some dismay, "He had to do some running around, getting things ready for you tomorrow. Is there anything I can do for you instead?"

"Well, I was hoping to take a tour of the place and see what I have to work with. I also wanted to take a look over the corporate financials, give me something to do tonight over dinner. I guess it will have to wait."

"Not necessarily," Eric replied with a smile, "Mr. Owens keeps all of that info in his office. I have the key to let you in. He told us that you are allowed to do whatever you need to get this place running again, so I can't see any harm with opening a door."

"And you have a key to his office because...?" Abigail asked suspiciously.

"Oh!" Eric chuckled, "In the Army, I worked in intelligence and security. My first week here was updating their security system and alarms. I have the keys to almost everything here. During the day, I sell toys. At night, I fight crime!" Both Abigail and Eric laughed. No one else in the room laughed; no one else knew that there were two people having a conversation in the middle of the floor.

"May I suggest you do the office thing first? It might be better if you take the tour with Mr. Owens tomorrow, in case you have any questions."

"Good idea, Eric," Abigail replied, "May I call you Eric?"

"Sure, Abigail, as long as you don't mind. This way, please."

Eric directed Abigail towards an open hallway on the right side of the room. As they walked towards it, Abigail was finally hearing sounds of machinery moving. Eric led the way down the hall to a door on the left. A set of double doors were at the end of the hallway, the same direction the machine noises were coming from. Stopping at the single door, Eric unlocked it.

Eric opened it wide so Abigail could enter alone. This room was a rather large and opulent office, complete with a small bar, refrigerator, sink, oak table with eight chairs, large oak desk, and several expensive figurines and paintings all over the shelves and walls. There were three filing cabinets against the wall behind the desk. On the desk was the only computer she had seen so far in the place. To the right was what looked like a full bathroom. After Abigail fully entered the room, Eric pulled it closed behind her.

"I'll be at my desk if you need anything," he said before shutting the door.

Abigail walked over to the desk and put her briefcase on the floor to one side. She sat down to a stack of disarrayed scattered across its top. She skimmed over each paper as she arranged them, and she already was getting a bad picture of everything. Most of the papers were overdue bills and past date invoices. Others were from law offices, requesting information about one thing or another. One was a safety warning from the Better Business Bureau, requesting an immediate recall on one of the company's toys. All of this information was distressing enough, but she was more upset with what she didn't see: There was no papers showing any form of income or employee wages.

She turned around and started opening the file cabinets. All of the drawers were half empty. The only files she was able to find  were about how much money the company owed and to whom. There were no files on any of the company's sales at all. No files on the company's federal, state, or local taxes. She did find the files on all of the current employees, however all of the pages pertaining to their salaries was missing. Also missing was any information of a pension plan or unemployment taxes.

Abigail slammed the last drawer of the filing cabinet she looked into in anger. She had been in business for a long time, and she knew what was going on. Phil Owens was stealing from his own company, and he took all of the files on the company's income and employee salaries to doctor them before Abigail could see them. He brought her in to either try to save the place, make it look like a sound idea to close up, or, worse yet, use her as a scapegoat to hide his embezzling. Without the missing paperwork, she couldn't figure out exactly what he had planned, but no matter what, it didn't look good for her. She was wracking her brain on what to do, but then she saw the computer.

Since it was the only computer in the place, she figured he would have all of his sensitive information stored there. She sat back down at the desk and turned it on. It was an older one, only 156 gigabyte with a 750k processor, and it took a little time to boot up. While it did that, she started looking through the desk for either computer disks or any other information about the businesses income. She found a few, but their labels didn't point to financial information. One of the drawers was locked. She thought about breaking it open, but when she saw the request for a passcode as the first image on the computer screen, she had a better idea. She went and fetched Eric.

"Eric, can I see you for a minute?" Abigail asked as she poked her head out of the hallway, "I need your help back here." Eric looked up from his phone and motioned his hand to her, signaling the give him a moment, then he went back to his phone call.

"Jim, can I call you back?" he said into the phone, "I have another fire to put out.... Yeah...Yeah... Tomorrow, about ten...Thanks... Give my love to Sue and the kids." He hung up the phone and joined Abigail in the hallway.

"How can I help?" he asked. Abigail quickly but quietly took him by the arm and almost dragged him back to Phil's office. Eric put up little resistance, although he did have a confused look on his face. She turned around and pushed him into the office, then looked down both ways in the hall to see if anyone was looking, then entered the office as well. She quickly closed the door and locked it.

"Did you put any security cameras in the hallway or this office?" Abigail asked in a stern voice, "Any microphones or silent alarms on any of the drawers in here?"

"What? Well, no," Eric stammered, "What's this all about?"

"How about this: Did Mr. Owens carry out any boxes from this office yesterday or today?" Eric didn't even have to think about this.

"He had some of the guys from the dock carry out about twelve boxes from in here and put them into a truck earlier today," he replied, even more confused than a few minutes ago, "He said he was moving some of his art collection back home."

"Take a look around this room," Abigail ordered, "Tell me what is missing that was here yesterday evening." Still confused, Eric did what he was told. After about a minute, the confused look disappeared and was replaced with enlightenenment. 

"He didn't take anything from here," he said, "He took something else. He was hiding something. From you. He removed files of some kind. He's stealing, isn't he?"

"Gold star, Eric," Abigail enthusiastically said as she pulled him to behind the desk, "I have to know what files he took, and they might be on this computer. Also, one of the desk drawers are locked. Do you think you can help me with both of these?"

"With pleasure," he replied as he stooped down to the locked drawer. It was mere seconds and he had the drawer open.

"Wow, I'm impressed," Abigail said, "I'm surprised you didn't go into the CIA instead of working here."

"They tried recruiting me," Eric replied as he sat down in front of the computer, "But I was tired of traveling the world, fighting 'The Good Fight.' Besides, some of the CIA's clandestine operations weren't too appealing to me, so I figured it was best to just walk away. Give me a minute and I'll have this silicone cracked in two." He started typing furiously on the computer's keyboard as Abigail started looking through the now opened drawer. What she found sickened her to her core.

She pulled out three bank statements, all drawn on different banks. One was the business account, which barely had enough money in it to cover an ice cream truck's weekly expenses. The next one was Phil Owens personal account, which had almost thirty million dollars deposited. The third was Abigail Gillen, with fifteen million dollars deposited. There was also a receipt from a bank that held the employees pension, showing that the account was closed and that a cashier's check for thirty-five million was made payable to Abigail Gillen, CFO of 'Funnystuff Toys, Inc.' She now knew that she was going to be the scapegoat.

"I was afraid of this," Abigail said out loud, not realising it.

"What?" Eric asked as he was still typing. He leaned over to her to see what made her make that remark.

"What did you find?"

"Here," she replied, holding out the bank statements and the receipt, "Take a look." He stopped typing and studied the documents.

"That's one hell of a signing bonus," he commented as he glanced them over.

"I just got into town this afternoon," Abigail replied as she stood up, "All of these bank accounts were set up three days ago, and those are not my signatures. I'm being set up to take the fall, while he skips away to an extradition-free country." Eric went back to his typing, and, suddenly, he stopped when the computer made an audible 'Boop.'

"Yeah, we'll see about that," Eric coldly replied as the screen started filling up with various files and internet shortcuts. He rose from the chair so Abigail could sit down. Breaking into locked things was his forte, but he had a feeling that computer programs was her arena. And he was right. Within five minutes, she had found all of the information she needed, and she was pissed about everything she read.

"Wow," She gasped, "He's been embezzling for decades. Only one third of the net sales went back into the business. Everything else went to an offshore account. He has almost eighty million dollars sitting in Panama, and a pending transaction for the funds from this account." She waved the bank statement in his name over her head.

"My God," Eric whispered angrily, "We have to stop him. What can we do?"

"Technically nothing but go to the police," Abigail replied as she sat and thought for a few moments, "But I hate technicalities. Give me a few minutes." She started typing feverishly herself, like a woman possessed. Eric tried watching the monitor as she zipped from one screen to another over her shoulder, but soon got dizzy. He had to take a step back and regain his senses. This was the second time in little over a year that a man was trying to screw her over, and, this time, she was going to fight back hard. She wasn't about to be abused in a business setting again, and Phil Owens was going to feel the brunt of her anger.

"There, that will fix him," Abigail exclaimed after her thirty minute typing marathon. She sat back in the chair and crossed her arms triumphantly.

"What did you do?" Eric asked as he leaned back over to look at the screen. All he saw was a Panamanian bank main menu screen.

"I took all of the money he hid in Panama, all the money he had in the business account, and all of the money he had in this personal account and hid it somewhere safe. Just for fun, I also tracked down any other bank accounts he or his immediate family had and emptied them as well. Then I deleted all of the accounts at their banks. Right now, there is $120 million hidden in various banks around the world, and I'm the only one who knows where."

"Awesome!" Eric cheered as he gave Abigail a congratulatory slap on the back, "Now, to get rid of the evidence here. Here's my lighter. Take this bank information into the bathroom and burn it. I'll erase the computer's hard drive. I have a friend who can follow up on erasing the internet traffic coming and going to this computer for the last seven days, just to be safe. Now, not trying to sound self concerned, but what about the employees and payday? Will they still have a job?"

"Most likely not," Abigail said as she walked to the bathroom with the papers, "But I'll make sure that they'll still get paid, reinstate their pensions, and give them a terriffic severance package. Just by seeing the accounts payable I know that this business is dead." She lit the papers on fire and dropped them into the bathroom sink. She looked in the cabinet under the sink for a towel to clean up the ashes, but instead she found a pile of skin colored latex rubber.

Thinking that it was an odd colored raincoat, she pulled it out, wondering who stuffed it down there. It seemed like it was a long overcoat from the amount of pulling she did. It wasn't until she grabbed a handful of blonde wig that she realized it wasn't a raincoat at all.

"Eeek!" Abigail squealed in revulsion. Eric ran to the bathroom, thinking she had burned herself. He hurriedly looked into the bathroom and saw Abigail standing over a woman's skin, sprawled out on the bathroom floor. He was speechless, so was Abigail, and he knelt down to take a better look and possibly identify the victim. He took hold of the pile's ankle, gave it a squeeze, then laughed.

"What's so funny?" she asked angrily.

"This is one of those blow up sex dolls!" he laughed, throwing the piece of latexback to the floor.

"A what?"

"An inflatable girl sex doll. You know, for when a loser is horny but can't get a date? They buy one of these, blow them up, and have sex with the three holes in it. They come in all styles, sizes, races, and skin tones. I think they're disgusting, but they're a very big business. High quality dolls run into the five thousand dollar range."

"Really?" Abigail wondered aloud. She figured this might require some research, but if this perversion is big business, then why don't she get into it? She has always worked for other people and almost every time it didn't work out. Thanks to this Phil Owens jerk, she now had some serious starting capital and enough leverage to force him to sign over his factory for a bargain price. She couldn't retain all of the employees, and she really thought that she shouldn't considering their preformance when she first walked in, but she could go through what remained in their files to pick out the possible 'Diamonds in the rough.' There is one thing she had to do before she did anything else.

"Eric, come tomorrow, no one here will have a job. You've helped me out here and gave me a lead on a possibly lucriative business opportunity. How would you like to work for me as the head of my security department? You will not have to answer to anyone but me, and I can guarantee your salary will be at least three times as high as it is right now, possibly more. Interested?"

                    *********************************

This year, Saturday afternoon...

Becky and her love dolly Keisha were driving over to Abigail's house for dinner and to watch their online auctions end. Two weeks ago, Abigail put up some of the grade 2 sex dolls that were not selling, just to move the older stock out.  She also listed Charlene, the hermaphrodite doll that she and Becky made from the one thief that they had caught almost a month ago. She originally thought about keeping it, but the novelty wore off quickly, and she wanted to see how much a doll like that would sell for. If it sells well enough, they would definitely make more.

They arrived at Abigail's just after 3 PM. Becky pulled up to the garage, intending to pull her car inside. It was still daylight, and she didn't want any of her friend's neighbors seeing the latex shine of her lover. It may cause some 'issues' with the neighborhood block commission. She honked her horn when she pulled up to the garage door, and, after a minute or so, the garage door rolled up. She pulled her car inside and parked next to her friend's Mercedes. The garage door was already lowering when the two of them climbed out of her car. 

"Can you get the wine, please?" Becky asked Keisha as she pushed the button to release the trunk, "I'll get the paperwork." Without waiting for a reply, she walked back and opened the trunk. Inside, there was a ratty atashay case.

"Yes, massuh, I'se live to serve," Keisha sarcastically remarked. It has been transformed into an automotronic plastic doll for four weeks now, but it still resents the fact that it has to do everything Becky says, albeit she asks politely. It reached into the back seat to retrieve the bottle. Getting out of the car and now standing, it turned to see Becky looking at it frustrated.

"Please, baby, stop acting like that," Becky half begged as she removed the atashay case and closed the trunk, "You're not my black slave maid. It's  starting to offend me when you talk like that. Besides dressing you in that maid costume the first time, have I honestly made you do something you didn't want to do?" 

"Oh, let's see," Keisha replied, mockingly putting it's finger to it's chin and looking skyward, "Making me suck off one of my closest friends, and now making me sit while you sell him off in front of me?"

"You didn't suck him off," Becky said as she came around the car to hug her dolly, "I stopped you before those luscious lips even got close to his dick. As for selling him off, well, you didn't complain when we sold off your Asian friend, right?"

"I hated Chang anyway. I was getting ready to put two bullets into his skull right before your knockout gas hit us. Good riddance to him, but me and Charlie, we've been through a lot. He was the closest thing I had to a best friend."

"He wasn't a friend," Becky whispered into Keisha's ear, "He wouldn't have got you into trouble if he was. Besides, you got me now. I'm going to be the bestest friend you've ever had. C'mon. Abigail's waiting." She gave her dolly lover a warm, passionate kiss on the cheek, then led her by the hand towards the house. Abigail met them as Becky opened the door into the kitchen.

"It's about time!" Abigail exclaimed when she saw them, "I thought the garage door got stuck or something."

"Nah, we just had a little discussion," Becky replied as she put her atashay case on the cabinet inside the door. Keisha walked around her and handed the bottle of wine to Abigail.

"Yeah. We were talking about how slaves have to be sold," It said callously.

"KEISHA!!!" Becky shouted in an embarrassed voice. Keisha turned and instead of seeing frustration in Becky's eyes, this time her eyes were staring daggers.

"Calm down, you two," Abigail said calmly as she walked between the two of them. This argument was going on too long, and she had to do something civil before Becky did something she would regret. "Becky, are those the results of the AAD-623 test?" Becky was obviously seething, but she did comport herself before answering.

"Yes, they are," she replied while gritting her teeth, still staring at her attitude spewing dolly.

"Please take them into the living room and prepare to give me a status on the results," Abigail said in a soothing tone, trying not to talk down to her friend, as she put her arm around her shoulder and herded her toward the hallway leading to living room, "I need to talk with Keisha for a minute." Becky picked up the atashay and angrily walked down the hall. Once she was out of earshot, Abigail turned to the latex animotronic.

"I've been friends with her for a very long time," Abigail began as she looked Keisha in the eyes, "And this is the first time I've ever seen her truly care for someone. She is in love with you." Keisha crossed its arms in a defensive stance and tried to stare the taller woman down.

"Oh, yeah?" Keisha replied in a demanding voice, "How can you tell? I'm the only one she's ever forced a sex change on? Or turned into an appliance? Or electronically made to do her every whim, like a plantation slave? If she was really in love with me, she would be sucking my cock right now, instead of making me into a life-sized black Barbie doll!"

"Yes, you have been forced into this change," Abigail continued, "But you did break into our factory and you have seen too much. We couldn't send you or your compatriots to jail and have the police look into our business. This is a just punishment for all three of you, as we see it. However, she is a lesbian. She didn't become attracted to you until you were made into a female. She fell in lust with you, and had to have you. She wouldn't be satisfied with having you as a normal sex dolly like the others, so she used her genius to make you as you are now: A walking dolly with full body motion and your own thoughts and opinions. She could've easily wiped away all of your free will and made you a virtual bimbo, but she didn't. She wanted someone to love, and she hoped that that someone would love her back."

"Yeah, right," Keisha argued, "She treats me like a doll. She buys me what she wants me to wear, makes me help her clean her house, makes me help around your factory, and most of the time tells me what to do in bed. When she goes out, she always takes me with her. I barely have any time to myself! Is that what love is supposed to be?!?"

"Well, in a sense, yes."

"Okay, I'm confused," Keisha said while shaking it's head while taking a seat on a kitchen chair, "Explain this to me."

"Simple," Abigail explained as she pulled another kitchen chair next to Keisha, "She buys you clothes that she likes because you probably never told you what you like. I heard you complain about the clothes you did wear before, but I never heard you ask for anything specific to wear, have I? She can't get you what you want if you will not share the information with her.

"House chores are something that every member in the family share doing. You most likely are thinking like a man, but the dirty dishes aren't cleaned by elves who sneak into the house at night. Clean floors require a wet mop or a vaccuum on occasion. Clothing should only be worn one time in a week then be washed, not worn until they stand up by themselves. I can almost guarantee that she asks you to do chores, and doesn't order you to do them.

"She takes you with her everywhere she goes because she wants to spend time with you. Since most of her time is at the factory, that is where she takes you. She asks you to help while you're there is for two reasons. One, she doesn't want you to be bored. Two, she likes talking with you. She wants to get to know you, and the fastest way to form a friendship is by chatting with a co-worker.

"As for your bedroom antics, have you tried taking control yet? I'm not saying you should tie her down to the bed and get out the candle wax or anything, but I am saying that you should try seducing her instead of waiting for her to tell you what to do. I'm not sure if this is a racial stereotype, and I apologize in advance if you feel like it is, but aren't black men usually looking for white women to take control over and screw their brains out?"

Throughout all of Abigail's speech, Keisha sat there like a petulent child that was forced to listen to a Preacher's lecture on evil. However, the last sentence she spoke caused the dolly to erupt with laughter. Abigail reacted with a smile of her own.

"Okay," Keisha giggled, "I'll give you that one." Abigail slid forward on her seat to put her hands on both of Keisha's shoulders, making sure to have the doll's attention.

"Now I don't expect you to fall head over heels with her the next time your eyes meet," Abigail said with a soothing voice, "I would just like for you to give her a chance. She really is a sweet, loving girl. Talk to her as if she was your friend, not as if she was the warden of a jail. You might find out that you like her too."

"What about when she orders me to do something?"

"I've only seen her order you to do two things over the past month, and one of those things she stopped you before you even started."

"Twice?" Keisha asked, "I only remember the blowjob. What was the other time?"

"Shortly after that. You were so shaken up about the 'almost' oral sex you were being ordered to do, she ordered you to fall asleep to calm you down." Keisha just sat there silenly, with a perplexed look on it's face. 

"I don't remember that," Keisha responded, as it racked it's brain for the memory, "She really did that?"

"Yes, she did," Abigail replied, "See? She cared for you back then, and she cares even more for you now. Do you think you can give her some slack for a little bit?"

"Uh...Yeah...I guess so," Keisha replied in a somber yet thoughtful tone. Abigail smiled widely then gave it a warm hug.

"Thank you," She whispered into the doll's ear, "Let's get into the living room before the little maniac sets something on fire." Keisha giggled, then both made their way to the living room. Upon arriving, they saw Becky sitting on the sofa behind Abigail's laptop with an incredibly stunned look on her face. She was staring at the screen wide eyed and mouth opened. She was gripping the screen tight enough to squeeze milk from a coconut.

"Becky, what's wrong?" Abigail asked when she noticed the shocked look on her friends face, and rushed over to her side. Keisha, surprisingly, also hurried to her with concern, and sat down on Becky's right side. As Abigail sat down next to her, Becky turned towards her slowly as she handed her the laptop.

Abigail, with a puzzled look on her face, wrestled the laptop from Becky's death grip. She settled it onto the coffee table and opened the hinge wider so she could see the screen better. It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to the soft colors emanating from the screen, but, once she did, she too was shocked at what was showing. It was the online auction they listed their surplus dolls and the Charlene doll on. The other dolls sold at what they were expected to, but the Charlene, the sexy talking female doll with the built-in penis, sold for $900,000.

"We gotta make more hermaphrodites," Becky calmly whispered.

* * * * *

A limosine pulled into the parking lot of the Exclusive Products factory early on Thursday morning, roughly an hour after Abigail, Eric, and Becky arrived to start their business day. The limo's occupant was Jane Smith, the winner of the Charlene doll, and she was there to pick up her prize. Abigail knew that the name given was an obvious alias, so she asked Eric to do a background check on her. He couldn't find anything about the woman. Nothing at all. The computer link she used on the auction was a very elaborate and elusive proxy, and his best hackers couldn't trace any of her online information. This made Abigail very unsettled to say the least, so she was overly cautious and had her guard way up, trying to anticipate everything that might go wrong. She asked Eric to have two of his best men hide in the bushes back behind the loading dock as a precaution, and two more hidden on the dock itself dowm among the mechandise storage racks.

The limo pulled through the parking lot and around to the loading dock behind the building, as per the instructions Abigail e-mailed the woman after the auction ended. The reply she received was terse, on the verge of being arrogant, stating that electronic payment would not be sent until the item was delivered. Abigail replied with a reminder that the auction's terms stated that it was a cash sale and that the winner would have to pick it up on site. The reply to that was an obnoxious one, stating that she would be there at exactly 9 AM on the following Thursday, and that the deal would be off if she had to wait longer than 9:01. True to her word, a knock came at the door to the loading dock at exactly 9 AM.

Eric walked over and opened the door slowly with one hand, his other hand resting on the gun tucked into his belt. He peered through the opening to see a taller height blonde woman with incredibly oversized fake boobs, colagen inflated lips, silicon enhanced butt, all balanced on six inch stilettos, wrapped tightly in shiny pink spandex pants and a push-up red camisole. Her sunglasses blocked out her eyes, and she had a leopard skin coat draped around her shoulders. If it wasn't for the fact that she was standing directly in front of him, he would've guessed that she was actually drawn for a 'Hustler' pornography cartoon.

"Hiya, cutie!" the bimbo cliche bubbled out in a high pitched, squeaky voice, "I'm here for the toy thingy!" Eric politely smiled and opened the door so the woman could enter. She sashayed through the door, and was closely followed by an older gentleman in a chauffeur's uniform. The chauffeur had his hat pulled down, with the brim covering most of his face. He was almost six inches shorter than the blonde, three times as wide, and he stayed within two feet of her as she went over to Abigail.

Abigail was waiting at the far end of the packing table, with the Charlene dolly sitting on the edge nearby. She had already had the "Care and Maintenance" package printed up, and that was in a manilla envelope on the table next to the doll. One look at this mutated Barbie doll walking towards her told her all she needed to know. This woman didn't bid on this dolly. This woman probably doesn't even know what a computer is, let alone have the ability to navigate to a specific website. Something was definitely wrong here, but she had to play along until she found out what it was. She was thankng herself internally for having Becky wait upstairs in her lab, just in case things were to become violent.

"Is that my new babydoll?!?" the woman half yelled, half giggled as she approached the table, pointing a two inch long hot pink colored fingernail at Charlene.

"It depends," Abigail replied as she slowly started to approach the two visitors, "And you are...?"

"I'm Kelly...," the woman started to say until the chauffeur grabbed her arm tightly and pulled her close. He quickly whispered something into her ear, then let her go again. Eric, behind the two by the door, saw this and pulled his gun from his waist and held it down at his side, thumb on the safety.

"I...Uh...I mean... Um... My name is...Uh... Oh! Yes! Jane! I'm Jane Smith! That's me! I'm Jane Smith and I'm here for my sexy doll!" A stammering person sends up red flags in almost every situation, and Abigail's defenses went up faster than the price of umbrellas on a rainy day.

"Okay, who are you and why are you here?" Abigail demanded as she stopped about ten feet away from them, arms crossed in a menacing manner.

"I...But...We...," the woman stammered for a minute, then, with a nervous twitch she took off her sunglasses, spun on the toes of her shoes to the chauffeur, looked down towards his face, and, with scared misty blue eyes asked, "Owwie, what do I do?" 

Abigail immediately snapped her fingers above her head and the two men hiding among the racks came out with their guns at the ready, pointed at the two strangers. Eric also leveled his gun at the chauffeur, with the safety now off. The chauffeur looked around and noticed all of the hardware pointed at himself and the woman with him. He looked over his shoulder at Eric, and, seeing the gun pointed directly at his head, gave him a wide smile.

"Okay, everyone relax," the chauffeur calmly spoke as he turned his head back to face Abigail, "It didn't take you long to figure us out. I know my companion isn't much of an actress, but she's incredible in bed. So, now that my subterfuge has been unmasked, I suggest we get down to it." He took a step forward and removed his hat to reveal a balding old man. The gesture revealed a face that both Abigail and Eric both recognized, although it had aged a little.

"Phil Owens, as I live and breathe," Abigail huffed through her teeth. Although it had been ten years since the man tried to frame her for embezzlement, the hate was still there. Setting him up for the embezzlement while stealing all of his money did take some of the sting out of it, but some wounds never heal. The last thing she heard from this man was that he was sentenced to seven years in prison, then she shut him out of her thoughts. She beat him at his own game, so what could he want now?

"Ah, you remember me," Phil replied cordially as he set his hat on the table while giving the blonde a loose hug, "That's good, so this will go much easier." He released the blonde and walked towards Abigail. Eric's two men quickly took up flanking positions on both sides of Abigail, but behind her by twenty feet, guns still raised, keeping Phil in their clean line of sight. This caused Phil to stop in his tracks.

"You and Eric really put one over on me," Phil continued, "Finding out what I was doing, stealing all of the money I stole plus the money I had legally, producing the evidence that convicted me, and even forcing me to sell my factory to you at an unscrupulously low price so I could pay my legal fees. Well done. However, as the old saying goes, 'What goes around, comes around.'

"I got out of prison after three years for good behavior. Fortunately for me, you didn't find all of my money, so the first thing I did was to pay off the parole board so I wouldn't have to report to them at all. I then rebuilt my life, and I now have a net worth of almost thirty-five million, a great house, and a great woman at my side."

"Glad to hear it," Abigail replied, not flinching a muscle, "Pay for the dolly and leave."

"Oh, no, it wasn't all wine and roses," Phil went on, waggling his finger in the air, "My wife divorced me when she found out I was going to leave her and got everything. My kids disowned me. The factory that was in my family for generations was gone. Not to mention the things I had to do in prison to survive.

"That brings me to why I'm here. Eric does excellent research, but I found someone who is just as good. I found out what you do here, and that's why I bid on the doll. I know about the people who come in here and leave as sex toys. I have a list of the people who 'Disappeared' once they came through your doors. In other words, I have you." Suddenly, the sound of a gun's hammer clicked as it was being pulled back into firing position. Eric was inching closer to the back of Phil's head. Hearing this, Phil cautiously turned to face him.

"I told some people where I was going!," Phil blurted out loudly, "If I don't contact them by 10 AM, they were instructed to take the list to the FBI!" Eric stopped and looked to Abigail.

"Do you believe him?" he asked, not relaxing the gun's hammer.

"We can't take the chance," Abigail solemly replied. She then looked Phil dead in the face. "What do you want?"

"What I want is my money back," Phil said with a wide smile across his face. He now knows he has the two of them over a barrel, and he was going to fleece them for everything he can get. "Plus interest. Plus the value of this factory. You can keep it, I just want the cash equivelant of the business' value. I figure 300 million will do, and I want it by the end of next week."

"I see prison hasn't diminished your sense of humor," Eric said sarcastically.

"I can't come up with that much in that less amount of time," Abigail responded, "I can get it together in about thirty days. That's the best I can do."

"No. I want it all. Nine days is more than enough time for two resourceful people such as yourselves."

"We can't do that. We need at least thirty days minimum."

"Well, then, I hope you both enjoy prison as much as I did, but you'll be there for a much longer time than I was."

Abigail put her hand up to her chin and walked around in a small circle, thinking. Eric and his two men kept their guns on Phil and the tall blonde. Phil was smiling with his arms crossed, while the blonde bimbo looked like she was about to pee herself. After about a minute, Abigail stopped and made a counteroffer.

"I can give you fifty million next Friday, and fifty million a week for the following six weeks. That comes to 350 million in total."

"350 million, hm?" Phil pondered for a moment, "Yes. That will work. I will expect a bank check for the first fifty million to be delivered to this P.O. Box by Friday at 5 PM." He removed a folded up piece of paper from his pocket and threw it across the table towards where Abigail was still standing. As she picked up the paper, she motioned for her bodyguards to lower their weapons.

"A pleasure doing business with you," Phil laughed as he picked up his hat and put his arm around the blonde. They started towards the door as casually as if they were strolling through the park. Halfway to the door, and right past a snarling Eric, the two stopped. Phil, with an even broader smile, turned to Eric.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Phil calmly said directly to Eric, "Can someone please load the doll that I won into my car? My little lovey-dovey can't wait to try it out." Eric raised his hand with the intent of punching Phil in his fat face, but stopped before he did something he'd regret. Instead, he looked at Abigail, who, with a disgruntled nod, silently suggested to him that he do what was asked. He then went over and picked up the Charlene dolly and the instructions. Charlene moaned with pleasure as it was picked up.

As he walked out the back door, dolly in hand, behind Phil and his bimbo, Eric's two men in the bushes came out from their cover. Phil waved politely with a smile at them. Eric walked over and basically threw Charlene into the back seat. Phil climbed in behind the wheel, and the blonde hopped into the passenger's seat, and they sped out of the parking lot. Eric turned and stormed back into the factory, his other two men close behind.

"I can't believe you're going to pay him!" Eric yelled even before the door closed behind him.

"Right now, we have no choice," Abigail replied as she was leaning against the packaging table, "We don't know the extent of his information, nor do we know if he had given that information to anyone else as an insurance policy. What we need now is some information of our own. I need you and your talented compatriots to work your magic and find these answers, as well as 'Owwie's' routines."

"I've already got you three-quarters covered," Eric replied in a much calmer voice, "I've been keeping a very close eye on him since he went to jail. I figured he might try something, but I never guessed something big like this."

"What do you have?"

  "Where he lives, what he's doing, how often he contacts friends, family, and work associates, who works for him, where he goes on a regular basis. I have a whole dossier on him. That bimbo with him? That was his old secretary, from when she worked here. She's had so much plastic surgery done, I didn't recognize her until he showed us who he was."

"Any servants that can help us?" Abigail asked, "Anyone particular that he treats like crap?" After a brief pause for thinking, Eric's face brightened up with a big smile.

"Oh, yes, big time," He replied with a happy sounding voice as he took up a leaning position right next to Abigail, "Shorly after getting out of jail, he took Kelly, his secretary, on a three month tour of the Asian Pacific rim. While in Vietnam, he actually bought a sixteen year old girl from a poor family, called Pham Nguyen. He bought her back to the States and made her his maid for his whole house. Well, maid by day, sex slave by night. He controls her every move, never lets her leave the house alone, doesn't let her talk to her family, even controls what she eats so she doesn't get fat. It shouldn't take too much to get her to work for us."

"Good. Get on it and offer her anything she wants," Abigail confidently said as she got off the table and headed to her office, "We need DNA samples. Also, get your men to find out who has the information Phil gathered. There will be ten million for them to split amongst themselves once they deliver the name or names."

                              *********************

"PHAM!!! WHERE'S THE WINE!!!" Phil yelled towards the kitchen, "If that bottle isn't out here in thirty seconds, I'll beat your ass redder than the Chinese flag!!" He stood in the middle of his sitting room a bit desheveled, with his hands firmly on his waist, staring daggers at the hall that led to the kitchen. He and his bimbo wife were fooling around on the sofa and decided they needed a bottle of zinfandel to liven things up a little. Kelly, his wife, was lounging upright on the sofa, her blouse opened but still on her shoulders and her hot pants unzipped, showing her very expensive matching bra and panties set. She too was getting a bit miffed.

"When the lazy little bitch gets here," Kelly sneered, "Make her eat my pussy as punishment. I know she hates it, and I love having the power to make her do it. Can we do that, Owwie? You get so turned on when you watch."

"Not tonight, sweet pea," Phil replied to his lover, "She's been a bad little maid lately, so after she brings the bottle, I'm locking her in the closet for a few days. She's forgetting her place around here and shirking her duties. I think she'll be more appreciative when we release her, and you can make her do anything you want to you then. However, you can help me tie her up before we lock her in."

"Yay!!" Kelly giggled as she clapped and bounced up and down on the sofa. She quickly settled down when she noticed that the maid turned the corner from the hallway, carrying a silver platter with an opened bottle of white zinfandel and two wine glasses on it.

Pham Nguyen, Phil's slave maid, was as diminuitive as a woman could be. She stood only four foot ten inches tall, and weighed about ninety pounds soaking wet. She had an incredible figure despite her size, having a 30-C chest and a 22 inch waist. Her tush was a little flat though, but she was still 30 inches around her hips. She wore her jet black hair in a tight ponytail from the back of her head, and that hung down to her waist. She was forced to keep her bangs trimmed just above her eyebrows, just like a classic Japanese little girl style from the 1940s. As she slowly walked further into the room, Phil rushed over angrily to meet her.

"It's about time!!!" he yelled at her, yanking the platter from her hands, almost knocking ove the opened bottle, "What kept you this time?!?"

"Open bottle," Pham sheepishly replied, "Let wine breathe." She instinctively lowered her head in submission. 

Phil looked down at her, still angry, but caught in a little connundrum. He yelled at her before for not opening the wine to let it breathe, so he really couldn't contradict himself when she remembered to do it this time. He turned and placed the tray on the nearby coffee table, then he retuned to his maid with gusto.

"Come with me," Phil calmly said as he grabbed her by the arm and literally pulled her to another part of the house. Kelly followed close behind. He half dragged the poor girl to the laundry room and, as an indication that she knew what her punishment was going to be, started kicking and pleading for mercy. She wasn't able to get one distinguishable word out because Kelly quickly shoved a hand towel from the shelf above the washer into Pham's mouth.

Phil, three times Pham's weight and 8 inches taller, grabbed her around the chest and lifted her off of the floor. Kelly went around to the closet and pulled out a coil of rope and duct tape. She first taped over the towel in Pham's mouth so she wouldn't spit it out. She then expertly tied the smaller woman's hands behind her back, tied her elbows, her ankles, and her knees tightly so she couldn't move her limbs independently. Upon completion, Phil tossed the maid into the closet like a bag of dirty laundry, and laughed as she fell to the floor. The two sadists stood back to admire their handiwork.

"Now, when we let you out," Phil said to the now weeping maid, "Maybe you'll remember what you are around here." Kelly, who was hugging Phil from behind him, suddenly seemed dissatisfied.

"Something's missing, Owwie," She exclaimed as she stooped down to closely inspect her knots. She rolled Pham onto her stomach and pulled her ankles up to her hands. With another piece of rope, she finished up and left the maid hog-tied. Now satisfied, she cheerfully stood up and closed the closet door behind her.

"There. That's better!" She put her arm around Phil's shoulders while he put his around her waist, and the two went back to the sitting room to finish what they started. As they walked, Kelly let her shirt fall off of her shoulders and purposely rocked her chest so her boobs would bounce lewdly in her skimpy bra. This caused Phil to get excited, and he literally pushed his wife back to the bottle of wine.

He playfully threw Kelly onto the sofa, causing her to giggle uncontrollably. He then picked up the bottle of wine and, instead of pouring some into the glasses, he took a big swig straight from the bottle. He handed the bottle to his still giggling wife, who took a big gulp from it as well. While she was drinking, he was fumbling with getting his pants off.

This went on for about forty minutes, passing the bottle back and forth while they playfully and teasingly removed their clothes, making cat calls at each other as they went along. Eventually, Kelly was playing with her fake 38EE breasts while Phil was trying to make his aging dick get hard without using a Viagra. He even tried fingering his wife's clit, but to no avail. Out of sexual frustration, Kelly finally spoke out.

"Come on, Owwie, take a pill," she urged, "Pop a stiffy for sweet pea." Phil, swallowing the last of the wine from the bottle, sat down on the sofa by his wife's feet.

"I can't," Phil sadly replied, "Wine and Viagra don't mix." He tossed the empty bottle across the room, but the bottle didn't break when it hit the carpeted floor. It just rolled over to the wall. "Besides, those pills make my joints stiff, not just my cock. How about I eat you out instead? No reason you can't cum all because I can't right now."

"I got a better idea," Kelly replied as she rolled off the sofa and climbed between her husband's legs, "Let's see if I can inflate this ballon." She lowered her mouth and started sucking him off. He loved every second of it, but it wasn't working. Yes, he was breathing harder and his muscles were tensing up, but he wasn't getting an erection.

"Awesome effort, sweet pea," Phil pleaded, "But it isn't working. Sorry." He patted his wife on the head for her to stop. The joints in his arm and hand felt like they were getting tight as they moved. He must've had too much wine too fast.

Kelly raised her head slowly from Phil's lap. She sadly looked into his eyes without getting up like a puppy that was yearning for some more peanut butter. Suddenly, her eyes lit up.

"I got an idea!" she exclaimed as she sat up on her knees, "I'll go get that talking sex doll thingy!"

"What?" Phil replied, his mind getting a little fuzzy.

"Y'know, that rubber doll with the huge cock that we got three weeks ago! You liked it when I fucked it as it talked all dirty to me, remember?" Phil had to think a little bit about it. He couldn't think straight as the alchohol was taking a fierce effect on him, but it eventually came to mind.

"Oh, yes," he said as the memory struck him, "We can try it." He had a little difficulty saying the words, as if he was running short on his breath. His wife didn't even notice.

"I'll be right back!" Kelly giggled with a huge smile. She didn't really like the thought of humping an inflatable rubber doll, but the penis on it was the greatest sensation she ever had in her crotch. She uses it whenever she gets the chance, unbeknownst to her husband. She pushed up off of his knees to stand, but immediately fell over, missing the coffee table by inches. Thinking that she was drunk, she started laughing after she hit the floor.

"You okay, sweet pea?" Phil asked as he leaned forward. He couldn't move very fast because, for some reason, the joints in his back had become incredibly stiff. He couldn't remember a time when his joints felt like this, even after the side effects of the Viagra. He slowly reached out his hand to help Kelly up. That's when he got the surprise of his life.

"Yeah, I'm okay," Kelly replied as she took Phil's hand, "My legs fell asleep. They don't want me to move from this spot! Hey, Owwie, either I'm really drunk or you got hair on your head again!"

 "You're drunk," He retorted. He tried to lift his wife off of the floor, but his stiffening joints wouldn't let him. As he leaned over to give it more of an effort, he caught his reflection in the silver platter out of the corner of his eye. It DID look like hair! He immediately let go of his bimbo and picked up the platter as fast as his joints would let him. He gazed at the reflection and saw gray hair about an inch long sprouting along his old hairline, and it looked like it was still growing! He was reaching up to his scalp to make sure it wasn't his eyes playing tricks on him, but he was stopped by his wife's sudden coughing fit.

"Oh, God, Kelly! What's Wrong?!?" Phil cried as he dropped the platter and fell to the floor next to his gagging wife.

"AAAAHHHH!!!! IT HURTS!!!" Kelly screamed in pain between coughs. She was now lying on her side, her arms crossing tightly over her stomach and lower rib cage. Phil tried to reach down and roll her onto her back, but he found the absence of one thing and a new growth in its place. All of his chest hair had fallen out the moment his body fell to the floor, and now breasts were sprouting, already at a B cup. A horrifying realization sprung into his mind.

"Oh, God, no," he whispered under his breath as most of the strength left his body. He started sweating profusely. He sat on the floor next to his crying and coughing wife with a stunned expression on his face. He looked down to see his breasts were now at a C cup, but were sagging heavily, like an old lady's. He reached up to his head and found it full of five inch gray hair. As he lowered his arm, he noticed that here was no hair on either one of them as well. With great effort, he forced his hands to peel away his wife's arms from her stomach, and his fears were now confirmed. Most of Kelly's abdomen had been turned into latex, and it was spreading across her body in both directions.

"I gotta call Jack!" Phil yelled, more out of terror than as an exclamation. Jack Tully was the man who found all of the information about Abigail and Exclusive Products Company, and he was the one person who Phil trusted to hold it for him. If anything were to happen to him, Jack was to 'leak' the information to the FBI. This was now the time for Jack to act.

Phil's train of hurried thought was quickly derailed by the sudden sound of his wife having an intense orgasm and something hitting him in his left breast. The sensation was altogether new to him, and it wasn't all that unpleasant, but he looked to see what had violently 'Felt him up.' He was shocked to see his wife's knee in his chest. She was now on her back with her legs spread in a 90 degree V-shaped angle and her knees up in the air. Her feet were wiggling around in the air as the latex made its way down her calves. He noticed that her already fake boobs were now larger, and sporting large light pink latex ariolas with eraser sized nipples. It wouldn't be too much longer for her, as her mouth had already taken on an oval shape, even though the latex had barely reached her neck.

"Gotta move," he urged himself as he tried to crawl to the nearest phone, which was in the kitchen. He already assumed that standing would be out of the question, mostly because the way his joints ached. He started to move his overweight body and realized he was sitting in a pool of water. He got up on his hands and knees and saw that he had sweat away about fifty pounds of weight as he was sitting there. That wasn't the worst of it. The real terror came when, while looking along the length of his torso as he prepared to crawl, he looked between his now hanging wrinkled breasts and noticed that  his dick and balls were gone.

"AAAAAAA!!!!" Phil screamed, "AW, GOD, NO!!!!"

"Owwie?" a recorded sounding woman's voice whispered out, "Owwie, are you still there? I can't move. Please, help me." Phil turned his head to see that his wife was now fully made of latex, her arms opened up as if to hug her lover, her mouth opened permanently with bright pink plastic lips to service him, both of her anus and vagina visibly gaping for all to see, her glassy eyes affixed to straight ahead, and permanent nail polish on all of her nails.

"Gotta call Jack," Phil repled to his pleading wife as he started coughing. Knowing his time was short, he made his way on his hands and knees to the kitchen.

"Owwie, please don't leave me. Owwie? Please, help me...Owwie?...Don't go..."

Phil hated hearing Kelly beg like that. He had made her into his own personal bimbo, but she should still have some pride. The only way to save himself was to get Jack. He can get those bastards arrested, and the feds can find a way to turn everyone back to normal.

'Yes, Jack will fix this,' Phil thought to himself as he made it to the hallway that led to the kitchen, 'Just gotta get to the phone.' As he crawled, he left a small stream of sweat behind him. All the sweating plus the intense aching of his joints made him oblivious to the other changes in his body. His ass wand hips had widened, his calves shortened up, both his feet and hands became feminine and dainty, his adam's apple sunk down, his lips became soft and full, his shoulder blades shrunk, his hair had grown to eight inches in length but stayed gray, and worst of all, he grew a full vagina and uterus. He was once 260 pounds, but now he was down to about 110 pounds, and looked like a sixty year old MILF. He was halfway down the hall, and could see the phone hanging on the far wall by the fridge, but then everything ended with a terrible coughing fit. He fell to the floor, coughing, and having difficulty breathing. His chest felt like it was put into a vice. His stomach felt like it was being turned inside out.

"AAAAAAGGGGGGHHHHH!!!!" he screamed as he writhed around in pain on the floor. He rolled onto his side as his knees shot up into his chest. He wrapped his arms around his stomach, hoping that might quell the pain. If he had a rational thought in his brain at the time, he would've known that his time was up. There was nothing he could do.

In a brief moment that the pain subsided, he stretched his legs out and rolled onto his back. Still coughing, he raised his head as high as he could to survey his changed body. To his horror, the latex had already started around his navel. He rolled over onto his stomach and tried to pull himself into the kitchen by grabbing tufts of carpet and drag himself along, but his new two inch nails prevented that from happening. Another jolt of searing pain in his stomach caused him to reel onto his back again.

The latex was now up to his rib cage and was about to engulf his new clitoris, which he hadn't noticed he grew yet. He discovered it rather quickly, once the latex transformation gave him his first female orgasm. Despite the wretching pain he was in, he wished the orgasm would never stop. It did stop, and he looked down his body again. His thighs were up in the air, in the same V position as Kelly's.

"Someone, please help!!" he tried yelling, but it only came out as a soft whisper. Looking down, he had the opportunity to see his tits change, with the appearance of bright pink ariolas and nipples the size of cocktail weenies spring up.

"Oh, no!! Pleaoooo nooo!!" His mouth now formed the familiar oval shape, and, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get rid of it. He even tried pushing his jaws with his hands, but that ended when the latex reached his houlders. His arms were then forced into position, waiting to hug a lover.

Finally, the latex spread to Phil's head, turning it into a soft plastic love toy, with it's glass, motionless eyes looking straight at the ceiling. All of the pain was gone, yet the dolly no longer had the ability to move.

"Owwie? Please help me," the other dolly whispered in the sitting room. The dolly in the hallway could hear it's pleas now because it had become silent. It did attempt to speak.

"I can't help you sweet pea," the dolly in the hallway whispered loudly with a dusky woman's sounding metallic voice, "It happened to me, too." Both dollys laid ther, in their repective places, waiting for whatever would happen next.

                             ********************

Early the next morning, a 'Consolidated Freight' truck, followed by a small minivan bearing the same logo, pulled up to the palacial Florida home of Phil Owens. They drove up the driveway and through the roundabout to stop right by the front door. Two men climbed out of the truck as the van pulled up beside it. Three women and two more men got out of the van. All seven of them were wearing uniforms and baseball caps that matched the logos on the truck.

The four men proceeded to remove pieces of crates from the back of the truck while the three women removed computers and printers from the back of the van. All of these items were placed to the left of the front door. Once everything was there, one of the men proceeded to reach above the door jamb to retrieve a key to the door. It was unlocked, then everything was quickly moved inside.

"Okay, start looking," Abigail ordered as she removed her hat, "I don't know how much time we have, but let's assume it's about an hour. Go."

"Pham said the computers are in the den, and there's a laptop upstairs in the bedroom," Eric said as he started sorting out the pieces of the crates, "She also said that Charlene is kept in the spare bedroom at the other end of the house." the other three men started up the stars like professional soldiers.

"We'll check down here," Keisha exclaimed as she removed her own hat and threw it on the floor. She lovingly turned to Becky.

"Wanna go with me?" Keisha softly asked, extending its hand to Becky.

"Love to," Becky happily replied, taking Keisha's hand, "But let's be professional if we can. We're on a tight schedeule here."

"No promises, baby." The two scampered off across the living room towards a nearby hallway. The sight made Eric look sideways. He never seen Keisha act like that towards its maker, so he looked to Abigail for answers.

"They finally found common ground," she replied to the unasked question, "Now, they're really in love." Eric thought for a moment, then shook his head as he went back to his task at hand.

"Good for them," he said as he finished soring out the crate pieces, "I'll head this way. I'll holler if I find anything." Abigail nodded and was soon heading out into the vast house herself, and it wasn't long until she came across the sitting room. As she entered, she heard a metallic whisper.

"Is someone there? Please, help me." Abigail followed the sounds and came across the sex dolly Kelly, lying naked on the floor between an ugly coffee table and an ugly vinyl overpadded chair. She looked down into the dolly's eyes, and gave a satisfied grin. 

"Help me, please..." the dolly whispered again in it's recorded sounding voice. Ignoring its pleas, Abigail instead looked around the room. She saw the empty wine bottle on the floor by the wall. There were gauche men's and women's clothes thrown all about the room. To the left of the dolly, the carpet looked matted down as if it wasn't washed properly, and a similair trail led down a nearby hallway. She followed the trail until she turned the corner. That's when she found the old woman dolly, also lying naked on the floor, halfway to the next room. She walked slowly but confidently up to the dolly and ,with a broad smile, leaned down to get a good look at it's face.

"You!" the old dolly whispered loudly in it's customary recorded sounding voice. If it had the ability to make an expression, it would have the look an angry god.

"You really didn't think I was going to let you get away with blackmailing me, did you?" Abigail coldly asked the dolly.

"My friend will contact the FBI.."

"Jack Tully will not be contacting anyone. We visited him last night. He gave us everything you had on Eric and myself in exchange for his life. He also told us of the backup hard drive that you hid in a locker at the train station. We already have that as well."

"I don't believe you. I paid Jack well. He'd die before betraying me!"

"He preferred living much more than holding onto the money you gave him, although 'living' is a relative term."

"You killed him, even after he told you everything?"

"He's as alive as you are. You'll meet him back at the factory."

"Wait... What are you going to do to me?"

"Why, sell you, of course! Both you and Kelly. We have had a request by some granny chasers for a geriatric sex dolly, and I'm curious to see how much you'll go for."

"No! No! Change me back, and I'll give you back all of the money I took from you! You can even keep Kelly and Jack!"

"No."

"Please! I'll give you all of my money! I'll give you my houses and cars! Please, change me back!"

"Silly dolly!" Abigail smiled as she started lifting it off of the floor, "You're going to tell me everything I want to know, wheter you want to or not." She picked up the old dolly and threw it over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes. While carrying it back to the front door, she came across Becky and Keisha. They were still holding hands as they walked.

"There you are," Becky called as she saw her longtime friend, " Eric found Pham tied up in a linen closet. He's with her now. She said that she mixed the nanites into a bottle of wine."

"I figured that out already," Abigail replied as she kept wakling, "The other doll is back there, next to a coffee table. The wine bottle is on the floor by the wall near a hallway. Becky, you'll have to get the computers ready to link up with these two, plus Charlene. Keisha, can you get both of them for me?"

"Sure, no problem," Keisha replied as it gave its girlfriend a quick kiss on the cheek. "Try not to miss me for too long!" it whispered to Becky, then went off to find the other dolly.

Once back by the front door, Abigail put down the old dolly so Becky could start her work. It only took five minutes for her to get her computer up and running, and even less time to get the diodes hooked up. Finished, she took a step back to see how the dolly really turned out.

"I said it before, and I'll say it again, 'Damn, I do good work,'" Becky triumphantly said after eyeing up the dolly, "Now what do you want me to pull out?"

"What are you doing to me?" the dolly begged.

"Just silence it for now," Abigail replied to Becky, "Once we get it back to the factory, we can get the banking information at our lesiure."

"No! Please! I'll do anything you want! I'll...," the dolly was saying before Becky pushed a single button on her keyboard. The old dolly was now silent, an inatimate object designed for sex.

The three men returned from upstairs, carrying a laptop, Charlene, and a medium sized portable safe. Becky hooked up the hermaphrodite dolly and silenced it for the trip back to the factory. By the time that was done, Becky arrived with Kelly and the empty wine bottle. After putting the dolly down, Keisha handed the empty bottle to Abigail.

"I also found two glasses and a platter next to her," Keisha said, "So I put them away to avoid any lingering suspicions."

"Good thinking," Abigail said as she patted Becky's dolly on the shoulder, "Now, can you help boxing these things up?" Keisha nodded, then started helping the other three men build the crates. They were to be used to ship the dollys plus other things back to the factory. As they were doing that, Becky easily silenced the Kelly doll. 

Twenty minutes later, just before they were finished crating up the dollys, Eric showed up with Pham under his arm. He was coddling her, and it was pretty obvious that he had feelings for this petite Asian girl.

"Pham took me to the desktop, and I cleared out all of the information on it about us and the factory," Eric reported,  "I also removed the link to the auction site, as well as his ownership of a P. O. Box. I ordered two bookings on a cruise leaving Miami in about three hours." He walked Pham over to a completed crate and sat her down on it. He then turned to one of his men.

"Steve, go upstairs and load two weeks of clothes into their luggage," He said to his friend, "Include the usual accessories. We'll take one of their cars to the pier, say you're their chauffeur and carry their luggage on board. I'll pick up the tickets and board with Pham as them, then immediately disembark. That should explain their disappearance for a few weeks." Steve nodded and went back upstairs. Eric then turned back to Abigail.

"You five can head back to the factory," he said while rubbing his hands together, "The three of us can charter a plane back tomorrow. By then you will have the bank information and computer codes to finish off Phil Owens. How's that sound for a plan?"

"Sounds good, Eric, "Abigail replied, "But we will need to talk about our helper." She gave a little nod in Pham's direction. Her response was a polite smile.

"Agreed. See you tomorrow evening." And, with that, Eric took Pham up the stairs to help Steve. Abigail smiled, knowing that Eric wanted to keep her, even though she was a liability. She decided to have a little fun when they would have their discussion, acting angry, but would eventually give in to him. Everybody deserves to find love, but why should she make it easy for him?

"Okay, everyone, let's go," Abigail announced as she turned towards the front door. Becky already had her equipment packed up and both she and Keisha had it in hand. The two other men lifted up the first crate and started out towards the truck. Abigail looked at the markings, and realized it had the old dolly inside.

"Hey, Phil," Abigail said into the crate as she knocked on its side, "Ain't Karma a bitch?"

to be continued....

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06.03.19