Walking down the long hallway, her heels click slowly as she is in no hurry. The building is old, having been built and designed for another company that had long since gone bankrupt, so the tile floor is hard, somewhat shiny in places, and has a pale brown color. The latest occupant of the building looks to be around for a long time, and there has been talk of constructing a new building, but then who wants to spend money on something that they already have. Luvdll Inc. executives are confident in what they offer to the public: the highest quality love dolls to anyone willing to buy one or more. As their marketing group expected, men are the majority of their customers, for their obvious private use. The unexpected part of their profits come from movie companies and marketing firms. Mannequins are no longer able to fool people that it is a real person, so they can buy a love doll and reuse it cheaper than hiring certain movie stars or actors and actresses for quick promos.



Hannah Sweet is the head assistant for Product Testing. She spends part of her day working with the technicians and designers, making sure what the machines are making is what people will buy. She spends another portion of her day in meetings, trying to convince the Executives that what they are making is worthwhile and marketable. If she looked at a spreadsheet of her day, she figures most of her day is spent putting out fires between co-workers. It is like I work for a company run by children, she thinks with a heavy sigh, incompetent children at that.



Pushing those thoughts down, she continues on her trek to Prototype Room B. There's been a glitch on one of the machines, and the technicians want to know if they could make this part of their regular runs. She rolls her eyes as she rounds the cinder block corner of the dull green-walled hallway. The last time this happened, they were convinced faceless love dolls would sell well, as the machine had somehow managed to skip that step. She spent months trying to push down that machine glitch fad. Their random sampling showed that there is not enough market for that style. With that said, she sighed again, they did make a few limited edition ones for the Star Trek series a couple of years ago. They did sell well, but so did all of the love dolls in that series. Put anything curvy in short miniskirts and shiny gogo boots and it will sell, she tells herself with a smirk.



Stepping into the room, the walls are white, in stark contrast to the hallway. She closes the heavy wooden door with the top half being frosted glass. She can see the Prototype sitting on a table in the middle of the room. To "her" left and right are two technicians discussing some game from this weekend. They are in their early 30's (or maybe late 20's), like most of the technicians that work here. They all seem to look the same, so Hannah does not even try to learn their names. To her right, she almost misses the female sitting in an office chair, typing something on her phone. She is probably 10 years older than the technicians, but her outfit suggests she is closer to 10 years younger than them. While her outfit is not quite unprofessional, Hannah cannot really complain. Her "work clothes" are usually very casual and not that feminine, so if this designer wants to wear something tight and short, go right ahead.



Noticing the obvious glitch already, Hannah says loudly, "Uh, no...actually, I'm going with hell no!" The technicians start to frown as they say, "Hey, boss, you haven't even heard our arguments yet." They seem saddened by her immediate disapproval, but then she keeps going, "There is no way we are going to market a love doll with 4 giant knockers stacked on her front like utters." And while they probably were not that big, the guys turn to look at the love doll, then back at each other and shrug, as if to say "huh, they do kinda look like that, but who cares, right?".



Turning to the designer who is now standing, she asks, "Please tell me you don't agree with them." Hannah could care less what she really thinks, but it would help her think better of the "young" woman walking up to her. "We sent this design up the chain last year and it never came back. I don't think someone up top likes it." She said that last part, implying that it was Hannah. Hannah nods, remembering that design and remembering throwing it away. "We have to market to the biggest customer base, and this will not do that," Hannah states the obvious. She begins to wonder if this was an actual glitch or not.



The designer continues, even as the technicians frown further, "I was thinking we could send it to the holiday or fantasy group for testing and then put out a survey. I imagine someone would buy it, and we can charge more for its extra assets." The designer winks at the guys, who smile back at her as a 'thank you'. Please, Hannah rolls her eyes, you have got to be kidding me. Knowing she has 1,000 other things to get down before lunch, she says, "Fine. Send it to Halloween and then Mythical. If they cannot get a 75% approval, it gets put on eBay. Understood?" Turning back to Hannah, as if they forgot she was there, they both say, "Yes, ma'am."



Hannah shakes her head as she moves to leave the room. The designer moves to intercept her, "One other thing." Hannah stops with her hand on the door knob. She tries to keep her facial expression neutral, as the designer presses on, "Prototype Room D could use some help, if you got a minute." Hannah's facial expression changes to questioning, as she asks, "What's in there today? I thought we got the rock band and accessories out of there already." Noticing the designer's nametag, she finishes her statement with, "Beth."



Beth tugs on her short jacket that could not close in front of her no matter how hard she might pull on the buttons, "Unfortunately, Middarti went on vacation before completing it, and I think the team is not going to get anything done with him gone." Hannah sighs, remembering he was taking two weeks off to go back home to India to visit family. Opening the door, she replies, "Typical for that team. I mean, thank you for letting me know. I'll look into it." She steps into the hallway, leaving the three of them in the room while she works her way to another prototype room. Pulling out her phone from her straight-legged slacks, she sends a quick message to her assistant: got another stop. push everything back 30 min.



Stepping around the next corner, she enters another wooden door with D painted on the frosted glass top-half. Inside, the room is well lit with white walls. This room is probably a bit bigger than the last one, as it is usually for the commercial side of their business. In the middle of the room, there's a heavy-rock band in mid-motion. The lead singer has long curly pink and black hair that covers most of her face and back. She is wearing tight shiny pants with holes in them, and her top is a tank top with horizontal stripes. Her chest is rather modest for their company's love doll standards, but the model looks really good in that outfit and pose. Her boots have a dozen buckles on each side, and probably have a 2 inch platform across the bottom. She is screaming into a microphone while holding, or perhaps playing, an electric guitar.



Stepping closer, the drummer has black denim shorts that look torn around the edges with a simple, white t-shirt with the sleeves ripped off. Her head is shaved on both sides, so she only has a short tuft of hair from the top of her head. It is a bright lime green and straight, so it almost resembles broom bristles. Her make-up is not as heavy as the lead singers, but based on their faces, they are supposed to be teenagers, but they have no love dolls "aged" younger than "21" for legal reasons. Turning to her left, she sees several costumes hanging on a rack, along with a love doll sitting on a chair next to it. It looks to be much different than the other two. The other two seem to show they are younger and thinner, while this one looks to be more full-bodied and "older". The bra and panty set are clearly too small, as it seems to be pinching the love doll uncomfortably below the waist, yet constricting the chest in a much-too-small "choke hold". Hannah chuckles, "That must have been hard to get on her."



Checking the tablet on the table to her right, she starts to look for what has been logged on this project. Let's see here, she thinks to herself, Ripped Records needs a photoshoot of an all-girl rock band for their latest promo band they have not put together yet. They have to start building public interest, even if they cannot find the right three soon-to-be stars yet. As she checks the logs from the prototype team, she sees their problem. When they ordered the third band member from the warehouse, they "fat-fingered" the product number. Instead of getting the 20-something band member, they got the 40-something band member's "parent". As she continues to check the log, they began to redo the costume to fit the model, not realizing they had the wrong model.



As she thinks how to best fix this, she gets a text from her assistant. Checking it quickly, it reads: nxt mtg cncl. c u aft lnch. Great, she smiles, got more time to work down here. If she was being honest, being down here is more interesting than dealing with whatever is going on up there around her office. So let's see what they got here, she says to herself as she continues to look at what they have been trying to do.



Walking around the room, they have three cameras set up on tripods to take pictures of the band. The large screen on one wall has some of the past ones they took. The real white walls look on the screen to have been changed to a garage in some suburb. Hmm, she thinks, those look really good. I think they are onto something. "Of course, the balance is off in the pics, because they need a third band member," she mumbles out loud. Turning her attention to the costumes, she selects one that she thinks would fit best. The plastic pants are loose fitting and jet black. The top is a white spandex long sleeve with a purple corset that would go over top. The shoes look like converse high tops with the same purple to match the corset. Spiked armbands, hair band, and neck collar finish the outfit.



Hmm, the size on this is really close to mine, and I got some time, she thinks wickedly. I could try it on and take a pic or two to check it. If it works, then I can request the right love doll and send the other back. That would get this group back on schedule, especially since they probably aren't coming in here this week with Middarti being gone. Glancing at the door, she opens it slowly and listens for anyone out there. The hallway is completely quiet, so she decides she can do this if she hurries. Admittedly, she has always wanted to do this, but corporate has made it clear that what she is about to do is not acceptable.



Stepping behind a rack, she strips off her pants and top, both loose fitting but professional. She puts on the standard "bathing suit" that goes on most models. It is a one-piece white spandex article of clothing that looks like a one-piece, strapless swimming suit. Once she has that on, she slips on the plastic pants, which feel more restrictive than she thought they would be for being "loose fitting". Walking around in them makes a crinkling sound that echoes off the thick walls, making her feel rather self-conscious about what she is doing. Pulling the stretchy long sleeve top on, she loops the straps around her fingers keeping the top in place. The corset is tighter than she expected. Ugh, she grunts, need to get to the gym more than just once a week. Unable to get more than the bottom most buttons on, she says with some frustration, "Well, I don't need it on all the way, just enough for the picture."



Attaching the silver-spiked-on-black-leather armbands, neck collar, and hair band, she completes her outfit. Hmm, she says while looking in the mirror, not really my style, but I like how it fits me. Grabbing the guitar and slinging it over her shoulder, she adjusts the strap to fit her. Slipping the ultra-thin-frame sunglasses on, that would do no good in real life, she steps over to the tablet she had set down. Let's see, auto timer...auto timer...where is that?



While she looks, she hears voices in the hallway and two shadows that appear to be standing outside the door. What?! Who could that be? Looking down at herself, there is no way she could explain this without being completely embarrassed. Then, the whole department would know. Then, her boss would find out. Maybe he would just laugh about it, but then he was the one sending out very strict rules about employees wearing the outfits during work hours and taking things home they should not. All the clothes and accessories now have micro-trackers in them to prevent employees from walking out with them. In fact, there's new GPS software at the security desk, where they can track every piece of clothing and accessory in the building. I did not think about that, she curses to herself, I'm wearing a fully trackable outfit now, so there is no going far without raising attention.



Realizing she might be okay, as they might be walking on, she slowly steps back from the tablet. Unfortunately, the door knob turns, and Hannah's heart nearly stops. Why did I think this was a good idea? Deciding to go all in, she steps over in front of the empty microphone and strikes a pose like she is playing the guitar. While she has no idea what to do, she can put her hands close enough to hopefully fool anyone just taking a casual glance, and the "sunglasses" will hide some of her blinking...hopefully.





The door opens and she can see Beth walking in with another designer. She recognizes him, as she flirted with him when he first started working here. Fulton is really attractive and seems like a really smart and confident person. Unfortunately, he was not interested in female advances, so Hannah was shut down pretty quickly. Of all of the designers that might walk through the door, it had to be two people she knew. Forget that, she screams to herself, why are they even in here?





"...telling Hannah about it, but I doubt she even took the time to check it out. Oh, look," Beth remarks, "They are trying another older-looking, full-figured model." They both chuckle at that. "I don't get it," Fulton says, "They picked the first two perfectly. I don't know why they are trying to do this." They both laugh as they look over Hannah. "Well, at least this one fits the costume, right?" Hannah feels a hand on her rear end, and then a hand going through the back of her hair. Hey, she tells them in her mind, I'm not that much older than you, Fulton, and definitely not older than you, Beth.





"Since it is set-up, let's look at their pics real quick," Fulton says, "We can at least give them some feedback on their camera angles and background." Beth nods and steps to the tablet. "Huh, looks like they had it all set-up but didn't take any pics." Tapping it several times, Hannah notices the room flash from different places, like each camera took a picture at the same time. Cutting her eyes over to the left, she can just make out the big screen monitor.





"Actually, these are pretty good," Fulton says, which is exactly what Hannah thought. The angle looks good on each camera, and the costumes actually seem to fit just what we are looking for in this project. "Wait," Beth says, "Something is wrong with the bass guitarist." Wrong? With me? Uh no. "The corset wasn't fastened all the way, and it is really visible in this picture here, see?" Fulton nods his head and walks around behind Hannah. She can feel the corset getting tighter and tighter as he gets each button fastened. Ow, this is, she thinks with some amount of discomfort, really really tight.



Finally finished, he adjusts her hair again. He rotates one of the armbands to match the other. "Hang on," he says, "I see something else that looks funny." Funny? Oh, don't look too closely at me, please, she screams. "Check the earrings, they are not even the right color, let alone the right style." Looking around, Beth says, "Oh, here, use this skull one with the chain to the nose clip." Taking it from her, he removes both of Hannah's plain gold earrings quickly and inserts a silver skull in her right ear, then stretches the chain around to clip onto her right nostril. He adds another skull to the other side with no chain this time. I cannot remember the last time someone put my earrings on me, she recalls, weird sensation, but he was surprisingly quite gentle with his movements.



"And look, they didn't put shoes on her," Fulton adds as he steps away. Oh that's just great, Hannah thinks, there is no way I'll be able to hide that I'm human if they try to put shoes on me. But Hannah adds, "Actually, I think it works, especially with them being painted brightly. Check out this angle. Gives her a real edgy look, right?" Fulton nods to Hannah's relief. "Well," Hannah hears Fulton say as she hears him putting on a pair of gloves, "Let me glue her hands down and then let's try it again. I think we are almost there." Glue? Oh, not the spray-and-stay!



Hannah hears the rattling of a spray can as she feels him manipulating her fingers on the guitar neck. The specially-made gloves will repel the glue, but it sticks pretty much anything else to anything else. It is short lasting, but it is really strong. She can feel the cool mist on her left hand and she can hear a slight crackling sound as it firms up on contact. Within seconds, her hand is stiff and attached to the guitar's neck. She can feel the same for her right hand, as she now gets a pick in her hand which is then glued in place, while her hand is now "permanently" strumming the guitar. "There, try that."



The cameras flash again, and Hannah cannot help but take another quick glance at the screen. She may be trapped here, but she is also curious to see how it looks. Wow, she marvels, those few touches really made a difference. "The difference between good and great is in the details. Looks 1000 times better." Beth nods, "Totally agree. Maybe we don't need to swap out the older model for a younger one. I think this is good enough." Older? That isn't fair, Hannah says in disgust.



"Do we want to store this set-up until this team comes back, or do we just take the standard pics and send them on?" Store? Oh no, I forgot about that. They will store projects in the back warehouse while the customer decides if they like them. It will be hard for me to get out of the warehouse without being detected, as there are no humans back there, and all that she is wearing is trackable. Beth seems to ponder that, and for once, her self-centered nature works to Hannah's favor. "Let's send the pics on and return everything. We will take the credit for the project being on time, and if the customer doesn't like it, we can push the others under the bus." While she was probably trying to sound humorous, it did not come off that way.  Fulton seems to think about that, "Not sure I want to do that, but I do like the idea of us sending the standard pic set onto marketing. No way the current team can do better than what we just did."



Happy with their work, they set the cameras to auto and they leave. The cameras will run through a 30-minute to 2-hour pattern (depending on which standard photoshoot they selected) getting all the pics necessary for the team to choose from, or in this case, Beth and Fulton. The door closes and Hannah is bathed in flashes of light as the cameras are tilting and spinning and zooming to take a large variety of pictures. She knows this could be a while, but she cannot move. These pics are what marketing needs to get an order out the door, and she cannot afford to be embarrassed by being discovered, or worse fired for breaking protocol. I'll figure out my escape later, she reasons, just hold still.



Unsure of how long it took, she can finally hear the small motors on the tripods power down, and the beep from the tablet that it saved off the pictures. So, it should send a message to the designer and team, Hannah recalls, so they will come back to pull the data. Hopefully, they will do that soon, and then I can change clothes and get back to work. While I'm glad I could help the team, I don't think I want to risk being here any longer than I have to.



The screen on the tablet just went to screensaver mode when the door opens. Unfortunately, it was not Beth or Fulton. Instead, it was a heavy-set man in blue coveralls with the name tag 'Ethan' stitched on his left breast pocket. His black beard looks somewhat unkept, and he is clearly starting to lose hair on the top of his head. He has a different tablet in his hand than the other one, that he is looking at closely. "Well, which one of you doesn't belong, huh? I only have three on my return list." Oh snap, Hannah curses, I did not even think about the tracker on each love doll, which of course, I will not have one.



Holding the tablet up to the lead singer, she hears a beep. "Okay, model 2112 you are cleared for return." He undresses her, dropping the clothes on the floor. Within seconds, the small love doll is naked in front of him. He looks it up and down and mumbles, "Not my style, sorry." Tucking it under his arm, he carries it out the door. Hannah can see him clipping the hands to the side of love doll with the special "zip tie belt", along with the "zip tie ankle cuffs". Finally, he adds a mask that protects the face, giving it a silver faceless look. He slips her in a large clear plastic bag and snaps the bottom closed.



Returning to the drummer, he gets a beep from his tablet, "Okay model 2115 you are cleared for return." Like before, he strips the model, but he has to stand it up to get the clothes off of it. Again, the clothes are just dropped to the floor. The hands must have been glued, but with it being a day old or so, he easily snaps the drum sticks off the model to also drop them on the pile of clothes. Again, her body style is similar to the others, which is rather flat and straight, getting another, "not my style, sorry" from the man.



Once he has restrained and bagged that model, he returns and holds his tablet up to Hannah's face. "Hmm," he grunts, "No beep." He tries again, but then decides to step over to the love doll on the chair. Hannah cannot see him at all now, but she hears a beep. "Found you, model 4112. You look rather uncomfortable in that, so let me help you." Hannah hears some moving, then a, "Mmm, oh yes, my dear, that is a rather lovely figure...my name is Ethan...oh well, actually, I am free this evening...your single? I'm surprised someone so attractive cannot find a man." Hannah snickers without realizing it, that the man is having a "flirting session" with the love doll. "Would you? Oh that would be great...mhmm, let me close the door..." Hannah is not sure what is going on now, but she hears the door close and lock. Wait, these doors lock, she curses again to herself, I could have avoided all this with that knowledge. Shows you how much I pay attention.



She hears a zipper sound that seems too long to be something on a person's pants. It would be more like a long coat, or overalls. Oh, I think I know what model 4112 offered the man. Well, better her than me. This guy could get fired for this, because they really do not want anyone handling them unless they have been paid for or rented. She hears a rhythmic sound now, then she thinks, and they definitely don't want that happening. "Little slower, baby...and if you could...oh yes, that's it...you are amazingly hot." Despite the wrong thing he is doing, she cannot help but smile at his reactions. He is putting on a very realistic show here, which makes me wonder: how often has he done this?



He lets out a satisfying moan, leaving himself slightly breathless. The good news with this, she reasons, now that he has spent himself on that model, he won't have anything left for me. She can hear movement behind her and then the odd sound of a tiny vacuum cleaner. Curious enough to want to see, but not curious enough to give herself away, she holds her pose, even though she is getting tired and stiff from not moving. She can hear the sound of zip-ties and a large plastic bag then he walks into her vision as he carries the model under his arm. With more care than she would expect him to provide, he lays her on top of the others on the cart. Tapping his tablet, he sets in on the handles of the cart as he walks back in. Okay, she reasons, this is where it gets real.



He pulls back her left ear, and then her right. He undoes her pants and slides them down her hips. She can feel him moving her left butt cheek around, only to do the same thing on the right. "Well, this is interesting," he says while rubbing his chin, "Where are you from?" As he walks around in front of her, he stops suddenly. "You know this is against company rules, right?" He's been talking to the other models like they were real, so she pretends to be just another model. When she doesn't move, he walks around to stand in front of her. "Look, I'm around these love dolls all day every day, so you can fool most of the people here, but not me. You are real." Hannah had been trying to not breathe or blink this whole time, but she is getting tired and knows she can't hold back that...blink.



She can see him grin now while looking into her eyes, which now move to look into his. Despite his imposing size, his eyes seem kind, or at least that is what I hope I see, she tells herself. "Please, don't tell anyone," Hannah says, as she breaks her pose to speak to her co-worker. He crosses his arms in front of him, "What are you doing pretending to be a model? You aren't tagged in any way, so you couldn't have gotten far?"



She nods her head, and she tries to gesture with her hands, but they are still stuck to the guitar, "Oh no, no, I wasn't trying to go anywhere. The model they ordered was the wrong size as you noticed, and I wanted to check if the picture and costumes were right, so I quickly threw this on and snapped a few pics." He nods his head in disbelief, and asks, "And how did you get that corset #3 on? It can't be put on properly by the person wearing it." Hannah gulps, feeling out of place here, like she was back in high school all over again. "Uh, yeah, well...I only pulled it and buttoned the bottom button for the picture, but then a couple of designers came in, and I knew they would gladly turn me in and I'd get fired."



Nodding his head, he says with a hum of sorts, "Oh, I see. Your boss came in while you were working, and I'm sure she wouldn't understand what you were doing, right?" Well, she wasn't my boss, but Hannah figured now is not the time for semantics. She nods her head sheepishly. "And," he continues, "I assume she would not be too bothered if you were to not come into work ever again, right?" While Hannah may not be 100% sure of that, she knows Beth does not care much for her, so his statement might be true, so she nods again. "Well, I can't fault you for trying to do your job, even if the suits don't like it."



He starts to say more, then they both hear, "How am I supposed to do my job when someone else isn't doing theirs?!" Beth sounded frustrated and annoyed, even though they could not see her. He turns back to Hannah, "That her?", he whispers. She nods her head. "Oh, I know her," he chuckles, "I would have hid, too." He puts his finger to his lips as he walks to the door, "Yes, ma'am, I'm comin'." His tone took on a whole new sound than when he was talking to Hannah.



"Oh, that's on me, ma'am...I didn't know you had important work still going on in here."



"Of course, I do. Get moving, I have a deadline." She impatiently taps her foot, as he rolls the cart out and away from the door opening. He bows slightly as she walks past him, ignoring him. She strides to the tablet and begins tapping on it.  Hannah notices her working, seemingly ignoring Hannah completely, who feels out of place in the room now, especially with her pants pulled down.



She almost jumps out of her skin when Beth screams. "You scared me to death you old tramp," Beth says to the older model still in the room with her. "Hey, you! Get back in here!" Hannah can hear the sound of the wheeled cart stop and the footfalls of heavy boots. "Is there a problem, ma'am?" he asks very innocently. She nods her head and points to Hannah, "You forgot one. Can you not count?" Hannah is not sure how that applies to counting, in terms of forgetting something, but maybe she was trying to be funny.



The big man replies humbly, "Yes, ma'am, I count pretty well, but this one here is not headed back to the warehouse, so I thought I..."



"Oh, you thought, huh?" Beth interrupts him. "I can't have this room remade for the next project until all the love dolls are gone. I've got customers waiting on me right now, so get it out of here!" The man nods his head and replies, "I'll have to check my tablet to see where it goes." She seems to process that and then checks her phone screen. "Alright, I have to get back to the Kroger rep upstairs, but when I come back in the next few minutes, this room had best be clear, and you better have all of them put away right." She does not wait for his response, as she already leaves the room quickly.



No wonder she had trouble making a sell when she was in marketing, Hannah notes. You cannot sell anything to a customer that you leave alone for minutes on end. How important does that Kroger rep feel now being left alone while Beth yells at someone? Not sure why she is helping with that deal, Hannah wonders, because she moved to designing things when she proved she was no good at selling things.



He comes back in after she storms out. "Sorry you have to work for her, she's a real..." Hannah interrupts him, "Pain. I agree, but can you help me out of this before she comes back?" He nods and walks up to her. Putting his hand on top of hers, he squeezes and pulls, the glue cracking and breaking, freeing her hand. She flexes them sending more dried glue to the floor. "Thank you. I appreciate you helping me keep my cover." He smiles again, "Well, it seems you have me over a barrel as well, as you were in the room with me and 4112. If your antics are frowned upon in the least, mine would be grounds for firing immediately. I feel like we each got a secret to hold for the other."



She nods her head as she puts the guitar down, "Seems fair. I'm not looking to get fired, so your secret is safe with me, even though I think you are asking for trouble if you hook up with 4112 often." He nods, smiling slightly at the way she spoke of the love doll, but then hangs his head, "Yeah, I know. There is just something about them that I can't resist, especially the 41 series. To be honest, I have better conversations with them than I have with real women."



She shakes her head as she turns around for him to undo the corset. "That isn't true, as you and I have had a good, even though awkwardly weird, conversation. Right?" They both chuckle at that, as neither one would have thought their day would have turned out like this. He finishes undoing the buttons, and for the first time in a while, she takes in a full breath, scratching her sides as she does. "Woah, that feels better. Thanks!" He nods his head and turns to go. "I'll. uh, leave you to get dressed now." She says thanks again and waves to him as he leaves. What an odd but nice fellow, she thinks.



Even though her fingers are covered in glue, she manages to get the rest of the outfit off her and her regular clothes back on. Checking the time, she can see it is already lunch time for most, and her stomach agrees with that. Still nervous to be walking around, she carefully steps into the hallway and makes her way to the bathroom to wash her hands...twice.



After stopping by the company cafeteria for a bite, she is back in her office, trying to catch up on emails. Looking at her calendar, she knows the rest of the day will keep her moving, which will be in stark contrast to how her morning went. As she goes through her routine of checking the project manager's work, she thinks of Ethan, delivering love dolls all around the company. She knows today could have ended poorly for both of them, and somehow she feels like she has a new friend at work that she never thought she would.



The week continues and finishes without incident. She finds the weekend a relief from work, as she hits the golf course with some friends from work on Saturday morning. After 18 leisurely holes, they stop at their favorite drinking and eating spot at the clubhouse: The 19th Hole. They enjoyed The 19th Hole a bit too much, and she wakes up on Sunday morning at her friend's house across town. She hates doing this most every good-weather weekend, and she keeps telling herself she will stop, but she doesn't. She really needs a hobby or release from work that does not end with her passed out on the couch with a splitting headache. She would have liked to sleep longer, but her cellphone woke her up.



"Hello?" she answers it weakly while holding her head very still.



"The NASCAR package did not go out, and their VP is screaming at me on the other line."



Hannah recognizes the voice as her boss' boss over in Customer Relations. She tries sitting up, but ends up laying back down on the floor next to the couch where she just woke up. "What do you mean it didn't go out?" She tries to sound more professional now than she did when she answered the phone.



"Trouble understanding English today?" His voice still raised with a very unfriendly tone. "One of your designers sent him a photoshoot of a rock band, and he was not amused...at all!"



Hannah mumbles the word "Beth" under her breath and then responds, "Mistakes happen, sir. I'm already up and getting ready," even though she has not moved from her spot on the floor, "I can get into work in the next 30 minutes and get them the right file. Not a problem."



"Not a problem for you," he states, "But I'm still getting chewed up over this. Make it right and fire the designer if you have to...we can't let this happen again." The phone line goes dead, and Hannah lays there unmoving. Have I mentioned how much I hate her right now? Dragging herself up slowly, she tries to find her things. She cannot remember all of last night, but she recognizes Rachel's townhouse, so that helps. After nearly fifteen minutes, she has gotten some coffee and found the rest of her clothes, but what she is missing is her purse or wallet. She tiptoes around the back bedroom, where soft snoring can be heard from the bed. She had to use the guest bathroom, as someone is still asleep in the bathtub. When did a guy come over last night?



After a while, she then realizes she did not drive here. In fact, none of them did. For whatever reason, they each took Uber's and "raced" here from the golf course. I think I paid cash for mine, and now I remember, I promised him all I had if we got here first. To make matters worse, she knows she does not have her purse or wallet, because they are at the 19th hole bar and lounge. Not that she remembers that, but she has a text from their favorite bartender last night. Same college guy each weekend, so he knows them all by name by now, or is that the guy in the bathtub? Still trying to clear her mind, she shakes her head, rubbing her temples. So back to the problem at hand, how do I get to work without any money or identification?



I don't want to have to wake them up, she tells herself, because they obviously need to sleep, and it is not their fault I have to go into work. Most of them work in Customer Satisfaction, and while you would think that would be their problem today, theirs is the private sector, and not the commercial side. From what I can tell, they are more like counselors dealing with the men who call in regarding their experiences with their company's product. In the end, they essentially convince the guy it was wonderful and that he should do it again and again, and you get a 10% discount if you keep a credit card on file. It helps that they all sound young and attractive, while none are supermodels, they are all rather young.



But, Hannah says to herself with a smile, I might not need them after all. Looking out the window, she sees the distinctive purple van of Luvdll Inc. Somebody in this complex got a delivery this weekend, which means we have someone coming to pick it up. Which means, she can hitch a ride back to work. Not wanting to miss this opportunity, she puts her coffee mug in the sink, puts on her shoes, straightens her golfing skirt, dons her hat to hide her unkempt hair, and walks out the door. I'll send them a text later, saying I had to leave for a work emergency.



The morning is cool, and the sky is overcast, which is actually a good thing. She might not have noticed the bright purple van if it had been a sunny day. The vans they use tend to stick out on days like this. As she crosses the parking lot, she can see the back is open with two sets of legs under the door. Both sets of legs are naked and seem to be encased in a loose, clear bag. Well, she tells herself, I was right, they are making a pick-up. As she rounds the van, she can see a man with a tablet checking the inventory he just grabbed. She does not recognize him (no surprise), but his overalls look similar to Ethan's, but this guy is very different from him. His coveralls look spotless, and every hair on his head looks perfectly in place, and he is really short. Granted, he is seen by customers, so it makes sense he would need to look more professional than Ethan.



She opens her mouth to say, "Hey, My name is Hannah, and I work at Luvdll's product test group." However, she never got past the word "name" as he stopped her with a hand and a glare. "This is not a buffet table, so don't ask. I'm just picking up, and I'm late." She tries again, trying not to be offended by his poor attitude, with, "I just need a ride to where you are headed." He stops her at "ride" and says, "Not a Uber, lady, and it's against company policy for me to have anyone ride with me." Taking a deep breath, she hopes to make one more attempt, before he adds, "Unless you are in a clear plastic bag, I can't help you. Sorry." He turns and walks back towards one of the townhouses. As he steps away quickly, Hannah thinks, the nerve of that guy, and he did not sound very 'sorry'. All I wanted was a ride to work...the very place he is headed.



She crosses her arms, almost like a child, in her matching golfing outfit with a frown on her face. With mock impersonation, she says, "Unless you are in a bag, I can't help you." She mumbles some other things under her breath then walks away. This was my ticket to fix the problems at work. Now, I'll have to wake up my friends and get them to give me some money, so I can get a ride to work. Actually, I probably need my badge to get in the building, so I'll have to go to my car, then go home, and then back to work. Ugh, what a nightmare!



As she processes that, another idea comes to mind. "You know," she says softly, "I could avoid all of that if I went in through the service entrance...in the back of a purple van." Smiling slightly, she walks back to the van. Checking to see that he is still inside one of the units, she steps up into the van. Along one wall of the van are shelves to put the love dolls. Each bag has a metal strip along the top and bottom that is connected to the shelf to keep it from sliding off. On the other wall, there is another set of shelves, but next to them are drawers and cabinets. Inside each of them are smaller bags of what looks like to be clothes or costumes. Hmm, she thinks, there is no place to hide myself here. I either have to fit in one of those drawers, or put myself in a bag. Realizing it is physically impossible to fit in any of those drawers, she decides it is worth the risk to get a ride to work.



Stripping off her outfit, she stuffs it in a bag along with her phone. Using the labeler on the side, she puts her office number code on it. Okay, she hopes, that should get my clothes sent to my office when they scan it. Now, I got to get myself there. Pulling a new empty love doll bag out of another drawer, she adds a label to that bag to match her outfit. The only thing missing is her personal tag. She is still not going to have a tracker code, and they will verify the doll in the bag matches the bag it is in, but maybe she can stick one on herself. Rifling through the drawers again, she finds some of the temporary tags they used to use. No one should see me, but I figure I cannot pass for any of the 21 series, and I don't see any of the 31 series stickers. Of course, there are the 41 and 51 series stickers. Since she has lost all her pride while standing naked in a van in a parking lot, she removes the 5109 sticker from the page and attaches the smaller one behind her right ear lobe. She then sticks another one under her right butt cheek. I'm not that old yet, but if my skin doesn't have that perfect look that the younger ones have, I have a better chance of being seen as an older model.



She grabs a zip-tie belt off the container on the wall, along with the zip-tie ankle cuffs from the other container, and finally a face guard. Pulling the large clear bag over her head, she snaps the end together while sitting on her knees on the floor. Okay, now just zip-tie the belt and ankle cuffs on me, and then I can hop onto a shelf. Slipping her feet into the two circular rings, she hears the "zip" sound as her ankles are bound together. Hooking the face mask around the back of her neck, she tightens it around her face, giving her a faceless, silvery look. She can still see through it plainly. Slipping the belt around her waist, she slips one hand in the ring attached to it and tightens it. She cannot quite tighten her right hand into it, but that is okay. She will need a free hand to help her get in position. The bags are not completely sealed, as there are some small holes in them to keep them from puffing up.



Still on the floor, she starts to stand up when she sees movement at the end of the van. Fortunately, he is looking down while carrying the love doll and does not see the moving one in the back of the van. No time to think, she stretches herself out from her kneeling position, facedown on the floor. She can vaguely hear him moving around the back of the van, as he goes about his work. The van shakes as he must be inside now. "Great," he says loudly, "This one fell out. It better not be damaged, or I'm sunk." Hannah feels herself being rolled over, so she keeps her eyes open and her facial expression neutral, unsure if he can see clearly through the face guard or not. As he looks closely at her, he says, "Oh, one of the old ladies, they probably won't even notice. Nice rack, but too old for a stud like me." Hannah would roll her eyes at that comment, if she still wasn't feeling the sting of being called an "old lady". Look, buddy, I picked the 51 series not because of my age, I'm not even...



Her thoughts are interrupted as he picks her up with a grunt and shoves her on a shelf. She can feel the bottom of the bag being stretched out then a loud metallic click. The top of the bag does the same, followed by a metallic click. "There," he says, "Must not have been magnetically locked." Well, I'm stuck here now, and ready to go, she reasons. This is just what I wanted, I guess. As she lays in the van with the other love dolls, she wonders if this was a good idea or not.



The man continues to load each love doll with a grunt. She can hear him locking each of them, as he bags their costumes in the proper labeled bag. Her outfit is buried in one of the drawers with all the others. She can hear him scanning each of the new love dolls in their shelves as he checks his tablet. "Alright, done here," he says louder than he needed to, "Let's get them back to warehouse so I can get on with my day."



Whew, she thinks, he is done and headed back to the office. This is good. We are not more than 30 minutes from the office, so I just have to be patient. As the van starts up, she feels herself slide back slightly as he takes off. With every turn, she slides side to side, following the movement of the van as she lays inside the slick plastic bag. While the bag provides her some restriction by being locked down, she finds she moves way more than she thought, which makes sense that he did not question me being on the floor. If you didn't lock these in right, we would be all over the floor.



Despite the cool morning, she is getting warm in the bag as he drives back to work. She can easily breathe from the holes in it, but it is holding in all of her body heat. I hope this does not take long, she says to herself, as I'm not sure he could explain away a sweating love doll. She tries to remain calm, keeping her breathing shallow, as the van speeds along the roads. As she begins to wonder how long they have been traveling, they hit a speed bump, faster than she would have liked. Not long after, they hit another, and then another, which tells her that they have reached the parking lot of their office. Whew, she says, we made it.



He pulls the van around quickly, sliding her again to one side. With a sudden stop, she slides forward, then he backs up quickly, but she is already shoved to that end of the shelf. With another sudden stop, she slides back to the middle of the bag. The van turns off, and she hears the driver side door open and close. Within a few moments, the back of the van opens and she hears other voices. "Last run of the day, so hurry up, will ya?"



She can see the blur of the coveralls past her as she hears drawers opening and closing. "Here, catch!" She can vaguely make out that they are tossing the bags of clothes out the back of the van. "I'll get these to Laundry, and I see Ethan coming with the cart, so you can start unloading them." As she was starting to worry about her phone going through the laundry, the name stops those thoughts short. Ethan? Oh no, not again...he's gonna think I do this sort of thing all the time.



She hears the metal clicks all around her followed by a beep. "The three on this wall go straight to the warehouse after cleaning." She can hear Ethan reply, "Sounds good. I'll take them first. What of the others?" The man pauses to run his tablet over the bar codes on the bags, "Looks like 3 to prototype storage and 1 to an office in product testing." Ethan replies, "That will be easy, too. If you wait, I can use my cart here to take them." The van driver shakes his head, "No way. I've got things to do today besides work here. I'll get them to the cleaner in the prototype room and drop this old one off." Ethan stops and asks, "Old? What series is it?" The driver replies, "51. I can't believe some guys would even want that, right?" Ethan clears his throat and says, "Uh, yeah, bunch of weirdos, right?" The driver chuckles and steps away. Hannah's heart stops when she hears Ethan say, "Don't listen to him...mature women are very sexy. I'll check on you later if I can, 51." Whew, he did not know it was me, and other than giving me a heart attack, I would like to ask him about his relationship with the 51 series love dolls. Does he speak to them the same way he does the 41 series?



Unlike how she got on the van, she is unlocked and slid off the shelf onto the cart. A strap comes across her legs and just below her chest to hold her onto the cart. The love doll above her is slid onto the top part of the cart, which is good, as it conceals her face from the driver, as it appears he can see through the face guard. With a quick shove, the cart is rolled out the back of the van, down a ramp ,and into the service entrance. I've never really been down here, so I'm not sure where we are headed. I know where the cleaning room is, but I'm not sure how to get there from the service area. And speaking of cleaning, I'm hoping I can get away before I go through that ordeal.



In the cleaning room, the driver rolls the cart over the gridded floor and aligns it on the yellow outlined area. He unsnaps each of the bags around the feet of the love dolls. Hannah can feel cool air rushing in when he does. Stepping to the monitor, he presses the number "4" then "quick" then "start". Hannah feels the cart tip forward, as she slides to stand on her feet. The cart straps are released and the cart is carefully pulled away by the driver without knocking them over. She stands there on the uneven ground of the clear plastic bag, wondering how the others are doing it, when she feels pressure between her legs. The pressure comes in the form of two protrusions that seem to be looking for...oh, you found it...wow, that's cold.



With no fanfare, she feels warm fluid being shoved into her. Ah, she recalls, this is the cleaning of the "bottom" holes. It is not uncomfortable, but it is not pleasant either. She hears a cutting sound, as the bag falls away from her. She feels a pressure and hears a beep near her right ear. Her face guard is loosened somehow and falls from her face but stays hooked on her neck. A strange looking mask comes from above her and attaches to her mouth. She is not sure she should open her lips for it, but it has a lever system built in, sliding easily into her mouth. Her "top" hole is now ready to be cleaned. With a flavor of lavender, soap, and some other bitter chemical, her mouth gets a thorough flushing. She tries to keep from swallowing, so it starts to back up and come out of her mouth, running down her front. She can feel the face mask moving, as the water from her mouth is hitting it.



For what seemed like an hour, she is completely flushed in all three holes. The process stops then she hears a clicking sound, then a thick goo is shot into each hole. She starts to choke on it, as some type of swab or brush comes out to apply the goo all over each "cavity". Holding it together, in case the driver is watching, she tries to remain still as she is "lubed". I'm not sure I should feel good about this, or disgusted.



Done, the devices are retracted. Then without warning, warm water that smells of lemons comes down in a rain pattern on the love dolls. Like before, it feels like she has stood there for an hour in the "rain" before it stops. Hot air then blows up from the ground, drying her body off. Her still damp hair is scooped into a bag around her head, then it is released just as quickly. When it falls onto her back, it feels hard, almost like plastic. As she ponders that feeling, she hears the neck strap tightening, pulling her face guard back into place. While it is not completely dry, she can see some droplets on the solid plastic. She has no time to ponder that as another plastic bag is lowered over her head down to her feet. She can see the driver returning with the cart, sliding it in-between them like before. He straps each in while standing, then tilts it back onto its wheels. She feels the snaps on the bag being fastened, then they are on the move.



This is such a weird feeling, she tells herself. I'm just an object...a product...not a real person. In some ways, I feel cheap and insignificant, but in other ways, I feel safe and at peace. Nobody wants my opinion or tells me what to think or yell at me. Maybe I need to do this more often, she then thinks soberly, assuming I don't get fired from it. Resting more comfortably now, she finds the cleaning process, besides the lube application part, was actually not bad.



Rounding several corners and then riding in the elevator, she starts seeing familiar doors and places out the corner of her eyes. We are getting close to my office, she reasons. No rush, she says silently to him, but could you hurry up? I have got to get this fixed for my boss, and the sooner I can get out of here and back into "human" clothes, the better.



While she is running through all she has to do, she feels the straps loosen on her. She is pushed off the cart and onto the couch in her office. The black leather couch is one of her favorite things in her office right now, as she sinks into its plush cushions. She can tell by the ceiling and skylight above her that it is still very sunny out, so hopefully this trip has not taken too long. She feels him roll her over as he scans the code on her right butt cheek. "Correct." He lets her go, and she naturally rolled back onto her back. A bag is placed on her stomach, presumably of her clothes. She hears another beep and the closing of her office door shortly thereafter. I can't believe it, but it worked, and for the first time in a long time, she lets her face move into a smile.



To be on the safe side, she waits a few moments before moving. Gathering her thoughts, she makes a plan. Once I start moving, I have got to get all of this off me and hidden and then dressed. And the quicker the better, because I have to find the right files to send out. Figuring she cannot wait anymore, she sits up like someone rising from the dead. Even though her office has lots of large windows, she can get dressed on the floor without being seen from the street. She does have a floor to ceiling window to the hallway, but it is Sunday, so there shouldn't be anybody here but her and the transportation crews (and they rarely come up here).



Unsnapping the bag, she wiggles her way out after rolling onto the floor. Once out, she slips her right hand out of the zip-tie belt. Crawling over to her desk, she notices her movements are starting to move all of that lube around her insides. That's a weird feeling, and taste, as she smacks her lips. Oh well, I can get some food and drink here before I leave. Getting her scissors, she cuts herself out of the zip-ties, since she does not have a "key" up in her office. Stretching her arms and legs, she lays on the floor naked briefly. Free! Well almost, as she reaches behind her neck to loosen the face guard.



Crawling back to the couch and dropping the face guard on the floor, she grabs the bag and sees something is wrong: this is not her golfing outfit. This is way too colorful. Opening the bag, she finds the traditional one-piece swimming suit. The bright red jacket with white shirt and navy blue pants seem very odd. As she unfolds the black hat, she gets a better picture of what she is holding. "Toy soldier," she mumbles in disgust, "You have got to be kidding me." What guy ordered this, she wonders but then thinks, and why is it in my hands rather than my pale blue and plaid golfing outfit? And more importantly, where's my cellphone?



While she might could get the work done sitting behind her desk naked, she just did not feel like that was a good idea. Taking the costume, she decides to put it on...partially. The one-piece goes on easily, now that she has put one on before. The shirt looks like it buttons in the front, but they are fake, as it actually zips in the back. The material is shiny and rather tight on her upper torso. With lots of grunting, she gets it on. The pants are heavier, like they are made of something else. She knows they rarely use real leather, so it is probably some type of pleather. Again, they fit rather snug, but the navy blue pants with the solid yellow stripe down the outside look good on her legs, and seem to give her butt a nice lift. There's no shoes or boots provided, so she does not have to worry about those not fitting. The jacket is a bright red with golden buttons on either side. She pulls it on, as the heat is not turned on in the building today, so it is a little chilly in her office. To help with the chill, she dons the ultra white gloves that are softer than they look.



Checking herself in the mirror, her shiny stiff hair, along with her costume gives her the look of a toy. Not that she cares much at the moment, but she is thankful to have at least something to cover herself. While she waits for her computer to boot up, she walks across the plush carpet of her office in her bare feet to the coffee maker she has in her kitchenette cabinet. She puts a caramel dark roast pod in the machine and hits start, while snagging a couple of protein bars from the basket. Grabbing a clean mug, she sits it underneath. While she waits for that, she logs into the computer and opens her "breakfast" while setting her "lunch" by the keyboard. With her password entered, she then steps back to get her full cup of coffee while munching on her "power bar". Even on a Sunday, her weekday routine works.



Within 5 minutes, she finds the right files. Putting it into one of their standard emails, she sends it off with her apologies and a promo code for future business. What she knows that even her boss' boss does not: they spent next to nothing on this project. They had a sample of race car gear and helmets in stock, along with a fake formula one car. As it turns out, one of the designers was wanting to test some ideas he had, so he had it all slowly made over the past year. The boss did not know that, neither did marketing, so they actually overcharged the racing group. While she feels bad we sent the wrong file, she is not too worried about loss of funds on this one if they choose not to pay or offer a substantial discount.



With that done, she sends another message to HR. Beth is getting them all in hot water, and it needs to stop. She needs to be transferred or fired. The process for that is dreadfully long, but Hannah will (again) submit the pre-paperwork: Beth is running out of departments to work in. Finishing off the last of her coffee and the second protein bar, Hannah leans back in her fancy office chair. Whew, she sighs, what a day. I can't believe it worked. I might take tomorrow off, I deserve it.



She stands up to figure out her next move, when she hears the elevator ping just outside her office door. Elevator? Who would be here on a Sunday afternoon? I'm sure the driver is long gone, she reasons, but what if he isn't? Deciding to play it safe, she sits her mug on her desk, locks the computer, then moves to the couch. Deciding to help herself out, she decides to lay face down on the couch amidst the zip ties and bag remnants on the floor. Hopefully, it is nothing, but just in case...



Her office door opens and then closes. "Well," the familiar voice says, "The boss lady has not complained yet, so I'm assuming she has not noticed the boots were missing." Hannah knows it's Ethan, and really hopes he does not recognize her, but being flipped over and all of her body covered by the topy costume should help. She can hear the sound of something being set by the couch. "I wonder if I should wait for her to return, so that I can explain." Oh no, Hannah screams, please don't wait here. I'm not coming back, because I'm already here.



The next few moments seem tense to her. He walks around the office, looking at things on shelves and cabinets. He notes the coffee mug on the desk, and the computer that had not gone to screensaver from the lock screen. "Must have just missed her," he states. Wandering past Hannah, he runs his fingers down her leg and says, "Been a long time, 51 series...oh, it is not your fault...yes, I could have called...yes, yes, you are still the hottest one of all." Hannah holds in her reaction, as Ethan seems to have a pleasant conversation with her. He is polite and respectful, and though he clearly wants more from the 51 series model, yet he does not let that tempt him after what happened earlier this week.



Finally, he walks to the door and says, "Tell your boss that I brought you back, and that we are out of diet cokes in the drink machine in the transport lounge area. Thanks!" Hannah continues to lay there until she hears the elevator ping. She then waits a little longer, and then finally, she gets up. Looking around, she is alone again in her office. Diet cokes, huh? She steps over to her computer with a grin while picking up her desk phone. Let's fix one problem while I wait for my Uber.



Wait, I can't wear this outside the building, she recalls, it has all the tracker chips in it. Putting her head in her hands, she slumps in her chair while hanging up the phone, I'm trapped here, unless I can get some clothes brought to me. Pondering that problem, she places the order for the Diet Cokes for the drink machine. She figures that will be a nice surprise for him. That is not really her job, but she has enough authority to get it pushed through. Hmmm, what I need are my clothes that I wore earlier. They should not have been stored, since they made a mistake with what I'm wearing, so I just need to find them. Setting about going through the inventory on her computer, she eventually finds an "unshelvable" bag of clothes. "That's it", she thinks triumphantly, recognizing the mislabeling code word.



Hoping no one else is still here, she steps around her desk to put on the riding boots. They are incredibly tight around her legs, but she eventually gets them on. Stomping her feet into the floor, she finally gets them properly on her feet. They are probably a size too big, but that is better than being a size too small. Grabbing the hat and delivery bags, she throws the zip-ties and face guard away and steps out of her office quietly. Let's take our time, she reasons, and hope I don't run into anybody dressed like this.



Getting to the prototype storage room without being seen is not that hard. The back elevator takes you straight there, unlike the front elevator by her office door, so most of her time was spent in the administrative offices on the 8th floor. With nobody working today in these offices but her, she finds getting to the right elevator easy. Stepping in and hitting the L2 button, she rides it down. Standing in the work elevator in her bright toy soldier costume, she says to herself loudly, please, please, don't stop, don't stop. Deciding to play it safe, she stands at attention and leans herself against one wall of the elevator, as if she had been left there by someone. Her concern was unfounded, as the elevator continues all the way down to lower level 2.



She holds her pose until the door completely opens, making sure no one was waiting to get on the elevator. Stepping out slowly, she makes her way as quietly as she can in the heavy riding boots she is wearing. Rounding her second corner, she can see the storage room at the end of the hall with a closed door. As she smiles in victory, she hears the sound of a cart coming from that direction. Uh oh, need to hide, she tells herself. Grabbing the closest door's knob, she opens the door that says, Testing Room #3. Just got to get in and close the door quietly, then hunker back from the person coming by. They are always running tests, but none of those people work over the weekends.



With the door closed softly, she backs away from the door then notices the strange sounds from behind her. She turns around and sees what the testing group had started over the weekend. To her left, three love dolls are in recliner-looking chairs with their legs forced to be spread wide. A robotic device is below each of them moving in and out of their primary "sex" hole. Hannah has seen these dozens of times before as part of their testing group. It always strikes me odd, that they can just sit there for 72 hours straight, getting pounded with a steady rhythm and their facial expression never changes. Speaking of looks on their faces, these look to be the 31 series, international version. The eyes, hair, and skin tones are not like Hannah's, and while her stomach may not be as tight as theirs, her chest is just as big (if not bigger in her opinion).



To her right is a similar scene, except these two love dolls are facing away from their "lover", getting their secondary "sex" hole tested profusely (or perhaps it is still the first one, hard to tell without a closer inspection). The machine is very simple and moves its rather large, anatomically-correct protrusion in and out at any speed the operator sets. It even has a self lubricating feature to not wear out the new love doll holes. Hmm, she notices, the ones over here look to be of the 41 series, a little more full-bodied model. Well, let's find a place around the back to duck down, just in case they decide to come in here.



She awkwardly weaves her way through the center of the room, while the love dolls on both sides continue one of their many test procedures. As she gets past them all, she bends down to obscure her view from the door. At this point, she realizes she will need to get out of these clothes quickly so she can get her real clothes back on. Knowing the boots will be the biggest problem, she starts to pull them off. Ugh, she groans, these things are on tight. She wiggles and pulls and twists her feet as she pushes from the top of the boot. After getting one of them off, she breathlessly decides to take a break from the next one and gets her jacket and top off much easier.



As she works on the other boot, she finally gets it off, but it slips out of her grip, bounces off one of the non-working "banging machines" (as they are so affectionately called), and then crashes against the far wall, knocking some other clothes and bags and boxes off the table. Cursing quietly, she stands to grab it when she hears, "Did you hear that?" Great, she thinks sarcastically, just great. With no real place to hide, she goes with the method that has worked so far: hide in the open.



Pulling her pants off and then peeling off her one-piece, she pitches them over with the other items on the floor. She quickly steps over to an empty station with the 41 series models. She straps her left leg around the thigh and then the ankle to the test table which has two other love dolls bent over it. Trying to be quick, she straps her right leg to the same table. Okay, now just bend over and lay still. No reason for them to think you are anything but a love doll, especially with the 41 series next to me.



As she starts to bend over the door opens, so she just stands motionless strapped to the table. "Oh, look, she stands out from the rest, doesn't she?" Really? I was that noticeable, but it has worked so well earlier today? If the last two times weren't embarrassing enough, this would be the worst one of them all. "Yeah, the banger must not have had the parking brake on. Should we reset it?"  She cannot hear their footsteps over the other bangers, but she feels gloved hands on her side, and then the reply, "Should be easy enough to get what she needs, right?" They both laugh at his joke as he spanks her bottom playfully. Ow, that was uncalled for, buddy.



"Here, give me a hand lining it up," the one says as she feels something gently pressing in the crack of her butt. "Make sure the parking brake is on, or this will happen again." Hannah feels two hands on her shoulders pressing her over the test table. Her face and chest press into the indentations on the table designed for them. Oh no, they aren't going to really...oh...oh...oh...oh...oh...oh...



"That looks right to me," the one says, "You got the lubrication turned on?" The other replies, "Yep, and it says half full, so it should be good until tomorrow." They both stop to watch for a moment. "Do you think it is too fast?" The other shrugs, "Slower than I usually go, hahaha." They fist bump and say, "Let's go grab a beer to celebrate. We just did more than what was expected of us." The other replies, "Yep, let's go spend some of that raise we won't get." They both laugh as they close the door. "They should make us managers or something."



Hannah waits for them to go, trying to remain still like the others next to her. She also tries to keep her facial expression neutral, but that is getting harder and harder to do. She never liked this position, and fortunately, none of her boyfriends were all that sad when she said "no" to it. On special occasions, she will admit, she would agree to this, but not something she would want all the time. She now knows which "sex" hole it was aimed at, not that I cared to have that question answered, she thinks sarcastically. The rhythm of the machines are slightly out of sync, making the noise in the room rather annoying. However, Hannah stops noticing, as her banging machine starts to find an itch she had not scratched in a really long time. She finds an overwhelming feeling starting in her toes and working its way up her body. Her whole body starts getting warmer and warmer. The feeling of release washes over her, and she finds she is thankful to be strapped in, as her legs turn to jelly as she moans in complete ecstasy.



Fortunately, the guys have been long gone, as they might have heard her from the hallway. If they were inside the room, she would have been very noticeably breathing heavily and shaking. Hannah begins to relax, feeling a sense of relief. Sure, she thinks to herself, you tell yourself you don't need it, because you are too busy. You also tell yourself that you are better by not being so weak that you need a man. All of those arguments plus any others she might have thought before, seem silly at this point.



After a few moments, she finds strength returning to her limbs from that amazing feeling. I'll never admit this to anyone, but that felt so amazing. She flexes her hands and toes, reminding herself she was only temporarily "paralyzed". Now, I need to figure out how to...oh...well, maybe I can...oh...wait until after...oh...one more. And again, Hannah lays there and enjoys another wonderful release of tension she built up over the last months, or has it been a year?



She comes off the feeling a little faster this time, but whatever this banger is doing to her feels absolutely amazing. It is like it has been engineered to be pleasurable, with just the right amount of lubricant. I figure I'll have to unstrap myself first, then I...oh...can turn to...oh...one side...oh...



Hannah never finds her escape on that late afternoon. She does find a steady rhythm of climaxes to match the same number of thrusts from the banger. As if her body tunes itself to her "lover", she finds herself unwilling to move knowing exactly when the next one will come, like she has turned into a "climax machine" to match the "banging machine". When the testing technician comes in Monday morning, he notices immediately that there are 6 instead of 5 love dolls being tested. He shrugs his shoulders, as that happens sometimes. Other groups will have their own separate tests to run, and he left around lunchtime on Friday, so they could have added it after he was gone. He takes a casual glance at each of them, noting they all have the same basic neutral stare, even though they have been "getting after it" all weekend long. If he had looked more closely, he would have noticed a rather large pool of drool next to one of the love dolls mouths, and a slight smile that would sneak across the mouth every few minutes.



He hits the all stop, bringing his weekend tests to a close. He easily disconnects each one of them, figuring the other group would want that done by a trained technician for their 51 series model. As he unstraps the ones sitting down, another guy walks in with a cart. While Hannah lies motionless like the other love dolls on the table, they ignore her and the other bent two and carefully bag each sitting love doll and load them up on the cart. The door closes behind them, and silence commands the room's occupants. None of them move, as none should be moving. About 15 minutes later, the men return with an empty cart to get the others. The room looks just like they left it, as they expected: only 3 love dolls laying over a table.



With their scanner, they find the first models are 41 series, while the last one is a 51 series. That makes it easier for them, as they know exactly what type they had in this test. Unstrapping the 41 series models, they are bagged and loaded up on the cart. Without a second glance, they leave the room, not even acknowledging the other love doll laying just as they found it when they came in. The door closes behind them, and the room grows quiet again. If you watch closely, you can faintly see the rise and fall of the lovedoll's back, as she breathes in shallow rhythms, sleeping peacefully with her eyes closed and a smile on her lips.



The growl of her stomach wakes her from her slumber. Still foggy from the evening, she straightens up, stretching her back and arms. Without thinking, she says normally, "That was the best night sleep I've had in a real long time." The smile on her face quickly falls away, as she feels the straps on her legs and she takes in her surroundings. Oh no, she screams internally, I'm still at work. Noticing the other love dolls being gone, she reasons that it is Monday. If I thought sneaking around on the weekend was tough, it will only be worse on a workday.



She undoes the straps on her legs, and carefully tries to stand on her own. Her legs are weak, but they start working normally soon after her stretching them. Smacking her lips to echo the growling of her stomach, she mumbles, "I need some water and some food." As she stumbles back from the table, she thinks, but I need some clothes first. Holding onto various things, she slowly gets herself to the back corner where her boot had knocked over the box of discarded clothes yesterday. Yesterday? Wow, hard to believe...



Sifting through the box, she finds a dark green dress that looks like it would be for a formal event. It is rather form fitting to her body, but with the zippers down both sides, she can get it on and off quickly. The crate also has several clear plastic heels that are standard footwear for love dolls when the customer does not specify them. Not too worried about it, she finds two that will fit, even if they are not the same size. The heel is but an inch, so they are easy to move in, but the stiff plastic is not overly comfortable. Speaking of plastic, her hair feels more normal now. I'm not sure what was in that drying agent, but it must be slowly wearing off.



Okay, she reasons, I just got to get down the hall to the storage room. Hopefully, it is empty of people and I can find my real clothes and cellphone. She quietly opens the door and hears footsteps. She closes it back, as someone with a cart walks by. Whew, that was close. She opens the door again and listens. She does not hear anyone, so she quietly steps out into the hallway. Closing the door back silently, she starts to walk quickly but as quietly as possible towards the door labeled: Prototype Storage. Checking the intersection as she reaches it, no one seems to be in the hallway, so now she's got to get inside a room that is hopefully devoid of people.



Turning the knob slowly, she peaks inside. The room is vast with shelves and cabinets and drawers. There are aisles upon aisles of new stuff, old stuff, and just stuff. If you have a junk drawer in your home, Hannah thinks, this is what this room is for our company. She slips inside and closes the door. Breathing a sigh of relief, she leans her head against the closed door. Okay, the "unshelvable" should be over to the right.



As she starts to walk, she can hear voices and movement far off to the left. Well, no surprise someone is in here, but it's a big room, so I just need to avoid them. Working her way around shelves and tables, she finds the "unshelvable" section. It is a table of stuff that the contents have spilled off onto the floor. As she gets closer, she has the thought of a "needle in a hay stack", until she notices her golfing outfit on the floor next to the table. It looks like someone threw it at the table and kept walking, not even checking whether it landed on the table or not. Smiling broadly, she bends down and picks up the bag. Unsnapping it, she pulls out her cellphone which has about a 1,000 notifications and nearly out of battery life. Stop, stop, she tells herself, change clothes first, send messages second.



Stripping out of her formal dress, she starts donning her under garments and the outfit she wore almost two days ago. Has it really been that long? But as she smells the clothes, she can believe it. Ugh, I cannot stay here smelling like this. With everything finally on, she is wearing her clothes and not something her company made. Doing a quick double check, she makes sure she has nothing trackable on her. Satifisfied, she starts responding to messages. Her assistant wants to know if she is coming in today...no. Her golfing friends want to make sure she got home alright...uh, close enough, so yes. Her boss wants to thank her for a job well done...no problem (lol). Beth wants to know why she is being called into HR today for a "formal review"...hmm, not responding to that one just yet. She slumps against the table, realizing it is almost over. Just an Uber ride away from a shower, clean clothes, and some food. I'm not sure what I want more: real food or a hot shower.



Scheduling her pick-up at the employee entrance in the back, she pre-pays by phone. Using one of the passageways on the exterior of the building which is below the lobby level, she can make sure she will not be seen, or if she is, it would be by very few people. Not that her outift is inappropriate, but it is not something she would normally wear to work, especially on a Monday. Walking with more confidence, she strides away from the building, having gone up the several flights of concrete stairs at the base of one corner of the building. As she nears the guard shack, she sees her Uber coming up the road. Nodding to the guard who barely even looks up at her, she hops in the newer model car. While he drives to the location she put into the app, she continues to catch up on texts, but her favorite is from her assistant that says: got a note for you that says, "thanks for the diet cokes, Ethan." Who's Ethan and why are you buying him Diet Cokes?



Hannah laughs. How do I tell that story without telling that story? She smiles and turns her phone off. She can wait. It all can wait. I need to go home and feel human again for a while. Human...that word has a new feeling that it never had before, she thinks to herself wistfully.