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Mature Content

The Store: Love Dolls 2/2 [Suit/Dolls] by Transviscera


   It was the run-up to Valentine's Day when the Store phoned him last minute, evidently desperately short-staffed, as they didn't even bother to negotiate when Brian requested a 20% commission. He'd not done work for them since the Halloween period but, thankfully, he'd not let his figure go too much with Christmas turkey, so he headed into the store to have his body lubricated up and wedged inside the tight, feminine-sculpted skin of ceramic and wood.

Two Valentine 'love dolls' had already monopolized the attention of the crowds on the main thoroughfare with the main thoroughfare. Whoever was in them, they had good chemistry together that he knew he'd never be able to compete against. Instead, he staked his territory in a quiet, cozy corner of the confectionary department. He spent the first hour of his shift studiously rearranging the shelves, placing the cheap chocolates at waist height, and the expensive boxed sets on the highest and lowest shelf. Then he waited.

It didn't take long for a customer to show, a middle-aged man drawn like a bee to honey. Brian pretended not to notice him or the lingering stares cast at his cream-colored cleavage, going about his routine with jerky, robotic movements. The misconception that the store's dolls were nothing more than animatronics was an enduring one. Some even believed they were animated by 19th-century cogs and gears, as the store founder had claimed. Whatever the lie, it seemed to put the customers at ease. They, many of them devoted husbands, were far more comfortable taking liberties with the helpers than they would any 'real' woman. Anything to relieve the tedium of shopping with their wives.

The customer cleared his throat. Brian pivoted smoothly into a dainty curtsy, waiting for a command. "I'm looking for a present for my wife," the man said awkwardly, pointing to a low shelf. "How about those truffles?"

Brian pirouetted into a deep bow. As anticipated, as he reached for the overpriced Belgian treats, a rough hand caressed his shapely ceramic rear. A consummate professional, he didn't flinch, simply straightened robotically to perform his gift-wrapping function.

"Hopefully they're as sweet as you," the customer growled huskily. "Wh-why don't you get me one of those boxes from the top shelf too? I'm sure my wife would love... whatever the hell they are."

With the grace of a ballerina, Brian rose elegantly onto his tiptoes, his slender body stretching up for the chocolates. Hands encircled his waist, and the neatly stacked chocolate displays trembled with the force of the customer pinning him roughly against the shelves. "I don't know why they don't just sell these things," the customer grunted to himself, grinding against the animatronic helper. A few eager thrusts and...

... a very satisfied customer meandered out of the confectionary section, zig-zagging blissfully back to his wife. Brian wiped the fingerprints off his chassis until he gleamed, and plucked the dollar bills tucked into the crevice of his hip joint. "Twenty percent and a tip. Easy money," he grinned.

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