ZERO

Jim Donovan had just finished spanking his date for the night, and now he felt like a change of pace. He nudged her hips and repositioned her so that she no longer lay over his knees but instead nestled between them and faced his crotch.

With a quick flash of fingers at his zipper, his stiff cock filled her oral cavity. Her hair was soft and a pretty shade of blond, but lifeless. The skin at the back of her neck was taut and somewhat cool, but quickly warmed to his touch.

"That's right," said Jim, "I want to fuck those pretty red lips."

Jim liked to joke with himself that these girls were damn eager to please him because of the uniform he wore. As his stiff dick plunged inside her compliant orifice, Jim took a moment to watch the few strands of hair that fell over his gun belt. 'Gun belt' wasn't exactly the right name for it, though. The security firm had issued him cuffs, a nightstick, and pepper spray, but no firearm.

With a fist full of hair, Jim began to seriously flex his hips and fuck her in the mouth. This one could produce an enormous amount of suction, and it felt absolutely amazing on his shaft. It felt as if his erection was growing continuously, an expansion that could only end in explosive orgasm.

He could feel the effect of the whisky in her mouth, too. The firewater stung his skin, but he liked the sensation. Jim had taken a swig or two to liven up his graveyard shift, and shared a little with his friend to loosen her up as well. Not that she needed any alcohol, Jim thought. She was pretty much at his disposal, and he knew it. She didn't care about his uniform, or whether or not he had a gun, either.

"Let's get you turned around," Jim said, abandoning the sucking for a little of something else. Her weight was all on her hands, and her backside looked inviting to Jim. The lighting was bad, but he could feel the wisps of hair at her crotch even if he couldn't see them. He could feel she was warm and wet and ready, so Jim dived in to her box. The lips pulled back on him, and he enjoyed the tightness of her well-formed cunt.

As Jim stroked, he pumped some of the air from her slit, but the suction wasn't as good as her mouth. He liked taking her from behind, though. She had a shapely tiny waist, and the tight smooth skin reminded him of a teenage gymnast.

Jim's excitement grew, and he felt the urge to get a little kinky. He pulled the nightstick from his gun belt and moved it over towards the crack of her ass. He slid it around the slick channel, but had trouble getting it to slide inside her. Moving the nightstick aside for a moment, Jim probed the fissure with his other hand to find her tight tiny asshole.

"Oh, what the fuck!" Jim shouted. "She doesn't have one!" These dolls were fun, Jim thought, but they should come with better labels.

His disappointment soon faded, however, and his vigorous fucking led to a burst of jism. The cum made her soft rubber passageway instantly hotter and creamier, and the feedback from that sensation elicited a strong, intense orgasm that shook him profoundly. The lingering sensations of pleasure mixed with the whisky in Jim's system, and sent him off into a short nap on the display room sofa.

Some time later, noise woke him, and Jim Donovan panicked. He scrambled to get himself dressed and clean up the doll. Preoccupied with his desire to avoid discovery, Jim never bothered to explore the disturbance. When he heard an engine start up, it was too late to do anything but run to the window and watch the van pull away.

"Shit," thought Jim to himself. "I'll never get a handgun after this."

ONE

"Have you ever heard of the Totally Real Girl?" Gerald Maytag asked as his partner, Heather Stanton, walked through the door of the office.

"Please, Maytag," Stanton responded, "I haven't even had my coffee this morning."

"OK," said Maytag, "assuming you haven't, I'll just tell you briefly that it's some kind of love doll, apparently better than the blow-up novelty variety, and they're getting a lot of attention."

Stanton took off her coat, sat down at her desk and powered on her computer. "Yeah, I remember reading about that. Some people have set up their own websites, right? Taking pictures of the dolls in costumes and making up stories and things."

"That's right."

"So?" said Stanton, grinning. "Did you buy one?"

"No," replied Maytag, "I did not buy one, Stanton."

"I'm just teasing. C'mon and walk with me a second while I get coffee."

Maytag pushed himself away from the desk and joined Stanton as she left the office.

"Seriously, now, what about them?" asked Stanton.

Maytag explained his interest as they walked along. Totally Real Industries, the company that manufactured the Totally Real Girl dolls, reported a break-in at their plant last week, only to say that there had been a mistake shortly thereafter. Maytag thought the story seemed inconsistent after he read it, so he sent an e-mail to the paper and called the local police department.

Stanton raised an eyebrow at that. "Maytag, don't you have any hobbies?"

"The detective bug is all I have, Stanton. And in this case, it seems I might have been right."

"Really?" exclaimed Stanton. She filled her mug with coffee, then added a bit of sugar and creamer and gave it a stir. "Let's hear what you've got."

According to the police, there was a security guard, a Jim Donovan, on duty that night. In the early morning, he heard a disturbance, saw a van pull away, and then called the plant manager, Reid. Reid arrived shortly thereafter, at which point they called the police and issued a statement. Soon the owner, Peter Guma, arrived on the scene. After surveying the building and having a few words with Reid, Guma explained to the police that there had been a mistake and apologized for wasting their time.

"That does sound suspicious," said Stanton. "Was that in the article?"

"No, it wasn't," said Maytag. He paused for a second while Stanton sat down at her desk. "They didn't mention it to the reporter. I don't think the police thought twice about it."

"What are they, idiots?"

"No," said Maytag, "but apparently Donovan is. Being a small town, the officer knew Donovan from high school. They even trained together to be police, only Donovan wasn't quite up to it. I pressed the officer for details, though, and that's when Reid and Guma's part came out."

"Oh, Maytag," Stanton said, with the most fawning and flattering tones she could manage before her first cup of coffee. "You're so thorough!"

"Very funny--save it until you hear what the reporter had to say," Maytag said, deflecting the false praise.

Totally Real Industries released an official statement apologizing for the false alarm, but Guma himself made no further comment. The security company also had no comment, but the reporter learned that no action had been taken against Donovan by either company.

"In fact," said Maytag, "It seems Donovan has been sent off on a vacation for a couple of weeks."

"Curiouser and curiouser," said Stanton. "So you found this out this morning?"

"No, a couple of days ago. Then I asked for help from a friend of mine at the IRS, and this morning I heard back from her."

"We really need to work on your social life, Maytag. Following up leads on your spare time, friends at the IRS..."

"Better than enemies at the IRS," Maytag shrugged. He affected a poor German accent. "Zey haff vays of making you talk."

"And what did the Gestapo find out, Herr Maytag?"

"That in the past year, Totally real Industries has released exactly one employee from its payroll: one Chris Tully."

"Hmmm," said Stanton. She took a sip from her mug and continued. "So we have a possible suspect for a phantom break-in that the victim doesn't seem to care about. Interesting, but hardly worth an investigation."

"Au contraire, Agent Stanton," said Maytag as he produced two airline tickets from his desk. "Schenk agreed that it may be worth a look. We leave this morning. I'm going to the factory; you have an appointment with Mr. Tully."

"Great," said Stanton sarcastically. "A real investigation. And here I thought you just wanted to get your hands on one of those dolls."

TWO

"Agent Maytag."

Maytag looked away from the framed set of newspaper clippings about the company to see an attractive young woman in dark jeans and a tight-fitting ribbed cotton top. A red badge with the letters TRI swung from a belt loop on her jeans. She extended a hand to Maytag. "I'm Polly, and I'll be showing you around today."

Maytag shook her hand in return. "Gerald Maytag. Pleased to meet you."

Polly had dark eyes and brunette hair, pulled back into a ponytail that swung slightly as she moved. "We'll start the tour in the offices and then head to the production floor."

"Where do you work, Polly?" Maytag asked as she led the way from the reception area.

"I used to work on the floor, but then I started to do some publicity work, helping Anna, our sales chief, explain the dolls to reporters and on talk shows. Now, I do that and help out with sales and accounting--which is where we are now."

Maytag nodded and looked around at the cubicles in this new room. Offices lined one side, windows another. People sat at their computers typing, but the room was mostly quiet.

"Don't let the silence fool you," said Polly. "Since we only handle sales by e-mail, it can seem like there's nothing going on. But we answer about fifty to one hundred inquiries a day, many from overseas."

"How many of the dolls do you sell?"

"Well, I can't tell you that," Polly replied, "but we are running a backlog of about two weeks' capacity right now."

Polly explained that the company verified the order was genuine before actually assembling the doll. Totally Real also carefully confirmed the desired skin color, body shapes, and hair and eye color, as mistakes were costly to the company and upsetting to expectant customers.

"We've calculated our current options as being able to produce over 15 thousand different dolls." Polly stressed the word thousand. "Throw in skin colors, which, if desired, we can customize at an extra cost, the number grows into millions."

"Variety is the spice of virtual life, too, then," said Maytag.

"Yes, it is," said Polly, as they began to walk again. The two made a turn and were in the middle of a corridor with offices on both sides. Looking in one on the left, Maytag spotted pieces of metal on the floor.

"That's part of the skeletal structure of the dolls," said Polly. "They're steel."

"That must make them heavy," said Maytag.

"Not excessively," replied Polly, "And for the strength it gives them, it's more than worth it."

"How strong are they?" asked Maytag.

"Well, they can't support their own weight, unless positioned on all fours," admitted Polly. "But they can support your weight. They're safe for up to 600 pounds."

Maytag looked impressed, then looked around. "So where are we now?"

"This is engineering and design. We have someone that works on the skeletal structure, and two chemical engineers for the silicone."

Maytag could see that at the end of the corridor a door labeled 'EXIT' stood open. On the other side was another door, and to the right, the assembly area of the company. This area was cool and dry. Machines injected silicone into molds. Workers pushed pieces together, pulled skins tight, and set them to bond and cure. Engineers mixed dyes together to pigment the skins, or paint makeup on in later stages. Air pressure lines snaked along the ceiling for various tools, including one that inserted pubic hair into the dolls.

"I'm surprised by how clean the floor is," said Maytag.

"We try to run a clean shop," said Polly. "And we try not to waste material."

After seeing the shipping and receiving area, Polly unlocked a door marked "No Exit" and Maytag followed her inside. There, three dolls dressed in short party dresses, stockings and heels sat in sofas and armchairs. A bar lined one wall, a dart board decorated another. Flowers decorated an end table. The room looked like the lounge area of a restaurant.

"We call this the Forget-Me-Not Bar," Polly said. "It's to remind everyone of what we're trying to achieve here and many of the workers take breaks or come here to relax."

"So are the flowers real or plastic?"

Polly laughed. "Let's just say they're Totally Real Blossoms."

Maytag walked over to one of the dolls. He found her orange hair obviously a wig, but he was surprised by the quality of the face. There was no comparison to the usual comical blow-up dolls with a simple round 'O' of a mouth, and the expression surpassed any mannequin. The slight tilt in one corner of the mouth suggested sarcasm, or at least bemusement. Maytag looked down at the neck and the way the skin pulled tight against the collar bone, but seemed to relax as it rose to her throat.

"That's Susan," said Polly. "Go ahead and touch her. She doesn't mind."

"They look very real," said Maytag appreciatively. He moved his hands where his eyes had examined her. It felt as it appeared: stiff at the collarbone, tender at the throat. He even felt a windpipe. "Incredible," he said.

"That's the point," replied Polly. "That's also why we have them dressed and in a lounge. We don't just want to make a sexual device, we want a companion. These dolls are expensive, so they have to be more than throw-away entertainment. They need to be adorable." Polly examined her key ring. "Would you care for a drink? The bar is locked for liability reasons, but we like to open it up for guests."

"Oh, no, thank you," said Maytag, "But I would like a soda if you have one." He turned to a second doll that sat with her legs crossed holding a cigarette. Maytag ran his hands over realistic ankles and knees. The surface was cool, but not cold; solid but not wooden. He noted give and flexibility. Covered in nylon, the legs presented a natural feel.

"Oh, I almost forgot," exclaimed Polly, "Check this out."

She approached the hand of the doll that held the cigarette. Polly held the rubber hand and twisted the back of the cigarette. The tip glowed a dull red.

"One of the engineers made that. Those guys are so smart, don't you think?"

Maytag nodded and said, "I have to admire their handiwork."

"Pretty realistic, aren't they?"

"Indeed," Maytag replied.

"What if I said that they could be more than realistic?" Polly asked.

"In what way?" Maytag asked in return.

"Let me show you," Polly whispered, and she led Maytag to another room.

THREE

Sitting in his studio apartment, Chris Tully began to tell Agent Stanton about his time with Totally Real Industries.

At first, the company had used design studios to produce sketches, mock-ups, and ultimately the casts for the work. As demand started to grow for different models, and for male dolls to complement the Totally Real Girls, the expense of the outside help grew. Flush with money from healthy sales, Peter Guma decided to hire a full-time artist. Chris Tully had an impressive portfolio of nudes and sculpture, and, fresh out of art school, he came cheap. Chris created the large-chested Melissa design, as well as the athletic-looking Diana model. Totally Real was pleased, and customers responded to the new body shapes.

"The next job they gave me was skin color and racial types," Chris said. "Specifically, an African model. That was rough. There's just too many variations, you know? Anything from mahogany to a golden honey color is an option, and there's a lot of variation in that range."

"I hadn't even approached hair: kinky, relaxed, afro, maybe even corn rows. All I did was draw faces and play with skin colors. I must have made two dozen colors, taking notes each time on how much of which hue I blended in what way with another, and I still wasn't pleased."

"At one point, out of frustration, I just made a blue face. A sky color: a strong, primary blue softened by white, with darker blue lips. It made me laugh when I was finished, and it gave me a little lift, too. For once, I didn't have to imitate nature."

"I drew a full nude right away; My blue woman. For her nipples, I used the same dark shade I gave her lips."

"Blue hair?" asked Stanton, who had simply let Chris talk until then.

"Blonde," Chris answered. "It just seemed to fit."

The process was liberating. Where it had taken him a week to make a dozen dark skin colors, he had his blue woman done in less than an hour. Chris followed by making a green woman, again with darker tone for lips, only this time with a dark green hair.

After that came a red-skinned creature that Chris quickly fashioned as a devil. He gave her pointed ears, raven black hair, horns, sharp teeth, and a tail that draped behind her.

Working late, he created another figure with a tail. That one had cat's eyes, and a soft sheen reminiscent of fur that changed from a tabby orange on the back and sides to a cloud like white on her belly.

"The logjam in my mind was cleared. The next day, I put the finishing touches on the dozen African designs, and we scheduled a design meeting."

"My personal favorite was a dark mahogany skin, but one of the engineers mentioned that dark pigments were tougher to do than light ones. We settled on a lighter caramel color with wavy hair, and the Nikki model was born."

"After the meeting, I asked Peter if he could spare a moment and then I showed him the other sketches, just to see what he would think. He was pretty psyched. One of the devil sketches showed someone mounting her from behind, with a hand on the small of her back. I sketched the tail wrapping around his forearm, then penetrating her anal entry. Peter loved it."

"I told him I was calling them Totally Unreal Girls, and Peter said he wanted to have another meeting soon to talk about those designs."

At the follow-up meeting, it was clear that although the Unreal Girls were novel, people making a $5000 investment in one of the dolls might want something more than novelty. The dolls were built to last, some one suggested, and so the body types should be designed to hold interest as well.

Also, the problem of pigments arose as well. Dark colors such as the red of the demoness were difficult. Everyone agreed that she was intriguing, but they were having enough trouble tackling male anatomy, let alone producing a tail.

"Male anatomy?" Stanton interrupted.

"Yeah!" Chris answered. "The Totally Real Man. There was a lot of e-mail asking about male dolls. I was working with engineering and we were having all these debates about the design. Whether the phallus should be perpetually hard, or if there should be some sort of erection mechanism. There were also questions of just how hard, and just how stiff, and how to keep it solid at the base. Should the balls swing, or should it be a tight sac? This was serious stuff."

"Of course," said Stanton.

"It got me thinking, though, that we could play with anatomy if we wanted to do so. For instance, dogs and horses have retractable organs. Maybe that was how we should do it."

In the same way that Chris experimented with color when dark skin frustrated him, he now tried his hand at anatomy. He made sketches of men with phalli emerging from the center of their back, or their foreheads. He drew penises with ribbed textures, clitoral stimulators emerging from the base, or smaller appendages emerging from the trunk for anal play.

The design team greeted these new ideas with apprehension. However, Peter Guma encouraged Chris to keep the ideas coming. Chris obliged.

Chris sketched a hermaphrodite. He drew a woman with vagina and mouth in swapped positions. Another female body type had a fourth entry point between the breasts.

One sketch showed a woman kneeling, the posterior out in the air, and the back made flat. The drawing reflected the image on itself and fused it, fashioning a kind of table, made from a section of a woman's back, flanked by two backsides, exposed vulvae, resting on the knees with calves protruding out to the left and right. Chris even added a cup of coffee resting in the middle of the back's surface.

At this point, Chris's imagery encountered outright hostility. Anna Guma, Peter's wife and the head of sales, took particular offense at the more radical designs. Peter still thought Chris was valuable, but he warned him to tone down the designs or else Totally Real Industries would be forced to release him.

"I couldn't stop though," Chris confessed. "That's when I did the Christ thing."

"The Christ thing?" inquired Stanton

"I was starting to think about different entry points. Some guys have real foot fetish, right? Why not give them an entry point there? It would be like a dream come true, right?"

"Sure," Stanton said, thinking it would be more like a nightmare.

"Well, that got me thinking about holes in hands and feet, and that led to thinking about Christ."

Stanton was speechless.

"So I sketched a picture of a thin figure, with a beard, naked, without any genitalia at all. But I put in all five wounds, and labeled them as entry points."

Chris waited for comment from Stanton, but when none came he spoke again.

"I probably went a little too far with that one," he offered.

"Maybe just a bit," replied Stanton.

"Anna saw it and she went ballistic. She threatened to tear up the sketch in front of me," said Chris.

"Did she?" asked Stanton.

"I don't know," Chris shrugged. "I was fired that day. Maybe she did it after I left."

Chris might be a talented, if demented, artist, thought Stanton, but he was definitely a terrible liar.

FOUR

Maytag didn't know where he was in the scheme of the building. He knew they had traveled in a circle, and so the main entrance to the building, and Peter Guma's office, should be close by, but he was disoriented. The lone objects in the room had something to do with that.

There was a bed, with dark red sheets, the color of tender rare beef. The other piece held more of his attention, however.

Leaning against a pole was another of the dolls, only this one was not quite the same. The clothing was radically different from the cocktail dresses of the Forget-Me-Not Bar. This one wore patent leather knee high boots that laced in front, and a waist cincher of the same material. She wore nothing over her crotch, which was just as well, because it would have been impossible to find anything off the rack to accommodate her tail.

Maytag stared at it for a good while. It curled from just above the crack of her ass, and hung down in a loop at about mid-thigh. The doll held the end in her hand, and Maytag estimated the diameter to be the width of two silicone fingers. Only after approaching it and verifying that it was indeed the same material, and attached at the proverbial tailbone, did Maytag look closely at the rest of the doll. After that he noticed the pointy ears and teeth, and the small shiny horns that jutted out of her forehead.

"Her name is Lilith," said Polly, bringing Maytag back from his mesmerism.

"So this is more than real," he said.

Polly smiled. "A Totally Unreal Girl."

"Sent from the abyss to tempt mere mortals," Maytag declaimed.

"Tempted?"

"I'd say I was more curious than tempted."

"We can indulge your curiosity."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Don't worry," said Polly, gently. "You turned down the drink. We all know you're a conscientious FBI agent." Polly stood beside Maytag, and looked at Lilith, the silicone demoness, and then back at Maytag.

"Aren't you curious to see what her tits feel like, Agent Maytag? It's just a product demonstration. No different than a test drive."

"Oh, it's a little different!" Maytag replied.

"In one way, for sure. You've probably been inside lots of cars before."

Maytag cleared his throat. Polly took his hand in hers and raised it to Lilith's chest. She pushed his thumb against her nipple, and cupped his fingers along the curve of the breast. After brushing his thumb against the rosy red of the nipple, and feeling it spring back against him, Maytag instinctively squeezed the breast.

It felt softer than the surrounding skin, gave way to the applied pressure, and relaxed again with ease. Maytag exhaled deeply.

"Not bad, huh?" Polly teased.

"Not bad at all," said Maytag. He felt Polly's thigh against his leg, and his cock twitched and turned over as it began to swell. She brushed against his growing erection.

"That's not too bad, either, Agent Maytag."

"And perfectly real, I can assure you."

"Would you mind if I checked that?" Polly asked.

"Actually, I think we should be getting on with the tour at this point," said Maytag, trying his best to remain the conscientious FBI agent.

"This is still the tour," she said, bringing her face closer to his. "Like I said, this is just another demonstration. If you visited Harley-Davidson, you'd expect a ride on a bike, right?"

"I guess so," said Maytag.

"Well," Polly continued, "Just pretend you're visiting Harley- Davidson and I'm helping you get on your bike." Polly moved her hand to Maytag's crotch. Awkwardly, Polly bent her wrist back and clutched his half-erect shaft. "Oh, I'd say that's real."

Maytag drew a deep breath. "Just like I told you."

Polly squeezed. In any other organ, this would cause blood to flow out, but a man's prick is a very curious thing indeed. Maytag's cock swelled further in response, and was more stiff than before.

"Lilith and I think you should give silicone a try," Polly said, "And neither one of us is taking no for an answer."

Maytag's cock pulsed in Polly's grip. "I think that makes three of us," said Polly. She then released the last voting member, and took her hand out of Maytag's pants. "Why don't you get Lilith over to the bed?"

Maytag did as instructed. He hooked one hand under each of Lilith's arms and lifted. The weight surprised him though, and he soon found himself bear-hugging the doll. His erection poked at her leg, and Lilith's tail poked his stomach. Several clumsy steps later, the two collapsed on the bed.

Maytag rolled Lilith off his chest and sat up. Approaching the bed, Polly carried two tubes. She twisted her hips and rolled her shoulders, brandishing the items like castanets.

"Make yourself comfortable," she said.

With a delicate thump, Maytag's shoes hit the floor. He stripped off his jacket and began to unbutton his shirt. Polly nestled up to him and planted a kiss on his lips. "Kiss her," she instructed.

"Lilith?"

"Mm-hmm," said Polly while she unscrewed the cap of one of the tubes.

Turning to his right, Maytag leaned down and put his lips to Lilith's. They were cool, but soft, and parted easily. His tongue slipped inside, and ran along the front of her teeth. The odd mix of soft material and pointed incisors felt foreign, but when Maytag made contact with Lilith's tongue, he was more pleasantly surprised. It moved. He could lift it and flutter against it.

"Mmmm," he moaned as he explored Lillith's mouth. "That's attention to detail."

"Take off your pants," ordered Polly.

Maytag's pants fell to the floor and Polly took to his shaft. Her left hand was coated in lubricant and she greased his pole liberally. She pumped him with her fist, then coated his balls and pushed her hand underneath his ass. Maytag lifted himself, and gave her full access to his balls and the flesh that led to his ass.

"That feels good," Maytag said.

"I told you I do product demonstrations," Polly replied. Then she winked at him.

While Polly made a slippery mess of his cock, Maytag pulled loose his necktie, and unbuttoned his shirt halfway. He then pulled the assembly over his head, and tossed it aside.

"Go to it, stud."

"Where first?"

"Stick to her mouth," said Polly, "I'll get Lilith nice and wet for you below."

"You mean the netherworld?"

"Exactly," said Polly. Maytag was not certain she understood the joke. He turned his attention to Lilith. He felt unsure of himself, and didn't know the best way to go about penetrating the doll's mouth. Normally, women simply took him in their mouths. This process would need more of his help.

"Go ahead," Polly urged him. "She won't mind."

While he hesitated, Maytag began to feel more self-conscious for kneeling on a bed with his stiff and lubricated cock bobbing in the air. With one hand he pulled down her jaw, and with the other positioned his greased rod. Maytag swallowed his trepidation and Lilith swallowed his erection. Swallowed wasn't too far from the mark, as the opening allowed Maytag to dive in until his balls rested on Lilith's chin. Devilish deep throating delighted his dick.

As Maytag slid himself out and back in, he noticed the pressure from Lilith's lips grew in strength. At first he thought he had imagined it, but if he concentrated, the sensation was unmistakable. Lilith pulled back on his cock when he pulled away.

"Oh, my lord," Maytag exclaimed.

"Nice, huh?" said Polly, who had removed the cap from the second tube. She attended to Lilith's soft rubber passage as carefully as she had prepared Maytag's rigid flesh. "I take it you're feeling the suction."

"Oh, yeah," Maytag said, taking a full second to say each word, and a considerable pause in between, as well. He hadn't stopped stroking, though.

"Now that's a little more than real," Polly said. "The lubricated rubber does that. Well, actually, the tight rubber and your piston action. You're actually pumping out a little air and creating suction. Neat, huh?"

Maytag grunted in response.

"Well, you can stay if you like," Polly continued, "But her little slit is ready and waiting."

Not without regret did Maytag leave the silicone lips and their suction effect. To remain polite, however, as any conscientious FBI agent would, he pulled away and slid down to Lilith's crotch. Besides, he reasoned, it should be the same material and provide the same phenomenon.

He guessed incorrectly. Pulling her labia apart to penetrate his second artificial orifice of the day, Maytag noticed that the material there was looser, softer, and more pliable. Warmed and moistened by Polly, surrounded by a delicate black fuzz, the red rubber petals felt very real indeed.

Just as he was about to mount Lilith's perpetually willing thighs, Polly interrupted. "Aren't you going to give her a kiss?"

Although he found the idea silly, Maytag played along and bent down to greet the gates. At that moment, the scientists of Totally Real Industries knocked Maytag's brain around like a tether ball. Like fire racing through dried underbrush, the stimulus burned through his nostrils. The smell of perfume within the front doors of a department store, the aroma of garlic sauteing in olive oil, even movie theater popcorn could not have been more recognizable.

Instinctively, Maytag leaped at the source of it, and its authenticity wasn't found wanting for proximity. He kissed, he licked, and he inhaled deeply. There was no doubt at all in his feral behavior. Maytag smelled pussy.

"I see you like the Totally Real Girl Gel," said Polly. "That's new. Only $19. 99 for a bottle. We'll include free sample packets with the dolls starting next month."

Too involved to respond, Maytag shimmied on top of Lilith and slipped inside. Their union was wet and slippery. Maytag glided in and out effortlessly.

Maytag squeezed Lilith's breasts, pushed them together, and massaged them. Although they did not flow and move as easily as a woman's breast, they did give way to his touch. Completely engrossed with his new toy, Maytag paid Polly no attention until he felt her hand on his lower back, and the slight push against his ass. By then it was too late, and the slight push gave way to invasion.

"What the...?" Maytag looked back to see Lilith's tail snaking out from under the doll, arching over the back of his legs. Polly took hold of it and guided the tip into his ass.

"Relax," Polly said to Maytag, "Lilith is just saying hello. That's ok, isn't it?"

Maytag nodded. The bulge of the silicone tail just inside his ring pushed against the root of his erection. Just as the slick skin of Lilith's slit gave his cock shape, the push inside gave form to the internal extent of his organ. Maytag was aware of the entire length of his shaft, inside and out, hard as ivory, ready to burst.

Polly worked the tip of the tail entirely into Maytag's ass. He could feel it in the back of his throat. He opened his mouth to relieve the pressure, but not even air escaped. Instead, orgasm ripped through him and a burn coursed through his cock, from head to tail. It was as if his prick was too stiff, rigid to the center, and the semen a stream of hot lava, coursing through his steel shaft. The burn of it was intense. Even after Maytag stopped moving his hips, the spurts continued. He howled.

"Damn, I'm glad they sound-proofed this room," Polly murmured.

FIVE

Most everyone at TRI had gone home for the night. Polly remained in Peter Guma's office, though, as requested. "So what did you tell them?" she asked.

"What do you think?" replied Peter Guma. "I said there really was no break-in and that Donovan had overreacted."

"And they believed it?" asked Polly. She had walked around to behind Peter's chair, and placed one hand on each of his shoulders.

"Sure," Guma scoffed. "They already think he's a fuck-up. I said we encouraged him to take the vacation so that he could settle down a little bit, recharge his batteries, all that shit."

Polly rubbed the stiff muscles running between his neck and shoulders, and he moaned appreciatively. "Did they ask about Chris?" Polly asked as she massaged.

"Ask? They practically came out and said that they thought he broke in. That's where she was, you know: talking to Tully while you were showing Agent whats-his-name a good time."

"Ooo," Polly replied, kneading her thumbs into his upper back, "Is that a little jealousy I hear? I told you I didn't touch him."

"Sure," Peter said, "But you showed him Lilith, for Christsake. They may be feds, but even those fuckwits can put two and two together."

"Well, excuse, me, Pete, I was just doing what you asked. 'Show him around, get him comfortable', I distinctly recall you saying. If I knew you cared that much I would have skipped the doll and fucked him myself."

"Relax, Polly, I'm not blaming you," Peter assured her. "Only now we need to think about what we do next. The city is going to vote on our little tax break this session, and the last thing I need is reporters, and FBI agents, and a lot of bad press, let alone a lawsuit from Chris Tully about his fucking designs."

Polly accepted his apology, and returned to her attempt to massage the troubles from Peter's shoulders. "You still haven't heard from him yet, have you?"

Peter let out a long sigh. "No, and the waiting makes me even more nervous. He stole the drawings, so maybe that's all he cares about. But I doubt it. He probably saw the prototype notes and shit, if he didn't get an actual look at Lilith herself." Polly moved her hands to his chest, and then to his forearms. "Maybe this is a good thing," Peter mused. "Maybe the visit from that FBI hottie will light a fire under his ass. Force him to make a move."

"You think she was a hottie?" asked Polly.

"Ahhh, who sounds jealous now?" asked Peter.

"I'm not jealous," said Polly, "I'm just curious."

"She's attractive," Peter said, "But she's a cop; probably a dyke. I like those good old red-blooded American cock-sucking girls."

"Is that a hint?"

"You could take it that way," said Peter.

Polly did so. She nestled in under Peter's desk, and began to work on sliding his pants over his hips. "They didn't ask about Anna, did they?" Polly asked.

"Anna? Why the fuck did you mention her name? Are you trying to make my dick go limp?"

"No, it's just---"

"Just nothing," Peter interrupted. "No one suspects anything about us, least of all Anna. I'm already fighting her on the Unreal Girls, the last thing I need is a fucking divorce, a proxy battle over the company, and that whole goddamn mess. Jesus."

"I'm sorry," said Polly. Peter loosened his necktie and let out another sigh. "Let me make it up to you," Polly offered.

Polly's idea of reconciliation involved the extensive exploration of Peter's cock and balls with her lips, tongue, and fingers. Although Peter still wore a look of displeasure and worry on his face, the rigidity of his cock gave away his true disposition.

As Polly stroked and slurped, Peter warmed to her attention, and his current problems melted away. The chaotic swirling in his mind yielded to the peaceful liquid pleasure between his legs. He let his concentration drift from scheming to dreaming, and soon it felt as if his whole body was somewhere between Polly's lips. Peter's dick served as a concentrated version of himself, and it was enveloped and exposed again and again by Polly's mouth. It was catharsis through cock-sucking. He closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair, lost in the tranquility of a slow steady blowjob.

"Wake up, Peter. We need to talk."

Peter jerked his eyes open at the sound of the man's voice, and then stared wide-eyed at the handgun that was pointed toward him.

"Chris!" Peter exclaimed. He hesitated for a moment before settling on a strategy. It would have been easier if Polly had stopped sucking his cock. She had stopped, but was now intent on distracting Peter, unaware that a weapon was aimed at his chest.

"I've been expecting you," Peter said. "Why don't you have a seat?"

"I'd rather stand," Chris replied. He stood midway between the desk and the doorway.

"Fine," Peter said. "What do you want to talk to me about, Chris?" Peter wanted to ask him to put the gun down, but he didn't want Polly to panic. Besides, he was actually enjoying the oral sex, especially at the moment. Peter always liked to feel he had the upper hand in meetings with suppliers or banks, and one way he knew he could do it was to be detached from the proceedings, and not let emotions get at him. Polly's lips attached to his prick kept him about a detached from this crisis as he could ever wish to be.

"You know exactly what I want to talk about. You stole my goddamn work!"

"Now, Chris, we paid you for your work. Legally, those are our designs now."

"What a crock! Your designs, my ass! Most of the goddamn people here thought I was some kind of lunatic."

"Well, if you don't want people to think you're a lunatic, this won't help any," Peter replied coolly. At this point, Polly wasn't helping any, either. She had continued sucking unaware of the danger, and Peter's arousal approached near climax. The detachment was becoming more of a destabilizer. Something had to give.

"That's funny, Peter," said Chris as he raised the gun, "Why don't you say that again. I'm the one with the gun, remember."

At that point, Polly gave in and stopped. She froze beneath the desk, with her hand still holding Peter's balls.

"You know the FBI has taken an interest in this now. If you shoot me, they'll figure it out, probably sooner than later."

Chris seemed confused for a moment. Peter thought an armed man in his office was enough trouble, and did not want Chris to feel cornered. He sought to get him talking again.

"How did you get in the building, anyway?" Peter asked.

"Oh, that. When I broke in last time, I stole Polly's keys. That dumb bitch keeps a pair in her desk."

Polly tensed up in anger, and unwittingly squeezed Peter's balls.

"Aaaahhh--" Peter exclaimed in pain. Chris looked even more puzzled. Peter regained his senses. "--Haaa. That stupid little twit." Polly dug her claws into Peter's leg. To his credit, Peter barely grimaced at the pain.

"Is there something wrong, Pete?"

Peter contorted his down-turned mouth as if a lemon wedge were forced into his mouth. "Chris, you have to appreciate what a difficult position I'm in here."

"How's that?"

"Well," Peter paused, "I wanted to back you up on some of your ideas, but when they got out of hand, it was either I lose you or Anna. Losing Anna might mean losing the company. That's just too much leverage going against you, Chris."

"I think I have all the leverage I need right here," said Chris, raising his weapon once again. "Maybe I'll put a couple of holes in your desk, see if I can make you squirm a little in your chair, there."

"No!" yelled Polly. She waved her hands in the air in front of Peter's chest and started to climb out from under the desk.

"What the--" Chris stammered, then shrieked, "Don't move!"

"Polly!" Peter called. He stood up and hobbled closer to her with his pants dropping to his knees.

Chris's adrenaline rush abated and left him highly amused. He laughed loudly. "Well, I'd have to say I have some leverage now, don't I?"

"Drop it, Tully!"

Maytag and Stanton stood just inside the doorway, weapons drawn and aimed at the artist.

No one moved except Stanton, who glided to a flanking position. "Drop the weapon, Tully," she said slowly and calmly.

"This isn't what you think," said Peter Guma.

"He's right," said Tully.

"You want to explain what we see, here, then," asked Maytag, looking around the room at the armed artist, the erstwhile tour guide, and the boss with his pants around his ankles.

Peter and Chris both started to talk, but Polly stopped them both. "Agent Maytag, I think you, personally, can understand that some people have different sexual practices that should remain private, right?"

Maytag suddenly appeared very uncomfortable, and Stanton looked at him, wondering what the hell the woman meant by that.

Polly walked over to Chris Tully and rubbed her hand in his crotch. She continued, "Well, this is just a little fantasy that the three of us have. Isn't that right, Chris?"

"Yeah," Chris said, struggling for something to say while Polly unzipped his pants and took hold of his cock. "That's right. Just our way of patching things up, right, Peter? Ya know, now that you're considerin' rehirin' me and all." Chris lowered his weapon and looked over at Stanton, "Polly here just wanted to help get me back in the Gumas' good graces. A little leverage, y'know?"

"Yes," Peter quickly agreed. "You know how important leverage can be in official matters, Maytag." Peter glared at Polly. "In fact, Chris and I were just bouncing around the idea of a spanking doll. Ya know, one where the buttocks turn a bright red after you slap them a few times."

Silence hung over the office. Stanton looked over the two exposed men, the object of their mutual affection, and her partner, who seemed to know more about these things than he had told her. In fact, everyone seemed to know more than she did.

She looked at the bizarre threesome they had inadvertently walked in on. She felt the strange connection her partner had to all of it. She thought about the work done by Totally Real Industries, the designs that Chris had talked of earlier, and Maytag's revelation that TRI might be manufacturing some of them. It was a real scene, man.

"This is just too much today," she said, lowering her handgun. "I need to get some fresh air."

On her way out, she saw that Maytag seemed frozen in place. She stopped and said, "You can stay if you want, but I need a cup of coffee or something. I'll see you at the hotel."

Maytag looked at Polly massaging Chris Tully's cock as she earlier massaged his. He saw Peter Guma's pants around his ankles and his cock half-stiff. Maytag didn't move until Stanton left the office; and even then he only stayed for about an hour.

End