Index:  Chapter 1     Chapter 2     Chapter 3

Margo basked in the sunshine, her thighs spread wide, enjoying the foot or so of thick cock throbbing inside her.

"I hope this doesn't mean you intend to forgive him", said Ginnie, as archly as possible given that she was busy pleasuring herself with a 'rabbit' vibrator. She gestured with her free hand from across the solarium, her generous tits jiggling merrily.

With an effort, Margo focused enough to smile. It was true that her own cascading waves of orgasmic pleasure were tempting her to excuse Al's previous offenses. And watching Ginnie's bouncing boobies, she was even prepared to forgive her.

To be fair, her friend had been a huge help; but she'd also contributed to Margo's current difficulties, tangentially at least, because she owned 'Naughty Giselle's Boutique' down at the mall. Still, before Al arrived on the scene Ginnie had only teased her from time to time, by showing her some of the shop's various toys and accessories. Back then Margo had been a shy young thing, unable even to bring herself to go inside the place. She was nervous enough just visiting Ginnie's apartment, for fear that yet another new novelty item would be conjured from behind the couch.

But then she'd met Al, and there had been some lovely dinners and romantic walks, followed in time by some seriously hot sex. And it had been Al who'd gradually persuaded her to go beyond what he called 'vanilla' sex (a flavour she was quite fond of, thank you) to experiment with the edgier side. Ginnie had just been there with the discounts.

Margo had always been reluctant, but he was charmingly persuasive. She'd moved up to leather skirts and latex undies (inside the apartment only) when she and Al fell out over something she considered trivial - she'd had coffee with another guy.

After that, she had seen much less of him for a while - he'd said he was working on a project. Then he had turned up with a peace offering ... a fresh kink. It was a DIY latex bodypaint kit. The box had a photo of a smiling model wearing what appeared to be, at first glance, a red latex body suit. On further examination, you could see it was a shiny coating of some sort of rubber paint. Underneath was a picture of a spray gun, and a slightly incoherent message assuring that it 'drying in sixty seconds - to be washable with soap and water'.

She'd been suffering a bit of withdrawal from Al's charms, but still needed some serious foreplay and a good deal of wine inside her before she was ready to go 'all the way' and try it out. However, once he'd begun the process (after donning a rubber apron and gloves), she found it to be quite enjoyable. He started with her back, spraying with smooth even strokes - it was tingly cold for the minute it took to dry. It wasn't until he made his way around to her chest that she could actually see results. It looked better than she'd hoped - a thin layer of material gave her naked body a bright red sheen. Yet it concealed little - when he got to her breasts, for example, you could still see the puffiness and darker shade of her areolas and even the faint crevices at the action ends of her nipples.

Leading the way with caresses, Al sprayed her completely, from chin to waist, before moving back up to her head. With many assurances that it would turn out just fine, he had her sit on a chair and hang her long thick hair over the back. Then he carefully sprayed and combed the stuff through, and massaged it down to her scalp.

After a coating over her ears, he shifted operations down to her feet (she spread her toes for the stuff to dry evenly) and worked his way back up. By the time he got to her groin, she was seriously aroused - actually, she couldn't remember having ever being so excited. He spread her butt cheeks and coated their contours evenly; then had her hold her own legs wide apart so as to spray a layer over her smooth-shaved mound, swollen clit and flower-petal pussy lips. She was already trembling when he abruptly thrust the spray nozzle inside her and gave an extended blast.

Once he'd filled her with a good quantity of latex, he took the nozzle out and pressed his rubber encased fingers in, and began to spread the stuff around (while nibbling on a nipple) ... whereupon she finally came. She was still in the throws when he climbed aboard her slithery body and proceeded to give her a serious fucking.

She screamed through three more-or-less continuous orgasms until passing out ... just after Al began spraying her face to complete the costume.

        ~~~

She woke up stretched flat on her back on the floor of her living room, with her arms at her sides and the sun in her eyes. Groggily she lifted an arm over her face. That was way better - now the sun was just a dim red disk.

Slowly her mind focused. What the fuck, she said ... or rather, she meant to say. Nothing came out - not words, not air. She felt panic, but there was no adrenalin rush, nor the usual pounding heart. No heartbeat at all, actually.

Stunned, she held her translucent hand in front of her face. She was a ghost! Except ... while she had no previous experience being dead, it seemed to her that she should be, well, misty. On the contrary, she was distinctly shiny, just like last night.

She pinched one red hand with the other as hard as she could. It felt real enough, although it didn't hurt.

Abruptly, she jumped up, and found herself launched at the wall. Proof of her solidity was forthcoming, as a picture fell on her impact, while a lamp was knocked over on her wild rebound. For her, if not the furnishings, it was as though gravity had been turned way down.

She sorted herself out and moonwalked (ala Neil Armstrong, not Michael Jackson) over to her full-length mirror. There stood the reflection of her red latex coating ... only the morning sun was shining right through. No bones, no nothing. Clearly she was no longer inside it, even if she was somehow looking out. It resembled a Margo-shaped balloon, with latex hair and even latex eyelashes. Mind, it wasn't an exact copy. It had pneumatically exaggerated boobs and butt, and the neck was longer than before. On the other hand - oddly enough - her freckles had somehow transferred over.

It - she - was wearing a velour tube top that she'd recently bought at cost from Ginnie, which was distinguished by the pair of large holes through which her breasts protruded. The colour was so close to her own that it stood out only by its soft texture against her sheen. The only other thing she wore was a silk collar around her elongated neck, one she'd never seen before, in the same red as the rest. She gave it a little tug - no seam and not enough stretch to pull over her head. She had no idea how it had been put on her.

There was one other addition: on her left shoulder was an inflation valve just like the one on her beach ball. As if this wasn't alarming enough, she was holding her mouth in a perfect O. She clamped it shut in a frown, but it was too late. She'd already seen inside. She'd seen something like it before, when Ginnie had taken inordinate pleasure in showing her what was billed as a heavy-duty sex doll - 'As rugged as your favorite pocket pussy', the packaging had said. And now, behind her teeth (which seemed to be made of the same soft red stuff as the rest of her), was a similar sphincter-like opening. Beyond that, she knew, would be an elastic-walled sack, thick enough not to collapse under her internal pressure and strong enough to take a fair amount of hard service.

Which meant ... she sat down, bent her legs wide into impossible positions, and then folded them behind her head so as to give her clear access to her nethers. Sure enough, the same re-engineering had taken place down there - perfectly reproduced inner and outer pussy lips (plus a plump, oversized clit) all open and welcoming, but backed by that creepy tight aperture that could grip any size of cock.

Al's fetish bodypaint had somehow transformed her into an inflatable sex doll, and she knew her only hope was to beg him to turn her back. But first ... first she had to satisfy an alarming craving that had been building ever since she'd woken. Every touch to her skin (or rather surface) had made her hornier, and now that she was focused on her cunt she needed to get off.

She proceeded to probe and prod for all she was worth. All that fingering definitely took the edge off. But, wonderful as it was, she couldn't quite get over.

After brief consideration, she went into her bedroom and emptied her bottom drawer onto the bed. Then she rummaged through the pile of sex toys Al had given her. Then she hurried back to the mirror carrying 'Black Jacque' - an oversized dildo with a fat testicle-shaped palm grip. Previously, she had only ever rubbed it carefully across her crotch. Now, with a forceful twist, she quickly had the thing's head lodged inside herself. Which was definitely nice.

Then she tried experimentally pulling the thing in deeper. She could feel her inner pouch-pussy stretch as she did, which was even nicer. And - bonus - she could still see it while it was inside her.

Before she knew it, she had Jacque's ballsy hilt mashed against her happy clit. She began to enthusiastically crank it around, and watched it swirl around inside. Occasionally, its bulbous nose would force her belly to bulge outwards, or would push out a mound where her tailbone used to be.

Delightful as this was, no orgasm was forthcoming. She was headed back toward the bedroom for another toy when she noticed the box the bodypaint kit had come in, laying on the table. She stopped and stared, and Black Jacque slipped out of her to land on the floor with a thump.

The lid now featured a cheesy painted image of a big-boobed doll, posed in a clumsy standing position and dressed exactly as she was now. It was a crude but accurate version of her own reflection, right down to her mouth - which, she realized with horror, was again fixed in the open oval expression of surprise she'd first seen in the mirror. From behind the lurid, puffy lips in the illustration winked a reinforced fuck-ring, and she realized that her face would always relax into that position unless she concentrated on it.

In giant red letters, the label said:

      Charlotte the Scarlet Harlot

Then, below, it continued:

             Lifesize Inflatable Sex Toy with Realistic Features

Alongside her picture was a cartoon bubble, in which she was telling her prospective customers:

          I love to be ridden hard! Fuck my firm mouth!

        Fill my plump pussy! Tit fuck my luscious melons!

        Use my tight rosy butt cheeks!

        I'm the horniest babe you'll ever meet!!

She would have blushed if she were able. It was dreadfully, delightfully true.

Finally, at the bottom, were some instructions.

          Inflate to desired pressure - water-based lubricants recommended - clean after use with soapy water. Satisfaction guaranteed!

Well, crap. Maybe, she thought, she should get a grip and call Al to deliver some serious groveling and pleas for mercy. When she tried, she got the extremely unwelcome message that his number was no longer in service. Now she really was screwed.

At a loss, she dialed Ginnie.

Her friend picked up on the second ring. “Hey, girl - how ya doing?”

Margo cursed - silently. After a few moments of dead air, Ginnie said, "Hello? I don't know if you can hear me, but that cell phone of yours has crapped out again. Call me back.”

Once she was sure Ginnie had disconnected, she texted her: <sorry - not able to talk now - literally! - me & al had a fight and now i need ur help - come asap>

The answer came right away. < u didn't piss him off too much, did u?>

<maybe>

<al, aka aloysius, no last name, who you heard was an ex - jesuit? as in excommunicated?? and is now a practicing sorcerer & probably part time necromancer??>

<sorta looks like it>

<i'll b there as soon as i can lock up>

<thx - pls don't freak when u get here - i really really need u - margo>

Once she was sure Ginnie was coming, she went back to trying to take care of her itch. If Jacque couldn't bring her off, it didn't seem likely any of the other toys would. On the other hand, something stretching her was better than nothing.

Her glance fell on an improbably big butt plug. She'd been afraid of it before, but now she thought the thing had possibilities. Not that she actually had a butt hole any more, but ... Sure enough, after a brief struggle, she'd forced the bulk of it into place, with her cunt ring clamped on its neck. It was enough to take the edge off. Plus, now that puppy was in there, there was no way it was falling out on its own.

There was still the matter of her idle mouth. She found the fallen Jacque, and pushed it past her lips. Definitely double the pleasure, she decided. Bolloxy grip in hand, she forced it deeper. When it pressed the back of her neck outward, she paused to savor that odd (but pleasant) sensation; then she tipped back her head and rammed it deep down her throat.

After spending an enjoyable ten minutes churning the thing about, she pulled it out and examined it. Even on the outside, Jacque had never failed her before, but now...

Maybe, she decided, the Iceman could do it. Yet another toy she hadn't actually tried out, the frozen liquid-gel dildo promised fresh, if frosty, sensations. She tossed the disgraced Jacque aside and went through to her kitchen to fetch the thing out of the freezer.

        ~~~

The door was unlocked, which struck Ginnie as odd but not necessarily a bad thing. Margo's text had been seriously disturbing, though, so she stepped in carefully and called her friend's name. No response - only a faint beeping. Not so good. Nearby, on the floor, lay a D-007 phallus in black. Definitely not good. It wasn't like Margo to leave incriminating toys around. And into said category fell the empty box over by the couch. ' Charlotte ' wasn't one of her lines. She wondered where Margo would have got it - and why.

Nervously, she followed the beeping to its source. It was the refrigerator, complaining that its door had been left open. Or, more exactly, jammed open by a life-sized inflatable doll standing rigidly with one arm in the freezer compartment. Presumably this was the Charlotte doll - but what it was doing propped in the fridge was anybody's guess.

Ginnie pulled the thing clear so she could shut the door - not so much in the hope of keeping Margo's milk from going off as to make the annoying beeping stop. The doll was light enough to tuck under her arm; she took it back to the living room and stood it against the wall in the sunshine. The thing was far more sophisticated than the crude one she'd teased Margo with. She had catalogue items with similarly lifelike sculpting, but they were expensive things solidly build of thick silicon over armatures of carbon fiber. More like robots, really.

Unusually for an inflatable, ' Charlotte ' had subtle detail, right down to its hands and feet - and face, if you ignored the hokey open-mouthed expression ... finally, she noticed it also had an uncanny resemblance to Margo. No wonder, she thought, that the poor girl had been freaked out. Then, as she watched, the thing slid down the wall and folded up into a particularly pitiful - and human - position, with its arms wrapped around its knees and its face buried.

The doll sat like that and trembled for a bit, while Ginnie edged away from it. Then it abruptly lifted its head. Its blank eyes seemed to stare straight at her, and its mouth was now pressed into a wistful half smile.

“Margo?”

The doll nodded.

“Oh my God! It is you, isn't it?”

A shrug, and then Ginnie got the hint. She dug Margo's i-pad out of a desk drawer, switched it on and dropped it in the lap of her unfortunate friend.

Margo began to type: <i was so scared!! i thought i was stuck like that - as charlotte, forever! > She shuddered.

“It was sorta like you thawed out in the sun. You should maybe stay outa the fridge.”

That earned a hard stare, but then Margo seemed to reflect a moment, and typed, <i woke up this morning in the sunshine .>

“Best we keep you warm, then. Um. Why Charlotte ?”

<charlotte is real name - always hated it, so i use middle name - margaret - never told al - now i can't get hold of him - he's vanished.>

“I know - I tried too, before I left the shop.” Ginnie sat down next to the re-minted Charlotte and then reached down to touch the oversized, joke butt plug in what could be considered a familiar sort of way. “Did he do this to you, too?”

Charlotte 's shoulders shook - Ginnie couldn't tell if it was with amusement or grief. <i did it - i'm so randy now - like all the time! - i can't get enough - and i can't seem to cum -- ginnie, i need it so bad!>

Ginnie wrapped her arm around Charlotte 's shoulders. She was surprised at how pleasant the latex skin felt. “Can I help?”

A little nod . <yes, pls. >

The last time they had sex together had also been the first time. Although Ginnie was avowedly bisexual, Margo had needed a good deal of tequila under her belt (and a bit of friendly teasing) before being persuaded to help test drive Ginnie's latest product - a top quality, flexible, double-ended wang.

The evening had ended to their mutual satisfaction - although at two feet in length, the toy wasn't seriously practical - and they'd agreed they had to do it again soon. But that had been two months before; Ginnie assumed that sober reflection had changed her friend's mind. Well, perhaps it had, but now ... well, that model 24-4-2 dildo should still be in the bedroom.

“I'll be right back,” she said, then jumped up and hustled to check. Yes! There it was, among the selection of multicolored sex toys spread out on the bed. Poor Margo, she thought; then she quickly stripped, before scooping up the double-ender. When she returned, Charlotte was already on her back with her legs pulled wide and the butt plug unplugged.

Ginnie had intended to experiment with some tongue work, but Charlotte was clearly desperate for the main course. There was nothing to do but oblige, although technically she herself wasn't quite ready. Even so, the long toy slid into her cunt easily. She held the weight of the cumbersome thing inside herself with both hands and grinned. There was something like eighteen inches hanging between her legs.

Charlotte would have licked her lips in anticipation, except for the difficulty of no longer having a tongue. She settled for waving her feet in circles and humping her bum up and down. When Ginnie pushed the free-end knob into her, she shuddered with pleasure.

Both of them were surprised to find how much wang Charlotte could accommodate - which was essentially all the rest of it. It looked quite spectacular in there - it was up behind her shirt, but the tip would sway into view through the window of one, then the other, of her see-through breasts. The thing occupied so much volume that her increased internal air pressure made an outie out of her innie; but unlike her belly button, her mouth pouch was evidently designed to resist that fate. Nonetheless her tits expanded and, spectacularly, so did her nipples - as well,  Charlotte suspected, as her head.

After a substantial amount of wang thrusting, and of clit grinding around the shaft of the thing, Ginnie had to take a rest break. She collapsed on top of her pillowy friend, having cum twice. But ... “Um. How was it for you?”

Charlotte smiled and shrugged - as best she was able, being pinned (in several senses) to the floor.

“Oh, sorry,” said Ginnie, and rolled over.

As they were still connected, the result was that Charlotte finished up on top. However, her own weight wasn't nearly enough to offset the tension in her stretched pussy-pouch, so she bounced back up along the shaft inside her. She reached equilibrium supported by about a foot of wang between her and her friend.

Without meaning to, Ginnie laughed out loud. “Sorry,” she repeated, as she brought the dildo to the vertical with one hand and passed up the nearby i-pad with the other.

The slight extra weight of the device caused Charlotte to slide back down a wee bit, and she trembled with pleasure. < that was really great!!! but i didn't cum - that prick al must have fixed it so i need the real thing - but how do i get fucked???'>

“I think I got an idea. My brother Dave is back in town. Have you ever met him?”

A head shake - no.

“Good - then he won't recognize you. Wait right there while I call him.”

Charlotte waggled her legs and smiled - like she could go anywhere. She watched as Ginnie carefully used her free hand to tip the end-table enough for the cell phone to slide into her grip.

“Heya, Davey - how's it going? Good, good ... nuthin' happening? Me neither ... listen, could ya do me a favor? Only I've got in a new line of dolls to check out ... Yeah, I know ... Yeah, you were right to refuse, before, the last one was crap ... Well of course it's still in the shop, no one will buy it ... No, really, this one is like a hundred times more lifelike. But I need be able to say that a guy I really respect and trust - no names, natch - to say that this guy has tested the thing and approves ... Well, nowish, actually - I'll bring her, uh, it right over ... Yeah, get right on it, ha ha, but keep it as long as you like - I want a fully informed opinion. You know, durability and stuff ...  Thanks, bro, yer a sweetie. Ciao!”

She looked up at Charlotte . “Okay - its all set. Remember, he has no idea about Al's existence, far less what he's capable of. He thinks you're ... well, inanimate. So if you want to get fucked tonight, don't let him find out otherwise and scare the crap out of him. Let's roll!” After disconnecting themselves, Ginnie added, “There's no way you're riding in the car like that.”

Charlotte lifted up one of her long coats questioningly.

“I'd still see through your bright red head, fer fuck sakes!”

Charlotte shrugged and pointed at a pair of sunglasses and hat near the front door.

“Even if it worked - which it probably wouldn't - how do I deliver you to Dave like that? Just say, 'Here's the love doll I told you about - I just thought I'd get her ready for your date tonight'? Nah, sorry - you gotta go in yer box.”

It took a moment for that idea to sink in, and then Charlotte backed away, her hands in up front of her in the international Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! signal.

"Ya wanna get laid or not?" asked Ginnie. "Don't worry. If Al wanted you to be permanently froze, you already would be." And with that, she gently pulled the plug out of Charlotte 's shoulder valve.

For Charlotte , the sensation was understandably unusual. As, with a faint hiss, she deflated into a puddle of material on the floor, bits of her began touching other bits they never could have before. When Ginnie began to fold her up (shirt and all), this was even more noticeable - she was pretty sure her left big toe was mashed against her right cheek. It took several attempts to get her to fit in the box - her two fuck-pouches were bulky because of their reinforced structure, and needed to be packed side by side. At one point, her collar slipped half way over her mashed head, before Ginnie stuffed it back down again. So that's how it was done, she thought.

        ~~~

Once packed, she found that it was quite relaxing being bundled in her box. For one thing, the need for immediate cock had eased; plus, whereas time had passed slowly while she'd lain face first in the frozen peas, now she sort of dozed in and out, like that time she'd got the good drugs at the dentist. She remembered surfacing to hear car doors slamming, and then again when she was delivered to Dave. It seemed as though only a few minutes had passed when her lid was removed, and warm lips were forcing hot air into her core. That was exiting - she came at long last, twice, and had to struggle to force her body to relax into its default doll position.

Once she had been inflated until her collar and rude shirt were snug again, he leaned her against the wall, just like his sister had (except for parking her in a sunbeam), then sat down and stared at her. Fine, she thought, and proceeded to case him out. He was good looking - Ginnie better have a good excuse for not introducing him ages ago. There was obviously no sign of a girlfriend around the place.

After a full minute, he shook his head and muttered, "I don't know how Ginnie talks me into this shit. Too real is almost as creepy as half alien, like that last doll she wanted me to test. It's not as though I never get any dates. You, ' Charlotte ', can wait 'til after dinner." With that, he got up and left the room.

Hey , thought Charlotte . I don't have to put up with that kinda crap. Only, she realized, she would - and not only for the prospect of another orgasm. She'd cooled off since she'd been re-inflated, and there seemed to be a window open somewhere. She'd frozen up again. You'll never get a date if they find out you talk to blow-up dolls, she thought, sulkily.

When Dave finally showed up again, though, she was inclined to forgive him. His shirt was off and he looked thoroughly embarrassed, but he was clearly determined to carry out his assignment. He tucked her under one arm and carried her to the sanctuary of his bedroom - and sure enough, there was the open window. Having laid her on his bed, he studied her again, but this time it was more a question of deciding his approach. Eventually, he nodded, and then took off his pants and boxers. She was pleased to note that his cock was bigger than Al's was - which, she had to admit, was as much revenge as she could hope for under the circumstances. And, so far, Dave's dong was only faintly interested. He broke out some lube - which Ginnie had, no doubt, helpfully tucked into the box - and began to prepare himself. Luckily, Charlotte currently had no need of foreplay.

Once ready, Dave finally had a go at posing her, spreading her legs wide and lifting them onto his shoulders. Then at last, with a faint air of distaste, he drove his cock home. The look of surprise on his face was a joy to Charlotte - although not as much as finally getting the stimulation that Al had forced her to crave. She came almost immediately, and although still frozen, she felt her pussy pouch begin to massage its meaty contents. His eyes opened wide, and through her haze of steady-state orgasm, she watched him try to puzzle out what was happening. "Kinetic springs," he muttered, before giving way to his own lust.

He proceeded to give her the hard ride she'd formally asked for on her box lid. Once or twice, she was a little afraid of exploding, but trusted Al to have intended her to last like this forever. When Dave eventually came, her vibrating vagina-simulator brought him back within moments. Gasping for breath, he pulled his reanimated tool free, and considered his next move. Deciding, he flipped her over and folded her into a kneeling crouch position. Charlotte , briefly lucid again as she anticipated his reentry, felt her nipples stretch as her internal air pressure increased slightly. She wondered how he supposed a simple blow-up doll could be made to hold any position like this - short of magic, of course. And then he was inside her again, hands gripping her hips and pounding hard from behind, and she gratefully launched into another mega-cum.

After, he had enough left to rotate her around and fuck her face. His urgency had subsided; it was a slow fuck, and he held her almost tenderly. Once he'd cum again, he eased free and collapsed on his back beside her. As her own orgasm subsided, she though he might nod off to sleep, but he roused himself and got up. Then he picked her up - she'd toppled on her side, although she held the doggy crouch she'd been left in - and lugged her into the bathroom. There he climbed in the tub with her, and then showered both himself and her - flushing her top then bottom with the shower wand, before leaving her there to dry.

The hot spray had thawed her, and she had to remember her promise to Ginnie not to startle him by moving. In any event, not being able to talk would complicate explaining herself. Not that 'Hi, I'm Margo's soul trapped in your doll, pleased to meet you,' would likely have gone far in that regard, anyway. She considered poking around in the kitchen, or something, but knew she would probably cool down before she could get back; and anyway, she was perfectly comfortable where she was.

        ~~~

The next morning Dave came in for a pee. Then, to her dismay, he pulled out her shoulder plug and proceeded to deflate her. Carrying her draped loose over his shoulder, he squeezed out the last puffs as he took her down the hall to her box on the kitchen table. Like his sister, it took him several tries to get Charlotte to fit, but then the lid was on and she was back in the drifting fog. She heard doors slam, and a car engine start; and then another slam, although she had no idea how much time had passed between. Then the tinkle of a small bell, and muffled voices.

"Good? It was great! That was the problem. If I keep her any longer, I'll start talking to her ... more. Sorry, Ginnie, I've got to look up Wendy - I need someone alive."

"Isn't she the one who didn't want commitment? The one who only wanted to see you for rough..."

"Exactly. I'll call you on the weekend."

And then Charlotte felt the warmth of breath entering her. She didn't cum this time, but it was a near thing.

Once her bung was in, Ginnie poked her to test her pressure. "That seems about right."

She looked around and recognized the back room of the Naughty Giselle's Boutique. The clock on the wall said 12:30 - presumably of the same day, although she couldn't be sure.

"Well," said Ginnie, "That didn't go as well as I expected. Still, you got laid. And I got another idea. Some frat boys called this morning, wanted a doll. I'll substitute you for 'Vinyl Vickie' here, and tell 'em I've upgraded them to a better model - one week rental at the same price."

That sounded promising.

 
Chapter 2

"Tell all about what happened with Dave," said Ginnie, AKA Naughty Giselle (having bought her shop from the previous Naughty Giselle, who was not the real Naughty Giselle either. The real Giselle had been retired fifteen years and living like a queen in Rio).

 So Charlotte the Harlot, until quite recently known as Margo, told her everything from the beginning - using the shop computer's word processor. She told about how fun it had been when Al (okay, Aloysius the Terrific) had spray-painted her with that weird red latex stuff, and about the nasty shock she'd got the next morning. Shocked, but not nearly as concerned as she knew she should be - she was pretty sure Al had fucked with her mind somehow. Knew it, actually, what with the whole cum-lust thing, which wasn't so bad while she was packed up in her box. Time got a bit fuzzy in there.

As requested, she also detailed the action with Dave, right up to the morning wood she'd missed out on because he'd been so keen to get shed of her. When she reached the point, fifteen minutes back, where she'd been re-inflated in the sex-toy shop, Ginnie said, "How ya feeling now?"

  Charlotte spun around in her chair. She'd been typing hunt-and-peck with one hand; the other was firmly lodged in her pussy-pouch. She shrugged and gave Ginnie a 'what do you think?' look.

"Okay - listen, those collage kids will take care of you real soon. Right now - well, you've got me worked up a bit, too. I've got the shop closed for lunch, so we've got some time play. We'll take the edge off for both of us," she nodded an invitation towards a futon conveniently located in an alcove - a stockroom love nest. "And then we'll get you back in your box."

  Charlotte 's eyes widened at the mention of deflation.

 "Well, you did say it was easier to cope with your, um, urges, when you were tucked up in there, right? Okay, then. Let's get started."

  ~~~

She could as well have been an hour in her box, but she knew it was probably the weekend when she felt lips on her shoulder valve and warm breath flooding through her. After the welcome orgasms subsided, she managed to focus and found herself stretched on her back on a dining room table, in what looked like an old house … with not one but two young guys leaning over her. There were some cheap streamers taped to the walls, indicating that a party was imminent, or possibly had limped through recently.

 "Fuck me, Gary! Did you see the way she shuddered when I blew her up? Like she was coming?"

 "Ha! It did, at that. Must be some sort of baffling inside. Man, this doll looks anatomically correct! Well, except for its …"

 "Yeah, and her pussy's exactly the same inside."

 "So it is. But otherwise…"

 "Cool, isn't it?"

 "Yeah. But Carl, the thing is - and I want to be clear about this - the thing is, we sent you out with just enough cash to get one of those goofy dolls with the seams and the painted-on faces …"

"Sure, but the babe at the sex shop, Giselle, said she was fresh outa that kind. But she said, no problem, she could rent us this new improved style for cheap - she wrote it up as a promotional deal."

 "You realize that if the guys get drunk enough tonight, they may actually try to fuck this thing …"

 "Hell, if I get drunk enough, I might fuck her. Look - she's even got freckles!" Charlotte was all for that, especially since the boy speaking - Carl - had been the one to blow her (as it were).

 "And supremely fine titties," said Gary , kneading the anatomy in question. She decided that he was welcome to fuck her, too. Of course, as she was all too aware, everyone was welcome to fuck her. And once somebody finally did fuck her, she would enjoy only a brief moment of post-coital bliss, after which she would again be hungry for cock. At any rate, there was some hope of getting laid that night, unless real girls showed up. A glance around at the décor suggested she was probably dealing with engineering students, so happily competition was a fairly low risk.

It wasn't until they set out on a quest for pizza that she was able to scramble off her table top (an awkward process owing to the whole slippery-skin thing). Then with one hand groping her stretchy nethers she launched her own quest - a search for something suitably phallic. The only objects that were up to measure (so to speak) were the various liquor bottles jumbled on a sideboard. A quarter-full jug of Absolut did duty for a while (the sloshing providing an added turn-on), until she lit her eyes on an empty bottle still hiding behind the couch. She wasn't really a tequila drinker (or rather, hadn't been, pre-doll - excepting that time Ginnie seduced her), so she'd never come across AsomBroso before. The container was not subtle. It could only be described as wang-shaped … a cock-and-balls combo, really. She fellated the fat stopper for a while, and then felt an overwhelming urge to put the whole bottle inside herself. Thanks to Al, she'd become a genuine sex toy. Her whole body was a receptacle, or rather two of them: a brace of cunts needing to be filled. Preferably with hot, pulsating cock, but in a pinch ….

 Only a residual bit of vanity prevented her from cramming the entire thing into her head. Not a problem - she exchanged bottles, top for bottom, and then sat down on the corner of a chair to drive the bulbous base of the tequila container completely inside her stretchy bottom. There was a distinct 'shloop' sound as the rubber ring which was mounted just inside her realistic pussy lips clamped shut.

 Well, she thought, as she shoved the neck of the vodka bottle in her mouth. That's nice. Not that there was any of that delightful in and out going to happen down below anytime soon. Plus there was the new difficultly of figuring out how she was going to get the bottle out bere the boys got back. And in any case, the only thing that would actually get her over the top was man-meat (or even, as it turned out, hot man-breath). Still …

In the event, she finished up spending the better part of an hour laying frozen on her side, having in her lust failed yet again to notice a chilly draft. When the guys got back and found she'd moved, they immediately realized what had happened.

 "Check it out," said Gary . "There's a vodka bottle in its throat. That cunt Roger's been here. "

 "What a perv," agreed Carl.

 "Extremely. See in its belly? I think it's that kinky tequila bottle that was lying around here. Look - you can even make out the label."

 "The fucker! How we gonna get that out of her pussy?"

"Can't you get your fingers in there? You told us you were good at that sort of thing."

 "Ha ha. Listen, there's nothin' to get a grip on. The bottom's almost round."

 "Trust Roger. Just pry its cunt open as wide as you can, and I'll step on its chest. The bottle should pop right out."

 "It fuckin' better," grumbled Carl. "That crazy woman at the sex shop made me leave my driver's license as security."

 "Whoa! Look at that thing fly!"

 "Wait - where's the big knob-shaped bung?"

 "Where do you think? Reach in and get it."

 "Yeah, yeah, okay. God, this bitch is tight. How the fuck did that dickhead force a bottle in her? She's cutting off the blood flow to my hand."

 "Just think what it will do to your cock tonight."

 "If I get pissed enough."

 "Well, golly, I can't remember the last time I saw you inebriated. Wait - it was two days ago. All that liquor and weed has fucked up my memory, too."

 "Got it. Whew!" Carl had, indeed, recovered the glass stopper, having pulled it free in his closed fist.

  Charlotte hadn't appreciated getting stomped. Not that it hurt, only she had no idea if she'd be durable enough to stand up to it. But Carl's groping afterward provided a stimulating dose of man flesh. It was more than sufficient to do the job - she came for the first time since he had re-inflated her, hours before. Frozen as she was, her ersatz pussy clamped down hard enough to leave him with a reddened welt. She was beginning to like this boy.

 Her current love interest rubbed his wrist and looked at her thoughtfully.

~~~

The party, such as it was, started two hours later. There were a dozen frat boys altogether (including Roger-the-Perv, who denied everything). Each of the twelve claimed to have invited six girls, as agreed. Apparently, each had invited the same six. In the event, there were five, three of whom quickly remembered urgent appointments elsewhere. The two remaining girls both had self-image problems, the one believing she was too skinny, and the other that she was too ample. The boys were all shallow enough to agree, but horny enough nonetheless to ply them with bourbon during a session of strip-go. Over the next hour the seriously outnumbered girls slowly shed their inhibitions, along with their clothing; whereupon all parties agreed that the first was gamin, like Audrey Hepburn or maybe Audrey Tautou, while the second was Rubenesque - Mia Tyler, say. There was common excitement when it became clear that both were willing to get laid - then depression when they paired off with the two most presentable guys, demurely claiming they were only prepared to do one lucky gentleman (each, of course.) Spirits rose sometime later when it was discovered that they seemed unaware of substitutions - 'Audrey' continued whimpering, "Do me again, Jack" all evening, although no one (including her first partner) was named Jack.

As for Charlotte , she'd been snickered at and groped, at first; but then the real girls had arrived, and she had been unceremoniously dumped in a dark corner. From there, she moped and watched the proceedings. The first couple of couples had coupled privately, in separate bedrooms off the nearby hallway. The others had punished the extensive selection of grog, and then the boldest had slipped away to sneak peeks at the increasingly audible action ("Ohhh, Jack! Yes!"). When these adventurers had not returned, two line-ups had started in the hall.

 By then, it had long since been warm enough in the room for Charlotte to un-freeze. When the opportunity finally presented itself, she crept stealthily over to where one of the stragglers had collapsed in an overstuffed chair to doze. She was pleased to find that it was her designated sweetie Carl.

 Soon Carl woke up to find that one of his comrades - Dave, no doubt - had apparently pulled his cock out of his jeans (Carl's cock, that is, not Dave's) and stuffed Charlotte's head onto it. Which should have been both embarrassing and annoying … except that the fuck-doll's mouth not only gripped his junk (as might have been expected, given his previous experience), but somehow seemed to be able to massage him in there as well. He became somewhat noisy about it, which got the attention of those at the ends of the hallway queues. After mocking the gasping freak who obviously couldn't wait his turn with the real thing, they took in the sight of the invitingly realistic (if see-through and red) posterior of the kneeling blow-up doll. A few dares were exchanged, and then, feeling he had nothing to loose, the guy at the very back of Mia's line-up unleashed his own desperately impatient cock and filled the breach.

 With action at both ends, Charlotte was now free to writhe in the throws of a 'double the pleasure' train of orgasms - no one would guess she hadn't been set in motion by their two comrades.

 Between the exaggerated bouncing of the doll, and the amazed groans of her second suitor, several more guys changed their allegiance and re-queued for a turn with, as they supposed, the warm-up act.

 They had a bit of a wait. What they took to be the selfishness of the first two doll molesters ("Hey Carl, turn's over, man!") was in fact greed on Charlotte 's part - she had a firm grip on both cocks. She would actually have preferred to pace herself, in order to prolong her orgasmic evening, but she knew the stamina of the dozen available boys had limits, and that her competition would use them up if she didn't. Indeed, she suspected that the reason Mia wasn't squealing along with her friend was that she'd begun doubling up on lovers. The horrified thought crossed her mind that, technically, the girl might even be simultaneously wearing out three at once. Charlotte couldn't compete on that score, but she certainly wasn't going to let go of anyone before she'd milked him dry.

 Once the first guys had managed to extract their drained dongs from her, she was obliged to hold her last pose - a sort of wheelbarrow-race spread. She couldn't quite suppress her ecstatic aftershocks, but nobody seemed to notice.  Nor did they seem to mind the copious cum she could feel draining away in two milky flows onto the floor. Apparently, among the frat house residents, sloppy seconds were a minor detail, because the next two in line were eagerly moving into position. The first flipped her face up, and stepped in between her legs to dock his dick. The other tipped her head way back, and drove his cock well down into where her throat used to be.

 "Check out Larry's tool," said the guy fucking her upper cunt. "Ya can see it in there - his knob is somewhere behind that collar the thing's wearing!"

  Charlotte was back on the train to bliss.

It had to end eventually, of course, when once the boys were all shagged out. Having finally recovered his cock from her pussy's grip, her last paramour rather ungratefully replaced it with the end of a broom handle, and then hoisted her currently spread-eagled body high and marched her across the living room like a captured triumph. Having then propped her in the corner, he promptly collapsed to sleep it off, while she was left to watch as the real girls received considerably better treatment. Taking some care not to kill the golden goose, or rather geese, the last two boys still standing cleaned their groggy guests up with just enough friendly groping to maintain their serenely satiated states. Then the guys restored their clothes (less their panties) as best they were able - much giggling ensued - and ordered them a cab. Given that some waiting was then required, the four settled onto the couch for some relaxed post-orgy play.

 Although Charlotte found the broomstick pleasant enough, her own orgasmic high was already wearing off. And she knew that when these guys finally woke up, they might brag about scoring with the girls, but they would almost certainly all pretend that their time spent luvin' the fuck doll never happened. Which meant that she would be spending her next few days at the frat house as a shunned trophy on a pole ... at least until Carl remembered where his driver's license had gone. But maybe, she thought, there could be a chance to escape sooner. She reached down to grip the broom, and pushed her light body up and off - now resembling nothing so much as a monkey-on-a-stick. Throwing herself free, she landed behind the couch, with the broom landing silently on top of her. The next step involved creeping around the edge of the room, gathering up suitable bits of clothing.

A crumpled shirt and sweater soon covered her tube top and see-through tits. Glancing back at the couch, she met the drunken gaze of Audrey. Fuck, she thought, busted! But then Audrey said, "God, yes, Jack!" and she realized that the girl was astride her current Jack's lap, her skirt hiding all but his bare knees. Charlotte winked at her, and launched into a bare-assed commando crawl down the hall, where she scored a pair of trousers, plus an extra bonus: a wallet and cell phone. Then she crossed into the hall closet, where she found a major overcoat and, in a box at the back, the final needful things - gumboots, gloves and scarf, and a disreputable hat. Once suited up, she skulked out of the closet and across to the pizza-box laden kitchen. She was ready - if anything went wrong, they would, with any, luck blame Roger.

 After a longish wait (passed with the help of a ketchup bottle), she heard the cab honk. She waited until the front door opened, then launched herself outside from the kitchen. She'd guessed right - earlier, she'd watched as the boys had prompted the girls to remember their addresses, which they'd then written on envelopes. And now, the girls had been sent out alone. She caught up just in time to jump into the front.

 The driver had been on service calls to the college frat houses before, but never to this one. So, the engineers have finally got lucky, he thought, as the two pretty (but dishevelled) girls poured themselves into the back. As was usual (at least for the other, more popular houses) each had a cash-filled envelope with delivery instructions in hand. And then the passenger door beside him flung open, and a bulky form jumped in. He was a little surprised, but the coat failed to completely disguise this last girl's ample chest and bum. Another one - these doofuses were finally on a roll. She turned to stare at him through oversized Ray-Bans, and pushed an empty pizza box at him. On the lid, an address was scrawled in felt marker, along with the instruction, "Please turn the heater up high for our friend." Odd enough; but between her low-brimmed hat and high wrapped scarf were glimpses of shiny crimson skin.

 Possibly, he thought, these guys were into clowns - which, even in his trade, was a kink that was novel to him. However, his company offered full discretion - the motto in the advert read: "What happens in a Blackbird stays in the Blackbird". And the tips were correspondingly good. Indeed, the silent clown-girl held out a gloved fist full of cash (which, as it happened, she had liberated from the wallet she'd found). Cheered, he turned on the heat and set off to deliver his charges, starting with the slightly unsettling one in the front.

  Charlotte stared out the window into the chilly darkness. The next bit was a little tricky. She'd given the driver the address to Ginny's apartment. All she had to do now was text her friend to let her in when she rang. No problem ... assuming that the cell phone worked, and that Ginny hadn't gone out on the town, and that there weren't any druggies or tramps in the doorway, and that she didn't freeze up stiff before she even reached said doorway. No problem.

Chapter 3

As it turned out, there was a problem. Actually, several problems - starting with the drive over to Ginnie's place. The cabbie had been entertaining ... unfortunately for Charlotte , a little too much so.

As it happened, the driver - Frank - considered this part to be a perk of the job. It was why he always volunteered for these late night frat house runs all the way out to the college. He began, as always, by asking if they'd had fun. Audrey and Mia, having been revived by the cool night air between house and cab, confirmed that they had indeed enjoyed themselves. Meanwhile the red faced clown-girl said nothing.  Perhaps, he thought, she was a mime as well. When she came, did she just open her mouth and do the silent scream thing? That was a scary notion - those engineering guys must be more twisted than he would have credited. Slightly rattled, he moved on to his next standard question. "Was Tony the Pony there?'

Mia bit. "Who's Tony the Pony?"

The cabbie obligingly described the mythical Tony: "Well, that's what they call him - I don't know his real name. Skinny kid, but hung like a horse. Supposed to be a real lady pleaser." Occasionally, there was a boy who met the description, more often not. Either way, the young ladies entrusted to his care usually responded to his Cheerfully Wicked Uncle persona by providing an exciting debriefing of their evening. A few times, he had even received a blow job, but that was just an added bonus. He was all about listening   to their stories.

So was Charlotte - she was getting more and more randy, as the girls gave a garbled account of events and argued over which of several likely candidates was Tony. She fervently wished she'd kept that ketchup bottle tucked inside herself.

She was just about to attack the driver - or at least his gearshift - when he abruptly pulled up to the address she'd provided. It was over a block from Ginny's apartment - even as she'd planned her getaway, Charlotte had suspected that she might be leaving a trail of confusion in her wake, which probably shouldn't lead right to her friend's door. Now, as she hustled down the street, she was beginning to see the flaw in that part of her scheme: her face was partly exposed to the chill night air, and the stolen coat only reached down to her shins. She was cooling rapidly ... she wasn't going to make it. And then, three doors from her destination, her third problem emerged. Just as she'd feared, a man stepped out of a dark alcove.

He turned to face her, and just as she was on the verge of seizing up, she saw that her luck had changed. He was just a local drunk - a guy she'd given spare change to from time to time, before her transformation. And he was still in the act of shaking the last drops off the tip his cock, having peed against the wall.

She dropped to her knees so that her salvation dangled in front of her face. In an instant she had vacuumed his warm tool into her mouth, and in another he was hard. Blessed hot cum was soon flooding her head, elevating her temperature away from the danger zone. It was probably enough, but she felt she should make sure, so she sucked him hard again, and then released him. Before he could react to this new development, she'd spun herself around, tossed up her coat tails and backed her hungry pussy onto his hot shaft. It took a little longer, but he was no match for her specialized snatch. Another load filled her pussy pouch, and warmed her even more.

Of course, she would soon cool again. Clamping her cunt onto his flagging pecker, she duck-walked the pair of them to her friend's door and pushed the buzzer.

"Hello?"

She rapped out a shave-and-a-haircut on the buzzer casing - can't talk, remember?

There was a slight pause while the penny dropped upstairs, and then the door was buzzed open. Charlotte abruptly released the cock she was gripping inside her, and as the fuddled drunk stumbled back onto the sidewalk, she darted inside and closed the door. If he saw her red face or bum, or if he glimpsed his own tool inside her ... well, by morning he'd put the whole thing down to too much drink. In which case, she'd maybe screwed him into a life of sobriety. Could happen, she thought, as she hurried upstairs.

Remarkably enough, there were no further hitches ... other than a lecture from Ginny. It was sort of like that time she'd tried sneaking back into her house as a teen - "Do you realize anything could have happened? You'll just have to spend time in your box, anyway, until we can hook you up with another guy!"

Okay , she thought. Maybe not so much that last part.

Ginny continued in Mother mode - or, perhaps more accurately, 'Madame' mode: "Poor baby. You look like you've been rode hard and put away wet. Have a hot shower and then tell me all about it."

Charlotte was seriously hot and bothered, again, by the end of her shower. With i-pad in front of her, she proceeded to fill Ginny in on her adventures. Luckily, her friend had set her up with her Black Jacque toy. It wouldn't get her over, but once installed as directed its calming influence kept her typing hand relatively free from trembling. When, eventually, she got to the 'Tony the Pony' bit, she stopped mid-story and typed: <does your uncle still have that big black horse on his farm? >

"Midnight? Sure. Why?"

<why do you think? how soon can we go there?>

"This weekend, probably. Now finish that damn story. At least one of us can still cum..." Ginny reached over to take hold of Jacque's lumpy handle (which, being now coated with copious second-hand jism, easily popped free of the doll's pussy with a 'foop') and quickly brought herself off with the thing. After the tale was fully told, she finally addressed the fact that it was the middle of the night. "I've got to go to work tomorrow, sweetie. See you on Saturday." With that, she pulled out Charlotte 's other bung - the one in her shoulder.

~~~

When Charlotte had been re-inflated and had recovered from the resulting orgasm she found herself, as promised, in a stable.  Which, she was pleased to see, contained "that big black horse" she'd recalled. Even in the pre-Al days, back when she'd been a shy (and real) girl, Midnight had given her a thrill ... although she would never have admitted it. She had no idea how much time had passed, although she recalled having been submerged in the bathtub for a wash. Then she'd been folded over backwards and hung on the shower rail so that her ass was touching her head - or would have, if she'd been inflated. The next day she'd been packed into her box, and after that time sort of lost meaning for her.

"Hey, there," said Ginnie. "It's Saturday!" She failed to mention which Saturday, although she provided a hint: "It took me a while to line everything up. First I set up a swap with Uncle Doug and Auntie Jill to get them out of the way for a weekend - sometimes they stay in my apartment while I look after the farm. I always hide my toys, but not very well - I think they like to play with them. Then I arranged to borrow a teaser mare from the ranch across the road - I used to help Uncle Doug with that sort of thing. So the deal with that is we gotta freeze some of Midnight's semen for trade. I presume you won't mind collecting some. Anyhow, here we are."

She waved her arm around the place, and then went over and led Midnight out of his stall with a simple rope looped on his neck. The horse was snorting and Charlotte could see that he was ready to go - as evidenced by his bouncing yard. He was fitted with what looked like a tiny saddle, with ... Aha! she thought. The pommel is wang-shaped. This went some way to explaining why Ginnie was wearing a cowgirl's hat and boots, a red checkered scarf, a leather vest, plus fringed leather chaps ... but no shirt or trousers.

"So here's the plan ..."

But Charlotte had her own plan. Midnight's cock was daunting, but her newly acquired lust (plus a confidence in her elastic abilities born of recent experience) propelled her forward. She swung herself under the creature and nuzzled his apparatus. Lacking a tongue, she simply slid her stretchy lips along its surface. Although technically she relied on others for lubricating fluids, her shiny surface needed little more than a borrowed sheen of sweat to grease the way. While she was occupied, Ginnie thoughtfully tied her friend's long latex hair in a bun for her.

Midnight was beginning to get seriously agitated, and frankly, so was Charlotte . She needed elevation, and some way to brace herself. Looking around, she saw that Ginnie had been way ahead of her - a nearby hay bale had been provided with a blanket. No sooner had she scrambled onto her back on the bale, when Midnight was over her. Knees up, she lodged one hand behind her backside to grip the blanket, which left the other free to feed the enormous leathery shaft into her hungry pussy. The effect was immediate. As Midnight thrust, her orgasms began to roll through her. Grinning madly, it was all she could do to absorb the wonderful onslaught - at each full stroke his cock stretched and penetrated her neck (throat band included) and up into her head. She suspected that, flapping arms and legs notwithstanding, she then resembled a huge red condom.

"Use the handles! Use the handles!"

Ginnie was calling out something, something about ... handles? Dimly, she registered the loops on the lower part of the harness. She transferred her grip and found she could easily support herself under Midnight, with the creature's cock still deep inside her. Then it registered, barely, that Ginnie was leading the horse - and her - out the barn door into the sunlight. And when her friend swung herself aboard, she guessed that the three of them were in for a wild ride.

Ginnie, on the other hand, knew they were. She had used her Ponyback Pleasure Platform (patent pending) a few times before, but always under controlled circumstances. Or as controlled as possible, given that the thing was little more than a strap-on dildo mounted on a weensy padded base (and using appropriately longer straps). At least on those previous occasions, she had used a bridle, and not merely a rope looped over the beast's neck; also, the horse hadn't been in a state of lustful frenzy, nor had it had an extremely motivated, horse-sized pocket pussy mounted on its yard.

Sure enough, they were soon galloping over an expanse of meadowland behind the ranch. Ginnie was getting the full bareback experience - hot muscled, hair-covered flesh roiling between her wide stretched bare thighs - plus the added pleasure of deep, and unpredictable, penetration. As for Charlotte , the rampant horse-cock was pistoning steadily inside her - what wasn't to like? The constant lashing from tall grass (and the occasional nettle) simply added to the fun. Occasionally, she would tip her head back to see where they were going next - it was an extra rush to see oncoming obstacles from upside down, just before Midnight leapt clear of them: bushes, streams, fences and startled picnickers all looming up abruptly, and disappearing again just as suddenly. She tried to imagine the sight they were presenting to anyone who was lucky enough to get a glimpse of them.

Eventually Ginnie managed to get control of her tiring mount. She was sore - although the expensive little saddle (even at wholesale) had protected her nethers from serious damage - and she was lost. She climbed gingerly off of Midnight, and peeked underneath to make sure her friend hadn't been punctured or otherwise damaged. She was reassured by Charlotte 's manic, upside-down grin. There were some stains on her shirt, but otherwise all was well on that front. It took a bow-legged walk up a nearby hillock, leading horse (and doll) along behind, to get a wide enough view to get her bearings. The barn now lay about four miles distant, as the crow might fly. Or for that matter, by way of the country road now visible beyond the hill; but she was aware that her bare and slightly glowing ass would probably be visible to folks driving past - if anyone should happen to glance away from the bright red sex-doll slung underneath her horse.

So it was back the way they'd come, at a much slower pace. After walking a mile or so, Ginnie tried riding again, and found the dildo's penetration so natural - and comfortable - that she wondered with alarm if Charlotte 's curse was rubbing off on her. She probed carefully where her mound was mashed against the heaving saddle, and was relieved to find no trace of rubberization ... just a flattened clit sending happy messages bouncing around her body.

She rode quietly into the barnyard, feeling well fucked, when Dave stepped out the door.

"Hey - it's about time you ... Holy fuck, have you gone around the twist?!"

Busted , thought Ginnie. She was aware that Dave was focused - so far - on the lurid display under her mount's belly. Soon enough, he would notice her juice-soaked saddle. Oh well. May as well brazen it out. "Hey, Charlotte - check out. Dave's come up to visit us. Give him a wave, Honey!" She was rewarded by the stunned expression on her brother's face, just before he sat down hard on the turf.

She rode close enough for him to be face to face with her friend, and then dismounted to crouch beside them. "Sorry Dave, we really planned to break this whole thing to you sooner - and not quite so, um, dramatically."

"But ..." ventured Dave.

"I know - it's impossible. The thing is ... well, the short version is that my friend Charlotte, here, pissed off a magician. And not the 'come-up-on-the-stage-and-my-beautiful-assistant-will-put-you-in-this-box' kind. This guy makes Voldemort look like Santa. So not only is she now a rubber sex doll, but she needs to have it. Well, you saw. Or you shoulda done - she told me she was pretty near to throwing her arms around your neck." As Ginnie spoke, Charlotte let go of the harness loops and held out her arms toward Dave. Most of her was still wrapped around Midnight's cock, so she only tilted an inch or so closer to the ground.

"But..."

"Yeah, well, she needs her i-pad to communicate. But I'm thinking she'd like you to pull her off of there. Did I mention that she told me she loved you?"

"Um. Right."

"Oh! Wow. Bring her into the barn. I need to save some of that spooge for the Bar XY folks."

~~~

Sunday morning found the three of them in the ranch's guest bed. Ginnie and Dave were dreamily cuddling in one another's arms, while Charlotte had been deflated and spread on her back over their legs. She was staring dreamily at the ceiling. The doll had no need of conventional sleep, and by two AM was stealthily depriving the others of theirs. The compromise had been to drop her into her more-or-less dormant state while still letting her share the bed.

"We shoulda done this way sooner," said Ginnie.

"Spend the night fucking together with an animated bimbo sex toy? Or let all the air out of her?"

"Making love. Yes. And as for Charlotte , the bimbo part is new. She used to be quite demure."

"Whatever. I always knew you were hot, but I never thought of you as anything other than my sister. Well, hardly ever, anyhow."

"Mmmm. Me either. You know what I mean. But ... it feels like we were always lovers."

"Yeah," agreed Dave, and he lifted her plump left tit to his mouth and nibbled on her nipple. "Well, that night of 'making love', as Naughty Giselle has just defined it," he said around her ample flesh, "was seriously fuck-a-licious."

Ginnie/Giselle poked him in the ribs. "Don't talk with yer mouth full!" The subsequent squirmathon gradually evolved into another round of friendly fornication.

Some time later, whilst still thrusting gently, he said, "Is Charlotte really stuck like that?"

"Looks like," gasped Ginnie. "We haven't heard squat from the wizard guy - he's probably on a service call to Hell."

"I like her - and she obviously likes us. But ... she really is insatiable, isn't she? I mean, we may need the help of a football team, plus maybe a polo pony stable, to keep her satisfied."

"I could rent her out again ... ooh, yeah, just there ... but I'd worry. It didn't go so smoothly the last time."

"At least we can give her another session with Midnight before we leave."

"Mmmm ... Midnight," agreed Ginnie.

~~~

After breakfast, they re-inflated Charlotte and proceeded to the barn, where it became apparent that thanks to some overhasty and insufficient stall latching, Midnight and the teaser mare had also made a night of it. While Ginnie walked the satisfied mare back home, Charlotte set to work reviving Midnight's libido. Typical male that he was, she soon had him ready; and with Dave's amused assistance, she refitted the rude harness. In moments she had sheathed his eager cock inside herself once more, and was away to the races.

By the time Ginnie got back, Dave had already gone to the kitchen, and had come back with some nachos and beer, plus a hammock he'd found on the porch and redeployed in the barn. The food and brews were balanced on a hay bale, while his shirt and trousers were hung from a nearby nail.

"Hey, sweetie! Climb into this thing with me," he said.

As she quickly shed her own clothes in response, Charlotte gave her a thumbs-up from under the stallion. The squelching sounds of horse-wang pumping into her reservoir of cum broke rhythm, until she got her hand back on the grip. "I've never done it in a hammock before," Ginnie confessed.

"Me either - you up for the challenge?"

"Hah! I can see you are. Dibs on top."

"I'm not sure you can call shotgun on that sort of thing. Anyway, I'm thinking you'll have to get it inside you and then lay on me, or we'll be tossed out of this thing for sure."

As soon as Ginnie had crawled up onto her brother, she could see what he meant - the netting bounced and trembled threateningly. It was more like a circus performance than a sex act, as she shuffled and twisted her body carefully into position. "You're gonna have to help. Shove it in when I tell you."

"Say the work, Gin." Her pillowy breasts were flattened comfortably - for him, at least - against his chest.

"Okay - on the count of three. One, Oh My God!"

The hammock bounced like a mad thing, but the net had wrapped tightly around their joined bodies. "Sorry," said Dave. "Couldn't wait."

"Three! Wee!!"

~~~

Dave and Ginnie had gone inside, showered, had lunch and another quickie, and then returned to dress before they announced to Charlotte that it was time to give Midnight a break. After pulling the reluctant doll free, they gave both parties a rinse and a rub-down. Dave was just about to pull out Charlotte 's bung when they heard a thump outside.

Ginnie poked her head out the door cautiously - no one needed to see the bright red sex toy. "Hey - there's a box on the doorstep! What the hell?" She examined the note taped to the top:

" Charlotte - Here's a playmate for you. Enjoy eternity together. A"      

"I don't like the sound of that," said Dave as he came out to see for himself. "Plus, it looks like that box has air holes..."

Charlotte, who had followed, just gave a 'how much worse can it get' sort of a shrug, and opened the container.

Inside was what looked like her dildo toy - the giant-sized one she called 'Black Jacque', with the ball-sack shaped palm grip. Except that it was looking up at her with big brown eyes on either of an open slit-shaped mouth ... from which hung a wide panting tongue. The thing w riggled like a puppy, and hopped up to peek out over the side, clinging to the edge with feet that resembled an otter's. Charlotte instinctively picked it up and hugged it. 'Jacky' responded by licking her bright red face. The others could see that its hind feet were mounted under its ballsy bum; and that there were grooves on its sides into which its forelegs could conveniently fold out of the way. Incongruously (for a dildo) but unsurprisingly, it had a waggily tail. 

Ginnie reached into the box and extracted a slightly gummed book entitled 'The Care & Feeding of Weiner Dogs'. "Says here it likes beef broth. And secondhand cum. Why am I not amazed? Oh, and it also tends to spurt the latter back out of its mouth unexpectedly." She looked up to find that Jacky had already managed to push his head (his gender was self evident) into Charlotte's pussy, and was continuing his total body wag as she helped him worm the rest of his way inside her.

"Well - looks like that particular problem is solved," said Dave. Charlotte was now writhing on her back, with black legs and tail protruding from her pussy. They could see the rest of the thing inside her - he was twisting about and flapping his forelegs back and forth. "You reckon he breaths through his ass?" Indeed, a puckered asshole could be seen under his tail.

"Whatever. If I have to walk him, I get to share him," responded Ginnie.

"Yeah - like you could walk that thing in the park ... Ooh! Ooh! I got it. Aunt Jill and Uncle Doug have been talking about retiring to the city for ages. So we trade. They take your apartment, and we move here. You can commute to your shop - it's in between, anyway."

"Whoa! I like it. But what about you?"

"Easy. I quit my job and live off the avails ... ouch! I mean I work here on the ranch. And keep Charlotte company. Ouch - Geez! We'll save some for you."

 Ginnie hit him again, but both girl and doll were grinning and nodding. He knew his plan was a winner.

CS_Charlotte_the_Harlot