i know itâs been a million years since i said i was deleting this blog, but iâve been in the process of cleaning it out finally... if you havenât been here until this week, donât get too comfy. this is technically a duplicate side. youâll still find it all @dimercaprol
So Iâm at the gym, and I grab my electrolytes, rehydrate the olâ flesh prison, hit the treadmill. New Yearâs Resolution and all that stuff. Iâm not out of shape or anything, but you know how that slippery slope goes for a guy come January.
I start it off slow, five miles. Crank it up to ten when I can feel Iâve got my blood pumping enough to make it worth it. Sneakers beating the tread. I can feel things jiggling. Iâd have been more self-conscious about it if I hadnât been wearing a tee and track pants.
But then I notice the jiggling feels less like itâs moving with me and more like itâs moving against me. Inertia, or something. It doesnât take long before I can follow the sensation back to my crotch. Feels like my trunks arenât giving me any support or something. I take my hands off the guard rails long enough to hike my underwear up a little, then turn it up to fifteen miles an hour and keep pounding it out.
A few minutes go by, and Iâve already tried to resolve this wardrobe malfunction three times before I realize, hey, it's not my underwear falling down. Somethingâs going on. Oh shit, I think to myself, what is making me swollen? Itâs not even an erection that Iâd have to hide, itâs distinctly just⌠getting bigger.
And I think to myself, Hey, why are you sweating this, man? Whatâs wrong with getting a little more hung? And I get more zealous in my workout, turning it up to twenty. Really literally sweating it at this point.
I get hyper-focused on the fact itâs still getting bigger. That it feels like with every elliptical motion of my step that I take, itâs still getting bigger. I start to convince myself that itâs the physical steps themselves doing it, and I start counting my steps. Breathing heavy, trying my hardest not to draw attention to whatâs happening by watching it happen.
I canât not stare for a moment as I can start distinctly making out the silhouette of my genitals jiggling within the rapidly too-small clothes on the lower half of my body. I only break myself away from staring by locking gazes with the pace meter. A cold chill runs through me, a niggling compulsion. Self-destructive, maybe? Who knows.
I turn it up to thirty, and my head swims trying to keep up. My nuts are slapping frantically against the insides of my legs. My dickâs struggling to stay put. I can practically feel my waistband pantsing me. My head is throbbing in time with each time my foot slams into the tread. I canât even keep an eye on the side effects of what I can physically feel was probably the worst decision in my life. The momentâs weakness has me immediately shutting down the workout for the day. As the machine powers down and I slow to walking pace, I build up the courage to look down.
Twenty-five. Shake.
Twenty. Jiggle.
Fifteen. Jostle.
Ten. Bounce.
Five. Sway.
I just stand there, paralyzed by the enormity of whatâs just happened. My dickâs pinned neatly in the cleave between my nuts, wrapping around and behind them as best it can for how long and thick itâs gotten, and I can barely pull the drawstrings on my track pants over the base of the shaft everythingâs so swollen. But Iâve gotta manage it, to stay decent enough to get back to the locker room.
Breathing hard, I finish off my electrolyte water and stifle hysterics. I canât believe whatâs just happened. Whatâs still happening. Why is it unreasonable to think Iâm just hallucinating the whole thing? Did I fall off the treadmill and hit my head? Iâm just imagining all of this, right?
Then a cold sweat hits me.
If each step I took on the treadmill caused this, what were all the other steps I was about to take going to do to me?
I took a step off the treadmill.
Two more. I could feel the inertia continuing to build. Or was it all in my head?
Another five. My waistband felt tighter, the more it was drawn down over my ass. For once in my life Iâm glad then that I had an ass.
I grab my waistband in one hand, my empty bottle in the other, and choke down my anxiety.
Another forty-seven steps and Iâm out of the room, away from a majority of prying eyes. Once around the corner, I ditch the bottle in the trash and untie the drawstring thatâs currently cutting into me now. I rely solely on my hands to keep my pants from failing me.
Until another seventy-eight steps and I hear stitches give.
At this point I stop dancing around it and run for the locker room. A wild thunder strike of fabric ripping chases me. I only barely make it two-hundred fifty-three steps later before my crotch falls out between my legs, and my pants are useless, even as legwarmers.
I panic. Takes me a minute for me to remember my locker number, let alone my combination. In my haste I shove my junk in my duffel bag without even dumping it out first, carrying the bag with me.
Only now Iâm thinking, How the hell am I going to get to my car? I thank the forces of good in the universe that I left my shoulder strap on that day, and I clip it around me to help with the monumental task of hauling myself home. Each handle in hand, I make sure my keys are in my pocket, and I beat feet before anybody has the chance to ask me any funny questions.
When I started out from the locker room, stuffing myself into the duffel was laughable, a loose fit. But another thousand steps to the car Iâve completely literally stuffed myself into it, and the zipper is starting to chafe me. I can feel pressing into my dick the pair of one-pound dumbbells from last yearâs New Yearâs Resolution to get fit. I nearly fall over as I spill into the car. Itâs a massive struggle to get my junk in under the steering wheel. Once Iâm in, I rejoice in my head that Iâm home free. Provided, of course, that this wasnât all some psychosis-juiced explanation for out of control genital growth.
And then I realize, I canât sufficiently reach the brake, only the gas.
With some overwhelming effort, I manage to separate my junk from the bag, empty the bag out into the floorboard, and tuck my dick back in, slinging it over the armrest and halfway into the passengerâs seat.
A sigh of exhaustion escapes me there, and I just have to sit and catch my breath. I take it as a good sign when the nuts under my legs havenât pressed my thighs to the steering wheel in these few momentsâ respite from the chaos. I turn over my sedan, and head home, trying to keep my head clear enough to drive straight.
Fifteen minutes later, and I pull up in my driveway. With a momentous act of mental preparation I crawl backwards out of the driverâs seat, hoisting my nuts up into the seat so I can sling the towel under and around them I never managed to use to dry off after my workout. I canât get the corners to meet, but I can grasp the edges enough to carry myself clumsily inside.
By the time I was struggling to get the front door unlocked, I notice that the duffelâs getting tight again, and I clench my teeth, fumbling more and more with the key the more I think my dick isnât through with me.
I get into the living room and let go of the towel, but my dickâs completely stuffed the duffel on its own now.
With how many Dunco chapters Iâve put out so far, I figure itâd be good to make a post for a table of contents. Not sure if I can tentatively call it âbook three of Uptakeâ yet, but weâre at least going to corral it a bit.
Broke the Mold (Added 2017.08.04; 3489 words)
Bespoken (Added 2017.08.07; 2653 words)
TW: baldness in focus
So How Should I Presume? (Added 2017.08.10; 3832 words)
TW: baldness in focus
Before I say anything else, I have to thank everybody for the exceptional amount of positive reaction Iâve gotten to SS-I. Iâm stunned. It means so much. Honestly, I donât remember the last time any of my writing has been so well-received.
The first four chapters of Symbiotic Self-Indulgence form an easily defined exposition-and-turn chunk. I feel like Iâve got a solid, complete thought on paper at this point. Iâve got one more installment to do before I think itâll start having any notable chronological skips, but revisions might defunct a need to have it be an entire fifth chapter to itself. Regardless, I wrote âA Little Something on the Sideâ very out of order and I feel like it shows that 1. I wasnât working with a written outline, 2. I shifted narrative structure halfway through this project from same-story one-shots to some manner of chapter format, and 3. itâs really clearly from âEra IIâ of the story. Itâs definitely its own thing separate from the first four chapters, and thereâs definitely going to be chapters injected between it and where I am now.
So... I definitely already see a lot of need for a revision stage. Duncanâs so effortless and enjoyable for me to write, that these first ~17k words have pretty much fallen into my lap. Iâve got a great raw material to work from for a revision stage. The best thing for me to do right now, I think, is to actually put some thought into a written outline, and determine just how much more is necessary to add to this piece, vs. whatâs purely for the enjoyment value of tinker-scenarios with how... versatile Duncan is, lol. I am caught between spitballing and PWP-ing pretty hard right now, tbh.
Anyway, I feel like while SS-I reads legibly and is an enjoyable read as it exists at the moment, I at the very least need to heavily edit âA Little Something on the Sideâ before I do any installments that come chronologically after it. Make Christy the companyâs product photographer, and dovetail it into the suggestions pool thing. ...Yes. (Tbh I only have two âcomment ticketsâ planned out in my head right now. Just the setup itself has been a head-swim for me.)
With how many Dunco chapters Iâve put out so far, I figure itâd be good to make a post for a table of contents. Not sure if I can tentatively call it âbook three of Uptakeâ yet, but weâre at least going to corral it a bit.
Broke the Mold (Added 2017.08.04; 3489 words)
Bespoken (Added 2017.08.07; 2653 words)
TW: baldness in focus
So How Should I Presume? (Added 2017.08.10; 3832 words)
TW: baldness in focus
Before he did anything else, Duncan went to look at his haircut in the menâs room mirror. The sides and back were shorter than what he was used to, but he liked the feel of it when he ran his hands over the buzzed part. Wiggling his fresh, new eyebrows at himself, he mussed the longer top bit of his hair, feeling too clean cut otherwise, and smiled. The hair looked like it legit belonged to him like this. Sufficiently satisfied with Elmaâs handiwork, he skimmed the work floor for Lily, and when he didnât find her, went to her office and knocked before peeking in.
âCan I come in? I think I left my jacket, and itâs got my wallet.â
âLock the door behind you,â she sulked. He complied.
âDid I say something wrong?â
âI was hoping you were joking when you traipsed off chattering about pretending⌠this. I canât tell if youâve just made it harder or easier to move forward.â
âWeâre technically accomplices, considering you decided to go along with it, you know. Not that Iâm trying to shift blame or anything. I know itâs a risky half-truth.â
âDuncan, itâs a bald-faced lie!â She straightened in her chair, stunning herself. ââŚThat wasnât on purpose. Sorry.â
âAre you⌠sure it wasnât? You were just fondling my head a few hours ago. âŚWould you⌠like to feel⌠Elmaâs work?â He kept himself from asking if doing so would make her feel better, knowing it would sound infantile.
ââŚI am curiousâŚâ Lily admitted. Duncan knelt down in front of her with a tacit smirk, closed eyes, and open shoulders, and she cautiously reached out to glide her hand across it. After a test touch, she ran her fingers through it. Overwhelmed rapidly, she bent down to bury her face in the crown of his hair and inhaled deeply to take in the scent of the fresh rooting glue. A moment later she pulled her face away from his head, sweating at feeling like she was overstepping boundaries left and right. ââŚYou like the results, I hope? Donât lie. You didnât pick the color or the cut.â
âI do. I really do. Iâm glad you like it, too.â Heâd opened his eyes when he realized she was smelling him, and bit his tongue not to add on some kind of commentary on how much more she might have liked it than he did. âItâs flattering.â
âAre you glad I backed out of my⌠request? I didnât ask you about body hair, and I wouldnât have a clue how you⌠keepââ Duncan took her hand and guided it beneath his shirt, along his stomach, and she spluttered incoherently. âWhat are youââ
âI really want to explore this. What this is, and what it means. And if I were to do that with anyone, the thought of that being you is a comfort. Itâs really smooth, isnât it? I donât know if itâs TMI or not, but it feels like the oversharingâs been imbalanced against you up until now, so. I had no idea being waxed felt like⌠this.â He chuckled. âI donât know, I might want it back later, but. For nowâŚâ
Lily rested her chin in his shoulder and hooked her finger in his waistband, letting her hand dangle there as she stared off behind him dully.
âWhy are you so okay with this, anyway? Itâs eaten at me since I found out what the accident did to you. Logically, shouldnât you want to find a cure instead of getting used to it?â
He smiled broadly, running a hand over her hair, which was up in a loose bun.
âItâd be a lot scarier if I didnât have you to talk me through it. Iâve always felt secure working for you, safe. Iâve trusted your leadership, and I know youâve got to be blaming yourself for what happened. But I donât see any blame to be had. So far the only hiccups I see of this state of being are of a social kind. âŚThereâs a certain freedom, I realize, with the assumption of a guise that Iâm pretending to be myself. Iâm sure this is a metahuman thing, but it just feels straight up⌠meta. Heh.â
âYouâre being honest, so Iâll be honest too. I am struggling with whether my⌠inclinations are coloring my perception of infatuation. Iâm falling hard for you, and this act youâre trying to put on isnât helping.â She let her free hand wander to run along his nape as she leaned into his neck. âI donât want to hurt you, and I donât want to risk jeopardizing our work dynamics either.â
âI think that since that makes two of us, that weâre in agreement. Just so you know, Iâm sure that itâs exactly what a sex toy feels like. I never⌠indulged the wild hair to immaturely fondle the male Silidolls, but.â When she unbuttoned his pants but hesitated, he laughed hoarsely. âThe doorâs locked, yâknow.â
âDo you ever shut up.â She flung her glasses onto the desk in a deep blush, and dove into a French kiss. One hand held his head as though it needed to be propped, the other sliding into his underwear. As their tongues entangled, one flesh and the other silicone, Duncan wasnât sure where to put his hands, and ended up mirroring her, blindly going for her jumpsuit zipper. She shuddered and waved away his hands, unzipping herself hastily, unable the entire time to pull completely away from the kiss, nipping at his lips anytime she got too far away. The jumpsuit ended up around her booted ankles, reducing her to a white tee and underwear. Silicone on skin melted them both into the floor, groping one another anywhere they could lay their hands.
Lily pulled up his shirt and moved from the kiss to applying her mouth to his chest, licking a nipple and pressing her lips to it. When he squirmed, she nipped at it and put her hand down his pants to wrap her hand around him. He moaned audibly, unable to shake the recollection of what biting his thumbs had provided him last time he had, and he mashed her face to his chest involuntarily.
âYou wouldnât⌠want to take a strange request, would you?â He stared at the ceiling, his mind racing.
âI guess that depends.â
âCould youâŚâ His tongue felt heavy trying to even ask someone to do it. âBite hard enough to make a hole, and⌠and blow in it? I⌠wasnât faking the other day, how much I enjoyed⌠that. The nick will close itself.â
Rather than comment, Lily resumed giving his left nipple attention and stroking him, and nibbled at it teasingly a little before she bit her upper teeth against her lower lip with his flesh between. She ran her upper lip along the hole sheâd made, glancing up certain that it had hurt him, but that fear dissolved when a hand began to coax hers to stroke him more insistently. Her head swimming, she took a deep breath and exhaled into him. As the air filled his chest, her eyes shot wide in surprise at how easy it was, then lolled back a bit in bliss. She pressed her lips around the areola in the hopes she could insinuate to the flesh she had spent her lungs into it, then moved to follow suit with the right breast. His hands roamed to grope his chest as it distended beneath his touch.
Lily sat up to gawk in delirious wonder at the feat sheâd just witnessed.
âI knew from Jeremy telling me, that the inflation had been under your skin, but I had no idea how literally heâd meant it. That⌠youâre obscenely huge.â
Duncan squished them together, gyrating in place ever so slightly. Drunk on how soft and squishy they were, he tried to pull his t-shirt back down over them, shoving them up into the garment as best he could. Helping him as she laid back down on top of him, Lily laughed and made eye contact as both of them enjoyed his rack. There was more than enough that both of them could nuzzle it. His flesh smelled sweet and slightly musky through the fabric, and it was pliant to the touch.
âThis isnât nearly as big as I had them at home,â he admitted, eyelids fluttering. âIâve been wanting to experiment with how well I handle getting nipped in places Iâve pumped air into. See if I could keep⌠addingâŚâ
âRequest of my own, first?â When Duncan looked up at her over his chest, she grinned at him. âCan I blow you?â
âIâ Yesââ
âHave youâŚ?â She didnât wait for an answer before unzipping him and pulling down his pants and underwear, his huge boobs making eye contact difficult. Her mouth went around the pliant, flaccid hunk of silicone and a moan thrummed through it. The consistency and taste of his rubbery flesh were unbelievable. With it in her mouth, she couldnât articulate that his assumptions were incredibly spot-on. She could tell how aroused he was, but still not hard. The fact this was silicone, paired with noticing that, inebriated her, and she pulled her mouth off his head and began to press her lips along the side of the shaft, tracing it with her tongue as she moved from the base back all the way up.
âNo, not yet. I was nervous to do it myself. Slag youâre good atââ He cut off abruptly into a moan, not feeling the nip of her teeth but rather the drawn breath and resultant increase in pressure. âOh man I wish I could see.â
âItâs⌠so⌠round,â Lily said flatly, unsure what to make of it. She massaged the fat, rounded member in both hands; although a bit amused that its head had mostly retained its shape, she assumed that too would soften if she continued to enlarge it.
A thick wheeze escaped Duncanâs nostrils as she resumed kissing and mouthing against him, digging her fingertips into it.
âLetâs⌠test the nibbling with this part firstâŚâ She smiled to herself then pinched some of his flesh in her teeth. There was a bit of back pressure, her own breath finding its way into her mouth before she could instinctively put her tongue over the hole sheâd made. Drawing a breath through her nose, she added a full lungful this time, Duncanâs penis distending upward and outward. When she pulled away the second time, the head had all but vanished, the frenulum creating a mere outline of material slightly more opaque than the rest of the see-through swell. She gave the head an open-mouth kiss and straddled his thighs to run her hands over the engorgement sheâd induced.
âOh slag, I can see it over my chest now,â he reported, writhing from the exquisite pressure and tugging taking place. âIt⌠feels so good.â
âSo youâre into inflation?â
âNnh. âŚClearly. Are you getting anything out of this?â He hoped she would show or at least tell how to requite the euphoria she had reduced him to. At first, her only response was to reach down and fondle his testicles. She pulled up his underwear, tucking his ludicrous junk into it, just to visualize how absurdly over-the-top sheâd gone.
âTurn over,â she urged. Duncan complied without hesitation, his own body weight pressing himself against his chest and crotch. The friction of his inflated parts as they shifted their arrangement creaked audibly against the fabric which contained them. Lily bent down and tugged the underwear off his buttocks only, the briefs hung on the base of his penis. Her face went between his legs, and she licked at the backside of his plasticine balls, gripping his buttocks. There, the scent of silicone was dense. âOnly a Silidoll could be capable of this.â Words wouldnât form over what he knew was coming next.
Lily bit into him right at the base of his balls, and blew as forcefully as she could. He yelped, drowning in the intensity of the act, his lower half scrambling him to his knees with his butt up in the air. He panted once sheâd fully expended the breath, but she didnât give him time to acclimate to the size gains before forcing another lungful into his testicles, eliciting a moan. When she pulled away, he could hear her ragged respiration as she reached around to grope his junk from behind. He ground himself against the floor, and she ground against him, the two forming momentum easily. There was no feasible way for all of it to fit in his underwear, and his soft, distended flesh overflowed its every hem.
Swimming in the sensation, Duncan pulled his arms up above his rack and his thumbs went into the corners of his mouth. A quick nip and soon his ragged breaths were finding their way collected in his arms. Lily discovered this visually after some time, not having seen him begin. She got up on top of him a bit higher and caressed his broad, thick shoulders and swollen arms.
âYou⌠work on those. I⌠Iâll work on your ass.â
A nasal whimper came out of his full mouth as he felt her climb back down, attending his butt a bit and pulling up his underwear best she could, before favoring one side and snipping her teeth into the outer curve of the fold just beneath his right cheek. As she fondled him between the legs, he could feel her additions to his backside but not see, and he noticed her switch sides after what felt like two breaths. His only tell for how much curvier he was, was the spatial relationship between how far apart her hands spread to reach resulting in her breasts being pressed against him. He finally took his fingers out of his mouth, confident he couldnât add much more to his shoulders. He could feel his underwear had sunk into the cleft between his cheeks, unable to stay stretched over his enormous backside.
âI⌠feel like Iâm covered in hickeys, Lily.â
âTurn over, and IâllâŚâ She hornily ground against his amazing thighs, digging her fingers in for leverage. âIâll keep going.â
Because he couldnât easily manage it himself, Lily dismounted to help Duncan roll over. Then she got back on top of him, and freed his penis and sat on his crotch. His melon-like blimp of a cock squished between her thighs, the head of it tucking neatly between the underside of his cleavage. She lay atop him and breathily nuzzled and groped at his breasts, grinding against his crotch while staring into his eyes. When he tried to wrap his arms around her to press her chest against his own, but failed, she snorted, electrified. Sidling up a bit to bend over his rack, her open lips and tongue gaped at his, and they both continued to grope his breasts.
âYou⌠want them to be even bigger?â she uttered, pulling away from his mouth only long enough to ask and await response.
ââOh heck, Lily. Are you trying to send me home nakâ MMFâ
Lily cut off Duncan with another fierce kiss. She then pinched his nose shut, and locked her mouth over his, exhaling into him repeatedly. He flailed, dizzy from how deep the distension was inside him, but as his shirt creaked and bucked, so did they. She was in this way expanding the circumference of his ribcage, forcing his breasts tighter and tighter in the knit fabric. Lost in all sheâd done, he went limp everywhere except thrusting against the insides of her thighs, unable to even moan as she spent her own lungs into his over and over. He couldnât even begin to reach around the underside of his ribs once she was satisfied with his size and clamped a hand over his mouth, riding him to orgasm.
âWhoâd have thought this company would ever produce a blow-up doll?â She laughed tepidly, having made a mess of him as she collapsed atop him. Still with her hand over his mouth, her free hand traced every curve it could reach. âIf⌠we do this again⌠I think body lubricant would be a good idea.â He nodded, head swimming. âIâm going to⌠let go of your mouth, if thatâs ok.â He squinted his eyes shut and gave her a weak thumbs-up, falling limp against the floor.
When she let go, the air wheezed out of him with such force that he couldnât pace it, no matter how hard he tried to keep his mouth shut. The act of deflation created a psychological static that he could have never appreciated before experiencing it firsthand. She softly caressed the top of his thighs when he didnât move for a while.
âAre you all right?â
ââŚGod. That was. I canât believe how big you got me. I canât believe youâre on top of me right now.â Duncan couldnât help but moan. âI am so turned on admitting that I donât think I can move.â
âHow can I help you move?â Lily sat up on top of him so they could see each other, and he admired how sweaty and disheveled heâd made her. Her hair had fallen down during the last bit. âThe air in your lungs was easy to get out, but the air here,â she groped his thighs, âis trapped.â
âItâs⌠gonna take opening a hole and letting it out,â Duncan replied. âI took the ink out of a pen and used the barrel of it the last few times.â
âI donât have⌠a pen. I write everything into my reader.â
âDo you have anything⌠sharp?â He swallowed dryly. âI think itâd work all the same if you had a knife, or maybe scissors.â
âI donât know if I can stab you, Dunc.â
ââŚI donât think we have much choice.â
She got up off him and plucked a few tissues off her desk to clean herself up, then pulled her clothes back on, leaving the jumpsuit mostly unzipped as she rummaged in her desk for something she felt comfortable using for this. Withdrawing an implement, she got back on top of him to talk herself through it.
âIâve got a box cutter,â she started, unfolding it and clicking the blade out. âThis isnât going to hurt, right? And youâre not going to bleed everywhere?â
âAs far as I know, I donât have blood anymore. And Iâve only felt pressure ever since the silicone cured. The material is self-healing, like Iâve told you. I know it feels⌠off to do it. But the faster we get it over with, the⌠faster itâs over with.â He looked her in the eyes. âIf you can get my upper half down, Iâll do the lower half, okay? Iâve done it a few times, so the idea of it doesnât bother me as much. Heh, promise youâre not gonna pop me.â
âDuncan!â She wheezed, flinching. âDo you want me to help or not? Donât even joke.â
âTelling me not to joke,â he mumbled ironically. âComon, I know you can do it.â
She sat back and took in just how huge he was, quiet for a moment, before she leaned down and pressed the tip of the knife into his upper right arm until the silicone gave. The air hissed out for a bit, but the hole quickly closed itself, and she had to reopen the hole and hold it open. The arrangement forced her to observe exactly what it looked like, and the singularly uncanny observation of an injury to silicone left her dumbstruck all over again. Once the air was sufficiently down, she followed through with the other arm, and sat back again.
âAre you⌠sure you want me to let the air out of you?â
âYouâre starting to sound like me,â he ribbed. âIâd like to be able to at least pull my pants back up. You⌠can leave the boobs like that. Itâs obvious we both enjoy them.â
âI enjoy all of it.â She ran her hand along his nonsensical junk and he squirmed with a lyrical breath. âWhen you came in earlier, you didnât have any air in you. Would you keep any, if you could?â
âThe way I squish. The literal bounce in my step. I.â His eyelids fluttered again. âItâs everything I never knew how bad I wanted for myself.â
She silently let the air out of his junk, leaving it just slightly inflated, and because she did so without hesitating, he could tell she was comfortable enough with lancing his flesh to make whatever adjustments she saw fit. Noticing that she hadnât completely drained his crotch, all he could think was that she was customizing him, and he found himself comparing himself to a Silidoll again. She turned him over and only got rid of the slightest bit of air in his backside.
Duncan wasnât completely certain sheâd gotten enough air out of his thighs for him to be able to pull his jeans back up, but he barely managed thanks to how soft the tension was. He stood and put his hands in his back pockets and laughed, jutting out his chest admiringly at Lily.
âThink I can still get work done like this?â
âYou think you can still work the lathe? Ethanâs been filling in for you since yesterday.â
âPositive. Iâve worked with that machine for years. âŚHonestly Iâm more worried that Iâd be a distraction.â He chuckled dirtily, groping his butt from inside his pockets. âYou meant it when you called me a blowup doll?â
Lily grinned, putting her glasses back on and getting a brush out of her desk.
âA slutty, slutty blowup doll.â She brushed her hair out before pulling it back up with a claw clip. âSit down and talk this out with me. This is a lot for both of us to adjust to. You said earlier you had some ideas you wanted to pitch to me.â
âOh! Yes, Iâd forgotten in the heat of the moment,â he admitted, his lip falling between his teeth as he admired the swell of his backside against the chair when he sat. âIâve⌠got some firsthand experience now, being a Silidoll, wouldnât you say?â
âWeâre going to gloss over the fact you know the subject is a button-pusher for me, but yes.â She disguised her titillation by putting her glasses back on.
âI⌠I think we can do better than just adjustable pneumatic breast enlargement in our models. Youâve seen it, felt it, in this office. Just how forgiving and tensile the silicone is we use. I think the biggest cup size extreme we offer currently goes from 32C to 32G. I know we can do better, especially marketing to the inflation crowd. And I think itâd be profitable to offer expanding features besides the breasts. Thighs, buttocks, you got an idea of the versatility earlier. I know a male Silidoll with the ability to have a blimp-cock would be a hot seller.â
âWeâre going to have to do extensive testing, first,â she replied after thinking on it a bit. âYou⌠wouldnât mind that, would you?â
âWhat, me?â
âExactly you. Weâd need some prototypes first, before offering them as part of our product line. But⌠I think youâre onto something, how we can smuggle you back into the workforce here. Weâre⌠going to make use of you.â Her grin turned playfully evil then, and he matched her eagerness with a grin of his own. âWhat do you think of a suggestions pool?â
His zeal drooped in an instant, his eyes wide.
âAre you⌠suggesting that we let everybody take turns with me?â Duncan loved the sound of it, but was so equally terrified and excited by the thought that he couldnât think quite straight.
âIâm sure everyone here has slightly different tastes,â she rationalized, admiring how willing he was to play the part. âItâd be a fantastic way to test youâ the silicone, out. You can decline any of the suggestions, if they make you too uncomfortable, mind you.â
âI⌠I trust your leadership,â he affirmed, smiling dirtily again. âI trust youâre going to make anonymity an option?â
âA grand idea. That would let the more creative types pitch in their two cents without feeling self-conscious. Here, since you and I are both in agreement that this is an enrichment opportunity for the company, you ought to go⌠mingle with the floor a bit. The curves will get people talking, as will our little charade. Iâll call a meeting tomorrow first thing, and we can start feeling out your limits.â
âBefore I go one step further with the act, I want to get one detail crystal clear so I can keep the story straight.â Lily looked on expectantly. ââŚAm I your Silidoll?â
She laughed, turning beet red.
âYou can be the company Silidoll, Duncan. You belong to the industry now. Itâs clear thatâs where your heart is.â
âThat wasnât a no.â He giggled, standing up. âI think this has all gone to my head. The more we discuss this, Iâm finding that Iâm really into the prospect that this is a lot like passing through every set of hands in this building.â
âA slutty, slutty blowup doll,â Lily agreed on his way out. She tossed him his jacket and sighed into her hands, resting her elbows on her desk. âForgive me if I get a bit jealous on occasion. The thought of sharing you has me a little shaken.â
âSo I am yours,â he remarked, waggling his eyebrows at her before shutting the door behind him.
in so how should i presume there is a very specific kink trope dynamic
person A and person B are in on an elaborate lie thatâs sexual in nature, and person C is either oblivious to the lie, or convinced to disbelieve the lie. the pretense of the falsehood itself plays out not unlike having an unwitting bystander to a roleplay?
but itâs not exhibitionism, i donât think. and i donât think itâs hybristo either because itâs not criminal or potentially threatening in nature. i suppose itâs closer to exhibitionism than hybristo, because there is that titillating aspect of âwhat if we get caughtâ naughtiness. and there is the aspect of parading the lie, too. and the lie is the kink of at least one of the parties involved, and both parties know it. paraphilic exhibitionism maybe? i guess itâs also partially âdoing sexual things publicly that wonât get read as sexual by the average personâ but itâs 99% about the fact theyâre getting off on pretending
maybe the core of the concept is the fact A and B both know theyâre lying through their teeth (or even half-lying in places) and theyâre getting off on C believing it
they both get off on roleplaying this falsehood, but thereâs something about involving someone oblivious to it ?????????? (yes i do fully recognize nonfictionally doing this is deplorable but ah. ahh. help)
i donât wanna call it a damn âtroll kinkâ but that just... seems so succinct
...yeah itâs definitely hybristophilic in nature iâm lying to myself
Duncan strolled casually to the far back corner of the building, and entered the Faceups department workshop with his hands in his pockets.
"Duncan." Elma could recognize his demeanor without looking up from her work. "It had better be important. Silas isn't here today. I'm not in the mood for your nonsense today."
He straightened, clearing his throat. Unable to resist the impulse, he committed full-tilt, the notion spilling out of him like it was the honest and naive truth.
"I'm... not Duncan. At least, I don't think I'm Duncan?"
That got her attention. The blonde turned on her swivel stool to make eye contact, deadpan and already beyond done with him.
"I'm going to involve Lily if you don't explain what you're trying to achieve, wearing that ridiculous skinsuit again and talking like that."
"Lily sent me to see you, actually. It's... about this," he began, removing his hat thoughtfully and gesturing to his scalp. "She said you could fix me up."
"You want me to believe that Lily is asking me to stop what I'm working on to root your *skinsuit* with hair? Even if this were total slagging nonsense, I haven't done wearables before."
"I'm just wearing a tee and jeans, ma'am. ...Look, I got finalized without getting pigment or rooting. I think there was a mix-up. And Lily said you could fix it."
"She didn't mention any of this to me," Elma mumbled, halfway playing along in hopes that singing his tune would make him leave faster. After a moment she folded, messaging the bridge of her nose. "...Wasting my time like this isn't funny. That damn costume--"
"--I'm not wearing a costume. Why do you keep saying I'm wearing something silly?" He looked down and grabbed at his clothes. "What about a tee and jeans is silly? Is it too casual? Maybe you could help me with that, too. It's what I was given to wear..."
"Out. Out now. I don't have the time or patience for this. I have a short-hair job to finish today, and you're bugging me. I don't care if Lily did send you herself. I've got a queue, and you flipping work here, Duncan. Customers take priority, and you know that. Take your pranks someplace else so I can finish my work in peace. Don't you have something you're supposed to be doing, anyway?"
"You keep calling me Duncan. Is my name Duncan?" He took it upon himself to sit at the workbench next to her, pulling up a stool where her project lay head first in front of her. Elma groaned, knowing this was him digging in further. "What I'm supposed to be doing is coming to see you to get my hair rooted. I'm following orders."
"Your name is Duncan. Duncan Cranford. And you, *Duncan,* are and always have been an enormous thorn in the side of this outfit. I don't care how good you are with the lathe. You keep everyone else from getting anything done. Just like right now."
"I'm sorry to be annoying, ma'am. I feel real bad, being a source of frustration like this, when it's outside my control as it is. If you could just... take a look at least? I could use a professional opinion." Elma glanced at his bare scalp with a sorry look, and reached out with the intention to shove him, but she quickly fell slack jawed.
"There's... no seam. How did you get in this." She continued turning his head this way and that, staring at his scalp and neck.
"Wait, that's what you meant by costume? You thought my skin was a costume. That's... kinda funny. It's because of the lack of color, isn't it? I think the customer requested the silicone to be like this, actually. I think that's what Lily said."
"You're seriously trying to tell me that you are a Silidoll that looks like it was cast right from Duncan Cranford's piece of nuisance body, and sounds just like him. And you're trying to tell me that I'm just supposed to believe you?"
"Well, when you put it like that... yeah. What can I do to prove that?" He immediately understood the recklessness of the open ended offer, but somehow that made the game that much juicier. "If you don't believe me, just touch? I know I'm not made of the same stuff as you."
She started holding him by the wrists, and shoulders, and inspecting very specific sites on him, even without asking first looking at the small of his back.
"Take off your shoes."
Shit. He complied, swallowing his anxiety.
"You don't have any manufacturer signatures. And you don't have a lumbar jack. Slag, man. You're gonna run me like this, and then get this sloppy? I'm gonna chew Lily's ear off about this."
"Chew my ear off about what?" Their boss appeared in the doorless frame, leaning against it at the signs of contention. She had a vague idea what had Elma so mad.
"Please tell him to get back to work and leave me alone. This twip is trying to tell me you sent him here to root his defective Silidoll skinsuit. That he's not actually Duncan, or actually wearing a skinsuit. He's pretending he IS a Silidoll. And he's wasting my time as usual, ma'am."
"That's correct." Slaggit, Dunc. You are insufferable. Lily was positive, above all else, that he was doing this to get under her skin specifically. And it was working. "This is a Silidoll. And I did send him over to you. Aaand he does seem to be annoying you, just like the real one would."
"Thank you for being a voice of-- Wait, what?"
"I realized I hadn't sent you a memo, and I wanted to make sure there weren't issues, so I came over. I've only spent a little time with him since he went live, but he's definitely got the same *terrible* sense of humor, unfortunately."
"I... I don't understand. Who would--"
"--Commission this specific level of eccentricity? Duncan, honestly. I have no idea where he got the thing cast or programmed. Things clearly didn't go as they were supposed to."
"Why did you power it on if you knew how many ways it's defective? And why doesn't it have any manufacturer marks or manual jacks?"
"She got a little frisky," Duncan explained thoughtfully, holding out his feet toward Lily and flaring his toes. "It's true, right, that he wanted me to be cast this color?" Lily gathered from his choice of words that he had committed, at least for the time being, to being obviously silicone in appearance, and glazed over Elmaâs questions, favoring answering the Silidollâs.
"...He didn't say why." Lily stared at his feet, steeling the nerve to make Duncan squirm, too. "He even wanted his hair to match the cast color. As closely as possible." Duncan noticed the tone in her voice and his toes flinched up tight.
"You two are SHITTING me," Elma barked finally. "Why would Duncan commission this?"
Both of them looked at each other, and shrugged.
"He behaves so... differently from the live models I've interacted with. The personality is so spot on it's hauntingly uncanny."
"He didn't tell me where he got the AI algorithm, either. It was a test, was all he said." Lily glanced dully at the side of Duncan's face, increasingly thirsty the longer the conversation went on. "Do you mind if I supervise? Duncan left the Silidoll at my employ, and I have... particulars." Her own literally objectifying, impersonal phrasing left her head swimming.
"I, no, of course. I mean, what about the X47B I'm working on right now?"
"He can wait. Silidolls perform to a certain emotional algorithm standard, and respond to stimuli relatively closely to humans--and this one... already has a consciousness building. I don't personally mind him hairless, but it makes him self-conscious. You should probably punch in pubic hair, too, while youâre at it."
Elma buried her face in her hands, finally hitting the point this was too much. Duncan was fortunate then that Elma averted her gaze from his direction, because he couldn't hide his mortification.
"Oh my god please don't make me I don't care that it's not actually him it's too creepy I don't want to know what he looks like naked." She groaned into her palms.
"A little professionalism, ma'am!" Duncan blurted out, meaning it of Lily but it was taken as though he'd said it of Elma. He could barely conceal how frantically his joke was getting out of hand.
"See what I mean?" Lily approached him nonchalantly and leaned in. "We have to treat its sensitive AI well, or it reacts just as badly as when we're treated badly. I have to take responsibility for the situation in the first place, considering I turned it on before it was rooted..."
"It doesn't have any nodes or jacks I can locate," Elma complained. "Where did they install the hibernation node?" The clinical question caught Lily completely off-guard and she sputtered, caught to where she couldn't skirt it a second time.
"--Hhthey. The hibernation node." Lily's voice cracked just like her composure. "We should get... Duncan... to recline face-up on the workbench first, shouldn't we?"
Duncan complied without direct order, and would have been sweating if he still had sweat glands. Lily put her hands to both his temples, improvising. Her fingers wandered behind his ears, and she acted like she was feeling for something.
"It's a soft, subtle spot... right... behind the ear. I don't know why the wiring is so nonstandard, but..." Lily gripped her upper lip with her tongue as she massaged a tight circle in the spot she'd picked behind his right ear. "There. He should go slack any minute. An improvement. His humor can go too far sometimes." She patted his cheek and made knowing eye contact, then took a seat on the countertop across the room to watch him from a distance attempt to keep up the act of being something truly inanimate for as long as it would take for Elma to accomplish the task.
Lily savored knowing just how much Duncan must have been mentally writhing, but deeper still was her relish for the roleplay of it. The two were pretending that he was an artificial intelligence encased in silicone in the likeness of himself. He was not himself in this moment, instead the personification of himself. And she was about to have a show of him being forced to maintain this elaborate lie to an unsuspecting third party for an undefined amount of time. Her heart turned to cement between her ears as she watched and made offhand commentary, titillated irreparably by the experience.
"I have a number of options on hand for fiber," Elma remarked, finally getting mentally into the project as she stood and routed about in a few cabinets and tossed tightly wrapped bags up on the workbench. She collected them up and plopped them down unceremoniously next to Duncan's torso, then opened a few she thought might work best. She held out each hank in turn as she spoke of them, comparing them as swatches. "As you can see, the nitrilulon is a timeless classic. It's got a great healthy sheen to it, and it's spun pretty finely. It also stands up to heat pretty well, so one could style its hair if needed. This polyacryline is overly shiny but it has a great matchup to the semi-translucency of the pigmentless silicone. And while most people don't like it because it frizzes easily, terephthaline works really great for short hair."
Lily took in all the different aspects of the qualities of both the fibers and Duncan's skin. The shine. The translucency. The density. The texture. She somewhat regretted having made such an exigent and fixed comment as to matching the color to the skin tone, as she personally loved the feel of genuine human hair on a doll. Ultimately she convinced herself she'd made the right choice, even though it had been made on the spot for sake of tormenting Duncan.
"What do you think of blending them?" Lily wondered. "Would that amount of variation be too... realistic?" That last word killed her.
"As realistic as a blend of white and clear on a human head can look, I suppose. You donât happen to have any photos of the twip, do you?"
In reality, the physical feat of remaining perfectly still proved far easier for Duncan than he thought it could be. Forced to act upon behaving inanimate taught him that he no longer needed to breathe, or even blink. Yet though it was simple to assume a slack posture, it was mentally quite difficult to overcome the sensation of his own laxity when manipulated by an outside force. His limbs jiggled and flopped when moved without decorum, and he had to fight the compulsion to change position when his mind grew restless. He wondered if he was even awake, early on in the charade. He tried to remain awake by listening to the two women chat, but ultimately a corona frosted over his ability to interpret his own perception, drifting into feeling like he was in a fever dream of catatonia.
âIâve got his employment ID photo.â Lily offered her reader unhelpfully.
âDonât worry. That should be good enough. I just need to see his hairline. I can mostly improv from the cast lines from the bald cap he wore during the cast. Whoever pulled the mold for him, thereâs some kind of... residue there. Itâs kind of sloppy, compared to how inimitably close they got pretty much every other feature. Real weird.â
Elma shuffled through a few more bags on the bench and cleared her throat awkwardly, moving to pull up the hem of Duncan's shirt, and pull down the waistband of his pants--but only slightly. She'd rooted body hair and pubic hair of all kinds on thousands of the company's models, but she still struggled to disconnect Duncan from Duncan's likeness. Again she held up further samples, this time of various coarsenesses of fiber, all clear.
"I personally prefer to root body hair with terephthaline, but it kinks up more easily if it gets rubbed against the root angle too roughly or regularly. Contrary to my preference, most of our models have nitrilulon head to toe." Elma straightened, and, not looking at Duncan's body, shook her head slowly. "I... I'm not sure I have it in me to do body hair on this one. Not today, anyway. I just... can't get past the likeness. I'm not in a faculty to do it. Maybe Silas, next day he works. Or Jess."
"That's fine," Lily assured. Some iota in the back of her mind was disappointed on a personal level, but she accepted it. The request had been more to troll Duncan than it was any true need, as far as she knew. Elma and Duncan were both infinitely relieved. "I understand. It was... very odd to get entangled in these circumstances at all. I'm still adjusting myself to getting dragged into all this."
"What did he even give you this thing for, anyway? And where is he? First time I saw *this* guy was two days, but I haven't seen the real one in nearly a week." Elma began blending the hanks together in her hands as she spoke. She ejected the dark cherry blend from her rooting gun into a tray to pick back up later, then loaded the colorless blend into it. While Lily formed a reply, she proceeded to begin rooting Duncan's scalp. The rhythm of the hollow needle was not much unlike a tatting gun; yet, the wrist motion it required for a shorter length more intimated the flourishes of piping icing onto pastries, to free the patches of rooted hair from the fiber guide. The silicone-based glue only smelled strongly up close, and it wasnât especially cutting of an aroma.
"I... haven't seen him in days, either. Last I heard from him was the evening he left the doll here in the state itâs in now. Iâd been letting him come in and work on it after hours. But he told me he needed some space, so this..." Lily motioned toward Duncan, though Elma didn't see it. "...Comes as a big left field. I haven't figured out where he went, or what the doll is supposed to be for. Maybe he thought it would be a sufficient stand-in while he took a break from something thatâs bugging him. Like a clone or something. I donât know."
"You weren't dating, were you?"
"What? No. I mean, I don't know that I'd object to it, if he did want to. I hadn't really thought about it until the doll existed. I... didn't even question whether it meant he was using it to flirt with me, when we were putting it together. You asked earlier why I powered it on, knowing it hadn't been completed yet. My mind's been kind of crazy trying to figure all this out. I jumped the gun. Nothing in the algorithm it's programmed with is making any of this make more sense. I just figured he would have at least made the message loud and clear." Lily really hoped he was still listening as she spoke, cryptic as it may have been, though she couldn't discern whether she was attracted to him or simply attracted to what he'd become. It almost bothered her, how plausible her impromptu lie had come across, and suddenly she found herself wondering exactly why Duncan had so easily reconciled with this exceptional mutation caused by occupational exposure.
As Elma worked, the blend they chose demonstrated itself a most striking look. The woman was an artist with this sort of thing, and effortlessly gradated the ratio of the three fibers as she went down the sides and back of his head, using the finest denier toward the edges and the coarsest to the top. She stopped when she got to around his ears.
"I know I've been working on this without asking, but were you aiming for the same hairstyle as Duncan? I got on autopilot and started rooting in favor of a trimmed taper based on the head shape, but the gradation of fiber should be versatile enough to do a few different things."
"...Yeah, the same should be fine. A taper would be good, too. I trust your judgment."
"And the sideburns? I've never seen him not have them."
Elma mumbled in affirmation, and they sat in the quiet of the rooting gun for a bit. The air compressor motor to which it was rigged kicked on toward the tail end of the task, and with his face in Elma's hands, all Duncan could focus on was the thought of putting air back in himself again. After several minutes of daydreaming, he noticed his lack of erection despite his arousal, and he couldn't help but be further excited by the observation further intimating him with a silicone plaything. Something deep down in him savored the possibility he'd lost the ability to get hard, but he tried not to unpack the psychology of that right then. Elma put down the gun and sat back on the stool, waiting for her turn to speak.
"I went ahead and did his eyebrows, too. I might touch them up better later, if you get better ref pictures for me."
The root artist leaned in and put her fingertips behind Duncan's right ear, following the gesture she'd observed from Lily. She struggled, unable to be confident she'd found the spot. Duncan had drifted into a state of detachment, and thwarted the catatonia-like state only through the luck of noticing that Elma was making the motion of turning on his power button, so to speak. The way he flinched at recognition was too realistic to someone being woken up, and Elma stuttered and jerked back.
"Sorry." He glanced up at her.
"I, I can't get used to this thing." Elma huffed, wiping the stress off her face. "All right, *Duncan.* Get down and sit on the stool, and I'll trim you up."
"Good morning to you, too." Duncan looked down and pulled his pants back up all the way, and shirt back down, unsure what to make of the fact they'd left his stomach showing like that without comment the entire time. Still, he was relieved to visually see that Elma really hadn't done the body hair yet. He sat up and swung his legs off the side of the workbench, then got on the stool beside it as instructed. "A little off the top, please."
"I hate that it has to be on to facilitate the cleanup," Elma moaned, opening the shallow top drawer of the workbench to get at her scissors and get started. "Hey Silidunc. Lily tells me you're technically hers now. Opinion?"
"Elma!" Lily wheezed. "Stop asking it existential questions!!"
"I already work for her, I guess," Duncan answered regardless. "So I'm already used to getting screwed."
"Duncan, so help me--" Lily slammed her feet to the ground getting down from her table perch across the room, storming halfway across the room before she realized she looked like she was reacting this way toward an inanimate object making innocuous snark. "I have to get your algorithms tweaked. If I didn't know better, you were trying to push *my* buttons, you rotten synthetic bum." Of course, she knew he was.
"What was that about it having sensitive emotional parameters again, Lily?" Elma beamed a bit, finally seeing Lily in her corner. She took out the electric razor and delicately did the edge trimming with a guide. "I think he looks better with it short along the neck. What about you?"
"I think it makes him look slutty," Lily razzed, getting up in his face. "Very, very slutty."
"Don't you find that kind of talk inappropriate directed at your employees?" Duncan started, eyes darting nervously between the two of them. "And am I allowed to see, too? It *is* my hair."
Lily turned beet red, walking off and leaving Elma to finish up Duncan on her own. Elma soon after moved to brushing the trimmings off him.
"You are a Silidoll. Silidunc. ...Weird as it is, that's technically what you're for, as if you didn't know that. ...Slag, I hate Duncan. I did not need the image burned into my mind of him and Lily. No."
"...I... am gonna go now. I feel like I've outworn my welcome. Thank you, ma'am, for the fancy 'do. Iâm a doll!" He made a kissy face at her and excused himself.
"You wore out your welcome when you stepped foot in my workshop," Elma mumbled to herself, watching him for a moment walking away before she cleaned up and returned to her original short hair root job.
i love the thought of vampires horrifyingly overeating, bloated like ticks? i wrote a be/tf fic on bearchive back in the day with the idea, and ever since that site came up in conversation iâve been thinking about it a lot again. i should dust it off and bring it back to the internet since the fic archive has passed on to the unusable wayback engine in the sky
Can we vidchat? Duncanâs text was ambiguous and felt a little ominous, and Lily withdrew herself from her armature inspection to form a response.
I can take a break. This sounds important. Can you give me an idea what itâs about while I save my place? As she was pausing her algorithm and annotating her stopping place, the reply came.
Itâs not bad. Itâs just⌠weird. Itâs about the silicone⌠thing. I just need to talk to somebody about it.
Before she retreated to her office, she let two of her nearby employees know sheâd be back, but wasnât sure how long sheâd be. She took off her goggles and put up her reader kickstand, readying herself for the virtual face to face as she sat back in her desk chair.
The silicone accident. Lily had been there when Duncan had cut his glove on an armature and exposed himself to the silicone they used in their craft, while it was still actively curing. The chemical processes which polymerized the silicone to cure had invaded his body and mutated him. She hadnât been the only one present when it had happened two days ago: their coworker Henry had been there, too, and in their own ways they both blamed themselves for what had happened to Duncan. Neither of them had halted the groupâs work after the accident, and let him insist he was fine.
Yesterday morning, Henry found that Duncan had later returned to the factory the night before, discovering Duncan somehow trapped himself in the bathroom. The mutagenic catalyst of the silicone curing agent had made his body so elastine and pliant, that, according to Henry, he was now inflatable in a most unique fashion. He had gotten the wild compulsion to use the air compressor to give himself an obscenely exaggerated hourglass figure, a shape which completely filled his industry jumpsuit to its tensile limits. It was a team effort between the two of them to squeeze the now colorless and voluptuous Duncan past the doors of the menâs room, but when the two of them had spilled out to stand in the middle of the factory floor, it had been a time of day when pretty much everyone on payroll was present. Everyone saw what Duncan had become as a result of his exposure to the chemicals they all handled on a daily basis, yet only two of them had context or correlation. Duncan had been known to be an inventive prankster, but this went so far beyond his usual game.
Lily felt horrible that sheâd been so stunned by the development, that sheâd simply sent him home without further supervision, and hadnât even ordered him to go to the doctor, merely suggested it. The entire day she couldnât get the look of him or of her mind. She felt selfish, as though her idea of what had become of him might satisfy the alien craving in the back of her head that had driven her to manage the Silidoll company in the first place. The thought that she hadnât been more firm with him for this reason had eaten at her, yet she hadnât talked about it with anyone yet. His demeanor simply hadnât convinced her he was unwell, hadnât jogged her sense of friendly preservation.
Duncan had sent her a selfie of him enjoying his new âpowersâ once heâd gotten home. Nearly every inch of his silicone skin was bared; she could see his buttocks cresting behind his head from the frontal recline, though the focus of his framing was his bosom, trapped in a bikini top that he made look like heâd borrowed it from a doll. Every bit of him that was inflated was more translucent than the rest, and she could tell that, unrestrained by garments, heâd inflated himself even fuller than sheâd seen him in person. For some time she couldnât stop staring at the texture of his skin, or his coy, plastic eyes now uniform in their color from sclera to pupil. She narrowly kept herself from asking for other angles, simply replying that he made the silicone look beautiful. A mere reply netted her a booty shot, to which words failed her.
She sighed, flipping up the vidchat app function within the messenger the company used. When it connected, all she could see was Duncanâs shoulder up close.
âLily. Thank you for taking a minute. I, Iâm just a little scared? Is all? I donât think thereâs anything wrong, but I figured youâd know better than I would.â
âThis sounds way more forboding than the texts. Whatâs the matter? Iâm glad to see you figured out how to get the air out of you. You know if you need to go to the doctor, the company can pââ
He came into focus, the lens cropping to just his pale, glazed face.
âI donât want to go to the doctor. The silicone process we use is our patent. If it comes out as potentially harmful, it could tank us. Tank *you.* Besides, with whatâs happening to me, I doubt thereâs much precedent.â He laughed off the precarious balance of selfishness and selflessness, but cut off abruptly. âDonât laugh.â
âYou have my undivided attention, Duncan.â
âWell, I.â She could tell he was rubbing his head anxiously, but he soon got the nerve to sit back far enough that the camera could show his entire upper half, and that he had on a v-neck t-shirt. âI showered earlier for the first time since it happened, and shampooing⌠All my hairâs fallen out. All of it. Even the body hair.â He pulled his hand away from his head and put his hands in his lap, turning his head a few ways to show the situation. âAnd thatâs⌠not the only weird thing.â
Lily was speechless. He would have looked looked like a Silidoll right out of the mold right then. Bare, blank. Were it not for his expressiveness, or clothing, she thought anyone who saw him would say the same. Duncan took her silence as trying to be a good listener and not interrupt him.
ââŚI⌠donât know whether itâs right, but I think the curing process is definitely what caused this. I think it might be done now, but I canât be sure. I did definitely stop feeling distinctly strange about eight hours after exposure, and thatâs the cure time the silicone has in its base⌠âratio.â I felt better yesterday, but now I canât tell if Iâm having a false sense of security. And another thing? I donât remember the last time I ate. Or felt hungry. Thatâs weird, right? Thatâs not normal?â
â⌠No, itâs⌠itâs not normal.â She sat forward, stern but sympathetic. Again she felt incredibly self-centered with what she said next: âI want you to come into work today, as soon as you can get down here. I have some⌠ideas, and I think you might be interested.â
âI thought youâd know what to do. Iâll come right down.â
Duncan hung up before Lily could say anything more. Thereâd been a certain urgency to his tone, one that suggested he felt very lost. She felt even more selfish, noticing just how aroused she was from even just seeing him virtually. What sense was there in professionalism and workplace ethics? She was more concerned whether she was misinterpreting his joking selfies as genuine flirting, than she was being interested in him this way and also his employer.
Lily had two Silidolls of her own, early models from before the company programmed them with AI. The dating thing never did quite work out, as sheâd still not found anybody comfortable with how Lily personified the dollsâit made people feel like they had to share her with them, and that never went over well. People simply did not get it. It wasnât like she disliked the company of living people: it was more that she enjoyed the company of the inanimate.
When Duncan arrived in plain clothes and a baseball cap, he didnât raise a fuss passing through; if anything, the unassuming appearance only fortified the assumption most of them had that his hourglass performance had been an act. Henry noticed him come in, but said nothing, able to tell Duncan was making a beeline for the bossâs office. Heâd hear about it later from her, if something significant transpired. Duncan knocked and took on a closed off stance while he waited for a response, then let himself in when Lily called out in affirmation.
His knocking had snapped Lily out of being lost in thought, and she was visibly distracted. She was grateful to see him, though, her gaze soaking up his likeness under the fluorescent lighting of the office. He didnât sit, not just yet.
âYou said earlier you had an idea, but didnât elaborate. I can only imagine what the idea was in regards to. Thereâs⌠so much going on with me right now that the vidchat just feels like it was a good place to start.â
âBefore we talk,â she licked her lips tactfully, appearing to be whetting them, âyouâre to clock in if you havenât. I want you compensated. Because it happened on company time, on site, anything about this whole thing is work related.â
âI, yesâm.â He left the office just briefly enough to comply, then returned and sat.
âSo, you theorize that the accident replaced your skin with the Silidoll silicone?â Lily squared up to the desk and beneath it crossed her legs tight.
âMore than just the skin,â he admitted. âPermission to gross you out?â She nodded slowly, unsure what he could be talking about. âItâs⌠definitely bone deep,â he remarked, pulling his wrist inward while pushing his elbow outward, a motion which resulted in the entire forearm bowing significantly. When he let go, it slowly returned to its memory state. âI think itâs why Iâm not hungry anymore, either. I have no idea if I have any organs left.â
âThat⌠is definitely⌠notable.â Lily swallowed hard and set down her glasses, trying to process the ramifications. âMy idea⌠goes in line with the belief that you are made of Silidoll silicone now. You seem pretty self-conscious of the fact this condition has made your hair fall out. Provided that thatâs the only health issue youâre experiencing, I think we can safely give taking care of it priority today.â She paused, finding it difficult to articulate something so jarringly sexual to her. âI think it would do you some good to talk to Elma or Silas.â
âIââ Duncan didnât want to grasp what seeing their best hair fiber technicians had to do with it. âTheyâre root artists.â
âI know. If your skin is the same material, then your scalp would take a root job all the same in theory.â Lily clenched her buttocks together in her seat, squirming at the mere thought of it. âUnless youâd rather learn to love the bald lookâŚ?â
âNo! I mean, no, I. Iâll consider it. I hate to be interrupting their current projects, though.â
âWhat has happened with you, this company intends to take full responsibility for. If itâs for your healthâphysically or emotionallyâitâs out of the companyâs pocket, at a priority. Within reason, maybe, but youâre definitely far more important than any deadline, Duncan.â
âI⌠I guess itâs not so bad that all this happened,â he smiled. âNone of it has felt like illness or injury, and it⌠odd as it sounds, has given me a sort of first hand experience with what these dolls really are.â
Lily choked up and covered her mouth and nose. Duncan frowned, leaning in slightly.
âDid I say something wrong?â
ââNo, no. Youâre fine. Just. Knowing youâre well, and adjusting to this relatively easily, is a huge relief.â After a moment, she took her hands from her face, knowing how bad the posture must have looked. âYou should go on and head over to Faceups. Iâll come check in with you in a bit.â
âI will. But first, I want to thank you, for all this. The whole thing could have gone so sour. But Iâve got such a good boss. Itâs almost too good to be true.â
âI take care of my employees. You know that. ⌠Before you go, can I⌠make a weird request?â She regretted saying anything the instant the words had begun to roll out of her mouth. When he looked to her expectantly, she tried her best to make eye contact, but only managed to stare at his cheek briefly. âCan I see what your head feels like, before you get your hair back?â
âIt feels just like the rest of me, but sure.â Duncan complied, coming to sit on the edge of the desk next to her and leaning down, removing the hat.
The silicone texture was ever so slightly shiny, and the outer surfaceâs translucency was what his skin owed its waxy appearance. With him so close to her, she could note that he did in fact smell *exactly* like Silidoll silicone, slightly fruity but distinctly chemical. Her hand trembled as she reached out and placed it on his scalp. A ragged breath couldnât help but escape her as she dug in her fingertips, and she got lost in the sensation of the give his flesh now exhibited.
ââŚYouâre really into this, arenât you?â Duncan commented quietly, no judgment in his tone. He didnât sit up or interrupt her.
ââŚVery.â
Before Lily could object, he responded by kissing her gently. His silicone lips parted just barely, in a deliberate attempt at intimating the lips of a Silidoll. A huge breath wheezed out of her nostrils, and she pulled him nearer, the kiss evolving to include their tongues as her hands wandered over his scalp. His mind drowned in the attention, not even remotely conflicted over the complicated dynamic that might come of it. He was the one who pulled away first, sitting up then standing, putting his hat back on.
âSorry if that was out of line or uninvited. âŚItâs a big turn-on for me, too. I was looking for answers or maybe an antidote, when i came back up here the night it happened. But standing in the middle of the factory floor, surrounded by all the Silidolls that were still curing in their molds⌠It hit me that, through some crazy stupid luck, Iâd become one of them. And my mind went wild over all that realization meant. I latched onto the feature of adjustable breast size and⌠I got a little crazy that night.â
âI really enjoyed the pictures you sent me,â Lily admitted, still recovering from a deep blush.
âI hoped you would. I had the nerve to send them cause if you didnât, I could fake that I was just trolling as usual. I⌠I think Iâm acting up to feel out exactly what this all is. What it even means. Joking has always been my stress valve, if that makes sense. âŚAnyway, I have some ideas of my own, that I want to run by you later, if you have time.â
âIâm eager to hear it,â she grinned, sweating through the reality sinking in that the encounter and truth had transpired smoothly. Her glasses returned to her face. âItâs all right to tell the Faceup team what happened. I intend to tell everyone eventually, once I figure out the best way to do so. ⌠That is, if you even want to come out about it.â
âAre you suggesting that we pretend I was replaced by an exact replica of myself? That Iâm just a highly sophisticated AI?â He grinned stupidly, soaking in how flustered being blunt was making her. âI could get into that.â Before she could tell him thatâs not what sheâd meant by a long shot, heâd already darted out the door, chuckling to himself.
As his Web career hit it off, Duncan kept inviting Lily and Henry over to spend time with him, but Henry always ended up ducking out. Duncan assumed it was a guilty conscience, and that Henry somehow felt directly responsible for the conditions which turned Duncan into a living Silidoll. Henry at least seemed to understand that Duncan genuinely enjoyed his metahuman state. Lily, on the other hand, spent more and more time with him, both to keep an eye on him and to⌠well, keep her eye on him. He was definitely an eyeful.
âI have a shoot later, but Iâm glad you could come over while I get ready for it,â Duncan greeted, letting her into his apartment. She wore a buttondown untucked and sleeves rolled, and a pair of steel grey tailored hybrid-denim pants. Her flats came off at the front door.
It was large for a Level 20 place, and scantily furnished for a minimalist look. To play up an industrial loft look, the phosphorescent wolfram concrete infrastructure had been left entirely exposed, not unlike the brick walls of yesteryear in similar dwellings. He led Lily to the living room, where he had the convertible couch in the middle propped out into a trundle. By this point Duncan typically kept his breasts inflated to a decent but not silly size, and they greeted her perkily and braless from beneath a very tight t-shirt. Heâd taken to wearing leggings or jeggings to accentuate his legs, and curves when he had them, which now was usually but not at present.
âWhatâs all this?â Lily started, gesturing to the see-table with a medical tray on it, and a pair of what she thought was overly tall coat racks at first. âThe premise something like a prostate exam?â She snerked at her own humor.
âNah, I wanted to try something different, and my photographer pretty much threw the money for it at me demanding I act on the idea.â Duncan laughed, then paced a bit in front of his television set before vanishing into another room. âI do have a favor to ask of you, if you could help me get it set up?â
âIt depends,â she replied just as cryptically, adjusting her glasses and eyeing the racks again.
When he came back, he had rolled out a pair of large boxes, and he parked the dolly to one side of the trundle.
âThis is two cases of saline, and these are⌠two racks for⌠intravenous drip.â He smiled coyly, all with those uncannily fake eyes of his. âIâve been using air all this time. I want to try water today.â
âSo you want me to shoot you up like a doctor with no license.â She didnât see any syringes on the table, just a handful of IV needles. Sheâd long since gotten used to seeing and associating means of injection with her friend, but until now it had been chiefly industrial or manual in nature, and the clinical feel of it unnerved her a bit. âI guess itâs not so different as when youâve made me help with the air before.â
âOh, no syringes.â Duncan moved to unpack the saline, grabbing the hang bags from the boxes and hooking them as many as would fit. Their tubing dangled intently, and he gathered their tails together with hook-loop tape like two pigtails to either side of the makeshift bed. âIntravenous drip seems like the safest and fastest way to get the most in me without mixing any air into it. Seems like any air would slosh and be a bit annoying. Take away from the aesthetic of it, too, I think.â
âWhat, you donât want effervescent tits, Dunc?â She snorted, grinning and squaring up to the see-table. âYouâve clearly thought this through, so walk me through it.â
âIâm so glad youâve taken this much hands-on interest in my life outside work,â he beamed, trying to demonstrate how to open the needlesâ individual packaging though heâd not actually done it before. She managed it before he did, and the two chuckled while they opened about ten or twelve, Lily opening most of them. âAnd I know you made a crack about my rack, but Christy wants an ass shoot. To be honest, Iâm absolutely thrilled to see what using water for this is going to be like, especially for that.â
âSo how long do you think itâll take to do it like this?â Lily asked while beginning to hook up the needles to the tubing one by one. Briefly she stopped to redo her long, dark ponytail in a sloppy loop, trying to get it out of her way.
âI estimate⌠around an hour,â Duncan mused, working on threading the needles in the other side. He nonchalantly laid down on the trundle on his stomach once he was done, and pulled down his pants to his knees, revealing a pair of brightly colored tanga underwear. âI just have to sit still and wait.â
âYou want me to put them in along the outside, I guess,â she traced a finger along the fold of one buttcheek. Tapping slightly in a mental note, and holding the left-side bundle of tubing in her left hand, she eyeballed the injection site spacing with her right.
âYeah, that sounds fine,â he called over his shoulder, grabbing a throw pillow off the floor to prop himself up on with his arms crossed around it and his chest. âI trust your judgment.â
âAll right, then. Here we go.â And Lily went down the line, hooking six needles in an evenly spaced but vague semicircle at the fringe of his cheek, rounding the bed to do the same with the right. Duncan didnât flinch at a single one, not feeling a thing. She stood by and observed, hoping to see the inflation begin, and her arms readily fell akimbo after about thirty seconds. âI donât think itâs working.â
âDid you turn the valves?â
âI didnât realize the needles had stopper valves,â she muttered in animation, quickly undoing the pinch levers. âIt makes sense, though. Otherwise, the drip bag would be going everywhere without it attached.â
âAah,â Duncan winced, as Lily got the last three running.
âWhat? Is it ok?â She eyed his swelling buttocks.
âItâs cold,â he whined play-pathetically, curling his toes at her.
âWell, I donât think I can pull your pants back up without interfering with the needles.â She patted a cheek to see it jiggle, smirking when he squirmed in enjoyment. âDo you want the blanket pulled over you?â
âMmh. Yes please.â The underwear all but vanished between his cheeks as she watched.
Once Lily complied, she lightly patted both sides of his butt together through the medium weight blanket, and he shuddered out a chuckle, shutting his eyes and nestling his face in his crossed arms. Then she pulled up a chair and couldnât help but drift her gaze to see just how much the blanket had mounded up behind him. After about fifteen minutes, the first set of bags was empty, and Lily switched out the bags without having to reinsert the needles. This process repeated until the bags were all empty, about an hour later as Duncan had estimated. She didnât mind, content to watch him quietly inflate.
âThatâs the last of them,â she nudged.
When he stirred, Duncan tried to turn over, with difficulty. The blanket fell off him, revealing his waxy pallor had become near-completely clear everywhere he had taken on water. He noticed Lily staring in awe as she removed the needles for him, and tried to look behind him, grabbing at his butt with both hands to size it up.
âItâs so much *heavier* than I expected.â He grunted, managing to get onto his knees, and he attempted to pull his pants up around his massive thighs and buttocks, only for his jeggings to get no further than the crease below his buttocks. âOh. Ohh, um.â
âI hate how much I enjoy seeing you struggle with this.â She helped him to his feet, then came around behind him and grabbed the waistband in both hands. And she pulled as hard as she could, to no avail on her own either.
Through a team effort, he pressed his buttocks in trying to keep that fold from obstructing the garment from going up higher, and she pulled up his pants to where he could finally jump up and down in place and fasten them, barely. He pressed down on the mounds of buttock that overflowed his waistband, coaxing the water down into his thighs. Upon the success, he suddenly couldnât keep his hands off of himself.
âYou hate loving watching me struggle because I have to force clothes to fit me, and I love you hating to love it.â He murmured, threading his thumbs in his belt loops, and jumped in place one more time, his entire massive pear shape lower half trembling in demonstration. The pockets seemed a uselessly tiny decoration by comparison to how taut the spandex-woven denim contoured to his unbelievable curvature. âFor all the help, you definitely deserve a little time to enjoy the fruits of your effort.â
Given permission, Lily stepped up behind him again and her hands glided down his sides to cup his buttocks. He was just over a head taller than her, and when she pressed herself against his butt and held his chest from beneath his armpits, she buried her face between his tender shoulder blades. He could feel her breasts against him.
âYou will always feel a million times better than any of the dolls I sell,â she whispered heavily. âAnd is it just me, or is the water infinitely softer than the air?â She moved to cup his buttocks again for emphasis.
âThe inertia of it has me crazy,â he replied, taking her hands and guiding one to hold his crotch, the other to dip into his incredibly tight pants. âYou wouldnât mind a quickie, would nnfââ She cut him off with her free hand going from his grip to his lips, and his silicone tongue eagerly pressed her fingers against the roof of his mouth. For several minutes, only the sound of the friction of their clothing could be heard.
She unbuttoned him from behind, obsessed with how soft and heavy that ass felt against her thighs, unable to quit them. With her hands dipping back into his pants, she freed him and began to caress his rubbery, soft junk, one hand on his balls and the other for the rest. Duncan couldnât ejaculate anymore, but he could certainly come. And come. And come. She planned to give him just that, grinding hard against him while she gave him a reacharound, flush face fluttering between his shoulders. It didnât take long for them to get against a wall for leverage, Duncan steadying himself with both hands against it, his light and perky breasts bobbing in time with Lilyâs jerks and gyrations.
Once she was confident sheâd gotten him off at least once in this position, Lily guided him to lay face-up on the trundle, and vanished into the bathroom briefly to retrieve a nitrile condom and the water-based lubricant. Duncan giggled deliriously, watching her pull down her pants. She attempted to straddle him, giving up at first and kneeling over his knees to remove her buttondown and glasses. Down to only a demibra and her inanimate fetish, she lay atop him and nuzzled her face in his chest, wrapping her arms around him.
âPants on or off?â he asked, knowing the answer, but knowing also that the question itself held heat.
âOnnn,â she moaned, laying to one side to make sure his zipper was down far enough. She slipped the waistband of underwear down, under his nuts. Then, she opened and applied the condom, eagerly slathering it with lube and several more pumps of the tight circles of her fingers digging into the soft and flaccid flesh. Rubbing the excess all over his abdomen, she admired how slick it felt, and her hands wandered up under his shirt to fondle his breasts. âIâll never get over how pliant your skin is now.â
âAdmit it, you want everybody to have what I have,â Duncan teased as she got on top of him and slid him in.
He used the shifts of water pressure to build an effortless momentum, clenching and unclenching his buttocks in rhythm to her buckling down on him. The two moaned thickly, her legs digging into his massive thighs for added balance, and she found herself clawing at his buttocks to force him in as deep inside as she could. Glistening with sweat, she ultimately favored feeling the inertia of Duncanâs thrusts shaking through the bed frame, and she pulled up his shirt to nuzzle her face between his breasts, playing with his nipples while she rode one orgasm into a second. She sprawled out on top of him once they were both spent, Lily using Duncanâs chest for a pillow.
âItâs a shame this isnât a porn clip,â Lily sighed dreamily, running get hands along his sides gently, to hold his thighs.
âYou can stay if you want,â Duncan offered quietly. âYou might even end up suggesting some unique insight to the photographer.â
âIâm sure Christy has gotten tired of me, or at least suspects how much we fool around.â
âThat wasnât a no.â He grabbed blindly for his reader. âIâll order a pizza.â
âItâs fine.â Dripping half-cured silicone, Duncan pulled his arm away from his two coworkers and let out a ragged hiss. âThe burr in the armature cut my glove, is all.â Had he not been in a jumpsuit, one might have made the observation that the silicone nearly matched his complexion.
âYou should go rinse it off, at least.â Henry cautiously reached toward the ripped shoulder-high glove, mentally peeling it back with the optimism of scrutinizing his coworkerâs situation. But, he got nowhere close. âIf it cut through nitrile as thick as that, it might have cut you.â
