Penny Pincher and the Pink Dragon Sextoy Factory (Sextoy TF, Expansion) (Patreon)

“Casualties, as you’d expect, were horrendous.” 

With a flash of his award-winning smile, Burt Burtesky turned to Camera 2. “And now for some lighter news! I doubt there’s a single person watching who hasn’t heard the name Pink Dragon Sextoys! As I’m sure you’re all aware, it’s been almost ten years since the company appeared out of nowhere to become America’s no.1 sextoy manufacturer, taking the world by storm with a range of products so high-quality no-one else could even hope to compete!

“With fame came misfortune, however: five years ago, the company’s primary plant in Detroit, Michigan was forced to close following a series of lawsuits on behalf of disgruntled employees. Concerned investors and sextoy enthusiasts alike thought it was the end of the dream, yet, by some miracle, Pink Dragon sextoys continued to fill the shelves of every sex store on the continent! How, you ask? Well, you know as much as me, dear viewer! 

“But at long last, the mystery might finally be answered! Last night, the firm’s reclusive founder, Penelope Pincher, broke her long silence to make a shocking announcement: in their latest batch of products are hidden five golden redemption codes, and the lucky customers who find them will win an incredible prize: the chance to join an exclusive tour of the company’s Detroit plant!” 

Adjusting his tie, he turned to Camera 3. “Four of the golden redemption codes have already been found. Reporter Andy Handy is with one of the lucky winners now: how’s she feeling about it, Andy?” 

The screen cut to a man in a trench coat and a trilby. “Well, Burt, it seems to me like she’s having a pretty–” 

Andy shot off the screen, replaced by a tall, curvaceous blonde, her body wrapped in a yoga outfit just concealing enough to be acceptable on national television. “Hey, guys! Fanny Onleigh, World Famous Influencer here! And I cannot tell you how excited I am to be invited to Pink Dragon Sextoys! I’ve been marketing their products to my fans for yeeeeears, but I never imagined actually getting to see how they’re made! I can’t wait to show my fans some sneak peeks of Pink Dragon’s latest products! (Sign up today for exclusive videos of me testing their new buttplug! Only $600 a month! Join no–!)” 

The camera cut away. Burt shuffled his papers. “Well, that’s one person who’ll enjoy her reward. And now to John Tricks with another potential tour member…”

The screen snapped back on, revealing another man with a mic. And beside him: a young woman in a school blouse and skirt, her hair swinging in a pair of long pigtails. “Hiiiii!”

“Howdy, folks,” said John Tricks, raising his mic. “Miss Catux here is another big customer of Pink Dragon’s products. Isn’t that right, Miss Catux ?” 

With a girlish giggle, she threw herself at him, curling up against him like a cat, even as he sweated and pulled away. “Mmm~, that’s right. Me and my girlfriend just love the way they feel inside us. Isn’t that right, Luna?” 

She glanced at the young brunette to her right, who wore a dog’s ears and a collar. “Y-y-yip!”

Catux licked her lips. “There’s nothing better than having a big hard dildo in you.” She ran a finger over the reporter’s chest, raising a fresh crop of sweat from his face. “But you know what my faaaaavorite thing is…?” 

John Tricks swallowed. “Wh-what?” 

Miss Catux leaned in even closer, pressing her crotch against the reporter’s leg; he stiffened, and he wasn’t the only thing:

“Having a nice, tight onahole wrapped around my co–” 

The screen went black. Burt coughed. “John Tricks, with Mr. Felix Catux, there.”

He shuffled his sheets. “Perhaps the most notable of the recipients so far is Tiffany Worthington, heir of the prestigious Worthington Plastics, Placebos, and Prisons. The Worthington brand has suffered severe financial difficulties in recent years, until a contract to supply Pink Dragon itself sent their stock into the stratosphere.”

The screen cut to a young woman in a frilly pink dress, her long blonde hair bound into spiralling drills. “--No, of course I don’t use the disgusting things myself! It was Father’s idea to search for the code – as soon as the news came out, he insisted on buying as many of Pink Dragon’s products as he could buy. Oh, of course, he’s far too busy to go himself, but– …Don’t look at me like that, you disgusting little peasant! Tell them, Mother, tell them I’m telling the tru–” 

Before she could finish, the feed cut off. The cameras snapped back to Burt. “Sounds like Miss Worthington might prefer to tour one of her dad’s prisons! Ha ha.” He turned to Camera 1. “Unlike the next guest, who couldn’t be happier with her invite! Richard Wanker is on the scene!”

The feed cut to a small, dimly-lit room, its curtains drawn. Lewd posters and figures, hastily blurred, covered the walls and the cupboards, while stack after stack of magazines, some as tall as the wardrobe, cluttered the floor like a papery city. The only light came from a single screen obscured by a thick mop of curly black hair. 

“Hi, Burt,” said Richard, raising his mic. “This here is Lilith de Sire! Lilith, you received the invitation to join the tour just this morning, is that right?” 

From the desk came a loud squelching sound. “Oh, oh yeah!” 

“You’ve been a customer of Pink Dragon for many years now, haven’t you, Lilith? Besides their sextoys, you’re also a big fan of their so-called ‘hentai’ magazines, aren’t you?” 

“Nnn~! Yeeeeeeeeees!” 

“How do you feel about getting the chance to see them made?” 

“____! ____! It’s so goooooooood!” 

Richard laughed. “Well, there you go, folks! Back to you, Burt!” 

Something hit the screen with a splat; the camera cut.

Back in the studio, Burt laughed, though there wasn’t the slightest hint of humor in it. He was a fifty-three-year-old man; he’d been in the news industry since he was twenty. He had a wife and three kids, all of whom were grown adults. Every weekend, he went golfing with his buddies, followed by some light drinking at the clubhouse – nothing too crazy, a little tipple to take the edge off while they discussed their glory days. His parents were dead; every morning he woke up to more grey hairs on his pillow. The world of his childhood had gone, turned sour and rotted like a late Autumn apple blown from the tree and left to molder in the mud. His wife no longer found him attractive, and truthfully, she wasn’t exactly Miss Michigan herself anymore. If it weren’t for the drugs, he didn’t think he could–

Someone was shouting in his earpiece; he coughed. “Well, I hope she enjoys herself, the disgusting little…” He cleared his throat. “In other news–!” 

The teleprompter flashed; he squinted. Breaking…? “Breaking news, folks! According to Pink Dragon’s website, the final invitation has just been accepted! Our top reporter, Dick Inhand, is on his way to the scene right now…” 

The screen cut to Dick Inhand and his camera crew exiting the burning wreck of their helicopter and hauling ass down a pristine suburban street to the door of an equally pristine suburban domicile, its lawn so carefully trimmed as to be an affront to nature. ‘God Bless This House’, read the welcome mat.

Wiping his oil-coated boots on it, Dick Inhand raised a fist and knocked with all his reporter’s subtlety. Not two seconds later it opened, revealing the face of a bewildered middle-aged brunette. “H-hello?” 

“Good evening, ma’am,” said Dick, thrusting the mic at her mouth. “Is it true that someone who lives in this house has accepted an invitation to take an exclusive tour of the Pink Dragon Sextoy Company?” 

The middle-aged woman stood there, blinking. Hymn music flowed out of the house, through Dick’s mic, and into the studio, forcing one of the audio technicians to tune it out before it drove any of their viewers away. “S-sextoy?” 

“That’s right, ma’am.” 

The brunette’s face twisted into a mask of apoplectic rage. Clenching her fists, she marched for the stairs. “MARY!”

***

Mary Mayflower stood at the gates of the factory and burned like she was already in hell. “I can’t believe you talked me into this…” 

“Into what?” said Ruth, stuffing another handful of chips into her mouth. “Accepting the invite?” 

“Yes, accepting the invite!” Mary whirled on her, face flushed, making her boobs bounce in her sweater. “And redeeming the code! And buying the stupid sextoy in the first place! Do you know what Mom did when she found out?! She sent me to a priest!” 

“Oh, come on,” said Ruth, spraying spittle and little flecks of chip everywhere. “It was just a stupid joke! How was I supposed to know they’d send a camera crew?” 

Mary groaned. She and Ruth had been friends all through Catholic school, but no matter how much Mary protested, Ruth never stopped teasing her. This stupid sextoy deal was just the latest in a long line of ridiculous, half-sexual pranks her best friend had played on her – if she didn’t know better, she’d think Ruth was some kind of lesbian or something. “They threatened to exorcise me!” 

“Wow, no kidding? Did it work?” 

Mary covered her face and groaned. “Apparently not, seeing as I’m here!” She turned back to the factory, looked up at its grand black bulk, and moaned. “I really can’t believe you talked me into this…” 

The building loomed over the old industrial district, a mountain of spires and smokestacks belching gases like an active volcano, a giant middle finger aimed at God and everything else that was decent in the world. To Mary’s eyes, it looked like a castle out of the fantasy novels her mother had taken from her as a child – a great black tower of death. …A bit like a massive dildo, only more menacing.

The other guests and their plus ones were already waiting on the red carpet: Felix Catux and his girlfriend Luna; Fanny Onleigh and her cameraman; Tiffany Worthington and her mother; Lilith de Sire and, uh, no-one.

Around them thronged a swarm of paparazzi, chattering and taking photographs and generally threatening to overflow the barriers placed to keep them back. Mary flinched each time someone snapped a photo.

As they approached the gate, the other guests looked them up and down with varying levels of interest: Felix took a quick glance and snickered. Fanny looked straight through them. Tiffany turned her nose up. And Lilith giggled, rubbing her thighs together like she desperately needed the toilet.

“Hmmphf!” said Miss Worthington Jr., flicking a long blonde pigtail with a huff of irritation. “I can’t believe we’re being made to wait like this. It’s absolutely unacceptable!” 

“What’s the matter, princess?” Snickering, Felix cozied up beside her. “Never had to wait for anything before? I bet you’re used to having butlers wait on you, huh? Hand and foot and maybe some other body parts too, eh? Hey, you want me to be your butler, princess?” He wrapped an arm around her.

Tiffany’s eyebrows shot off her face. “G-get away from me you– you disgusting transvestite! M-mother! Mother, tell him to stay away!” 

“Holy shit! Hold that pose!” said Fanny, throwing herself into the frame. “John? Are you getting this? Well start filming! Femboys are so hot right now!”

“Y-you stay away from me as well! Mother!” 

“P-play nice now, honey…” 

“Quick, get the milf in the shot too!” 

“Ooo… can I be in the video as well…?”

Watching the scene playing out before her, Mary’s face grew paler and paler. Oh God, why am I even here?! This was worse than the Garden of Gethsemane!

“Holy shit, Mary,” said Ruth. “This is crazy!” 

“Thank you!”

“That bitch with the camera has bigger tits than you do.” 

Mary tugged at her sweater. I’m going to hell. I’m going to hell. This is hell, and I’m at the gates. I’m going to hell.

If things had gone on any longer, she might have caught fire right there, but just as she was about to self combust, the lock on the gate of the factory unlocked with a click, and as one, her and the other guests and the tidal wave of reporters went silent.

For a moment the only sound in the parking lot of the factory was the click-click-clicking of distant clockwork. At last, the gate creaked, spilling dust, and with a groaning of rusty hinges, swung steadily, ominously open. A blast of air rushed past them and through the gate, whipping at their hair and snatching the hats from the reporters’ heads. 

“ENTER,” boomed a voice, and to Mary it might as well have been Satan himself. She squeaked, struggling not to wet herself.

“Holy fucking SHIT, guys!” said Fanny, thrusting a finger at the gate. “It’s like there’s an actual DRAGON in there! WOAH! …John, lower the camera, you need to get my cleavage in.” 

She gave the paparazzi one last wave, one last kiss, posed for a few final snapshots, and finally, having made sure they caught her cleavage, turned and hurried inside, looking back only to check her cameraman was still following her.

Mary exchanged a glance with Ruth. “This is… a little creepier than I was expecting…”

“Oh, relax,” said Ruth. “You’ve been in a sex store before, right? It’ll be just like that, only bigger.” 

“I haven’t been in a sex store before!” 

“Oh. Oh well.” Tossing her chip packet, she marched ahead, skirt swishing as she walked. Mary took a deep breath and copied her. 

The entrance led not to the reception desk Mary had expected, but to a marvelous foyer, like something out of a palatial mansion. A grand red carpet covered the floor, a grand chandelier hung overhead, and rows of grand paintings decorated the walls, though there were considerably more nude ones than Mary considered tasteful.

Beneath the paintings stood on display a series of strange devices. Conglomerations of pipes and gears and wires that, to Mary’s Christian eyes, might as well have been built by the Devil. There was one like a phantom mare attached to a pair of pistons; a bike with a dildo thrusting out of the saddle; and one like a dentist’s chair, though no dentist’s chair had quite so many arms, let alone ones with such phallic attachments. Studying them, she blushed. “Wh-what are they?” 

“Miss Pincher’s inventions, presumably,” said Tiffany, sticking her nose up. “Didn’t you know she’s an inventor?” She tapped her foot. “Where is she anyway? I thought she’d finally decided to come and greet her guests, but apparently–”  

With a boom, the doors slammed behind them. The lights cut out. Theatrical fog washed over their boots, and from the walls came a rising beat of dramatic music. The floor rumbled, as if the entire room were moving.

At last, all the spotlights snapped to the ceiling. And from the heavens descended their host, a woman who looked a little like a witch and a little like a Victorian businessman. She wore suit pants and a jacket with long, flapping tails, and a tall, crooked hat that threatened to fly off her head with every erratic motion. All pink, of course – bright pink. 

Her eyes were mismatched: gold and blue and strangely unfocused. Like billiard balls, they bounced in their sockets, leaping from one member of their group to the next and on again. “Greetings, salutations, konichiwa, hello, et cetera!” She curtsied, and a wrench fell out of her pocket. “Penelope Pincher, inventor, and founder of Pink Dragon Sextoys, AKA the company owning the plant in which you are now standing! Hello!” 

“Pincher!” Tiffany strode forward, fist clenched like she might strike her. “This is completely unacceptable! You think that just because you saved my Father’s company from bankruptcy, you can make ME wait around?!” 

Pincher grabbed her by the hand and shook her like a doll. “Tiffany! So good to see you! And yes! I’m glad you understand the principle! Hello! Hello! Who else do I have to shake?”

Lilith bustled forward. “When do we get to see the toys?” she asked, visibly leaking.

Miss Pincher seized Lilith’s hand. “Why, good morning, you sticky, sticky person!” She released her, looking disgruntled, and swapped out her glove. “You must be Miss de Sire. To answer your question: very soon indeed! In fact, you might say you’ve already met them!” 

“Already met them?” said Fanny, quirking an eyebrow. “What does that mean? (John, you’re getting all this, right?)” 

“Miss Onleigh!” Pincher bounced over to her. (The sight made Mary blush – there was a lot of Pincher to bounce.) “Well, you’re one of my top customers, aren’t you? So it goes without saying that you’ve already met my toys!” 

“I guess that makes sense,” said Fanny, frowning.

Does it? thought Mary.

“Are we going to get to try them out?” said Felix, stepping out of the crowd. “I can’t wait to see Miss Twintails over there bouncing on a nice hard dildo…” 

Tiffany squeaked and pulled down her skirt. 

Miss Pincher, on the other hand, merely laughed. “Mr. Catux! So glad to have you join us! Suffice to say there’ll be plenty of opportunities on this tour for you to sample the merchandise, so to speak.”

Felix smirked. “Do you ‘sample your own merchandise’, Miss Pincher?” 

“Of course!” said Pincher, without the slightest pause. “I’m using one of my experimental vibrators right now, as a matter of fact! Here’s the control – feel free to have some fun with it.” She pressed a little remote into Felix’s hands, and for the first time since Mary had met him, his smile faltered. 

“Now!” With a clap of the hands, Pincher turned and strolled away. “Enough introductions! We all know what we’re really here for, so let’s get to it! I’ve decided to start with one of the most wonderful rooms in the entire goshdarned factory!” And she turned and marched in the direction of the exit. “Behold…!” 

“Wait a second…” said Mary. Was she losing her mind? Hadn’t they come in that way? “Isn’t that the ent–?” 

Seizing the grand wooden doors by their equally enormous handles, Pincher wrenched them open as if they weighed nothing. Light spilled into the corridor, blinding in its intensity, forcing Mary and the rest of the guests to shield their eyes.

Mary blinked, willing her eyes to adjust as fast as possible. Beyond the gate – the gate, as in, the one they’d just come through – lay not the parking lot and swarms of reporters they’d left behind, but a sprawling factory floor, all conveyors and rumbling machines. 

“Welcome to the Fleshlight Foundry,” said Pincher. 

Mary gaped. “B-b-but that’s impossible! That was the entrance!” 

Pincher turned on her with a strange little smile. “Ah, you there, with the overly-tight sweater. Miss Mayflower, isn’t it? My apologies – in my haste to begin the tour, I believe I overlooked you.” 

Mary turned as red as the carpet. “It’s a, um, pleasure to meet you, Ms. Pincher.” 

Bending down, Pincher took her hands in her own and squeezed with surprising gentleness for such a sinful woman. “You’re not one of my regular customers, are you? No, that would be your plus one here, wouldn’t it?” Her eyes slid to Ruth, who gave her a thumbs up. “Don’t worry, I understand – if you’d prefer to step aside, you could always wait in the breakroom.” 

Mary flushed. She’d never expected a woman like Pincher to be so wholesome. 

“Mmn, yes, I’m sure my employee would love to get a look at these fat tits of yours.” Releasing her hands, she seized Mary’s breasts and gave them a nice, meaty squeeze. “Fuck, you’ve got big boobs.” 

Mary’s nervous system did a somersault and exploded. 

Releasing her, Pincher bounced back to the door, leaving Mary to stand there red-faced and steaming, her nipples tingling like they’d been struck by lightning. Oh God, she was in hell already!

“Allow me to explain!” continued the toymaker. “This factory isn’t like other factories! Oh, no, no, no…! Every time I design a new product, I have to build a new production line, and a new production line means a new floor, and a new floor means a new building, new layout, et cetera, et cetera. Eventually, I got sick of it. So, I came up with a very clever solution:” 

She clapped her hands. “I simply redesigned the entire building to modify itself on demand, creating new floors and production lines as necessary. While we were doing our little introductions, I simply had the foyer turned so its entrance lined up with the Fleshlight Foundry.” 

“You mean this entire building can rebuild itself on the fly?” said the elder Miss Worthington. “That’s incredible.” 

“Is it?” said Ms. Pincher, inspecting her nails. “I hadn’t noticed.” 

“Forget about making sextoys,” said Felix. “You could revolutionize the world with technology like that.” 

“Oh, I’m sure someone else has already thought of it – it’s a trivial trick, really. At any rate, enough about the architecture! On to the Fleshlight Foundry! Excelsior!” And she raised a leg and marched straight through the door. 

Hugging her chest like someone might steal it, Mary turned to Ruth and emitted a feeble squeak of despair. 

Ruth shrugged. “What can I say? Genius and madness, you know?” 

*

Mary had no idea what a ‘Fleshlight Foundry’,  or indeed any kind of sextoy production line, was meant to look like. Frankly, she didn’t want to know. But if you’d asked her anyway – and she’d managed to answer without slapping you – she would probably have said something about conveyor belts. After all, every factory had conveyor belts. 

The Fleshlight Foundry’s conveyor belts were just about the only thing it had in common with a normal factory. In every other respect, it looked less like an industrial plant and more like a medieval banquet hall, complete with a roaring fire at the end and empty suits of armor standing guard by the thick stone walls. Paintings of Pincher, replete in regal regalia, looked down on them as they entered. Mary had the terrible premonition they were about to hear a bard plucking the strings of his lute.

The actual production lines sat where there might otherwise have been banquet tables. There were three of them, each with their own sign: one bore the image of a mouth, one the image of a v-vagina…! And the last depicted some kind of bizarre pink starfish. Muscular men in jumpsuits worked the belt, looking distinctly out of place with the medieval aesthetic. 

“Who are the big bears in orange?” said Felix.

“Why, these are my delightful employees!” said Pincher. “They’re the adorable little elves to my Santa Claus – I wouldn’t be able to make all my toys without them.” 

“They’re prisoners,” said Tiffany Worthington. “Disgusting, subhuman criminals on loan from my father’s prisons.” 

Mary paled. “C-criminals?” The Good Book preached forgiveness, but there was a big difference between forgiving the poor and the gays and forgiving actual criminals. 

She risked a glance at one, and he leered like he wanted to lick her. Squealing, she hid behind Ruth.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” said Pincher. “They’re perfectly harmless. Why, they’re all just a bunch of cuddly bears once you get to know them.” 

“Half of them were on death row,” said Tiffany. 

“Nonsense!” said Pincher. “They’re no more harmful than I am. Isn’t that right, Frank?” 

“Grunt,” said Frank, who looked like he’d been built of all the people he’d killed. 

Pincher clapped him on the back. “What did they lock you up for again, Frank? Excessive charity, if I recall?” 

“Rapin’,” said Frank. 

“Rapping,” said Pincher. “Well, I’m no fan of the genre myself, but I think we can all agree that no man deserves the death penalty for it. And besides, Frank has promised never to sing about little girls again, so he’s well on his way to being a productive member of society. Now…” 

Pincher marched on. “The Fleshlight Foundry is one of our simpler production lines. Let’s begin at, well, the beginning.” She led them to the start of the ‘Vagina’ line, where another prisoner stood and watched as thick globs of what appeared to be dough dropped from a pipe in the ceiling. They struck the start of the line with a splat, and it carried them on towards the machines. Every now and then he had to adjust one to keep it from falling off. 

“The process starts here,” said Pincher, “with a delightful glob of Pink Dragon’s patented FauxFlesh™! This wonderful substance, which we produce in large quantities deeper in the facility, is the basis of almost every toy I make, especially the more lifelike kinds like the fleshlights and so forth.” 

Another blob struck the conveyor with a splat. Mary had to duck to dodge a stray speck of the stuff.

“The ‘flesh’...” Pincher made finger quotes. “...rolls down the conveyor belt to the next station.” She pointed at something resembling a sausage maker. “Where my good man, Jerry, Master of Cylinders, picks up it up and deposits it in the Cylinderfier! Jerry, if you’d be so kind as to demonstrate.” 

With a grunt, Jerry picked up the latest glob and tossed it into the machine, which whirred and churned away like a meat grinder and finally disgorged a perfect cylinder of flesh. It struck the belt with a smack, and Jerry nudged it to keep it from rolling off.

“Holy fucking shit,” said Fanny. “John, are you getting this? You’re getting all this, John?”

“I’m filming it, I’m filming it!” said John, sweating under the weight of his camera. 

“Incidentally, we may have to have a little talk about how much of that footage you can actually use,” said Pincher, stroking her chin. “You know, trade secrets and all. In the meantime…” She strode to the next station on the line, where another bulky Frank-type stood beside a machine halfway between a cradle and a vice. 

“This is the Casing Machine! Where we put the peanuts in their shells, so to speak. And this is Tony, who does the shelling. How do you enjoy your job, Tony?”

“È perfetto, Signorina.” 

Pincher giggled. “Tony here belongs to a rare species of human known as ‘Italians’, you know.” 

One of the cylinders of flesh rolled into the Casing Machine’s cradle. With a schunk, Tony pulled a lever, and the vice’s jaws snapped shut. 

A moment later, they snapped open again, and the cylinder’s bare flesh had been wrapped in a tight plastic shell.

“Molto bene,” said Tony

Mary squinted at him suspiciously. The Pope was an Italian. 

The cylinder, perfectly encased, rolled down the line to the next machine. This one resembled a drill, though Mary had never seen a drillbit that looked quite so… ph-phallic. 

“This is the Holemaker!” said Pincher. “And this is Gary, our Master of Holes. Gary, would you care to explain what you do for our guests?” 

“Murderin’,” said Gary.

“In the factory, Gary.” 

“Oh.” Gary scratched his head. “I pull the lever to puts the holes in the things.” Another cylinder of fake flesh rolled down the line and gave him the opportunity to demonstrate: as it reached the machine, he pulled a switch, and a cradle of arms snatched it up and held it firmly in place. Now he pulled another lever, and the strange drillbit slammed forward, stabbing deep into the synthetic flesh and wiggling around inside it. Finally, Gary thrust the first lever forward again, and the drillbit pulled out with a sticky schlup, leaving a perfect pair of plump labia, open and ready to receive a–

Mary squealed and covered her eyes. What am I doing here?! 

Ignoring her, Pincher strolled on. “Finally, the fleshlight reaches the end of the line, where Phil, our Master of Boxes, puts it into a box. Phil, if you’d care to demonstrate." 

Phil picked the fleshlight up and put it into a box, and it was the only thing Mary had seen since entering the factory that actually made sense to her. 

The finished sextoy, boxed up and sealed, rolled down the line for a few more meters and was promptly sucked up into the ceiling by a pipe very similar to the one at the start.

“And there you have it,” said Pincher. “One Pink Dragon fleshlight from start – more or less – to finish. Does anyone have any questions?” 

Ruth raised her hand. “Hey, I have one. What happened to Belle Delphine?” 

Mary blinked. Who was…?

A high-pitched voice cut through the factory. “John! John! Are you filming?! What?! Well, hurry up and start! You get some good footage of this, and I’ll promote you to chief mod!” 

“I’m trying, Fanny!” 

Mary spun. Fanny Onleigh stood at the end of the neighboring line, struggling to climb onto the conveyor. One of the Franks watched her in bafflement. 

“Are you filming?” she called, as she scrambled onto the belt.

“I’m filming, Fanny!” 

“What the hell is she doing?” said Tiffany. “Is she stupid?” 

Pincher scurried forward. “Excuse me…! Excuse me…! Miss Onleigh… Miss Onleigh…! I’d prefer if you didn’t climb all over my equipment!” 

Fanny ignored her. “Ready…? Alright.” She posed. “Hey guys! It’s ya girl, Fanny Onleigh, coming to you luh-ive– actually, I guess not, uh, not live, from the Pink Dragon sextoy factory! Yeah, that’s right! You heard me! Right now, I’m standing on their fleshlight production line and– Woah! Hey, it’s kinda hard to stand on this thing while it’s moving. I’ve gotta be careful! I don’t wanna fall off and get hurt!” 

“Miss Onleigh. Miss Onleigh.” Pincher sounded uncharacteristically passionless. “Please remove yourself from the line post-haste.” 

Either Fanny didn’t hear her or Fanny didn’t care. She was only feet away from the first machine now. “Holy SHIT, guys. Isn’t this place FUCKING SIIIIIIICK?!”

Mary’s head snapped left and right. Couldn’t they all see what was about to happen? “S-somebody stop her!” 

One of the Franks started filming her on his phone. 

Felix gave Tiffany a nudge. “Hey, do you think she’ll get off in time?” 

“Surely. No-one’s actually that stupid.” 

“She’s gonna make such a hot fleshlight,” said Lilith, visibly drooling.

“Okay,” continued Fanny, barely ducking under a light, “we’re kinda coming up on the first machine, so I guess I’ve gotta get off the conveyor now. I wouldn’t wanna fall in. Hah hah.” 

Her cameraman swore. “Goddammit! The lens cap was on!” 

Fanny lost her smile. “Are you shitting me, John? When this is over, I’m kicking you down to Donation tier! Urgh, let’s start over then… Hey guys! It’s ya girl, Fanny Onleigh, coming to you not live from the Pink Dragon sextoy factory and– You’re getting my cleavage in, ri–?” 

With a clunk, she hit the mouth of the Cylinderfier and toppled inside. 

“Oh my god, she is,” said Tiffany. 

*

“Hey! What the fuck?! What happened to the lights?!” 

Fanny Onleigh squirmed in the darkness. Where the hell was she? One moment she’d been filming a video for her fans, and the next she’d tripped into a glory hole or something. “What the fuck?!” She tried to move, but she was all out of space to do it and stuff. Everything was so cramped and sweaty – fuck, it was just like that time she’d riden an elevator with her Discord mods. It was so, like, unfair.

From somewhere beyond the darkness came a high-pitched squeal. Fanny cocked her head, thinking hard thoughts like ‘who was I just talking to?’ The voice kinda sounded like that mousy Christian chick with the big tits and the sweater vest. What was her name? Something out of the Bible, right? Whatever the answer, she sounded pretty panicked. “Stop the machine! Stop the machine!”

Machine? thought Fanny. What machine? She screwed up her brow in thought. What had she been doing again? Ugh, she was never gonna hit 10k subs at this rate!

With a groan like an old bus, the dark little cave in which she sat rumbling into life, jostling her about till she banged her head on the ceiling. She found herself sucked forward, out of the ‘glory hole’ and into something more like a ‘glory funnel’, which crushed her arms against her side and her knees into her tits and left her squealing. “H-hey! Hands off the goods! I have a mod team!” 

A harsh beep. “Contaminant detected. Applying solution.” 

A hiss; something cold and wet sprayed her. She squealed as it soaked through her clothes and drenched her all over. “Ew! Ew! Stop! What the fuck?!” The stench of burning cloth hit her nostrils, followed by a sudden chill as the cool air met her skin. “What the fuuuuck?!”  

She couldn’t see what was happening to her outfit – her short skirt and her boobtube and the flimsy jacket she wore over it – but she could feel it as it ran in scraps and rivulets from her flesh to disappear through the grill under her legs. “H-Hey! Give me my clothes back, you jerk machine! Do you know how much they cost?!” 

The floor and the walls and the ceiling all shifted, rolling her forward, just like the conveyor belt she’d ridden into the machine. At the same time, they came together like a four-sided funnel, squeezing her chin into the floor and her knees into her chest. The back of her feet ended up pressed into her butt, squishing into her cheeks so hard it felt like they were inside them. She tried to move, but there simply wasn’t room – she could barely even breathe, let alone adjust her position. “H-h-hey…! H-help…!” 

The walls of the machine shifted again, rolling her even farther forward, so that her legs crumpled into her chest and her buttcheeks into her feet and her arms into her sides, leaving her squished as a car in a crusher. The upper half of her head ended up smoothed back, flattened into the top of her cuboid new form, so that she sat there looking up into the black void of the ceiling. It should have hurt, but there was no pain. If anything it was strangely hot, but perhaps that was just her ankles being snuffed into her vagina. “Nnnn~!” 

With a grumbling and a groan, the machine forced her forward again. She hit another funnel – a circular one this one – and as her crushed, deformed body slid into it, something dropped from behind her and slammed into her ass, forcing her forward, forward, forward into the tunnel, which shrank till she could barely even twitch, less alone make any more noise. All she could do was open and close her mouth, emitting little whimpers. 

Ahead appeared a light. She slid towards it, squirming and grimacing.

*

Mary clapped her hands over her mouth and watched, tears in her eyes, as the Cylinderfier rumbled away like it would explode at any second. It was a beast of a machine, but clearly it hadn’t been designed to deal with quite such a large clump of flesh as Fanny Onleigh. 

She chewed her lip, looking left and right in worry. Fanny would be okay, wouldn’t she? Sh-she might be a s-sinful slut, b-but that didn’t mean she deserved to be made into a fleshlight!

At long last, the groaning stopped, and with one last, flatulent blart, the machine excreted a thick cylinder of flesh. It fell from the nozzle and struck the conveyor belt with a plop and sat there, rolling from side to side and shaking slightly. Unlike the other cylinders, it already had a mouth and a pair of eyes (and several other body parts, though they were squished into her body and almost unrecognizable). 

Mary moaned. She felt like throwing up.

“F-Fanny?” said John, camera limp. “Fanny?” When she didn’t respond, he whirled on Pincher. “What the hell did it do to her?!” 

“Didn’t you hear my explanation?” said Ms. Pincher, caressing the Cylinderfier like a frightened dog. “It squished her into a cylinder, of course.” 

“T-turn her back!” 

Pincher stroked her chin, as if the thought hadn’t occurred to her. “Well, I suppose it would be possible. She hasn’t been cased yet, after all.” 

Schunk! 

As one, they turned to see the Casing Machine’s vice part, revealing the smooth pink case in which it had wrapped Fanny’s body. 

“F-Fanny!” 

Ms. Pincher winced. “Well, no matter. It won’t be easy, but it should still be fixable. So long as she doesn’t go through the–” 

With a schlup, the Holemaker slammed its drill into Fanny’s open mouth – this one looked less like a penis and more like a giant tongue, with a pair of inverted lips at the base. Fanny’s whimpers cut out, replaced by a feeble gagging sound. 

Finally, with another schlup, the Holemaker withdrew. 

John had had enough: dropping his camera, he rushed forward and snapped her from the conveyor before she could be boxed up. “Oh Fanny…” He turned her around in his hands, looking like he might cry. She’d stopped producing any noise at all by now – indeed, there was little apparent difference between her and any of the other fleshlights on the belt. 

Pincher strolled over, shaking her head. “Oh dear, oh dear. What a terrible shame. A terrible shame.” 

Mary felt a sudden flash of frustration. “Aren’t you going to help her?!”

The toymaker looked her up and down, clearly trying to remember who she was, and ended up ogling her chest again. Mary covered herself. 

Finally, Pincher sniffed. “Of course I’m going to help her. After all, we take health and safety very importantly here at Pink Dragon Sextoys Ltd.” Plucking Fanny from John’s hands, she spun her around and peered into her mouth. “Hmm, it looks as though the change hasn’t fully set yet. If we can crack open her shell and… I don’t know, pump her full of helium or something, we might be able to return her to normal.” She snapped her fingers, and two burly Franks with buzzcuts walked over. “Take Miss Onleigh and her partner here down to the Basement. And see if there’s anything you can do to, ah, help them.” 

The Franks grabbed John’s arms and, before he could utter even a word of protest, marched him and his employer in the direction of the nearest door. 

“Is the basement, like, your A&E for this stuff?” said Ruth. 

“Something like that,” said Pincher, eyeing the corner of the ceiling – Mary followed her gaze and found herself looking at a security camera. 

“Well.” Pincher brought her hands together with a clap. “That was all very unfortunate. Why don’t we clear our minds with something a little different?” And with that, she turned and bounced in the direction of the door. 

As the rest of the group followed her, Mary remained where she stood, eyes drifting back to the awful Cylinderfier and its operator. The production lines were already back in motion – Fanny’s accident hadn’t stopped them for five minutes. 

What am I doing here?!

Frank – the original Frank – gave her a wave. With a squeak, she hurried after the rest of the group.

***

Several minutes of industrial hiking later, they entered another enormous room. Unlike the Fleshlight Foundry, this seemed more like an elite chocolatier’s kitchen, complete with smooth white surfaces and Franks in clean white clothes. Colorful fluids – Mary assumed it was paint – flowed in pipes along the ceiling and in rivers across the floor, as if someone had liquified a rainbow and separated all the colors. Pouring from all corners of the room, they  converged on a large machine in the middle, a squid-like monstrosity of tentacular pipes which slurped up their contents and with a series of loud smacking sounds and hisses, spat out…

Mary paled. “D-d-d-dildos!” 

“So, this is where my father’s plastic goes,” said Tiffany. 

“Some of it, some of it,” said Pincher, somewhat cryptically. 

“Oh my gosh, just look at those big, hard rods,” said Lilith, drooling from two different holes now.

Felix snorted. “Hey, how the hell is this any different to the last room? It’s still making sextoys, isn’t it?” 

Pincher stooped to squeeze his cheek – his asscheek. “Well, you see, my sexually-ambiguous little cherub, the toys made in the last room were all for sticking penises in. Whereas these toys are, well, much the opposite. I imagine you’ll enjoy them just as much though.” 

Felix blushed. “I guess that’s true.” 

“As a matter of fact,” the toymaker continued, “this is one of my many, many R&D labs. This is where we test the various mixtures used by the plant, as well as new toy designs, in order to bring our customers the greatest amount of pleasure for the least amount of plastic stuck in their genitals.” She pointed to the conveyor belt lolling out of the dildo maker. “Those toys you see over there are going straight into the hands of a team of highly-trained sluts, who are certain to tell us whether or not they’re orgasmic enough.” She smiled. “More interestingly, this is also where we’re testing some of our experimental pharmaceutical products!” 

Mary lurched. “Ph-pharmaceutical products?!” 

“Yeah, you know,” said Ruth, elbowing her in the boob. “Like viagra and stuff.” 

“Oh, we make far more interesting products than that!” said Pincher. “Follow me!” She led them over a river of blue plastic to a small lab at the side of the room, where a handful of particularly scientific-looking Franks were mixing bottles of equally colorful but less opaque substances. “This fellow here is my good friend Peter – he’s a very special science criminal, arrested for all sorts of special science crimes! Good morning, Peter! And what have you got to show us today?” 

The chief Frank turned to face them with a rustle of protective gear. “Got a bottle of tits,” he said, offering them a bottle of glistening fluid. 

“A bottle of breast growth!” translated Pincher. “How exciting! Would anyone like to try it?”  

Ruth elbowed Mary in the boobs again. “Why don’t you try it? Really fill that sweater out.” 

She covered her chest and blushed. “I’m not taking breast growth serum! I get enough men staring at them as it is!” 

“No kidding,” said Ruth, who was also staring at them.

Felix turned to his girlfriend, who like an obedient dog had stayed silent until this point. “Why don’t you be a good little puppy and try some, Luna?” 

She flinched, squirming on the spot like she needed the toilet. “M-m-me? Y-you want me to take it, Master?” 

Mary squinted in growing suspicion. Master? Master?! Belatedly, she noticed the dog collar wrapped around Luna’s neck. Oh my God, how does this keep getting worse?

Felix stroked his girlfriend’s hair. “You’ve always wanted bigger boobs, haven’t you, pet? Go on, try some.” 

When Luna still didn’t move, Felix produced a little remote, and a with a click–

“Eek!” Luna jumped on the spot and lurched forward. Snatching the bottle out of Peter’s hand, she hurried to down its contents. The stuff went all over her face.

“Good girl,” said Felix, his grin wider than ever. As Luna passed the emptied bottle back to Peter, however, he frowned. “How long is this stuff supposed to take?” 

Pincher, her eyes locked on Luna’s chest, cocked her head. “Oh, we should be seeing the results aaaaaany second now. Any second…” She smiled. “You might want to prepare yourselves. They might be a little… dramatic.” 

Luna’s boobs started to shake in her blouse.

As one, Mary and the rest of the tour group took a step back, holding their breath, as visions of mountainous mammaries crushing them flat ran through all their heads. In the bodice of her top, Luna’s boobs shook harder and harder, producing a noticeable rumble, harder and harder, until at last–

–with a boing, they gained a few centimeters. If that.

“Oh!” Luna’s eyes flashed. “They’re perfect!” Giggling, she groped herself. 

Mary sighed in relief. As perverse as it was, it was far better than she’d expected. They were still smaller than hers.

Not everyone was as happy:

“What a rip-off!” cried Lilith. “What’s the point of breast growth if they don’t end up bigger than the rest of her?!” 

“Yeah!” said Felix. “What’s the big idea, Pincher? That was pathetic.” 

Pincher shrugged in amusement. “Well, it’s all a matter of perspective, really. But never fear. I’m sure we have something else here that you’ll enjoy. …In fact, Mr. Catux, I might have something for you personally.” 

“For me?” said Felix, raising an eyebrow. Pincher passed him a bottle of something thick and white. “What the hell is this?” 

“If I recall, someone mentioned viagra earlier,” said Pincher. “Well, this is very much like viagra. But much more effective.” 

“Sounds painful,” said Felix, squinting at the bottle. 

“Oh no, no, no! I promise you, it’s incredibly pleasurable.” Pincher’s eyebrows wiggled like a pair of slender caterpillars.

Felix snorted. “Well, if it’s anything like your other products, it can’t be too dangerous…” He studied the open mouth of the bottle with a frown. “Still…” 

“M-Master?” said Luna, hands folded in front of her crotch. She was a head taller than her boyfriend, yet somehow she still gave the impression she was looking up at him. “Y-y-your puppy would really like a nice, hard bone to chew on.” 

Mary squinted at her. What in the name of the Lord was she talking about? It was weird enough that she kept acting like his pet dog, but now she wanted a bone to chew on too? 

In her confusion, she traced Luna’s gaze to Felix’s crotch and from there to the bottle in his hand and back to Luna again. She was drooling. 

“O-oh. Oh,” said Mary, turning as red as the river of red plastic.

Felix smirked. “Oh, you want a nice big bone to suck on, huh, puppy? Well, you have been a good girl today. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to give you a little treat…” He popped the cork, shrugged, and downed the bottle’s contents in one gulp. “Not bad. S’kinda salty though…” Tossing the empty bottle to Peter, he looked down at himself with a frown. “I’m not feeling anything happening…” 

“Oh, just give it a second,” said Pincher, inspecting her watch. “This formula was our most effective by far.” 

“Uh huh,” said Felix. “Oh yeah, sure it is. I’ll believe it when I–NNNNNNAAAAH! NNNNAH!” With a scream, he thrust his hips forward, and a fountain of thick, sticky fluid erupted from his crotch. 

“Aiii!” She leapt back, hands raised to shield her eyes, as the awful substance sprayed the wall. 

“Holy fucking shit,” said Ruth, unable to hide her delight. “You weren’t kidding about the effectiveness!” 

Felix dropped to the floor and lay there on his back, trembling and shaking, as he painted the ceiling with another can of white stuff. Drops of it rained all over them. 

“Ew! Ew! Ew!” cried Tiffany, struggling to shield her hair from it. “Mother, help! Help!” 

Lilith, on the other hand, closed her eyes, leaned back, and opened wide, swallowing the stuff like it was a regular Autumn rainfall. “Ahhhh~.” 

Luna, on the other hand, simply stood there and stared at her boyfriend as he writhed, her eyes growing a little wider with each fresh liter of semen that spurted from his crotch. Mary had never seen anyone look so hungry. 

On the ground, Felix squirmed. “M-M-make it stoooooop!” Not only were his sweatpants absolutely soaked with the stuff, but they were beginning to fill out, stretched tight, as something bulged inside them. Mary squinted at it, struggling to figure out what it was – it looked like he’d stuffed a balloon down his pants. “H-help!” 

“I’m very sorry,” said Pincher, who’d produced as if from thin air an umbrella, “but there’s nothing we can do! We have to let it run its course!” 

“H-how long will that take?” said the elder Miss Worthington.

“Oh, I’d say about three days or so.” 

On the ground, Felix lurched. “Th-th-three days?” He squirmed, struggling to stand, and collapsed with another moan as a fresh fountain of white stuff burst out of his crotch. 

“D-don’t worry, Master, I’ll help you!” Luna grabbed his arm and helped him to his feet, though it was difficult for him to stand, his legs were so shaky. By now, the thing in his pants had swollen to the size of a football, and as it fired another round of goop at the floor, Mary began to suspect it wasn’t a balloon after all.

Thick beads of sweat poured from Felix’s face. “I-I gotta get outta here. I’ve gotta get to a hospital!” 

“Master!”  

“G-get off of me!” Pushing Luna away, Felix swiveled in search of the door. Catching it, he lurched in its direction, reduced to waddling by the monster between his legs. He made it all of three meters before another blast of white stuff from his pants dropped him to the ground again. “Nnnn~!” 

“Somebody help him!” cried Miss Worthington. 

“You’re quite right,” said Ms. Pincher. “Someone should help him.” She picked some dirt out of her nails. 

By now, Felix had reached the first of the bridges crossing the plastic rivers that flowed through the room. He struggled across it, wobbling unsteadily. Mary gasped as he teetered towards the edge – if he stumbled now, he’d fall right into the river! 

Luna rushed forward, hands raised to catch him. “Don’t worry, Master, I’ve got you!” 

“I-I don’t need–Nnnn~!” Mid-stumble, his over-stretched sweatpants emitted a final squeak and split with a twang of elastic. Their crotch shot across the room, and out into the open sprang the dragon they’d been restraining. 

Mary, who’d never seen a penis before, practically fainted. It was so…! And the veins…! Oh, and the balls were so…! 

She wasn’t the only one: Luna froze too, her eyes wide, visible drooling. “B-b-b-BONE!”

With a howl like a hungry dog, she threw herself at it, tackling her Master off the bridge and straight into the river. Splosh! 

“Oh, no, that’s–” Pincher clucked her tongue. “All that semen is going to mess with the mixture.” 

With a gasp, Felix breached the surface. Panting and sweating and covered in thick blue goo, he scrambled for the shore, grasping desperately for the edge–

Only to cut off halfway there with another scream of pleasure. “Nnnnnah~!” Caught in the current, he drifted along the stream, unable to make more than a couple of feeble strokes before the spewing of his shaft sapped his strength again. 

At the end of the river, the dildo-making machine slurped ominously at the plastic, sucking up liter after liter with its many, many mouths. 

“S-somebody help him!” cried Miss Worthington. “He’s going to go into the pump!” 

“Quite right,” said Pincher. “Peter, if you could fetch a broom or something from Maintenance that we could use to fish him out, that would be lovely, dear.” 

Mary’s eyes snapped back to the river. Luna had broken out of her daze and given chase again, but she was too late: even as she made to grab him, her boyfriend reached the river’s end and vanished with a schlup into the machine.

Pincher rolled her eyes. “Oh. Dear.”

*

Half-drowned in a soup of liquid lovetoy, which clung to his skin, sticky and warm as – Nnnn~! – Felix thrashed, struggling to breach the surface and escape the river. He wanted to grab the edge and pull himself out, but every time he came close, another pang of pleasure struck his groin and he came, adding another liter of his semen into the thick blue mixture. Nnnnn~! At last, his hands went limp. The stream carried him onward. 

Through the haze of delight fogging his mind came a whirring and a pounding that slipped deep into his brain and awakened all his most primitive instincts. Something dangerous was nearby. He needed to move – he needed to move! Heart thumping, cock pulsing, he scrambled for the edges, but he simply didn’t have the strength to fight against the current. His penis and balls had grown so large they must weigh more than the rest of his body. 

A shadow passed over him: he looked up and saw a black hole. It sucked at him, snatching at his hair and slurping all the plastic from his skin, before drawing him upward, up, up, and up into the darkness. 

He shot round the bend of a curved pipe, which rubbed against his swollen shaft and made him cum all over again. As he screamed, he reached the end and dropped, landing in a light blue mix of plastic and his own semen. Groaning, he struggled to sit up and look around – he was in some kind of vat, a giant metal vat, like the kind you mix ice cream in.

The fate of that idiot Fanny flashed through his mind. With a whimper, he pounded on the wall. “Help me! G-get me out of–Nnnnnah!” 

An alarm rang. “Contaminant detected. Applying solution.” 

Before he could even ask what that meant, the machine added a third liquid to the tank. It showered him all over, running in thick streams down his giant, swollen member, and where it touched his clothes, they sizzled and dissolved like so many scraps of tissue paper. In seconds, he lost his shirt, his thigh-highs, and what remained of his thong. 

Sitting there naked, he moaned as another spasm of orgasm shook his penis from balls to glans. He felt like the roots of a gigantic tree, its vast trunk reaching for the heavens – fortunately it seemed to have stopped growing for the moment. Perhaps the worst was over.

With a hiss, the walls of the chamber started to close on him. Felix squealed, grabbing his legs and hugging them tight to his chest, though in practice this only meant they rubbed his cock harder. “Nnnaah!” He screamed as he came again. 

Hissing and whirring, the walls of the tank closed in on him. They caught his legs and his arms and his sides first, squishing them inward and leaving him squeaking at the pleasure of it.

They reached his knees next, his knees and his back, and as he whined, squeezed them inward as well. Like a piece of clay, he collapsed, crushed tight. And just as he thought things couldn’t get any worse: 

The walls drew a little bit tighter, squishing Felix’s face into his own swollen cock. His scream, if he’d still been able to air it, would have been heard all the way on the other side of the factory: pleasure unlike anything he’d ever felt roared through his system. He wanted to scream, to shake, to writhe in utter ecstasy, but with the vat wrapped around his shaft, he couldn’t do anything but cum. Nnnnnnnnnah! 

With every moment, the walls drew closer, tighter, squishing him a little smaller as they did. His face ended up flattened against his cock and his arms wrapped around it, crushed till they were barely separable from his member, while his legs and his lower body ended up smushed into his balls, plumping the fat, swollen things even larger. Soon, the walls had suckered to him so tight there was no space left for anything but his fat, bloated testicles and the trunk-like shaft rising from above them. 

Nnn~! St-st-stooooooop! He tried the hardest he could to fight, but hard as he was, he couldn’t put up much of one at the moment. All he could do was stand there, erect, and moan inside as the machine crushed him smaller and smaller, tighter and tighter, harder and harder… hotter and hotter… and…

Nnnnn~! 

*

Mary and the remaining members of the tour group stood at the base of the dildo-making machine and watched with a full spectrum of expressions as phallus after plastic phallus dropped out of the pipe and onto the conveyor: Lilith looked like she wanted to stick her hands in her pants. Tiffany seemed equally disgusted and amused, while her mother looked like she didn’t quite understand what was happening. Ruth stared in fascination, while Pincher seemed surprisingly unconcerned for someone who’d already had her factory shut down for health and safety violations once already. In fact, she seemed vaguely amused. 

Luna, meanwhile, seemed torn between horror at her boyfriend’s fate and a strange kind of lust. 

Mary, of course, couldn’t have been more terrified. Two rooms in, and they’d already lost two members of their party! And to perverted fates like this! 

Finally, just as it seemed it might never arrive, the sextoy they’d all been waiting for hit the belt with a clunk. They watched, silent as mourners, as the conveyor carried it towards them. 

“M-Master!” With a squeal, Luna rushed forward and snatched it up: a large – Mary didn’t know for certain, but to her it certainly looked large – light blue dildo with an equally large pair of– 

Blushing, she turned away. Oh, it was horrible! 

“Wow,” said Tiffany. “The giant dick became a giant dick. How appropriate.” 

“T-Tiffany! Language!” 

“Oh, be quiet, Mother.”

“Fuck, he’s sooo big,” said Lilith, looking like she might just snatch him from Luna’s hands.

“So big,” said Luna, rubbing him against her cheek. “So big and hard and…” 

Ruth snickered. “He looks just like the toy I bought you, Mary. You wanna try this one instead?” 

Mary’s face regained some color, mostly red. “No I do not!” 

“Heh. Hey, if you look closely, you can kinda see parts of his body under all the plastic,” said Ruth, pointing. 

Sure enough, Mary could make out Felix’s arms and legs wrapped around his – she swallowed – m-manhood. 

“Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear, oh dear,” said Ms. Pincher, shaking her head like a teacher whose students insist on eating all the crayons. “Two guests lost in as many rooms. Perhaps we should stop in the daycare next – that might be safest.” She snapped. “Peter. If you and your colleague would escort Mr. Catux and his slave to the Basement and see about getting them, ah, treated, that would be good of you.” 

Peter and his fellow Frank bustled forward, grabbed Luna by the arms, and marched her to the door. 

“D-don’t worry, Master, I’ll take care of you,” said Luna, as they guided her away. She rubbed him against her cheek, drooling all over his length.

“Let’s hope she doesn’t choke on him,” said Tiffany, drolly.

It was too much for Mary to take. “What’s wrong with you people?! This is crazy! We just watched two people get squashed into sextoys, and you’re all standing around talking like it’s an everyday occurrence! Don’t you have any shame?! 

Only Pincher seemed to hear her. “Oh, Miss Mayflower, there you are – I’d almost forgotten about you. My, did you take some of the breast growth formula too?” 

Mary covered her chest with a squeal. Why did everyone keep commenting on her boobs?! 

“Well,” said Pincher, with a clap of the hands. “We shouldn't let Mr. Catux’s terrible, terrible fate get our moods down! On with the tour! On! On!” And off she marched, buttocks bouncing beneath her coattails. 

I’m going crazy, thought Mary. 

***

Another walk through another corridor, an intestine of air worming through the guts of an engine, walls and ceiling of gears and pistons with floors like the bonnets of cars and arches of pistons. And another pair of doors – thick and steel – which opened with the neat schink of a guillotine.

Pincher strode through without pause. “Welcome to the Dollorama!” 

It was a little difficult for Mary to find much enthusiasm for this announcement, not that she’d had much enthusiasm to start with. Perhaps, she thought, as Pincher led them into the chamber, the last two times were a coincidence! Perhaps nothing strange or perverted will happen this time! 

Even in her head, this didn’t sound convincing. 

Unlike the medieval hall of the Fleshlight Foundry or the sterile laboratory of the Plastic Testing Room, this floor of the factory looked like nothing more than a giant toy store, complete with bright yellow walls and giant teddy bears and wind-up boxes. Even the Franks running the production lines looked a little more playful than the others they’d met so far. 

On one side of the room lay a row of obnoxiously twee doors, from which the conveyor belts bearing the raw materials of sexdoll production emerged. Curling and looping around each other, they finally met up on the far side of the chamber, where a large device resembling a giant alien raygun crackled overhead, discharging the occasional flash of vivid blue energy.

Now, Mary didn’t know exactly what sexdolls were made of, but if she’d had to guess, she would have said some kind of plastic. This was emphatically not what the conveyor belts were hauling into this room: in fact, they were carrying mannequins. Mannequins and wigs and sexy clothes, the latter of which the Franks took and used to dress the former. They were rather creative about it. 

Pincher had her eyes on her chest again, but this was close enough to Mary’s face to catch her confusion. “Let me explain… This,” she said, pointing to the raygun, “is one of my latest inventions! The Plasticizer 6000! It can handily convert almost any object it shoots into an equivalent plastic inflatable, as so!” 

A mannequin wearing a long black wig and a skimpy blue bikini came to a stop under the device. It hummed, growing louder and louder, until at last, with a blinding flash, it fired. A beam of searing light struck the mannequins, and with a bwumpf! like someone jumping on an airbed, it exploded, limps popping into plumpness, breasts bursting into big, round balloons, while its wig and its bikini fused with its body. Finally, the beam died, and where the mannequin had been sitting lay nothing but an inflatable in the image of a grossly distorted human body. Mary stared at it in disgust – she’d never seen anything so perverted. 

“Ta-da!” said Pincher. “From mannequin to sexdoll in a flash, and all it takes is a few billion watts of electricity!” 

Ruth cocked her head. “That’s pretty crazy. What’s with the mannequins though?” 

“Mannequins are very cheap,” said Penelope Pincher.

“Does it work on other stuff too?”

Pincher’s eyes sparkled. “Why, you know, we’ve never thought to test it… Well, I don’t see why it wouldn’t though!” There was a tone to her voice that Mary really didn’t like.

“I read a doujin just like this…” said Lilith, chewing her lip and rubbing her thighs. 

“I’m sure you have,” said Pincher. “Now, would anyone like a closer look?” 

“Are you kidding me?!” cried a high-pitched, regal voice. 

Mary spun: Tiffany Worthington stood with her hands clenched, her face red and her foot poised to stomp. “You never mentioned a Plasticizer!” 

Pincher blinked. “Should I have?” 

“I can’t believe this!” Tiffany’s foot struck the floor with a smack. “All that talk about how much you needed us, what essential business partners we were, and you’ve had a machine that makes plastic out of thin air this whole time?!” 

Pincher’s eyes slid from Tiffany to the Plasticizer and back again. “Oh! I see what you mean.” She laughed. “Why, yes, I suppose I have!”

“You bitch!”

“T-Tiffany! Language!” The elder Miss Worthington looked positively shaken.

Tiffany spat like an over-greased frying pan. “Screw you! This… this conwoman has been stringing us along like a bunch of puppets!” 

“Appropriate, really, since we’re in the doll room,” said Pincher, with a laugh. She looked suddenly very worried. “I get the impression you’re a little angry about this.” 

“You whore!” With a snarl, Tiffany marched over and seized Pincher by the tie. Since she was barely half Pincher’s height, this had the immediate effect of bending Pincher into a right angle. And sticking her butt into Mary’s face. 

“It’d be one thing if you were trying to undercut us, you know?” said Tiffany, beaming a billion watts of hate into the toymaker’s eyes. “It’d be one thing if you tried to blackmail us with it! If you forced us to pay our entire fortune to buy it! But no! You don’t even care, do you? You just built this stupid thing that destroys our entire business model for fun, didn’t you?!” 

“Basically!” said Pincher. “Haha.” 

“You bitch!” 

“T-Tiffany!” At last, Miss Worthington Sr. rushed forward and seized her daughter’s arms, though this was the extent of her action. “That’s your father’s business partner you’re talking to!” 

“Shut up!” Tiffany gave Pincher’s tie another tug. “How many of these stupid machines did you make?” 

“J-just the one!” said Pincher, who was still grinning – perhaps she thought all the insults and tie-tugging were foreplay. “This is the prototype! And there are no blueprints either! If it were destroyed, I’d have to start the whole project from scratch!” 

Tiffany’s mouth curled into a smile. “Perfect.” 

She released Pincher’s tie, and the toymaker snapped upright with a comical cartoon sprang. Mary had an instant to process something large and dark and jiggly flying towards her before she was buried under the mountain of Pincher’s buttocks. 

“Mmmphf!” Squealing, she scrambled to dig herself out. By the time Pincher got off her, Tiffany was halfway across the room. 

“Tiffany, waaaaaait!” cried her mother, rushing after her. “Tiffany, what are you doing?!” 

Tiffany looked back with a snarl. “I’m going to destroy this stupid thing!” And with that, she turned back and rushed straight for the Plasticizer. 

“Oh, dear,” said Pincher, brushing herself down. “That doesn’t sound good. Guards! Guards! …Do I even have any guards? Oh dear.” 

*

Tiffany rushed across the Dollorama, brushing straight past the scum working the lines, slipping past the teddy bears, and leaping over the jack-in-the-boxes. 

“Tiffaaaaaaaany! Waaaaaait!” Her mother’s cries rang in her ears, as painful as ever. Ugh, she couldn’t believe she’d been born to someone so high-pitched and whiny. “Waaaaait!” 

Ignoring her, Tiffany raced ahead. The Plasticizer loomed ahead, barely meters away now. It straddled the belt on a quartet of spindly legs, like an alien walker from some shitty sci-fi B-movie. A ladder led up one to a walkway where the controls were presumably located. She rushed for it. 

None of the prisoners working near the machine made any attempt to stop her – in fact, they stepped aside, practically clearing a path to the device. Spitting at them as she ran, she reached the base of the raygun’s mounting, grabbed the rungs of the ladder, and hauled herself up.

Her boots struck the walkway with a clang. Looking left and right, she hurried around it, searching for the controls. Her mother’s cries sounded from just below – she must be on the ladder already, though what she planned to do when she caught up, Tiffany had no idea. Mother had always taken a light touch with her.

Turning the corner, she found the control panel. And the Frank operating it. “Move!” At the sound of her commanding voice, the peasant stepped aside. He seemed less afraid than amused, which annoyed her, but she didn’t have time to reflect on it. 

The Plasticizer’s controls were more complex than she’d anticipated. Since it looked like a gun, she hadn’t expected much more than a trigger and an off button – instead, it had a whole panoply of different buttons in different colors and a slightly smaller number of levers to accompany them. Gritting her teeth, she scanned the panel for ‘self-destruct’. 

Belatedly, it occurred to her that she might be acting a little hastily.

“A-ah!” 

She turned; Mother had reached the walkway. She’d gotten one of her heels stuck in the mesh, of course – even now she was struggling to pull it out, the useless– “T-Tiffany!” Wrenching her foot out of her shoe, she lurched across the platform and came to a stop beside her. “Tiffany!” 

Tiffany glared at her. “Will you shut up?! I’m trying to save our company! If that bimbo down there mass produces this thing, what do you think will happen to the plastic industry, mother?” 

Mother chewed her lip, looking uncertain. “Surely it’ll be good for us to have so much cheap plastic?” 

Tiffany almost snarled. “You stupid bitch! Thank God I got Father’s brains and not yours! If this machine gets mass produced, there isn’t going to be a plastics industry! They won’t need one, not when this stupid thing makes the stuff out of thin air!” She spun back to the controls, searching, searching. Perhaps, if she couldn’t make it self-destruct, she could at least overload it. 

“W-w-well we’ll always have our placebos!” said Mother.

“Our placebos aren’t worth a cent! They don’t even work!”

“That’s the point of placebos!” 

“They don’t even work as placebos!”

“W-well, what about the prisons?”

Tiffany worked her jaw. That was true, actually – there was always money in the prison business. Not that she’d let mother know she’d scored a point. “Just shut up! I’m not going to stand around and let Pincher ruin our entire company!” If she could just destroy this machine, she could save it! And then, maybe Father would finally say he loved her again!

She gave one of the levers a yank. A dial on the panel slid into orange, and the machine started to groan. 

Behind her, Mother took a deep breath. “Th-that’s it! You– You’ve gone too far this time, Tiffany!”

Tiffany raised an eyebrow. What was the old bitch talking about now? 

On the panel, the dial slid ever so slowly towards the red.

“Y-you’re my only child, and ever since you were a little girl, I’ve treated you with a delicate hand. W-well, now it’s time for the gloves to come off!” She took her gloves off. “You’re going to step away from that machine at once or… or…” 

“Or what?” said Tiffany. “Are you going to spank me?” 

“E-exactly!” Seizing her by the arm, Mother yanked Tiffany onto her knee. 

“H-hey!” Tiffany squirmed, but with Mother’s newfound confidence had come newfound strength – all of a sudden, she had a grip like a bear. “Let go of me!” 

The Plasticizer shook, humming like a whole hive of bees. The platform sang with sympathetic vibrations. 

Mother yanked down her panties, exposing Tiffany’s bare buttocks. “P-perhaps this will teach you to behave a little more properly!” Her open palm struck them with a smack. 

“O-ow! St-stop it! Mom, you bitch! Stop!” As her mother’s hand crashed into her again, Tiffany squealed in pain. “Stop! Stoooop!” 

The dial slid farther and farther to the right, out of the orange and into the red now. In its frame, the Plasticizer shook like it was about to launch itself to the Moon. The platform sounded like it would fall apart at any second. 

Smack! Tiffany squealed – it hurt! It hurt so bad! “Stop it! Mom, stoooop!” To her horror, there were tears in her eyes now – her butt felt like it had been whipped raw. “Mommy, stooooop!” 

Smack! 

“Mooooooom!”

Smack!

“Mommy, please! I’m sowwy! I’m sowwy!” Covering her face, she bawled into her hands.

“There. That’s much better,” said her Mother, and as Tiffany struggled to wipe her eyes, she looked up, frowning. “...This platform does not feel very safe.” 

With a crash, the supports gave. Tiffany squealed as the platform dropped out from beneath them. 

For an instant, everything was spinning and falling and screaming. Tiffany’s stomach lurched – she thought she’d throw up.

She struck something soft and warm. “Oof!” It took a second to realize she’d landed on Mother.

“Oooh… Oh dear…” Mother, in turn, had landed on the conveyor belt. Which, while it wasn’t the comfiest material in existence, was at least springy enough to cushion their fall. By all accounts, they’d lucked out. 

Tiffany took a deep breath. “Oh thank God. For a second, I thought we were–” 

With a thunk, the Plasticizer landed on the belt just ahead of them. The tip of the giant raygun sparkled, blue as a clear day’s sky, and growing brighter and brighter and brighter, until–

Tiffany had just enough time to squeak. 

Zzzzap! 

The beam struck her like a punch to the breasts, throwing her back into her mother’s chest and leaving the two of them screaming as it coursed through their bodies. Screwing her eyes tight, she whined – instead of the agony she’d expected, it was an exquisite delight. 

With a pop, their feet exploded. Tiffany’s eyes dropped – and widened in horror. Her boots – her beautiful, expensive boots – had bloated, turned fat and shiny and cartoonish, like a pair of cheap balloons. Her mother’s feet did something, plumping into a pair of fat, plastic socks, the left fusing with her remaining shoe in the process. Its heel stuck out, a fat, white sausage. 

Tiffany’s heart sank all the way to her big new boots. “N-no! No! Nonononono!” She couldn’t become a sexdoll! She couldn’t! 

With a boing!, her legs pumped up as well, instantly bloating into a pair of fat pillars, her thighs thickening till they squeezed each other tight. She squealed. 

What followed an instant later was even worse though: with a pop! like a bursting balloon, her vagina burst into a thick pink donut – with her panties down it was clearly exposed, and all she could do was stare and scream in pleasure. Not to mention at the thought of some disgusting guy sticking his cock in it. Stooooop! 

With a boing!, her stomach popped into plastic as well, assimilating the lower half of her jacket in the process, and producing a little plastic cap where her belly button should be. She squealed at the sense of emptiness – she’d never felt such a strong desire to be filled. 

Pop! Pop! One after another, her boobs exploded, instantly blown from a pair of petite A-cups to giant, perfectly round spheres crisscrossed with seams and painted in the soft pink and mauve of the jacket and dress they’d assimilated. 

Pop! Pop! Another pair of pops, even louder than the first, sounded from behind her; she flew forward as a pair of giant balloons struck her head. Looking back, she squeaked to see her mother’s breasts had blown into a pair of beach balls too. “T-Tiffany! Nnn~!” 

Boing! Boingboing! Boing! One by one, their arms changed, the digits of their hands fusing into a simple, mitten-like clumps of plastic-colored flesh. Tiffany whimpered.

With that, there was nothing left but their heads, and the tingling of the change came lapping at her neck, ready to work its magic at any second. “H-help me! Help me! Please, I don’t wanna be a sexdoll! I don’t wanna! Father! Father! Daaaaaaaaaaaddy!” 

Pop! …Pop! 

*

By the time they reached the machine, it was all over. The Plasticizer hissed, its tip steaming as it vented the last of its strange energies.

“Oh dear,” said Ms. Pincher. “The Board is not going to be happy with me.” 

On the belt, where Miss Tiffany Worthington and her mother had fallen, sat two sexdolls, one large one and one small one resting in the larger doll’s lap. 

The smaller wore a dark pink jacket over a light pink dress and had two giant, inflatable drill-tails, which looked like a clown had taken a pair of yellow modeling balloons and twisted them into spirals. It wore plump black boots – or the facsimile of them, at any rate – and its boobs were about the size of basketballs. Its panties dangled around its ankles, exposing the thick pink ring of the vagina under its skirt. 

The larger wore a long white dress, which in a previous life had stretched all the way down to the legs, though now it terminated abruptly maybe halfway down the thighs, giving an excellent view of the skimpy plastic panties hidden beneath its skirt and the fat false vagina pushing through them. Inflatable rings decorated its fingers, and a necklace of little white balloons wrapped around its neck. Its hair was black and flowed down its back as a single long balloon, wide and flat. One of its feet was bare – the other wore an inflatable high heel, white to match its dress. Its boobs were the size of beachballs. 

In every other respect, they were indistinguishable from the other sexdolls on the line, down to the stupid eyes painted onto their face and the fat, ‘O’-shaped mouths open gormlessly beneath them.

“Oh, my God,” said Mary, who felt like throwing up. “They’re– They’re–” 

“Fuck dolls,” said Ruth. She didn’t seem quite as amused this time.

Mary turned away and retched. Oh God, it had happened again. How many times was this going to happen before they got out of here?! 

“Oh dear, oh dear…” said Pincher. “How unfortunate. …There’s no way the Plasticizer survived that fall undamaged. I’ll have to pop it open and see if it needs repairs.” 

Mary wanted to slap her. “What about the Worthingtons?!” 

“Hmm?” Pincher glanced past the device at the new pair of sexdolls. “Oh, good gosh! I didn’t see them there! Oh, the Board really isn’t going to be happy with this. Oh dear.”

Lilith tugged on Pincher’s sleeve. “Can I have one of them?”  

Pincher gave this a moment of thought. “No, no, I’m afraid I can’t allow that. We have to at least try and turn them back to normal, or I’ll never hear the end of it.” She snapped, and a couple of Franks hurried over and picked the pair up. They made for the door without waiting for instructions, as if they already knew exactly what they had to do.

With that, Pincher turned back to them with a smile. “Well, that was all very exciting! And distressing!” she added, seeing Mary’s expression. “Perhaps we ought to take a little break from the tour for refreshments, no?” 

She glanced over her shoulder, and with that, set off for the far door. After a moment, Ruth and Lilith made to follow.

Mary, on the other hand, remained where she stood, her gut churning at what had happened. Three times! Three times in a row! That couldn’t be a coincidence, could it? Oh, what did God want from her?!

“Mary!” 

“I-I’m coming!” As she hurried after them, skirt swishing, boobs swinging, Mary’s eyes happened to drift to the same corner of the room where Pincher had looked. 

A security camera hung from the wall, lens swiveling.

***

Refreshments, as it turned out, entailed a trip to the factory breakroom. Which, appropriately enough, looked more like a prison cafeteria. 

Banishing the Franks from the corner table, Pincher tossed herself onto the bench and put her legs up. “Here’s $5,” she said, handing them all (collectively) a fiver. “Treat yourself.” She indicated the vending machine. 

Mary and Ruth exchanged a glance. “Sure,” said Ruth. “Thanks.” 

As they headed to the machine, Lilith sidled up to the toymaker. “M-Ms. Pincher, do you mind if I ask you a few questions about one of your one doujins?” 

PIncher raised an eyebrow. “By all means, ask away, dear.” 

“Specifically, about Pussy Pounder Issue #33 and the part where Ichijiro draws the Dildo-Sword of Pussy Slaying–” 

Mary covered her ears and hummed the Lord’s prayer. 

They soon reached the vending machine. Instead of stopping to pick a treat, however, Ruth marched on, heading for the door of the breakroom. Some of the Franks raised an eyebrow at this, but no-one tried to stop her.

“R-Ruth?” Mary hurried to keep up. “Where are you going?” 

“I’m looking for the toilets. You coming?” 

Mary looked around. She actually did need to pee a little. “I suppose.” 

“Great. Now hurry up and keep your head down.” Grabbing her arm, Ruth dragged her out of the breakroom.

Instead of heading to the restroom like she’d said, however, she led them straight past it and into the maze of interstitial machinery between the factory’s many rooms, retracing the path they’d taken from the Dollorama. 

Mary looked around, struggling to make sense of what was happening. “R-Ruth? Where are we going?” 

Ruth turned back with a frown. “Aren’t you a little bit suspicious of all this, Mary?” 

“Suspicious?” 

“You know, how every room we enter has something crazy go wrong and turn someone into a sextoy? You don’t think there’s anything unusual about that?” 

She blushed at the memory of their fellow guests’ new forms. “Well, when you put it like that…” 

“We’re three to three, Mary! When we get back to the breakroom, I’m half expecting that nerd to have turned into a slutty chocolate bar!” 

Mary swallowed. 

“Come on, let’s find out what’s really going on here. First of all, I wanna see what this ‘basement’ is all about…” 

She led them back into the Dollorama, where the Franks were already busy at work rebuilding the Plasticizer’s frame. “Don’t mind us,” said Ruth, as they passed. “Just looking for the can!” 

“Th-that’s right!” said Mary, struggling to get the words out.

The door the Franks had taken Tiffany and her mother through led to another corridor of machinery, a slender gantry over a cavernous void of pistons and rails and other devices for moving the factory’s rooms around. At the end of the gantryway stood a small metal box with an elevator’s doors. Mary might have presumed it was an elevator, but it was strangely disconnected from any shaft. Didn’t elevators normally have cabling or something? 

Ruth seemed undaunted. Marching ahead, she pushed the button, and the doors swung open. “They must have used this.” 

“R-Ruth, wait!” The doors started to close – Mary hurried inside. “What if it’s dangerous?” 

“Oh come on. It’s just an elevator. How hard can it be to–?” 

As one, they turned to the hundreds of buttons on the wall. Mary gaped. There must be thousands of them. 

“Well… Okay,” said Ruth, scratching her chin. “That makes things a little harder. But the basement’s gotta be on here somewhere, right?” 

Mary scanned the buttons, but they were impossible to make sense of: in fact, was it just her imagination, or were they–? 

“They’re moving!” Sure enough, the buttons were slowly sliding around the panel like pawns on the world’s most bizarre checkerboard. “Wh-why are they–?” 

“Because the factory’s rearranging itself,” said Ruth, with a grimace. “Look, we’ll just pick one at random, okay?” 

“But what if–?” 

“Too late.” Ruth punched one labelled ‘68’. 

“Ruth!” 

The elevator, if that was what it was, lurched, dropping a couple of inches, before rising steadily upward. A pleasant tune began to play. 

“Relax,” said Ruth, pushing her away. “It’s not that–” 

With a roar of motors, the elevator shot sideways.

Mary hit the wall with a gasp. Followed by a squeak as Ruth crashed into her. 

For several seconds, they lay there and squirmed like flies on a windshield. Then, just as suddenly as it had started, the elevator stopped, throwing them into the other wall. This time, Mary had the fortune of being cushioned by Ruth. 

The door opened with a hiss. Tearing themselves apart, they risked a peek outside. Beyond lay another short, industrial corridor, and at the end of it…

It looked like a line of giant candy machines. Only instead of spitting out individual pieces, they slowly disgorged an endless chain of smooth, colorful orbs. These rolled onto a conveyor, and a large blade dropped from the ceiling at irregular intervals and chopped them up into small strings of 9 or 10.

Mary squinted. “Wh-what are they making?” 

Ruth blushed. “Nevermind. Next room.” She hit another button. 

This time, they made sure to brace themselves. 

When the elevator doors opened again, they revealed something even more bizarre: a gigantic daycare, with colorful cartoons on the walls and toys and tiny furniture but – mercifully – no children.

“I suppose she wasn’t joking about that,” said Mary.

Ruth rolled her eyes. “Come on!” she said, punching button after button. “How hard can it be to find the bottom fucking floor?” 

“R-Ruth? Are you sure you should be–?” 

With a scream, the elevator shot sideways. Sideways and upward. Upward and down. Left. Right. Forward. Back. 90 degrees in a dimension Mary hadn’t been aware existed. Around and around, spiraling to the ground like a plane shot down in a dogfight. Mary squealed and threw herself at Ruth for support as gravity vanished, returned, inverted, and–

Finally, just as Mary thought the whole awful experience would never end, they stopped. She struck the ground with a squeal and immediately squealed again as Ruth landed on top of her.

The elevator bounced once and settled, the motors died down with a final faint whirr, and with that, there was silence. 

With a ding, the doors opened.

Ruth’s hand sank into her chest as she struggled to get off her. “I think we’re here…” 

Mary struggled to her feet – she felt like she’d been put through a tumble dryer. “Think we’re where?” 

Ruth stepped aside so she could see. “I dunno, but it looks like a basement to me.” 

The corridor stretched, long and dismal and grey. Water dripped from an overhead pipe. A rat scurried out of a hole in one wall and disappeared into another, while from the distance came the creaking of a boiler. The light flickered. 

Mary bit her lip. It did look like a basement.

“Come on,” said Ruth, hopping out of the elevator. “Let’s go find the others.” 

Mary swallowed. “Ruth, wait! W-we’re not meant to be down here!” 

Ruth rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on. It’s a sextoy factory, Mary. What’s the worst we can find down here? Hell, even if they catch us, all we have to do is say we got lost. Come on.” She grabbed her arm and dragged her down the corridor.

“R-Ruth! Waaaait!” 

They marched on, footsteps echoing down the dingy length of the corridor. It led them through a maze of identical hallways, and with each one they passed, Mary felt a little more like they’d stepped out of the trench and into no man’s land. She hugged Ruth’s arm, chewing her lip and flinching at every distant creak of piping. Why hadn’t she just stayed at home?!

The farther they went, the louder the rumbling in the distance. Strange new sounds joined the mix too: the revving of motors and the discharge of electricity. Human voices, barking orders. And, hidden among them, screams and whimpers, just faint enough she could believe she wasn’t hearing them. 

“R-Ruth? Ruth, what is that?” 

“Shhhh!” Ruth glared at her. “Keep your voice down!” 

Mary bit her lip. 

They reached a normal, everyday door – the kind Mary had seen a hundred times at school and at church. It seemed strangely out of place with Pincher’s factory for some reason.

“Alright,” said Ruth, looking back down the hall. “Keep your head down.” She grabbed the handle.

Mary grabbed her before she could turn it. “Ruth!” Her voice came out like a shriek. “I don’t understand! Wh-what’s on the other side?!”

A scream cut through the door. Mary froze. “...!” 

Ruth tightened her grip on the handle. “Let’s find out.” 

She wrenched the door open, and together they crept through.

On the other side hung a balcony overlooking a giant cavern. She couldn’t see the floor, but the ceiling stretched so far the lights blurred into incomprehensibility. They flickered like the stars of an endless night. 

Ruth glanced left and right to make sure no-one else was on the balcony and, having determined they were safe, approached the edge. Seizing the banister, she looked over. And froze.

“R-Ruth?” Mary struggled to make herself approach. 

From down below came an electrical crack. Ruth flinched. 

“Ruth?!”

Ruth looked back, her face pale. “Mary…”

“Wh-what is it? What is it?” Mary didn’t want to look, but her fright had progressed from fear to flight, and she just couldn’t stand still. Like a poorly-strung puppet, she jerked to the edge, grabbed the banister and looked down and–

“...!”

Beneath them sprawled a mass of men and women, naked, filthy, and shackled. Franks – their identities made clear by their bright orange uniforms and their bulky, scar-lined bodies – surrounded them, shepherding them, forming them into lines. Whenever anyone stepped out of one, a Frank jabbed them with a rod, sending them back into place with a harsh zzap of electricity. 

Mary covered her mouth and moaned. “Wh-what–?” 

The rumbling of a motor. Mary’s eyes snapped to the righthand wall, which was pitted with shuttered tunnels. As she watched, one opened, and a truck rolled into the basement. Performing a tight U-turn, it parked with its bumper facing the crowd, and a couple of Franks hurried to open the rear doors. To the cracking of whips and the discharge of cattle prods, men and women – mostly women – filed out of it, all as naked and unwashed as the others. The Franks forced them into the morass with everyone else, and the truck, emptied, left with a loud screech of tires. 

Mary stared, eyes wide and face pale, as the crowd milled in place, whimpering and moaning, as the Franks sorted them into lines – every now and then, someone tried to escape or fight, but a quick strike of the whip or poke with the cattle prod soon got them back into line again – and as the sight wormed its way through her eyes and down to the core of her consciousness, a scream rose in her throat she could do nothing to prevent. 

Ruth clamped her hand over her mouth and dragged her back down again.

It took a minute or more for her to calm down enough to speak, and her voice still sounded nigh-hysterical. “Wh-what is this? What’s going on?! What do we dooo?! Ruth, what do we–?” 

Ruth covered her mouth again. “Just keep your voice down. D’you wanna end up in one of those queues too?” She looked around, in case someone had heard them, but they were still safe for the moment. 

Mary shook her head as hard as she was able. 

Satisfied she wasn’t going to give them away, Ruth released her mouth and risked another peek over the banister. “It looks like they’re sorting them.”

Mary sniveled. Why hasn’t she stayed home? She wiped her nose on her sleeve. “S-sorting them? Why?” 

“I don’t know… It’s hard to see what’s happening from up here.” Ruth’s eyes tightened. “Come on, let’s try to get a closer look.” 

“Wh-what?!” Instead of answering, Ruth grabbed her wrist and dragged her along the balcony, taking them leftward towards the wall where the lines of people were being processed. It wasn’t a short walk – the room was enormous. Mary didn’t want to think about what this implied for the number of people below. There must be thousands – and more trucks were arriving every minute. 

At last, the far left side of the room became clear: Mary had expected more tunnels like the ones the trucks had come through, but instead there was a row of elevators. Like the one they’d come through, only much larger. Each had its own line of people waiting – or being forced to wait – to board it, and no sooner had an empty one arrived than the Franks nearby set about forcing people onto it. By the time they were done, the car was crammed, but with effort they managed to force the doors shut, and off it went, disappearing into the ceiling. 

The two of them stood and watched, struggling to process what they were seeing.

“I-I don’t understand,” said Mary.

“They must be sending them to other parts of the factory,” said Ruth.

“B-but why? Are they slaves…? Why would Pincher need slaves when she already has–?” 

Someone screamed. Mary risked another peek over the banister: one of the Franks had yanked a woman out of the line, and as they watched, he set about pawing her, running his big, hairy hand all over her body. “Mmm, look at this hot piece of meat,” he said, earning some snickers from his colleagues. “Almost wish I could keep her for myself.” He seized one of her breasts, making her scream, and slipped a pair of fingers between her legs, which only made her wail that much louder. “Still. Bet she’ll make a nice, tight onahole, won’t she? Shame none of us’ll get to use it.” 

Mary’s heart, which had been beating as fast it could for the last twenty minutes, stopped entirely. She clamped her hands over her mouth to keep the scream she knew was coming from escaping her mouth. 

“We need to leave,” said Ruth, abruptly.

Mary jerked. “B-but– Wh-what about the others?” 

“What are we supposed to do?! If those goons really brought them down here, it’s probably too late for them anyway!” 

Footsteps on the stairs; the entire balcony shook.

“Shit. Come on.” Grabbing Mary’s wrist, Ruth dragged her back to her feet and in the direction of the door. 

It didn’t take long to reach the elevator, but every step there was a little torment – Mary expected a Frank to leap out of the darkness and grab them at any second. 

At last, Ruth punched the button for the breakroom, and the doors closed behind them.

“Wh-what are we going to do?” said Mary, as the elevator started to climb.

Ruth breathed hard, working her jaw in thought. “We can’t let Pincher know we’re onto her, or we’ll never get out of here.” 

After a moment of thought, Mary nodded. Ruth was right – if Pincher figured out what they’d seen, they’d never step outside again.

“And be careful,” said Ruth. “I don’t think it’s a coincidence it’s so easy to have an accident in this place…”

**

Tthey found Pincher and Lilith right where they’d left them. 

More or less: Lilith had switched seats to get closer, and Pincher had ended up against the wall, trapped in the corner. “Okay, great,” said Lilith, edging even closer, “that’s everything I wanted to ask you about Whore Masters XI. Now I have some questions about Bones of Dunshire I’d like you to answer…” 

Seeing them, Pincher practically gasped in relief. “Oh, thank God you’re back!” she cried, leaping to her feet. “Wherever have you been–? Actually nevermind – I’ve heard enough sordid details for one day…” She risked a glance at Lilith and shuddered. 

Mary struggled to meet the toymaker’s eyes. Just thinking about what she’d seen down below made her want to vomit. Did Pincher know? No, of course she had to. How could it possibly be happening without her knowing? 

“Well, now you’re here,” said Pincher, who didn’t seem to have noticed, “it’s time to resume the tour!” 

“But I have so many more questions!” said Lilith. 

“Oh, have no fear,” said Pincher, striding for the door. “I’m sure there’ll be plenty of time to answer them afterward.” And she chuckled, as if the very idea were humorous.

Mary retched. She knew. She knew. Of course she had to, but to have it confirmed was–

Pincher paused to look at her. “What’s wrong, Miss Mayflower? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

Mary flinched. What should she say? What should she say?! If Pincher knew that they knew, she’d– “I-I–” 

At the last second, just as she was about to spill the beans, Ruth slipped in front of her. “Her back’s aching. Because of her big boobs, you know?” 

“Ah!” Pincher nodded sagely. “Of course, of course. Well, enough chitchat! On with the tour…!” And with that, she skipped for the door. 

Mary and Ruth exchanged a worried glance.

***

The deafening clamor of hentai filled the air. 

“Welcome to the Printing Room!” cried Pincher, fighting to be heard over the thunder of the printers. “As I’m sure you’re all aware, Pink Dragon Sextoys also produces no small amount of pornography, and this is where it all comes from!” She smiled, and Mary couldn’t help but read it as a knowing one. 

They’re grinding people up and making them into pornography! Into pornography! She couldn’t imagine a more hellish fate.

Ruth grabbed her hand, squeezed it. “Hold it together,” she whispered. 

Mary swallowed. 

The Printing Room was, in many ways, the most factory-like part of the building so far. It comprised a single, vast brick room with grand windows, like a repurposed power plant, though the only light shining through their glass was the dim red lights of the factory’s internals. 

A web of gantries carried them over the titular printers, which rumbled and groaned beneath them like Satan’s black mills. Conveyors snaked out of the walls, delivering fresh paper to their mouths, while another set, connected to the rear ends, carried away the steaming magazines they excreted.

Looking over the bannister, Mary shivered. They looked like metal lions, just waiting to snap up anyone who tumbled into their pit. The thought made her quiver in terror – what if it was the truth? What if Pincher was planning to play Darius?!

Lilith rushed ahead of the rest of them, leaving a noticeable trail of slime in her wake. “Oh my God! My whole life I’ve been waiting to see this room! It’s just as amazing as I thought it would be!” Grabbing the banister, she clambered up and leaned precariously over it. “What are they printing at the moment…?” 

“Hmm…” Pincher followed her gaze. “I believe that machine is printing the latest issue of Slut Puppets REQUIEM. Let’s see if we can grab one…” She produced a hook on a pole, and with much clever manipulation of the rod, managed to wrangle a freshly-produced comic. She passed it to Lilith. 

Lilith leaned in and took a deep, long sniff. Her eyes glazed over. “Oh yeah… There’s nothing better than a fresh doujin…” They all tried to ignore the grool leaking from her pants. 

“How do they work?” asked Ruth. Whether this was out of suspicion or simply to get them back on track, Mary couldn’t tell.

“Oh, they’re very simple, very simple indeed,” said Pincher. “The raw materials go in one end…” She pointed to the conveyors leading into the machines’ mouths. “And the finished product comes out of the other. It’s all a very simple process, really. There’s very little to go wrong.

From down below came the earsplitting whine of a siren. 

“What the hell is that?” said Ruth, covering her ears. 

“No need to be alarmed!” said Pincher, who had to shout even louder. “One of the printers is out of toner! Just give it a second, and…” 

With a hiss, a hatch opened in the wall, and a long, crane-like arm extended from the aperture. A large glass pipe dangled from its grip: it met the mouth of the machine, locked with a click, and with a gurgling from deep in the depths of the wall, a thick fluid poured down its length and into the lion’s mouth. 

Mary squinted. “That doesn’t look like ink…” It didn’t. In fact, it looked positively fleshy: beige and brown with other colors mixed in. 

“It’s a very special kind of ink,” said Pincher, and Mary tried not to shiver at the implications of that. Was there another room besides this one where those poor people from the basement were thrown in a pot and melted?

“It’s incredible,” said Lilith, as the pipe pulled away. With a satisfied ding!, the machine started printing again. “Oh! Oh! I almost forgot! Are we going to get to meet the artists as well?” 

“The artists?” said Pincher.

“Yeah!” Lilith held up her copy of Slut Puppets. “You know, the artists who draw all the… who draw all the art.” 

Pincher stared at her, squinting in confusion, and finally slammed her fist into her palm. “Oh! Oh, I see what you’re getting at. Oh, there are no artists. Oh, no, they were such an annoying expense. I took the first chance I could to get rid of them.” 

A moment passed in frosty silence. “But… but where does the art come from then?” 

Pincher laughed. “Oh, it’s very simple. You see, each of the printers churning away below us contains a very special device of my own invention. A kind of… mechanical brain, you could call it, which takes a very simple prompt, say, ‘NTR with a tentacle monster’ and transforms it into a doujin, complete with art and dialogue and several different translations, all ready to be printed straight away. Far, far more efficient than any human artist.” 

She frowned. “The only downside is that its work has no soul… so it can’t go to heaven.” She wiped a tear from her eye.

Lilith stared at her in horror. “You mean there are no artists at all?” 

“Not a single one!” said Pincher, puffing out her chest.

Lilith looked like she’d been stabbed. “B-but– It was your doujins that got me into art!”

“Oh, how nice! If misguided!”

“I– I wanted to work for you! I avoided getting a job because I wanted this to be my first one!” 

“Why would you ever want to do that?” said Pincher. “No no no, between my machines and my charming prisoner friends, I have little need for other employees.” 

“But–” 

“Of course,” continued Pincher, stroking her chin in thought, “you could always commit a crime. Perhaps you’d end up working here as part of your penal labour…! Wouldn’t that be amusing? Ohoh.” She frowned. “Then again, I rather doubt you’d enjoy that. A little thing like you, working around Frank and his friends… Oh dear. Perhaps it would be better to stay a NEET. Ohoh.”

Mary’s eyes snapped between Pincher and Lilith. The sticky young woman had gone red in the face, though from the fact she was clenching her fists and not her thighs, it seemed to be for a slightly different reason this time. “Commit a crime?” she said at last. 

“Yeees… that’s right,” said Pincher, raising an eyebrow. “To be clear, I wasn’t recommending it as an actual course of action. As a matter of fact, I was making a rather subtle prison rape joke – I suspect it went over your head though.” 

Lilith’s eye twitched. “A crime like destroying one of these printers?” 

Pincher’s eyebrow rose a little higher, and for the briefest instant she smiled. “Oh! Well. Yes,” she said, stroking her chin as if the idea had never occurred to her. “A crime like that, I suppose.” 

“Well then…” said Lilith, turning to the handrail. “Why don’t I…?” 

Mary’s heart leapt. Oh God, it was going to happen again! “W-w-wait!” she cried. Everyone turned to look at her. “Lilith, don’t…! You can’t throw your life away like this!” 

“Yeah!” added Ruth. “Especially when you’d literally be throwing your life away. I mean, you know what health and safety is like here… If you throw yourself at one of those machines, you’re going to fall into it.” 

“Oh…” said Lilith, looking a little calmer. 

Pincher’s expression twisted in annoyance. “Have I mentioned how much I hate the self-published pornography scene? All those amateur artists and writers, pouring out reams of shitty hentai and erotica instead of buying my elite pornography?! Oooo, it makes me soo angry!” She did a little jig to demonstrate how angry she was. “If I had my way, I’d feed them all to a lion!” 

Lilith turned red again. With a wordless snarl, she marched for the handrail. She’d clambered halfway way over before Ruth managed to grab her. “Calm the fuck down! She’s trying to incite you!” 

“P-please, let’s all be friends!” said Mary. 

Lilith spat. “She’s dead to me!” 

“And you know what else I hate?” said Pincher, clearly enjoying herself now. “Erotic fanfiction! The only people who should be able to make two characters fuck are the intellectual property owners and their licensees!” 

Lilith screamed in incoherent rage. Fighting her way out of Ruth’s grip, she clambered over the banister and flung herself onto one of the machine’s conveyor belts. 

“No!” Mary rushed to the edge. “No, Lilith! Lilith, wait!” She might be a sticky, sticky sinner, but she didn’t deserve the kind of fate Pincher had in store for her.

Down on the belt, Lilith grabbed a ream of paper and tossed it over the edge. Which wasn’t much in the way of sabotage, but she was trying, bless her. Turning, she kicked the next stack off the belt. Paper flew everywhere.

“Lilith! Ruth, help her!” 

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” Ruth rushed back into the corridor and reemerged with a ladder. With much effort, she managed to get it over the handrail and down to the conveyor.

Pincher pushed a button on a tiny remote. 

With a hideous whine, the printer’s toner siren started to blare. The hatch in the wall opened, and the arm with the pipe emerged again. The mouth of the machine opened even wider to swallow it. Wide enough to swallow Lilith whole.

“Lilith!” Mary felt like fainting. “You need to get out of there!” 

“Climb the ladder!” cried Ruth. “Climb the ladder!” 

 Lilith grabbed the ladder and started beating the machine with it. 

“Lilith!” 

“Too late,” said Pincher, sounding amused.

The toner pipe bumped into Lilith’s back, and with a squeal, she flew into the lion’s mouth.

*

Lilith squealed as she dropped into the darkness. 

With a splat, she landed in something goopy. Groaning, she struggled to her feet and looked around, but she might as well have landed in an oubliette. Where was she? And where was Pincher?! She was going to rip the lying whore’s tongue out!

From above her came a sound like a blocked drain. She looked up, her eyes wide with fury. What was that? What exactly was she hear–?!

A hundred thick, sticky liters of gloopy fluid dropped from above and drenched her all over, throwing her to the floor with the force of the deluge. “Ew! Ew! Stop! I’m not a figurine!” 

The stuff didn’t stop. In fact, it continued to pour, flowing till it coated her from head to toe and started to pool on the floor around her. With startling speed it rose, rose till it covered her ankles and lapped at her knees. She scrambled back to her feet with a squeal. 

“H-hey! Someone help me!” Heart racing, she struggled to the end of the tank, searching for something to grab on to, but there was nothing but the smooth metal walls. 

The fluid was at her waist now, filling her pants and leaving her even more disgustingly sticky than normal. She squealed as it touched her vagina, setting off a series of tiny explosions from her groin to her skull. “Nnn~! Wh-what is this stuff…?!” 

In a panic, she tried to jump, but even if the exit had been in reach, the goop held her down and prevented her from reaching it. She was trapped. 

The goop lapped at her breasts, making her squeak. Soaking through her blouse and her bra, it touched her nipples… and like a living being, seized them. She gasped and doubled over, almost slamming her face into the stuff in the process. “Help!” 

With a hideous gurgling, the goo continued to rise. 

Drowned in the stuff, Lilith’s pussy burned, burned like she’d been reading the world’s most exciting doujin. Panting, she screwed up her eyes and tried to block it out, but the sensation was unbearable. It was like she was masturbating, exactly like she was masturbating. Only her hands were clear, so whose–? 

The goo reached her chin, and a thick black tendril burst from the surface and forced itself through her lips. Lilith squealed, trembling and gagging, and the goo took the chance to force another rod into her butt. Nnnnnnn~! Her body burned. 

By now the goo was at her nostrils. Wiggling its tendrils a little deeper inside her, it dragged her down, down, down into its depths. Everything went black, thick and sticky and black. Lilith squealed and struggled, scrambling for the surface, but the slime was thick as tar, and with every second without breath fighting became a little harder. At last, the strength went out of her limbs, and she fell back into the pleasure of surrender.

Instead of the unconsciousness she’d expected, she experienced a strange sense of dissolution. It was like the barrier between her body and the slime had broken – she felt large, formless, shaped only by the walls of the tank. She sloshed around it, splashing against its walls.

And she wasn’t alone: quite the opposite – she had a distinct sense of others around her, like she was crammed into an elevator or a moshpit. And she could feel them, feel them rubbing against her, touching her all over, hands against her nipples and fingers in her pussy even as her tongue danced inside all their holes – it was like taking part in the world’s hottest orgy. The pleasure was excruciating; she never wanted it to end. Oh! Oh! Oh…! Oh yes…! Nnnn~! 

Through the mists of her ecstasy came the click of something opening, and Lilith slipped down out of the tank and through a long, narrow pipe, which squeezed her even closer to her invisible companions and brought her to even greater heights of ecstasy. Nnnnn~! 

The pipe twisted, turned, snapped left and right, bending her fluid new form till she wanted to scream, and finally tightened, compressing her needle-thin, and at last–

She squealed in relief as she – or a part of her, at least – shot from the pipe and onto an endless white field, which drank her up and fixed her in place like she’d been pinned to a wall. 

At once, her awareness of her greater body vanished. Just like that, she was back to something resembling her old self, but much smaller, much smaller. And flattened. And – Nnnn~! – frozen where she lay, unable to move no matter how hard she struggled. 

As the pleasure faded to a more bearable burn, Lilith snapped back to something resembling sanity. With wild eyes, she looked around. Wh-where am I? What’s going on?! 

She lay on her back into a giant, dark cavern, black save for a single light flickering somewhere high above. She couldn’t sit up, but she could look around a little: look down and see her own naked body sprayed flat and exposed, more curvaceous than it had ever been in life. Wh-what is…?! 

The light above her move. Something glinted. A needle. 

As she squealed in terror, it stabbed into the endless white plane on which she lay, right between her legs, right in her vagina. As she screamed, it started to move, whirring up and down and left and right. 

And slowly, an image took shape between Lilith’s thighs: 

The image of a cock – thick, meaty, and veined – and covered in speed lines as it thrust and thrust and thrust, burying its twenty inches deep inside her.

Finishing the last drop of sweat, the needle moved to the speech bubble by her head:

“OH, YES!” it wrote. “HARDER! HARDER! HARDER!”

*

Mary stood on the balcony and watched, unable to hide her horror, as Pincher used her hook on a stick to snatch up one of the printer’s products. 

“Oh dear, oh dear,” she said, barely even bothering to feign concern anymore. “What a terrible thing to happen to such an innocent girl.” She grabbed the magazine from the hook. “Now, let’s see just what happened to the little gooner.” 

She snapped the magazine open. And smirked. “Ah, of course.” 

“Wh-what is it?” said Mary, curious despite herself. Ruth simply folded her arms and looked stern. 

Pincher chuckled. “As it happens, the printer the unfortunate Miss de Sire fell into was currently printing the latest issue of her favorite series, Slut Puppets REQUIEM. And Miss de Sire, it seems, has chosen to make a cameo.” 

She flipped the magazine around to show them.

Mary almost threw up. There on the page writhed a sea of sweaty flesh unlike anything she’d ever seen in her good Christian life. Only the desperate desire to see – to figure out what had happened to their fellow guest – kept her from looking away. Her eyes roamed the page, pinging from one pale, monochrome face, until at last, just as she was about to give up hope–

Mary moaned. 

There! There, in the top left corner of the lefthand page: Lilith, naked as the rest of the people in the orgy, her legs spread and her eyes rolled back, moaning and drooling, as a man slammed his virile shaft right into her exposed–

She turned away, retching. She couldn’t take any more of it. 

“She’s in the magazine?” said Ruth, unable to hide her disgust. 

Pincher smiled. “Oh, yes!” 

“All of them?” 

“All of the copies in this batch, at least,” said Pincher, glancing at the printer, which continued to spit out stack after stack of magazines. “Which is still quite a lot, I have to admit.”

“You’re going to try to turn her back, of course,” said Ruth, making it a statement, not a question.

Pincher worked her jaw. “Hmm… I suppose it’s possible, perhaps. If we could collect every copy… scrape her out of them… and… I don’t know, blend her back together perhaps. It will be hard though – she’s spread very, very thinly.” 

“But you’re still going to do it, aren’t you?” 

Pincher’s smile grew that little bit wider. “Oh, of course, Ruth. Of course we will.”

A moment passed in which the only sound was the rumbling of the printers.

Finally, Pincher clapped her hands. “Well, now that that’s being sorted… Where shall we go next? Perhaps the Anal Beads Emporium? Or maybe you’d like to see the highly-reputed Buttplug Boutique?

“I think we’d like to leave now,” said Ruth, at last. She looked at Mary, who chewed her lip and finally. She didn’t know if she could bear to spend another second in this awful place.

“Oh, already?” Pincher sounded a little disappointed, but not especially sad. “Well, if that’s what you want. Follow me, I suppose…” 

*

Leaving the Printing Room behind them, they passed through another labyrinth of mechanical guts, and arrived at last in a little office, neat and snug.

“This isn’t the exit,” said Mary, unable to keep a little nerve out of her voice. With its polka dot wallpaper and portraits of clowns, this was a much more pleasant place than the innards of the factory – it still wasn’t where they wanted to be though.

“Well, of course not. It’s my office,” said Pincher, settling into a chair on the other side of the desk. “Don’t you want your certificates before you leave though?”

“Certificates?” said Ruth, with all the disdain the concept deserved. 

Pincher beamed like a spotlight. “Of course! You want proof you were here, don’t you? Take a seat, take a seat, and I’ll get them filled in for you.” 

Mary glanced at her friend. Ruth’s face had screwed up in disgust, but she didn’t say anything. As one, the two of them turned back to the door – all of a sudden, it seemed so far away. Yet not half as far as the actual exit, which they could only get to if Pincher decided to allow it. What choice did they have but to go along with her games?

With a grimace, Ruth took a seat. After a moment, Mary copied her. Oh, why did we have to come here? Why couldn’t we just have stayed at hoome?!

“Now, let’s see…” said Pincher. “Ah! Here we are…!” 

Rummaging in a drawer, she produced two sheets of paper. They looked a lot like the kind of cheap certificates you’d get from winning a competition in middle school. “Now,” she said, popping the lid off her pen, “if you’d care to remind me what your names are.” 

Ruth glowered. “Ruth Enium.” 

“That’s Ruth with a ‘U’, correct?” Pincher’s pen screeched across the page. “And you?” she added, aiming the tip at Mary.

“M-Mary Mayflower.” 

“M-Mary Mayflower,” said Pincher, taking special care with the hyphen. “Well, here you go, girls. I expect they’ll look wonderful on your refrigerators.” 

“Thanks,” said Ruth, snatching them both up. “Can we go now…?” She made to stand.

“One more thing. Before you leave, I’d like to ask: did you enjoy the tour?” 

Mary glanced at Ruth, and Ruth glanced back at her. How to answer that? “O-oh, yes!” she said, unable to keep a frightened giggle out of her voice. “I-i-it was incredible!” 

“Really?” said Pincher. “You’re not just saying that, are you?” She thrust the nib of her pen at her like it was a dagger. “You better not be planning to waltz out of here and leave a bad review on Yelp. Because those things are a pain in the ass to remove, let me tell you.” 

“It was great,” said Ruth, through clenched teeth. “We had the time of our lives.” 

Pincher squinted at her for several seconds. Finally she sighed. “What a relief! For a second, I thought you’d seen something that upset you!” 

A moment passed in awkward silence. 

“So,” said Ruth, “can we–?” 

“One more thing!” said Pincher. “I almost forgot! How would you like to visit the gift shop?!” 

“Can we leave?!” said Ruth, through teeth so tight they must hurt. 

Pincher sagged. “Well, I suppose so… You’re sure there’s nothing you want though? Not even a little mini me?” She produced a stuffed doll of herself and squeezed it. (‘I’m part of the prison-industrial complex!’) 

“No. Thank you,” said Ruth. And with that, she stood and made her way to the door. 

Mary scrambled to her feet and hurried after her. They were finally going to get out of here! They were finally going to get out of this awful place! 

“Oh, one more thing,” said Pincher.

An infinitesimal click. Frowning, Ruth tried the door handle, but it refused to turn. “What the hell?” 

“You see, girls,” said Pincher, leaving her chair. “While I was signing those certificates you begged me for, I also happened to review the factory’s security footage. And while I was watching it, I caught something interesting.” She produced a little remote. 

With another click, a projector dropped from the ceiling and fired its blinding beam at the far wall of the office. Mary leapt out of its path and stared, eyes trembling, as a familiar scene appeared on the wall, a familiar scene as seen from a stranger angle. It looked a lot like the basement: there were the lines of naked people… there were the guards… and there were the two of them, on the balcony, peeking over the edge like the world’s worst pair of spies. 

Pincher shook her head sadly. “Didn’t I warn you against exploring restricted areas?” She frowned. “(Actually, did I do that?)”

Mary’s eyes snapped between the scene on the wall and Pincher. I-i-it couldn’t be true, could it? She hadn’t actually caught them, had she? 

Her legs trembled; she struggled to stay standing.

Ruth, meanwhile, swore. “You fucking bitch. How long have you known?” 

Pincher raised an eyebrow. “Since you passed the restroom, of course. Surely you didn’t think my guards wouldn’t notice that?” 

Ruth swore again. 

Mary’s gaze pinged between the two of them. “W-w-we didn’t do it on purpose! We were just lost!” 

“Yes, yes, lost in the basement for forty days and forty nights.” Pincher rolled her eyes. “Spare me the Bible stories, Miss Mayflower. As if it isn’t wholly apparent what you were up to.” 

Mary screwed up her eyes. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t be happening. She hadn’t even wanted to be here. She just wanted to go home! “W-we didn’t even see anything!” 

“LIES!” With a snarl, Pincher marched to the projection. “As can plainly be seen in this very footage, you were perfectly positioned to see the activities of the basement – it is a simple matter of geometry, Miss Mayflower! And while you might be empty-headed enough not to understand what you saw, your friend here clearly appreciates the implications.”

Ruth clenched her fist. Mary sniffled. “Please! Please, we won’t tell anyone.” 

“Oh, I’m sure you wouldn’t,” said Pincher, with a sigh. “It would be trivial to frighten you into obedience, wouldn’t it? Miss Enium, less so, I expect.” 

“We know what you are,” said Ruth, her hands trembling. “The second I get out of here. I’m going straight to the police!” 

Pincher snorted. “I was wrong, you don’t understand the implications.” She marched over and came to a stop standing over her, her impressive bust right in Ruth’s face. “Miss Enium… do you think the police don’t already know?” 

Ruth frowned. “What are you–?” 

Pincher resumed strolling. “Let me ask you a question, Miss Enium. What do you think the purpose of this tour was…? Do you think it was to find a handful more people to make into sextoys? Oh, no no no no…” 

“Wh-what the hell are you getting at?” said Ruth. 

“When my company almost went under five years ago, I received an offer from a very… special group of investors. Very rich and very… influential investors. They were willing to provide all the money I needed – more than the money I needed! – but in return, they wanted me to produce a very special kind of product.” 

She tapped a button on her desk, and a fleshlight popped out of a pipe. “There is a certain group of sextoys enthusiasts who’ll pay very highly for human sextoys,” she explained. “A large untapped market, which my investors wanted a slice of. Of course, there was a certain issue of acquiring the ‘material’ to begin production… Fortunately, my investors also had connections in the other ‘human sextoy’ industry – so it was trivial for them to arrange a transfer of ‘resources’.” 

Mary covered her mouth. She wanted to vomit. 

“My investors, like all men of wealth and power, are consumers of their own product, of course. But simple sextoys no longer satisfy them. They want something special. Something with a story to it. A sextoy that isn’t just some disposable piece of human garbage from some slum in a country no-one’s ever heard of like Cambodia or Canada.” 

Mary flinched. Ruth looked like she might start throwing punches.

With a smug smile, Pincher pushed another button on her desk, and with a series of thunks, several more items fell from the pipe: 

Two fleshlights: one pink, one black. Two dildos, one blue, one white. Two sexdolls, deflated and boxed, their faces plastered over their own crumpled selves. And a simple magazine, one of several from its batch. 

Mary’s heart sank. She’d already known it must be true, but to have it rubbed in their faces like this… She– She–

“So, what now?” said Ruth, fists so tight they were white. “You gonna turn us into fucktoys and send us to your friends as well?” 

Pincher spread her hands. “That’s the idea.” She snapped. 

With a hiss of steam, two large glass tubes dropped from the ceiling and slammed into place around them, trapping them where they stood. 

“O-oh…” Mary dropped to her knees, shaking and goosebumped. This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t. It couldn’t. It couldn’t. It couldn’t be–

“Hey!” Ruth, meanwhile, threw herself at the glass and started pounding. “You sick fucking freak! Let us out of here!” 

Pincher drew closer, peering through the glass like a guest at the zoo. “You know, the funny thing, Miss Enium? The rules of the game my investors and I decided on… They actually allowed the last surviving guest and their plus one to leave.” 

Ruth stopped pounding.

“What’s the fun if you know the players’ fates, after all? Allowing the possibility of their escape makes things far more entertaining. It certainly enlivened the whole game for Mr. Worthington – I can’t imagine he’s particularly happy his beautiful wife and darling daughter ended up as sexdolls, but oh, imagine the tension building up to it! The risk is part of the fun, after all.” 

Mary scrambled to her feet. “Please,” she cried, planting her hands on the glass. “Please, please, you can let us go! We promise we won’t tell anyone!” 

Pincher snorted. “Please, it’s far too late for that, Miss Mayflower. And besides…” Her eyes dropped to Mary’s chest. “I’ve known you’d make a good fucktoy from the second I set eyes on you.” 

She pushed a button on her remote. 

Above their heads, machinery started to whirr. Mary looked and found herself staring at something like a giant fan, or possibly a jet engine. It sucked at her, snatching her hair and her skirt upward. Squealing, she pressed the latter down, fighting to hide her panties. “Stop! Stop! Make it stop!” 

Pincher chuckled. “I imagine you’ll be saying that in a very different context soon.” 

“You bitch!” In her own tube, Ruth threw herself at the wall again, pounding at the glass till Mary was certain it would shatter.

Pincher, on the other hand, seemed unconcerned. “Go ahead. Put those limbs to use, while you still have them.” 

The whirring of the machines grew even louder. 

Mary fanned her face, panting. It wasn’t just panic – all of a sudden, it seemed so much hotter. What was happening now?! 

Ruth stopped punching the glass and tried kicking it instead, slamming the tip of her boot into it over and over. It shook, but it showed no sign of cracking. And on the machines whirred, making the tubes hotter and hotter. 

Mary stumbled, planting her hand on the wall for support. It was too much… She could barely even breathe. Every breath poured fire into her lungs, and the heat percolated through her, leaving every inch of her body burning. Absent-mindedly, she unbuttoned her sweater. She felt so sweaty – she couldn’t bear to imagine what she smelled like. 

Ruth’s boot slammed into the glass again, making the tube shake. “What are you doing to us?!” 

“Oh, you’ll see,” said Pincher. “You’ll see very soon. Any second now, in fact…” 

Mary massaged her head, her voice swimming. Everything had become hot it was difficult to think at all, let alone focus on escaping. Sweat coated her from head to foot, bubbling as the heat of the tube boiled it. Her clothes were soaked, soaked and steaming. She tossed her sweater off, in case it would help, but it barely made a difference. 

“Oh my, I didn’t expect a strip tease from you, Miss Mayflower.” 

“Shut up!” cried Ruth. 

Mary dropped to her knees and slumped against the glass, too weak even to stand. She placed her hands on it, stared at her palms. Her vision swam, as slick as wet paint. It almost seemed as if she were melting…

A thin plume of steam rose from her hand and flowed into the air, sucked up towards the vent overhead. Her eyes snapped between it and her hand and back again. What…? Was…? 

Even as the first scream left her mouth, another wisp of steam rose from her other hand and was vacuumed up like so much dust. “Wh-what’s happening?!” 

In the other tube, Ruth fought even harder, slamming her boots into the wall as steam poured from her body. Each new impact sounded a little quieter than the last. 

One moment Mary’s clothes were glued to her skin by her sweater, the next they were shockingly loose on her. Heart pounding, she scrambled at her top and found it was suddenly several sizes too large for her. Squealing, she pulled it taut again – she’d never worn a top that wasn’t tight before. 

In the other tube, Ruth kicked again, and this time her boot flew from a foot that was several sizes too small for it. 

Outside, Pincher chuckled – she seemed larger than ever. 

We’re shrinking, thought Ruth. Why are we shrinking?! Tears formed in her eyes and were almost instantly vaporized. What’s happening to us?!

Her skirt fell, followed by her tights and her panties. Moaning now, she grabbed at them, fighting to pull them back up, but she was like a child trying to dress in her mother’s clothes – no matter what she did, they were inevitably too large for her.

Even as she grappled with her tights, a sound like crunching paper reached her ears, and she lost her grip on them. Snatching her hand back, she raised it and squealed: her fingers! Her fingers were shrinking like overcooked vegetables. “R-Ruth! Ruth!” 

“What the fuck are you doing to us?!” Ruth had given up on kicking now, and it soon became obvious why: her legs were crumpling beneath her, slowly shriveling out of existence –it wasn’t long before she ended up on her knees. And still the steam rose in thick plumes from their bodies.

Mary screamed and fought to stop it, slapping at herself with hands deflating like punctured balloons, desperately trying to keep the steam from leaving her body. It made no difference: even if she covered one spot, it simply poured from another. The weight of her dangling breasts was almost unbearable. “Stop! Stop it! Make it stooop!”

Her fingers and thumbs folded into her palms, which lasted only a second longer before they crumpled into her wrists. She continued to fight with the stumps of her arms, but not a moment later, her legs gave way. She struck the floor and lay there moaning as her feet followed her arms and disappeared into her body. 

“Almost there,” said Ms. Pincher, rubbing her hands greedily. 

“Nnn~! Nnnnah! Ah! Ah!” In the other tube, Ruth had practically vanished – between the steam and her oversized clothes, it was growing difficult to see her. Patches of pink were appearing all over her, like the spots of a strange fever, and the smaller she grew, the more they seemed to cover.

It wasn’t long before Mary saw similar spots on her own skin. Hers were blue, blue as water, and they shone like patches of well-polished plastic. “Stooooooooop!” 

Pincher simply chuckled a little harder.

Ruth disappeared inside her top. A second later, Mary’s own collar swallowed her. Even in the dark, she continued to steam, her body burning, her limbs all but gone – only the stubs of her shoulders and thighs remained now. And still the heat inside her continued to grow, filling her, filling her, till it seemed to stretch her body taut around it. She moaned in pleasure, sick at her own sinful delight, as her breasts, released from her bra, grew larger and larger, pumped even fatter, even plumper, by the pressure in her core. Her buttocks thickened, lifting her hips from the floor, and her labia swelled till they were fat and inviting. Her clit – the devil’s button – became a blueberry, unmissable, and the tingling of its change rolled through her and made her scream in utter delight. 

Her tongue lolled out. Her eyes rolled back. She screamed again, and then she shrank a little smaller. The blueness coating her washed over her face like a wave, drowning her pleasured features, and finally they froze that way, like the wind had changed and caught her mid-lust.

Inside, she continued to scream in ecstasy. H-help me! Oh! Help me! Nnnnnn~! Nnnnnah! NNNNNNNNAAAH!

***

With the click of a mouse, the stream went live. 

“Hey, guys, welcome back! It’s your guy Dick Pickett, and I’m back with some more DICK-CREDIBLE content for you all…” 

On the desk, Fanny Onleigh squirmed in her shell. H-hey, that’s my line! What’s going on?! Where am I?! 

Things had gone reeeeally weird after her trip to the Basement. Pincher had been promised she’d be turned back to, like, normal, but instead she’d been stuffed in a box, which had then been thrown in another box, and then she’d been bounced about in a truck a ton… and now she’d ended up here! In what looked suspiciously like her own recording studio!

“Today, we’ve going to be testing out this amazing new toy! Big thanks to ThirstinaAguilera for sending it to me!” 

A giant, masculine hand seized her shell and tightened, squeezing her already compacted body even tighter. Squealing, she shot into the air.

The face of a giant spun into view, enormous, chiseled, and handsome. And naked, or close enough. Fanny’s eyes dropped, and she blushed as she realized he was wearing little more than a pair of y-fronts. Tight, bulging y-fronts. W-wait! Wait, what’s going on?! P-put me down! Put me down!

“Okay~,” said Dick, in a voice like richest honey. “Let’s go.” Placing Fanny on the desk, he grabbed the hem of his underwear and–

If Fanny had still had eyes, they would have bulged out of their sockets – a comical mirror of the cannon of masculinity that bulged out of Dick’s pants. Her heart stopped; she stared, unable to think of anything else. His cock was to the average cock what her tits were to the average tits, but she’d never been interested in tits before. Penis, on the other hand…

She couldn’t drool, but if she could have, she would have been poured. 

Picking her up, Dick aligned his shaft with her mouth. The closer it grew, the harder her heart hammered, and the more her brain froze into a state of unthinking lust. One little part of her retained some semblance of sentience, pleading for him to stop, to let go, screaming that she wasn’t just a sextoy, she was a living, human woman… 

…but the rest of her wanted nothing more than his cock. 

“Anyone wanna bet how long it’ll last?” said Dick. “Three minutes? Hah, I bet it won’t even last two.” 

And without further fanfare, he slammed her onto his cock. Fanny screamed as his immensity tore through her.

*

Felix lay on the bed and sweated and burned and whimpered, desperate, desperate, for the slightest relief from his torment. Ever since the machine had crushed him into this awful new shape, he’d been so erogenous he could barely even think – even the slightest breeze was enough to send him into a paroxysm of ecstasy. 

Beside him lay Luna, small and silent and inanimate. Unlike him, they’d made her into a buttplug. A small consolation for her failure to save him, the useless little wh–

With a creak, the door of the bedroom opened. Felix froze. Or would have, if he’d still been human. 

Into the room marched a young blond in a suit, leading, by a thin golden chain, a brunette in a maid’s outfit. She walked with her head down and her hands over her lap, all silent and demure. Waiting for her master’s permission to speak. 

Felix swallowed. What the fuck was this?

“Well, here we are,” said the man with the chain. “Look, I’ve prepared some special toys for you, kitten. Would you like to try them?” 

The maid’s eyes snapped up, and she blushed as she saw them. Felix, meanwhile, writhed in fresh horror. He knew that look; he’d seen it often enough in Luna. She was going to use them. Use them. Use–

At the thought of it, his body, already rigid, seemed to grow even harder. Waves of unbearable sensation – halfway between ecstasy and pain – rolled through his phallic form. He wanted to scream. But all he could do was lie there, inanimate.

“Which one would you prefer to try first?” said the master. 

The maid bit her lip. “I’d p-prefer not to use either, s-sir.” 

His eyes sparkled. “Oh, is that so? Well, it’s very rude of you to reject your master’s gifts so swiftly. Perhaps I need to punish you…” The maid released the tiniest squeak. “Get on the bed. And spread your legs. I want to see your pussy, slut.” 

Whimpering, the maid dropped her panties, hurried to the bed, and threw herself onto it, making Felix squeal inside as he bounced. “R-ready, master.” 

“I’ll say when you’re ready, you little whore.” Removing his gloves, the blond approached with painful slowness, pausing for a second to look down at her and smile. Finally, like a surgeon selecting the specific tool for an incision, he bent down and picked up Felix, who could only scream at the orgasmic sensation of being touched.

“Mmm~, let’s see…” he said, turning Felix around in his hand. “Are you going to apologize for refusing your master’s gifts?” 

The maid dropped her head. “Y-y-yes, master. Yes, I’m very, very sorry.” 

He chuckled. “Is that so? Unfortunately, sorry isn’t good enough, you little whore.” And before Felix could react, he tightened his grip and thrust him towards the poor maid’s pussy, which was currently doing its best imitation of a waterfall – Felix squealed and struggled to pull away. “Beg for it, bitch. Tell me how naughty you’ve been.” 

The maid screwed up her eyes, chewed her lips. “I’ve been a bad girl! I’ve been a bad girl, master! Punish me! Punish me!” 

Her master smirked. “As you wish.” 

W-wait! Wait! thought Felix. D-don’t! Don’t do it! Don’t–

His body made a squelch as he slipped inside her. As her warm, wet lips wrapped around his rigid plastic body and slipped down him, coating him in her juices. Pleasure – utter, crushing pleasure unlike anything Felix had ever felt – surged through his body and wrenched a scream out of his mouth. He gasped inside, whimpered. He felt like a lightning rod. 

T-take me out! Take me out! Take me out! Please…!

“Mmm~,” came the master’s voice, distant yet still audible. “I think I’ll leave it in there for a little while. In the meantime, why don’t you give me a look at that cute little butthole of yours…?” 

Take me ooooooooout!

*

Slap after slap of flesh against plastic struck Tiffany’s tortured ears. Again and again, rhythmic and consistent, with only the occasional pause for her father to catch his breath before he resumed with exactly as much aplomb as before. “Phew…! I must say, Catherine, this is a lot more enjoyable without you complaining about how much it hurts.” 

From her place on the floor of the bedroom, Tiffany couldn’t see exactly what was happening on the bed. But what she saw was enough: her mother – the sexdoll – with her face in the sheets and her ass up in the air, squeaking as her father slammed his… his… manhood into her rear end like the disgusting beast he was. There was nothing Tiffany wanted more than to tear her eyes from the awful scene, but her new form simply didn’t allow her – all she could do was sit and watch. 

She wanted to stab the bastard. It’s your fault! It’s your fault! No wonder he’d been so keen to find an invitation! And no wonder he’d been so insistent about them taking the trip without him! He’d set them up! He’d known all along! It was just a sick game for him and his rich friends, and he’d throw them into it like gladiators to the lions. It’s your fault, you… you… beast! 

At last, with one final smack and a deep grunt from Father, her parent’s one-sided lovemaking reached its end. Picking Mother up, he spun her around, wincing at the slime already pouring from her mouth and her vagina, and finally, with a shudder of disgust, tossed her aside like a used tissue. Lying back, he reached for a cigar. 

As he lit it, he happened to catch sight of her. “Oh! Tiffany, dear. I’d almost forgotten about you. Terribly sorry you had to get mixed up in all that stuff, you know, but, well, I could hardly send your mother on her own, could I? Besides, you’ve been acting awfully entitled recently, my dear. I don’t know where we went wrong with you – perhaps we never should have bought you that third Bentley. But I digress.” 

Tiffany wanted to scream at him. 

Taking a deep drag of his cigar, Father studied her, and a strange expression came over his face. For a moment, Tiffany didn’t understand what it was. Then she saw his member stiffening once more, and she wanted to squeal at him for an entirely different reason. 

Father’s eyes roamed over her body, eating up every square inch of swollen, plasticized flesh. His phallus twitched, glistening with fresh precum. Finally, he coughed. “You know, dear, thinking about it, it would be awfully wasteful not to use you. I mean, I don’t want to be crude, but you are a sexdoll now. You’re meant to be used, after all.” He stood. 

Internally, Tiffany recoiled. St-stay away from me! Stay away from me, you fiend! D-don’t you dare! Don’t you–EEEEK!

Grabbing her by the wrist, he yanked her onto the bed with him. There, he rolled onto his back, picked her up, and planted her in his lap just like he’d used to – she whimpered at the feeling of his member against her buttocks. 

A puff of smoke tickled her non-existent nostrils. “To be frank,” said Father, taking another deep drag. “I’ve always thought you were more attractive than your mother.” 

Tossing his cigar into the ashtray, he took her in both hands, squeezing her waist between them. Tiffany squealed as he lifted her up. Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare do it, you disgusting old–

With a schlup of plastic against flesh, he forced her onto his shaft. Tiffany screamed as he buried himself deep inside her.

*

Lilith de Sire was like a thousand leaves in the wind. A thousand sexy fucking leaves in a really horny wind, a wind that took her and pinched her and turned her and masturbated in full view of her, blowing loads of sticky hot semen all over her slutty pages. It was heavenly. It was hellish. It was everything she’d never known she’d wanted, yet so terrifying she wanted nothing more than for it to end. On and on it went, ceaseless, infinite, unending, and with each new turn of a page or pump of a shaft, the pleasure came back and sent her spiraling in ecstasy all over again. 

Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh, oh God, please…! Nnn~! More! No more! More! N-no more! Nnnnn!

Just as she thought she’d never escape this dreamlike torment, one particular touch, one particular voice, caught her attention and dragged her back to reality:

A porcine snort. “O-o-oh! It’s finally here!” 

E-eh…? 

They were nasally, whoever they were. But more importantly, they sounded kinda like her. “Ooo, I can’t wait! I can’t waaaaaaait!” 

Her vision swam; she struggled to make sense of it. At last, with much effort, she forced the scene to resolve: she lay on her back looking up at the ceiling of a dingy, dirty little room with trash all over the floor and slutty posters on all the walls. It reminded her strangely of home.

A young man with a bowl of ginger hair, obnoxious spectacles, and more spots than a leopard sat looking down at her. One of his hands was on her pages, ready to turn. The other couldn’t be seen, though Lilith didn’t need to be a professional gooner to know why it kept jerking. 

“Oh…! Oh…! Oh…! Oh yes…! F-fuck…! Fuck! This issue is so goooood!” 

H-he… he was masturbating to her. Getting off to her. She felt strangely proud of that fact. Forget Pincher’s awful machines! She was real art! Art with soul! Her soul! 

For the next twenty minutes, he turned her and turned her, jacking away with an almost inhuman persistence. In the face of his attention, Lilith melted. Was this what actual sex felt like? It felt good to bring someone else so much pleasure…

At last, he reached her final page, the one where her lover came so hard it made her belly bulge. As if in sympathy, his pumping reached a crescendo. He gasped, screwed his eyes shut. Grunted. 

And finally, in a geyser of thick white semen, came. The stuff shot from his shaft and up over the desk to splatter all over her pages, coating her tiny inked body from head to toe in cum. 

Oh…! Oh…! Oh…! thought Lilith, mind dissolving into the bliss of it. Oh, God, this is so hot.

*

Mary Mayflower was in hell.

The hell in question was box-shaped and box-sized and box-colored as well, which was appropriate in many ways, but of course it was a box. She lay on her back inside it, with Ruth, or the toy she’d become, right beside her. Close enough that their altered forms rubbed with every little movement. Pleasure – sinful, searing pleasure – surged through her body each time, and though she did everything she could to block it out, she just couldn’t prevent it. 

Help me. Please, someone help me! 

The box lurched. From outside came a masculine grunt. “Well, well, well, what’s this? A present? Is it Christmas already?” 

“Gift from the bosswoman,” said another, and Mary’s heart lurched as she recognized it. “Says it’s t’thank for our excellent work on the tour.” 

A snort. “What, you mean standing by an watchin’ while those sluts fell in the machines? Hey, speakin’ of… it’s not–?” 

The one holding them – Frank! The one from the fleshlight floor! – chuckled. “Why don’t y’open it up and find out, ya big dope?” 

A scrabbling sound; the box lurched again. Mary squealed as she rolled around, bumping into Ruth and igniting fresh waves of pleasure. Nnn~! Nnnnnn! Please! Please, God, help me! 

Hands, giant hands, tore through the tape of the box and wrenched it open. And perhaps they were God’s, though Mary had never pictured God with six gold rings and a ‘DEATH’ tattoo on his knuckles. I-I-I–

“No fuckin’ way! It is them!” With a snort, the greasy, pig-nosed prisoner leaned in and seized them. Mary screamed as his chubby fingers sank into her rubbery flesh, instantly striking her with an unbearable ecstasy. 

Nnnnnnnoooo! Nonononono! Get off me! Get off me!

“God, look at her fat tits,” said the prisoner, rubbing his thumb into them. “Almost wish I’d had chance for a titfuck before the boss got her hands on her. Still, some nice, tight snatch is a pretty decent consy-lay-shun prize…” 

“Hands off – that one’s mine,” said the original Frank, snatching her from his colleague. “I’ve been eyeing this tight piece of cunt since she stepped into the factory.” 

“Alright, alright, y’only had to say…” With a scowl, the other Frank picked up Ruth instead. “Not that this one’s much worse, anyway… Say, you think they’re both virgins?”

“I don’t know about that slut,” said Frank, holding Mary to his scar-covered face. “But I know this little cunt’s type. A prim little Catholic schoolgirl like this? She was saving it for her wedding day, weren’t you princess? Waiting for a handsome man to sweep y’off yer feet and put a ring on yer finger, weren’t ya, you tight little–!” He licked his lips. “Hey, lemme borrow one of yours, will ya? Me an’ my bride here are gonna need a shotgun wedding!”

Sh-sh-shotgun–?! As Mary squealed at the implications of his words, he seized the bright orange pants of his jumpsuits and dropped, revealing the tattered, sweaty prison-issue boxers hidden inside them… and the monstrous bulge of a cock fighting to escape their weathered fabric. 

Mary’s mind stopped, her thoughts turned to ice by the sheer obscenity of the situation. This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. I’m in hell. I’m in hell. 

Frank pulled his boxers down as well, and the thing that sprang out of them shattered what remained of her thoughts entirely. Twenty inches and veined, already oozing thick globs of precum, it must have been thicker than her arm, than her thigh. And he wanted– he wanted to stick it all in–

The world spun; the serpent drew closer. In the confines of her own skin, Mary thrashed, fighting to escape her own body, but all she could do was lie there in the prisoner’s hand and wait, wait as his monstrous shaft came closer and closer and closer, until at last–

Contact was excruciating, like nothing she’d ever felt. He didn’t enter her right away, of course: rather, he simply nuzzled her with his tip, glazing her labia in his slick, see-through precum. This alone brought her an ecstasy so strong it hurt. 

If she’d still been human, she would have been hyperventilating. Please. Pleasepleasepleaseplease, God, God, please help me! Help me! Help me! Please! 

Frank tightened his grip, digging his thumb even deeper into her oh-so-generous bodice. It was her fault, she realized belatedly. It was just like her mom had been telling her since puberty: it was her fault for being born with such a slutty body! Nnnnnn~! Stop it! Please…! 

“Ready, princess?” said Frank. 

Pl–

Without another word, he entered her.

Mary’s pleas for mercy cut out, instantly silenced, as a burning sword of sensation sliced through her mind and incinerated her sanity. Frank’s penis stretched her around it like a sock around a foot, and as he forced it deeper and deeper, her nerves screamed with the awful ecstasy of the experience. Nnnnnnn~! Ah! Ah! Ah! 

He grunted. “F-fuck, I was right. She’s a tight little cunt.” Adjusting his grip, he started to pump, forcing his battering ram of a phallus through the gates of her labia and deep through the halls of her altered body to crash to a stop in her empty plastic head, bouncing her vision all over the room as he bludgeoned it out of shape. 

Nnnnn~! Nnnnnnnnah! 

He picked up speed, making her rubbery body squeak as it slid up and down his shaft, her groin rising to the heights of his tip, before crashing down into its own fleshy counterpart with a meaty squelch of plastic against flesh, a perverse kind of kiss. 

Pleasure poured through her nerves and melted her brain, turning everything left of her mind to a bubbling soup of lust. Nnnnn~! Nnnnnnn! Honey…! Honey, you’re too… Nnnnnn! 

Through the haze, she barely noticed the other prisoner had picked up Ruth and started slamming her onto his own cock. That this was in no way normal didn’t occur to her in the moment. 

Biting his lip, her husband-to-be pumped even faster, grunting and flushing with the exertion of his efforts. Mary felt like a balloon, a balloon being blown larger and larger and larger, till her skin screamed with the strain of holding so much in – the more her husband pumped, the greater her pleasure became, till she felt her head would pop from the sheer strength of the sensation. 

Please… she thought, in her few moments of sanity, please…! Honey, it’s too much…! Please…! 

He continued to pump. In fact, he picked up the pace, working her harder and harder, faster and faster, making her creak and squeak and moan and whimper with the awful, awful torment of his massive, crushing member. Whining and splitting, squealing and tearing, until at last he gave her one final, mighty pump and–

“Nn~! F-fuck!” Slamming his eyes shut, he came with a grunt. 

Semen filled her. Like a heavenly deluge, it poured from his shaft into her body, making her belly bulge and her breasts swell and her head bloat till the thinner plastic of her mouth and her eyes gave and the stuff came sweeping out in three tiny streams of white tears and vomit. The rest of the awful fluid, with nowhere to go, was forced backwards, back down the canal of her body and out through the slender gap between her vagina walls and his cock, where it squirted all over his shaft and his pants and the floor. “F-fuck…!” When he pulled out, it was with a squelch and a plop, and only then did the release of orgasm finally strike her.

In a single crushing instant, Mary Mayflower’s mind shattered.

Oh… Oh, honey…!

*

Shaking the worst of his semen out of the slut’s oozing snatch, Frank gave her a little kiss and tucked her into his pocket. “Sweet dreams, honey. I’ll see you in a couple of hours…”

Gary had just finished with his own reward. “F-fuck,” he said, squeezing the cum out of his own toy. “Maybe she was a virgin after all.” 

Frank snorted. The bastard’s chode had all but torn the thing in half.

“Well, that was fun,” he said, “but we best be getting back to work before the bosswoman catches us. “Don’t want to end up on the line ourselves, do we?” Gary shook his head.

From overheard came the blare of an alarm. On the far side of the basement, one of the doors opened, and in drove another busful of fresh meat for them to process. 

Pulling his pants up, Frank chuckled – the thought was making him hard all over again. Maybe there’d be more big-titted schoolgirls on-board to play with. 

“Course,” he said, clapping Gary on the shoulder, “‘s no reason we can’t have a little fun while we work, is there?”