Spare Girls Ch. 01

"Sex doll," said the clerk, handing Maddy her paperwork.

"What?" Maddy gulped. "Sex doll? Come on, isn't there something else?"

"Listen kid, I'm the clerk. I don't make any of the stupid decisions around here, and I'm not responsible for any of the selections, and, seeing as how you're going to be a love doll for a few years, I'd appreciate it if you spent your last human moments not telling me how to do my job."

Maddy blushed. "Sorry..."

The clerk sighed. "Look, lots of girls complain about what TF they got, but I ain't never seen a girl come back and say she wasn't happy. You get me, hon?"

"Are you sure?"

"Trust me. It's like a few years of vacation; you come back when there are more jobs. Hell, you can take MY job. I sure as hell ain't staying here forever."

Suddenly, she started coughing, hocking up phlegm until Maddy glimpsed a wad of black mucus sitting on the clerk's white, blistered tongue. The clerk swallowed and cleared her throat. "All set?"

Maddy walked into the lab without a purse, phone, or keys, though it wasn't as if she'd need them. Maddy's credit cards had all been canceled. Her phone would be outdated within the month, let alone five years. She had no apartment, and had been living with her Mom, who she let have her car. Maddy had prepared for this for weeks, but every time she touched the empty pockets of her torn-up sweatpants she kept wondering if she had left something behind. The feeling certainly didn't help Maddy feel better about the fact that she was going to spend half a decade as somebody's fuck doll.

A lab-tech handed Maddy a blue paper robe. "Put it on," he grunted. He had a flat pinched nose and oily hair, and the smallest modicum of professionalism as he drew the changing curtain.

"What do you do with the clothes?" she asked.

"Mail to your home—that is, the address you put on your contact form. There's nothing we can do with it."

"You sure?" She handed him her high-school t-shirt. It had patches of green paint on the chest from when she had painted her old apartment. "You might get a dime for this one."

"Well, now that you mention it..."

Maddy laughed. "What are you going to do, sell them?"

"Yes."

Maddy snorted. "So is the lab-tech job just a side-line, or

"I'm serious."

Maddy blinked.

"I'm technically not supposed to do this," the lab-tech coughed, "But if you don't need that bra, could I have it?"

"What?"

"It's not for me. Some guys pay a lot of money for ladies' underwear. I just want to know if you'd let me have them."

Her bra was just an old sports bra, not worth sending back to her Mom. "Are you sure?"

"Definitely," he said. "And if you don't want your panties..."

"Ugh, gross."

"I know, but I just need the money, okay? Please?"

She hesitated. "They're full of holes."

"No big deal. Actually, the more worn out, they are, the better. Some guys really like—"

"Stop talking," Maddy said curtly. She stepped out of her worn-out panties and handed them through the curtain. The lab-tech slipped the lingerie in a gym bag he had in the corner, and silently thanked Maddy as she opened the curtain. Maggie walked out of the lab, drawing comfort from the fact that she'd probably never see the man again.

Maddy sat in a waiting room for two hours until her number got called, then she got at the end of a line. There were five lines in the main clinic, and each one led to a different transformation room.

"Hey," said the woman in front of her. "You're going to be a doll too?"

"I guess," Maddy muttered.

"Yeah, no wonder they picked you. You've got a good look."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"Well, you're...uh...you know."

"What?"

She laughed. "You'll see in a minute."

The wait took much longer than a minute. This transformation room might have been Maddy's final destination, but she was still inside a state-run operation. Dozens of women and a few men stood in their blue paper gowns, shuffling through a green tiled hallway as they waited their turn. Maddy missed her phone now more than ever. Maddy felt like she was traveling miles of hospital-green corridors, her feet chilled by the unheated linoleum beneath her feet.

The woman in front of her asked, "What did you do before this?"

'Why did people always want to know what kind of job you had?' Maddy wondered. 'Besides, if I had had a job, I wouldn't be here.' Instead of telling her this, Maddy replied, "I was a teacher."

"Wow, you bet on the wrong horse!"

"I didn't want to be anything else," Maddy sulked.

"At least I had some work for a while. I used to be a chauffeur."

Maddy had never met a chauffeur before. "What did you drive?"

"Limos, mostly: tried my hand at cabs, but once self-driving cars got into the business they didn't need me much anymore. Don't get me wrong: the things are practically accident proof, so...goodbye to all that, but you'd think they'd find a more important job to replace with robots."

"At least they never came out with a teaching robot," Maddy smirked.

"I guess it makes the customers more comfortable when they're alone in the backseat." She raised her eyebrow. "You know what I mean?"

"No," Maddy frowned.

The chauffeur explained, "There was this one businessman I always picked up at the airport, but before I picked him up he'd always tell me to stop at this club on the way and pick up the same lady. She'd always be out in front, bleach blonde hair, Asian eyes, tits out to here...then I'd drive her to airport and he'd hop in and have a quick one before he got home."

"In the car?"

"Sure, so his wife wouldn't find out. We'd drop off the girl on the roadside, he'd go home, and I didn't say anything. I'm just a chauffeur, you know; it's none of my business."

"Did she ask you?"

"Who?"

"The wife."

The woman smiled. "Nah, I never saw her. I talked to the hooker once, though. She was nice: a real pro. You could tell that she kind of liked the guy, but it was kind of like the way waitresses have a favorite customer; they leave big tips and ask how your family is, but you wouldn't go out on a date with them," she said. "You have to be a waitress to understand."

"I'll take your word for it."

"The only thing that really bothered me...I mean, I saw those two get down and dirty right in the car. I rolled up the window and turned the radio up, and occasionally I had to wipe down the seats, but the only thing that bothered me was the effort, you know?"

"Of wiping down the seats?"

"No, I mean...that guy planned out his whole arrival and paid all that money just so he could have some quick sex in the back of a limo. Sure, he tipped me extra to drive into a few traffic jams, but..."

"Seems like a waste of time if you ask me."

"Yeah, but how bad must things have been with his wife to do all that? Maybe I'd understand a little better if I'd seen her," she shrugged. "...but that's what I've been thinking about ever since my profile got called up. Better to just get a doll than go sneaking around someone's back."

"What about turning into a doll?"

The woman shrugged. "I guess I'll find out."

Maddy and the chauffeur were almost at the front of the line. Maddy shuffled into a room which was divided into sections by long white curtains suspended from the ceiling. The room was for the most part quiet, except for people shuffling and murmuring to each other, but each time Maddy got close to a curtain she heard gasps and moans leaking through the gap between the curtains and the floor. A little whimper would escape from underneath the curtain, followed by silence, and then a voice would say, "Next group..."

Maddy heard hammering coming from another curtained-off section of the room, but before she could look inside she, the woman, and three others were ushered into a curtained-off room with five swivel chairs. The room looked like a small salon, with mirrors and lights, but the chairs spread their legs apart and had restraints for people's ankles and wrists.

"They're just a precaution to keep you from slipping: don't read into it too much," said the lab-coated assistant. He wrote a number on a tag and tied it around her wrist.

"What's that—"

"ID tag: makes sure we know who you are. Sit down."

In a gentle and business-like manner, he forced Maddy into a chair, and by the time he strapped her in the other chauffeur was already getting injected with a long needle. Assistants shot a fluorescent pink goo into the chauffeur's arm until a bright pink welt developed on her bicep. Gradually that welt grew bigger, and wider, until her whole upper arm was covered in it.

"It's all rubbery," the chauffeur giggled. She jiggled her arm and showed it to Maddy; it still wiggled like real flesh, except the color was off.

Maddy then noticed something about people that she had never noticed before. It took the spectacle of this trait disappearing in front of Maddy's eyes for the obvious to sink in. People's skin wasn't just one solid color. From far away people looked black, white, or olive, but when viewed up close there were little blemishes and discolorations. The chauffeur's hand was white, but the skin over her knuckles was red, and so were the little pimples and clogged pores on her fingers. Her palms were pink and the little hairs on her forearm were gold with brown moles underneath, but as the formula spread through her body her hair fell out, her moles dissolved like brown sugar in vinegar, and the dry, wrinkled knuckles smoothed out like white chocolate. As the technicians brushed away the useless hair the woman's entire arm turned to a solid color: peach. The skin didn't shine like rubber, and it didn't bend like a hose, but just the sight of that one color steamrolling every other shade made Maddy tense up like a frightened rabbit.

"I can't move it anymore," the chauffeur said. Her fingers still clutched the arm of the chair, and her elbow was cocked like she was ready to push herself off the chair, but nothing moved. The inhuman peachy color was spreading to her chest. Her breathing grew faster. She squirmed, but her arm stuck where it was like an anchor. The rest of her body started to turn, the peach coloring soaking through every limb and muscle.

"I can feel it...it's so...incredible."

Her feet stopped shifting and her legs stopped shaking. With every second that passed her body grew more still, all movement ceasing except for her heaving chest. The paper gown rose and fell, falling a little more and rising a little less with every breath. The chauffeur's eyes darted about the room, wide with surprise, a smile spreading across her transforming face.

Maddy was so distracted that she didn't even notice the needle poking into her own arm until it was too late. "Hey!"

"Trust me, this way's easier," said the assistant. "See you in five years!"

"You guys," said the chauffeur. "This is amazing. You note...moat...know, don't mow...this feels..." Her face was getting stiff; her mouth was turning to rubber.

The chauffeur's face was all peach, a dull sheen spreading over her cheeks. As the invading color spread over her scalp and nostrils, conquering every square in of her head, her smile slowly faded. She tried to speak but her lips could barely move, drawing together until her mouth grew small. All that the chauffeur could do was form her lips into a full, luscious pout that kept trying to speak, opening and closing it like a goldfish. "Mup...mup...mmph...mmph!" Her eyes glazed over and all emotion evaporated. Doll-like and with glassy eyes, the chauffeur stared into space, her lips solidifying into a soft, perfect "o".

The chauffeur's chest was still rising, slowly and laboriously. Maddy watched it, but was soon distracted by her own changes; a creamy pink color ran down her arm to her fingers until they went numb.

'No, they're not numb,' Maddy realized. 'They just won't move!' She watched her entire hand, nails an all, turn a pale pink, and then her fingertips stopped twitching. Each time she tried to squirm out of her restraints, her fingers couldn't bend, and soon her toes wouldn't move either. Maddy's wrists wouldn't move, her ankles were frozen. Suddenly, when she remembered to look at the chauffeur again, Maddy noticed that her breathing had stopped. Her chest was still: not even a heartbeat moved that inanimate, rubberized chest.

Maddy tried to scream, but it felt like trying to burp with no gas in her stomach. She and the other girls struggled as much as their freezing limbs would allow them, but never raised their voices. They only grew quieter, moaning and whimpering as their bodies froze up.

What Maddy realized, however, was that she wasn't sad or afraid. Maddy felt restless, as if the fact that she wouldn't move again made her want to move all the more. Her limbs fluttered like wet butterfly wings for a few minutes, moving for the last time, freezing in their position and staying that way no matter how hard Maddy tried to move them.

Her face transformed: not numb, but slowing down. Her nipples changed, rubbing up against her paper gown, permanently erect. Her pussy turned to rubber, swollen with excitement and tingling as the air drifted up her gown. Maddy felt her womb shut down and melt away into the rest of her flesh. She was solid like a statue but soft as pudding.

'I'm changing, she thought. 'It's like everything else is shutting down and disappearing. I'm not hungry, I'm not thirsty. I just feel everything that touches me.'

The chair, once sticky and awkward, was now her throne, cradling her like a queen. Maddy felt cold as her body heat drifted out of her, never to return. Someone from the lab picked her up, a strong man with warm, hairy hands. His body heat leached through his clothes and soaked into Maddy's rubbery body. The man threw her over their shoulder like she was nothing but a sack of potatoes.

He straightened her knees, and put her arms flat against her sides. He could touch Maddy whenever and however he wanted, tearing off her paper gown, exposing her soft, heavy breasts and wide-open crotch. The workman stuffed her into a wooden crate and reached for the lid.

"No," Maddy whispered. "Wait..."

"This one's still talking," the man grumbled.

Maddy pleaded, "Please...don't..."

The foreman walked over and listened. "Wait until her mouth freezes, then seal her up."

"Freeze?" It took her ten seconds to say the word. She tried her hardest to keep her eyes focused on the man standing above her. "No..."she cried. "No..."

The workman looked down at his watch, Maddy's speech growing fainter and fainter until her tongue, turning to a strip of rubber, grew still. Her lips made that perfect "o" shape everyone else did, and her eyes stared straight ahead.

Maddy was a doll, and the last thing she saw was her hard-hatted workman sending his wife a text before he nailed her crate shut.