Page 29 of Exposed
A man with slick, black hair and a strong cleft chin enters my office. A wide smile is etched onto his face, a characteristic of his permanent business etiquette, and the scent of freshly washed laundry spreads across the room. The Founder of the Pure Companion Company offers his hand. His company originally specialized in hybrid sex dolls: rubber interiors sheathed in human skin. With my help, the company has started a new product line, a project we are both eager to perfect.
I stand, and we shake hands, both of us with equally firm grips. Although I am, indeed, smarter and better than him, the Founder is a man who deserves my full handshake. He’s become a dear associate of mine.
“Alick Ambrose,” he says. “It’s always good to see you.”
I return to my seat. “And how is the Pure Companion Company?”
“Flourishing. Always flourishing.” He takes the chair directly across from me and nods at my laptop. He’s observant; he knows I have a habit of studying my patients. “I take it you’ve acquired the next specimen?”
On the screen, Violet flutters around the basement as she crawls on her hands and knees. She reminds me of an insect trapped in a jar.
She shouts at the camera lens:I know you can see me!
I raise a brow. At least she’s aware.
The dumb cunt must be searching for the tiny container she hid in her mouth. I chuckle coldly; she must be stupidto think I wouldn’t see her cheeks packed like a squirrel’s on the way down to the basement. Perhaps she’s searching for a way out. The tunnels underneath the Wellard Asylum are vast; however, my preferred section of the basement has a locked door blocking anyone from entering or leaving. Thus, the stupid cunt will only get so far. Or perhaps she is searching for the extra copy of her mother’s file, which I brought with us and conveniently dropped on the floor of the basement. She’ll find it soon. I added a new note in it just for her.
I briefly ponder calling her supposed boyfriend to ask what she’s hiding in the container, but I’d prefer to let it unravel on its own. Surprises, especially vicious ones, always amuse me. And if I need to punish her for whatever she has planned, then her guilt and shame will be absolutely exquisite during our next session.
I turn back to the Founder. “Did you enjoy the previous specimen?”
“Quite thoroughly,” he says, his mouth a crescent of sharp teeth. “The model groaned in pain, but I’m afraid there were no tears. Our clients for these products are very particular. Tears are one of our biggest requests in the preorders. As you know, our dolls must react naturally without any words.”
The Founder and I are collaborating on a product of human women transformed into sex toys. We’re calling it our Living Doll product line. With the right treatments, a woman can be changed from a human with free will into a doll that solely reacts to a man’s stimuli. If he wants the doll to scream, he can stab it, and by the power vested in me, itwillscream, and it will never retaliate or withhold anything from its owner.
I had been working on a similar project before beginning my collaboration with the Pure Companion Company. I always thought lobotomy would be the perfect way to create a completely obedient object. After a few failed attempts to achieve my goals, I realized I needed more control over the brain. The goal isn’t a lack of reactivity; the objective is to create a sexual need so strong, it overrides all other instincts. Thus, a doll can have its mental and emotional responses, while being unable to resist the sexual submission.
Eventually, I began using a microchip in the brain, which opened up new possibilities.
Despite our recent success, tears have been the most difficult aspect to replicate once the doll’s processing chip has been installed in the brain. I’ve played with the idea of conditioning the women beforehand to enjoy pain and pleasure, as well as forming a certain response to the simplest of triggers. For example, taking a cock in any orifice can be conditioned to become an unbearable task for the doll, and thus, our tear-trained products will cry for our customers from mere penetration.
Violet will be my first experimental doll with these particular conditioned triggers. In our first few hours alone, I’ve already begun teaching her body to respond to clitoral pain with orgasm. And with repeated use of her holes and degradation of her mind, she will eventually be brought to tears of joyandagony by my mere presence.
“As I hinted at in our correspondences, this one is the answer to our concerns.” I nod toward my computer. Typically, I’d adjust the screen to give the Founder a view of the specimen. I have no desire to share a physical view ofher though; he doesn’t deserve it. No one deserves a view of my sweet one besides me.
On the screen, Violet squints, attempting to read her mother’s file in the dim lighting. It’s actually a copy of the original file, which I conveniently left for her supposed boyfriend to steal. Her eyes dart across the papers now, studying the new handwritten note.
I turn back to the Founder. “You see, my hypothesis is if they already have an inclination for crying during sex in their conscious lives, and if they have an interest in depravitybeforethey’re transformed, then the brain will already be hardwired to respond with tears and arousal.”
“And does this next specimen have these qualities?” the Founder asks.
“Of course she does. She’s my daughter.”
The Founder chuckles. A man like him will never fault me for my obsession with my own blood. He’s worked with many different clients with various needs, and he has his own inclinations as well. His mission has always been to promote a world in which all men can achieve their darkest desires.
“She’s perfect for you, then,” he says.
On the laptop, Violet’s shoulders deflate, and her chest swells in apprehension as she appears to read the same lines repeatedly. I beam; with arousal in her veins, it must be hard to concentrate on the words.
She’s such a silly, stupid cunt.
My cock throbs. I’m already eager to return to her. Anger is often her primal response, born out of some idiotic need to save other women from men like me; still, tears come easily for her. Covered in piss, she cried like a baby as she came, and her sorrowful orgasm brought delight to my rottenheart. It’s been a pleasure, a purely blissful experience really, to begin this phase of Violet’s preparation for life as a doll.
Violet is already inclined to enjoy experiences like this; I’m confident we can train individuals who aren’t depraved like her. With the right conditioning, they will cum and cry, and our clients’ needs will be satiated.
“And this is the one you mentioned from your patient’s videos?” the Founder asks.
I nod; he’s referring to Benji. I would hardly call Benji a patient, though.
