Black Friday
© the author 2014
[A word of explanation may be in order for readers
outside the United States. Our national holiday of Thanksgiving falls on the
fourth Thursday of November. Schools, offices, and many businesses are also
closed the following day, which means that a large percentage of the population
has the day free. Traditionally this Friday is the start of the Christmas
shopping season, and stores have special sales on this day. The discounts on
high-priced goods can be quite large, and throngs of shoppers clog stores with
the best sales. It is known as Black Friday because the high volume of sales on
that day generates lots of income, and for many retail businesses the day means
that they will have a profitable year—or “be in the black”; hence Black
Friday. Comments are appreciated. You can leave them here or email them to me at z119z2000@yahoo.com. Thanks.]
“Mom, it’s Tyler. I’m still in Boston at the office. I
just got a text from the airline. My flight’s been cancelled because of the
weather. We’re having a freak snowstorm, and Logan Airport’s closed until
tomorrow morning at least. O’Hare’s still digging out from earlier today, and
it’s already filled with people trying to find flights. They rescheduled me for
a flight on Saturday, but I have to go through Dallas, and the flight won’t get
into Denver until early evening, and I have to leave the next day, so . . .”
“Oh, Tyler.” The disappointment in his mother’s voice was
clear. “Are you sure you can’t get here? Have you tried the other airlines? And
we’ve invited Reverend Hansen’s niece to meet you, and your sister brought home
one of her roommates just to meet you. The girls will be so disappointed.”
“Mom, it’s not just Boston. The entire East Coast’s shut
down. All the airports are closed. Nobody’s flying, and I’m one of thousands
who have to reschedule. I’m still at work, but they’re telling us to leave
early. I don’t know how long it’s going to take me just to get back to my
apartment. The subway’s running slow because of the storm, and I’ve got my
suitcase and . . . .” It took another ten minutes of conversation to get his
mother to accept that he wouldn’t be coming home. Tyler could detect that she
suspected him of exaggerating the severity of the storm just to get out of
spending Thanksgiving with his family. She wasn’t happy when he hung up. She still
had a lot to say to him—and he knew she would take the time to say it in her
next phone calls.
Even when everything went right and he made all the
connections, Thanksgiving travel was always a bitch. It seemed like he barely
made it to his parents’ home before he needed to start back. He had to work a
full day on Wednesday, which meant rushing to the airport to catch a flight on
Wednesday evening. By the time he had changed flights in Chicago and finally
made it to Denver, it would be almost midnight. Then he had to rent a car and
drive for another two hours, the last forty miles over back-country roads, to
reach his family’s ranch outside Bryant in the northeast corner of the state.
On Sunday he had to leave early in the morning to be back in time for work on
Monday.
All for what—his mother’s dry turkey, a lecture from his
father on what he was or was not doing with his life, awkward conversations
with the unmarried women his relatives invited to meet him. Not to mention trekking through crowded airports,
playing Russian roulette with the weather and risking delayed or cancelled
flights, sleeping on the lumpy sofa in the living room (his brother and his
wife and their children got the spare bedrooms), no alcohol, no sex, giving the
same answers to the same questions from all his relatives, screaming kids, his
brother’s bragging about his successes. It just wasn’t worth it, but every year
his parents insisted that he make the trip so that he could “be with us on the
holiday.” They always pretended their sole concern was to keep him from being
alone on the holiday, but neither of them ever hesitated to play the guilt card.
(“Your grandmother was saying just the other day how much she’s looking forward
to your visit,” etc.)
Tyler felt almost thankful for the snowstorm. He hadn’t
lied to his mother. The storm and the resulting snarl in travel would be on the
nightly news in Colorado, and his family would know that he had a good excuse
not to be with them. And, just once in his life, it would be good to hole up in
his apartment and relax for four days without having to think about other
people. The only interruptions would be the obligatory phone call tomorrow to
his family to express his regrets for missing Thanksgiving with them (he
figured it would take about thirty minutes to say sorry to everyone) and,
weather permitting, his daily run. The gym was out—there had been a sign on the
door for a week announcing that it would be closed on Thanksgiving so that “our
employees can spend the day with their loved ones,” but he could make up for
the lost time on Friday and the weekend. For once, he would have a real
vacation.
The subway trip back to his apartment took three times as
long as usual. Because of the storm, the trains were even more crowded than
they usually were at rush hour. The first Green C train at Park Street was so
crowded that there wasn’t room for him and his suitcase, and he had to wait another
twenty minutes for the next one. When the train finally emerged above ground at
the St. Paul’s Street stop in Brookline, it was immediately surrounded by swirling
snow. Passengers getting off had to wade through several inches of dirty slush.
The traffic jam on Beacon Street meant that the train often had to wait minutes
at the stoplights for the cross traffic to clear. It was nearly 7:30 by the
time Tyler made it back to his apartment. A quick check of his refrigerator and
cupboards confirmed what he already knew. He had no food.
Which is why Tyler found himself standing in line at the
deli counter in the supermarket just after 8:00. The fourteen people in line
ahead of him looked like they were in the same straits as Tyler. Alone on the
holiday, too lazy or too inexperienced to cook for themselves, one after
another they stepped to the counter and asked for “one of those Thanksgiving dinner
specials.”
According to the sign on the wall behind the counter, the
special included “two slices of Turkey breast meat with all the trimmings,
$6.95” A drumstick could be substituted for the white meat for two dollars
more. Cardboard cutouts of turkeys and pilgrims carrying blunderbusses and axes
surrounded the sign. Presumably the blunderbusses had been used to kill the
turkeys for the dinners, and the axes to chop off their heads. Displayed on the
counter was an open Styrofoam box divided into compartments. The largest compartment
held the turkey slices. Arranged around it in the smaller sections were
stuffing, mashed potatoes, and green beans. Gravy was slathered over the meat,
stuffing, and potatoes. The person who had prepared the sample must have been
in a hurry; there were dribbles of gravy over the green beans as well. Next to
the box were a small container with cranberry sauce and a triangular box with a
piece of pumpkin pie.
A table behind the counter was stacked with prepackaged brown
paper sacks, with the tops folded over and stapled shut. Each had a label with
“Thanksgiving Deli Special” and a barcode so that it could be scanned quickly
at the checkout. The line moved quickly. The customer in front barely uttered
“Thanksgiving special” before the clerk had swiveled around, picked up one of
the sacks, and then swiveled back and handed it over. The clerk’s bored wish of
“Happy Thanksgiving” was perfunctory. She sounded as if she had already said it
a thousand times that day.
Tyler counted the number of people ahead of him in the
line and the number of sacks left on the table. He came up three short. Unless
someone in the back was preparing more “Thanksgiving Deli Specials,” he wasn’t
going to have the traditional meal.
“Sorry, folks. That’s it. We’re sold out.” The clerk
sounded thrilled to make that announcement. Her day was over. She turned away, snapped
off the lights in the deli section, peeled off the plastic gloves she was
wearing, and threw them in the trash bin before scurrying off. She ignored the
attempts of the woman standing at the head of the line to order something else
from the deli cases.
Tyler got one of the last frozen TV dinners left in the
freezer section. The store was out of turkey. He would have meatloaf for
Thanksgiving. Luckily the liquor store was better stocked. He was able to buy
three twelve-packs of beer. Not his usual brand, but, hey, beer was beer.
*****
Thanksgiving was rather of a blur. When Tyler awoke on
Friday morning, he found himself lying half-undressed on his bed. His throat
was so dry it felt cracked, and his head throbbed, He remembered having his
first beer at noon. He thought he had had a few more after that. At some point
he had been watching a football game, but he couldn’t recall what teams had
been playing. One side had been wearing red—maybe. That might have been a game
on some other day. He wasn’t sure if he had eaten anything. It was all sort of
hazy.
He dragged himself into the bathroom and under the
shower. It didn’t help. He needed a cup of coffee. Several cups. He rummaged
through the stock of cans and packages in the kitchen cabinets and found an old
jar of instant. Only a powdering of dust remained in the jar. He would have to
go out. At least he knew now that he had eaten something. The aluminum tray
from the TV dinner lay crumpled on the kitchen counter. All that remained were
some smears of gravy and a few lima beans. Also strewn across the counter were
the reasons for his dry mouth and his headache—eleven partially crushed beer
cans.
He needed coffee. It was just past 6:30. Surely the Starbucks
at Cleveland Circle would be open by now, even if was the day after
Thanksgiving. If not, there was that 24-hour convenience store at the end of
the block. It never closed, and it always had coffee. Tyler cocked an eye out
the window. It was just getting light. It looked cold, but at least it had
stopped snowing. Cold might even be good. The shock would help wake him up.
That and the coffee. And after coffee, if the sidewalks had been shoveled, he
would go for a run and then to the gym. That would cook out all the alcohol out
of his system and clear his head. He pulled on a sweatshirt and a pair of
sweatpants. As he was going out the door, he noticed his sunglasses on the
table by the door. He grabbed them. His eyes needed protection against sunlight
reflecting off the snow.
It was colder out than he had anticipated. He almost
turned around to go back and get a pair of gloves, but then he decided that he
would be all right. It wasn’t that far, and he could cut through the alley behind
the drugstore and save a couple of minutes.
He had never been down the alley before. During the day
it was always packed with trucks making deliveries to the stores and
restaurants that backed onto it. Early on the morning following Thanksgiving,
it was deserted. Halfway down a light attached to the wall of one of the
buildings illuminated a sunken areaway, but that was the only sign the alley
was ever used.
Six or seven steps led down into the areaway. Tyler
glanced into it, just to make sure no one was lurking there. To his surprise,
there was a shop window filled with small doll-like figures and sign reading
“Black Friday Sale.” There was an “Open” sign on the door, and the shop was lit
up. He could see the shadow of someone moving around inside. The incongruity
made Tyler laugh. A Black Friday sale in a small shop down an alley. Who would
ever see it and visit the shop? He had lived in this neighborhood for three
years, he had walked past the alley several hundred times, and yet he had never
suspected that there might be a shop back here. It must be the owner’s idea of a
joke.
He leaned over the railing at the top of the areaway and
peered into the shop. Now that he examined the figures more closely, he could
see that they were dressed in a variety of action hero costumes. The bodies of
the figures were very lifelike. Tyler didn’t recognize any of the characters,
but then he didn’t pay much attention to that sort of thing. His nephews were
fanatics, however. Something like this would make ideal Christmas gifts for
them. The clerk would undoubtedly be able to tell him what characters were
popular now and advise him what to buy.
Tyler hesitated. It was early, but the sign did say the
shop was open. Maybe he should come back later. But it would be great to get
that bit of Christmas shopping out of the way. And he was sure to be the only
customer in the store. It wouldn’t take long to have a look. He walked down the
steps and tried the door. A bell jingled overhead when he opened it. He stuck
his head in and said, “Excuse me. I saw the sign. Are you open?”
Just as he was speaking, a man’s voice called out from
the back, “Come on in. I’ll be with you in a second. I’m just getting a cup of
coffee. Can I offer you one?”
That was all that Tyler needed to hear. Coffee and maybe
a solution to the annual problem of finding appropriate gifts for two nephews
he barely knew. He stepped all the way in and closed the door behind himself. “I’d
love one. Thanks.”
“Milk? Sugar? Have a look around. Coffee’s almost ready. I’ll
be with you in a minute.”
“Thanks. Black for me. You’re a real lifesaver. You’ve no
idea how much I need a cup of coffee.”
The shelves were filled with hundreds of figures. Each
was a foot or so high. The molding of the faces and bodies was incredibly
detailed. Tyler picked one up. It was heavier than he expected—and warmer. The
body had the pliant hardness of muscled flesh. Even the hair looked real. It fell
realistically away from the scalp when he tilted the figure to the side. The
costume on the figure was made of cloth. It wasn’t painted onto the plastic or
whatever material had been used to make the figure. It hugged the body like
Spandex. The figure appeared to be naked beneath the costume. The muscles were clearly
outlined by the tight costume. Tyler took a closer look. If he was any judge,
the figure was “going commando.” Tiny cock and balls were visible beneath the
Spandex. Well, not so tiny—Tyler corrected himself—in proportion to the rest of
the body. He turned the figure over and pushed the cape to the side. The tights
were rightly named. They clung to the figure’s ass, and the seam disappeared
into the crack.
Maybe, Tyler thought, these won’t be so appropriate for
his nephews. He could imagine what his sister-in-law would say. She already
made certain that the nephews were never left alone in a room with their gay
uncle. She’d probably think Tyler was trying to convert them. He did have to
admit, however, that the doll he was holding was a powerful argument for the
beauty of the male body.
“Here you are.” A bulky man in his forties—Tyler assumed he
was the owner of the store—maneuvered his way through the curtained door at the
back of the room holding two mugs of coffee. “No milk, no sugar.” He held out
the cup in his right hand. The man looked like the type of nerd who would run a
store devoted to selling action figures. The stereotypical geek getting on in
years but still devoted to fantasies of muscular men with superpowers fighting
other muscular men with superpowers.
“Thanks. I really need this.” Tyler placed the figure
back on the shelf. “I can’t it over how lifelike these are. They must be molded
from life. Where are they made?”
“Here. I make all of them myself. I have several basic
models. They can be dressed in a variety of ways—whatever you want really. I
can’t reproduce the costumes of action heroes on TV and movies. I’m not
licensed to do that, but most people want something like the clothes on
Sam--the figure you were looking at. You know, the usual form-fitting body suit
and a cape.”
The man made Tyler feel uncomfortable. After he had
handed Tyler the cup of coffee, he had stepped back, and, as he spoke, he
examined Tyler slowly from head to foot. Tyler felt like he was being
scrutinized under a magnifying glass. But it wasn’t the usual gay cruising
look. It felt more like . . . what? Some memory. If he hadn’t drunk so much
yesterday, his mind wouldn’t be so fuzzy. He took a gulp of coffee. Then it
came to him. It was the same calculating look Mr. Caldwater, who ran the men’s
clothing shop in Bryant, gave his customers. Mr. Caldwater could look at you
and know your size. He never had to take your measure. This man seemed to have
the same ability. It was vaguely embarrassing to be stared at like that. He had
to say something to direct the man’s attention away.
“They’re incredible. What are they made out of? Some sort
of plastic?”
“Yeah, something like that.” The man smiled to himself. “It’s
a special formula I’ve devised. It’s a trade secret. Sorry. Don’t mean to sound
mysterious, but I don’t want to give away my methods. That wouldn’t be good
business. I have lots of competitors who would pay well to know my secrets.
You’ve no idea what some of them have done in an attempt to learn how I make my
toys. They’re really quite unique. Did you notice how flexible the figures
are?”
The man sat his mug down on the counter and picked up one
of the figures. “Here. Try this one. You’ll see. Go ahead. Move the arms and
legs and twist the torso. Don’t worry. You won’t break it.”
Tyler gingerly moved one of the figure’s arms. He almost
dropped it in surprise. “Jeez, that’s amazing.” He maneuvered the arm back to
its original position. “The bicep flexes just like on a real arm.”
“Oh, yeah, All the muscles move realistically.” A note of
pride crept into the man’s voice.
“These are amazing. How long have you been here? I didn’t
know your shop existed.”
“I’m open only by special appointment. Today’s an
exception. Most of my business is done over the Internet. I have customers all
over the world. I don’t really have any walk-in trade to speak of. Today’s a
special sale for some of my local customers. I texted them inviting them to
preview my new collection of models starting at 2:00. It will be crowded here this
afternoon. I just came in early to get everything ready.”
Tyler nodded and looked around. “Uh, one thing. I was
thinking of giving these as Christmas presents to my nephews. They watch all
the cartoons and action movies, but they’re only six and eight. These figures
may be too adult for them. Do you have any that are a little less lifelike? I
mean not so , , , maybe not so anatomically correct?”
“No.” The man shook his head. “Sorry. These aren’t really
toys for children. I could maybe put something like a jockstrap with a cup over
the groin to hide the genitals, but if your nephews undressed the figures, they
would find a working set of cock and balls?”
“Working?” Tyler laughed. “That makes it sound almost like
they could have an erection.”
The man nodded yes. “Yep. They can. As you noted, they
are very true to life. Of course, on small figures like these, the erections
aren’t impressive, but many of my customers prefer that. My clients who think
bigger is better find the larger models more than satisfactory in that
department.”
Tyler looked around at the hundreds of figures on the
shelves. Some of them did have erections. Odd that he hadn’t noticed that
before. He could have sworn that all those cocks had been limp when he first
walked in. Surely, he would have noticed the swollen cocks tenting those elastic
tights. He leaned in to take a closer look at the figure directly before him on
the display shelf—Was that a tiny wet spot on the front of his briefs? “Larger
models?”
“Yes, all the sample display figures are one-sixth size.
In the back, I have half- and full-size figures. Within limits, I can make each
model any size the customer wants. I have one customer who has a collection of
miniatures, none more than four inches tall. The largest figure I’ve made was
seven feet tall. That’s the tallest I can make with the 3D printers I have now.
Of course, it was a special order and very expensive. More coffee?”
Tyler looked down at his cup in surprise. He hadn’t realized
that he had drunk the entire cup.“Oh, thanks. I would like another cup. It’s
great coffee by the way.”
“It’s my special blend. I prepare it myself. Why don’t
you step into the back? I keep the larger models back there. I’ll get you
another cup while you look at them.” The man held the curtain back so that
Tyler could step through. “Go ahead. They’re in the room at the end on the
right. I’ll just be a second.”
The figures in the room on the right were housed in
brightly lit, glass display cases. As the man had promised, each was full-size.
Unlike the figures in the front room, all were nude. The right arm of the
figure nearest the door was stretched out as if to shake Tyler’s hand. He
reminded Tyler of a gay porn star whose photos had fueled many of his teenage
fantasies. Seeing the figure made him wonder what had happened to the guy. What
was his name? God, he used to know that. He couldn’t remember anything this
morning. The owner had better hurry with that cup of coffee. He was still half
asleep.
Mark something, wasn’t that it? Every time the guy
appeared in a new video, dozens of pictures and excerpts from the videos had
immediately been uploaded to the Net. For a couple of years, not a week had
gone by without new pictures of him appearing. And then suddenly, he had just
disappeared. But his pictures were still
around. Tyler saw one occasionally.
There were wisps of hair across the figure’s knuckles,
and his forearms were covered with a thick brown pelt. Tyler peered through the
glass. Each hair seemed to be individually molded and attached. The upper arms
were hairless; revealing the veins twisting over the surface of the biceps. In
every detail, the figure resembled a living man frozen into place. The face had
slight wrinkles around the eyes and the mouth, and there were even a few hairs
growing out of the nostrils. The pecs were sharply defined and hung over
six-pack abs. The nipples were stiff. A faint treasure trail led downward between
the abs. Tyler couldn’t prevent his eyes from staring at the man’s genitals.
The cock was uncut, and the foreskin pulled back to expose the head. The right
ball hung down a good inch lower than the left one. The figure languidly
rotated its hips forward slightly so that the cock and balls moved back and
forth.
Tyler jumped back. He had to have imagined that. Then the
cock moved again. It looked like it was beginning to swell and grow larger. No.
Tyler shook his head in disbelief. It couldn’t be. That was crazy. All that
alcohol he had drunk yesterday was giving him hallucinations. He had to get
control of himself. He’d have a hard-on before long if he didn’t rein in his
imagination.
“Would you like a closer look at Mike? He’s one of my
most popular models.” The man handed Tyler his cup of coffee. “Here, drink this
while I get him ready.”
Tyler gulped down the coffee while the man unlocked the
door of the display case and slid the figure out. “Like all of the figures, the
life-size models are fully functional. Let me demonstrate.” The man grasped
“Mike’s” cock and stroked it slowly. “Watch closely.”
The man’s remark was unnecessary. Tyler couldn’t take his
eyes off Mike’s cock as it quickly grew erect. “Would you like to touch it?”
The man stepped to one side and motioned Tyler forward.
The cock was rigid and hot. It throbbed in Tyler’s hands.
When Tyler squeezed it, Mike arched his back and thrust his hips forward. Tyler
suddenly found himself embraced. Mike smiled and then leaned forward to kiss
Tyler. His tongue parted Tyler’s lips and insinuated itself into Tyler’s mouth.
One part of Tyler’s mind concluded that Mike had to be a real person. Not even
the best robot could feel this lifelike. Mike was so hard, and the muscles were
so alive beneath his hands as he ran them over Mike’s back and down onto his
buttocks. The other part of Tyler’s mind decided that it didn’t matter what
Mike really was. Human or robot, Mike knew what he was doing. He was pushing
all of Tyler’s buttons.
Mike placed his hands on Tyler’s shoulders, guiding him
down to his knees. Tyler couldn’t help himself. He leaned forward and ran his
tongue over Mike’s cock. It even smelled like a real cock. He took it into his
mouth and began sucking on it. Tyler could sense Mike becoming more and more
excited. He took the cock all the way into his mouth, sucking on it harder and
harder. Tyler lost track of time. It might have been minutes, it might have
been hours. He couldn’t think of anything but worshipping Mike’s cock.
Off to one side, the shopowner was opening another of the
display cases. Out of the corner of his eye, Tyler glimpsed the man walking
another figure past him and then around behind him. He felt strong hands grasp
him by the hips and pull his lower body up to a standing position. Tyler found
himself bent forward at the waist with Mike’s cock in his mouth. Then his
sweatpants and briefs were pushed down past his knees. Tyler tried to pull away
from Mike’s cock and look around to see what was going on. But he wasn’t given
time to protest. Hot hands grasped his butt cheeks and spread them apart. A wet
tongue began rimming him. He moaned. Mike’s cock was repeatedly pushed deep
into his throat as the person behind him plunged his tongue again and again into
Tyler’s ass. Jesus, how long was the guy’s tongue? Nobody had ever rimmed like
this before. It felt like there was a good inch of tongue up his ass.
Tyler didn’t understand what was happening. His mind
refused to process it. He was dreaming. That was the only explanation he could
think of. But it didn’t matter. If this was a dream, he could only hope for
more of the same. All he had wanted was to have a cup of coffee and maybe buy some
Christmas presents, and now he was the filling in a meat sandwich.
The man behind him withdrew his tongue from Tyler’s ass
and stood up. Tyler barely had time to register what was happening before the
man thrust his cock into Tyler. Mike and the other man began pumping in unison.
Their cocks grew even bigger. The man fucking him thrust into him so hard that Tyler
had to grab Mike by the ass to keep himself from falling over. The last thing
he wanted to do was to pull off the other man’s cock. It felt so good. And he
didn’t want to stop sucking Mike. God, it was a great cock. It fit his throat
perfectly. The muscles in Mike’s ass contracted and relaxed as Mike rammed his
cock even deeper into Tyler. Tyler’s mind shut down in the fury of the men’s
assault on his body.
Mike cried out and wrapped his hands around Tyler’s head,
pressing Tyler’s face into his crotch. Tyler couldn’t breathe, but he didn’t
care. The hair surrounding Mike’s cock was as soft and silky as his muscles
were hard. Mike’s hair quickly grew wet with the juices foaming out of Tyler’s
mouth.
The man behind him wrapped his arms around Tyler’s waist
and lifted him up so that he could shove his cock even deeper into Tyler. The
move forced Tyler’s mouth down onto Mike’s cock. The two men began fucking him
even faster.
Their breathing grew ragged. Tyler couldn’t distinguish
their grunts and cries from his own. Somewhere someone said, “On the count of
ten. One . . . two . . . three . . . .”
As the numbers mounted, the two men’s cocks grew even larger in Tyler’s throat
and ass. Tyler couldn’t think. All he could do was experience the force of
their cocks tearing into him.
On the count of ten, both men came. Mike’s cum shot down
Tyler’s throat. His mouth suddenly filled with cum. He swallowed it greedily as
he kept sucking on Mike’s cock. He felt the heat of the other man’s cum in his
ass.
Gradually the fucking subsided into a few spasmodic jabs.
Mike gave a final thrust and then pulled out. He wiped his cock across Tyler’s mouth,
leaving a trail of cum on Tyler’s lips. Tyler slumped to the floor when the man
behind him released his body.
“Here. Let me clean you up.” The shopowner dabbed at
Tyler’s face with a washcloth. “As you can see, Mike and Sean are entirely
realistic. They can do anything a human male can do. There, at least your face
is clean. I can’t do much about your clothes. I sponged off as much as I could,
but they need to be washed. You were drooling and leaking quite a bit.”
Tyler was sitting in a chair. He couldn’t remember how he
had gotten there. The last thing he recalled was feeling the heat of Mike’s cum
on his lips.
The man saw Tyler looking around in confusion. “This is
my workroom. It’s where I make the figures. I will demonstrate the process.
Just slip out of your clothes.”
Tyler’s hands grabbed the bottom of his sweatshirt and
began pulling it up and off his body. He didn’t try to stop them. The thought
that his lack of resistance was strange flitted through his mind, but it seemed
unimportant. He bent over and unlaced his running shoes and then peeled off his
sweatpants.
“Just lie down on this table. Face up.”
Tyler complied. His mind was hazy. He knew that he was
behaving oddly, but he also felt a warm glow of pleasure in obeying the man. His
headache had disappeared, and his mouth was no longer dry. Maybe later he could
play with Mike and Sean again—or some of the other guys. There were dozens of
glass cases in the room he had been in, and each of them held a man. Some of
them had watched as Sean and Mike had fucked him. Could that be right? He
thought he remembered seeing one of the figures stroking himself. His mind felt
so blurred. He wasn’t thinking straight. Maybe something had been wrong with that
TV dinner. He felt so hot. Did food poisoning give one hallucinations and a
fever? He felt so heavy and so tired. He would just rest for a while. Then he
would get up.
The man put on rubber gloves and then picked up a plastic
sack with a tube leading from the bottom, like an IV drip bag. It held a clear
liquid. “The drug in the coffee is one part of the process. It’s had plenty of
time to circulate throughout your body and mind by now. It helps you relax and
makes you receptive to the other drugs. Mike and Sean artificially inseminated
you with another drug. This—” The man held up the plastic sack. “This contains
a different chemical. It’s administered through an IV. This is just the
preliminary treatment. Once all these drugs have had time to diffuse through
your system, you’ll get a different batch of chemicals intravenously. And then I’ll
immerse you in a bath of chemicals to coat every part of your body and complete
the process. Don’t worry. You won’t feel anything in another minute or so. It
doesn’t take very long. The chemicals will preserve your body in its present
state so that it never decays. They will also work on your mind and make you
docile and malleable and anxious to please. Your reactions to your partners
will be so intuitive you’ll be a perfect lover for everyone who buys a copy of
you. Just as Mike and Sean did for you a few minutes ago, you’ll adjust
automatically to your partner’s needs. When the chemicals have finished
working, I’ll scan your body so that I can produce other copies of you in
different sizes on the 3D printers. I think you’ll become one of my most
popular models. It really was a stroke of luck that you came into the shop so
early today. You’ll be ready in time for my sale this afternoon. I won’t be
able to prepare a special costume for you, but I don’t think my clients will
complain. Always time for that later.”
The man swabbed the inner surface of Tyler’s elbow with
alcohol and then inserted an IV shunt into the vein. He taped the needle in
place and then hung the plastic bag of liquid on a stand before attaching the
tubing to the shunt. He patted Tyler’s chest reassuringly. Tyler smiled back at
him mindlessly.
*****
“Gentlemen, I’m pleased to introduce the latest addition
to my 2014 Holiday Collection. It’s called Tyler.” The man pulled aside the
curtain concealing the display case. “Tyler is the newest model in our All-American
Boy line. Just to give you a bit of background, he grew up on a ranch. As you
can see, he has the type of rangy body developed by physical labor and high
school sports. He also exercised regularly at a gym. He was 28 years old when I
harvested him. Of course, like all our models, Tyler is fully functional. He is
currently available in any of our standard sizes and can be costumed as you
wish. Special orders for other sizes are also possible—within the usual limits,
of course. The original model has already been sold, but his specs are stored
and he can be reproduced on our printers. And today, he can be yours at the
special Black Friday sale price.”
