Graell's Quest - The Journey Commences free porn video

Graell's Quest - The Journey Commences. Keith Graell had been retired for only a few months before boredom had set in. A single academician, he had not developed much of a circle of friends. He felt that he had been forced into retirement by university politics and admittedly, failing health. Money was not an issue, but companionship was, specifically, female companionship. Keith was loathe to go down the dating site road, as he was of the opinion that in those venues there was too much chafe and not enough wheat. Equally, he was not inclined to avail himself of the more dubious traditional offerings, escorts and the like. So he was, in his mounting frustration, perusing a sex doll site, not for the first time, either. A few weeks previously he had stumbled upon an article describing "Love Dolls" in glowing terms. The link provided had led to a manufacturer. Shocked at the price, Keith had put aside the idea. Since then, he had re-visited the site several times. Each sojourn had resulted in him going through the creation matrix and led him to craft a doll that suited his taste. Each of his previous visits had led to the same result, despite having spent the effort to create a doll to his taste, when it came to check-out, he had balked. Thinking it through, Keith realized that there were several factors contributing to his intransigence: Worry over what people would say if he were found out, and despite the assurances of confidentiality, he was sure the secret would be found out; Worry that the product was not worth the, in his opinion, exorbitant price, sort of like a lot of the unused home fitness equipment he'd bought over the years, and finally; Worry that it was conversation that he was missing, not sex. And this evening, once again at the end of the choice tree, Keith was looking at the mannequin he'd designed. Starting with a basic model described as 5'3" and slim, he'd added long black hair cut in bangs in front, green eyes, and a light complexion. Once again he'd forgone most of the cosmetic extras. The overall effect was an exotic Caucasian/Asian blend. And once again, Keith was vacillating between the "proceed to checkout" and the "cancel" buttons. There was no doubt the mannequin was attractive, but there was also no doubt in Keith's mind that going this route was an admission of defeat. Keith had been a "country gentleman" for most of his working life, happy and proud to live on a fairly large tract of land outside the city, commuting to work. However, in a grudging acknowledgement of this failing health, his retirement plan included the decision to sell his country home and move into an apartment in the city core. In recognition of this decision, fuelled by the bottle of wine he'd drunk with dinner (against his physician's prescription, of course), Keith rationalized that since he would be moving in a few months, some anonymity would be achieved. And with that self-delusion, he finally clicked on "proceed to check out" and then completed the purchase: Now for the wait. Over the course of the next six weeks he agonized. Each day he awoke in anticipation of receiving his shipment, and without fail, regretted his purchase by the end of the day. Had he been a man of the phone, in all likelihood, he would have cancelled his order. Instead, each evening at some point before retiring for the night, he would open the webpage showing the picture of the doll he'd order and hope, fervently, that the product delivered half-way resembled what he thought he'd ordered. After all of the angst and doubt, the shipment ended up arriving a few days later than Keith had expected. When the courier arrived, Keith was very self-conscious while signing the bill of lading, despite the courier's hurried indifference. Keith was sure that it was obviously a sex toy, despite the non-descript packaging. Obviously, the courier delivered hundreds of packages a week and had no idea what was in any of them. Certainly this particular shipment was large and heavy, but countless other deliveries had been large and heavy too; computers, televisions and assorted other furniture were just as heavy or heavier. Truth be told, the first few months on the job and eliminated any interest this particular fellow had once had in what was in his deliveries. The truth of the matter was that Keith's fluster and embarrassment was completely misplaced. Once the crate was inside, for some minutes, Keith just stared it. All sorts of "what ifs" played through his mind. Would it look like it had on the computer? Would it be as trashy looking as the inflatables that had periodically showed up in his classes at the University during frosh week? In real life would the doll be so lifeless as to be unstimulating? Keith was taking himself for a sucker, worried that the money he'd spent was wasted. Finally, although it seemed to him to be just a moment or two, just under an hour after he'd taken delivery, Keith took the plunge. The lid of the shipping crate was hinged, facilitating opening, although when he did so, the contents weren't immediately revealed because of the package materials preventing damage in transit. Tenderly, Keith removed the layers to reveal the doll beneath which, much to Keith's surprise, had been shipped dressed. On reflection, he realized that this was a shrewd business move, no point in revealing the goods too quickly. For a moment he just stared at "her," nestled in bubble wrap and cardboard stays, what he intended to be the antidote to his boredom. "She" was dressed in the one "free" outfit provided with purchase, a conservative knee length skirt and blouse combination which made "her" look vaguely like a college preppie. She was both more and less than what he expected. Less in that it was obvious that it was a mannequin, but more when considering how lifelike it managed to be. The hair was not synthetic and no little research and expense had been spent in making the skin texture and appearance as lifelike as possible. With great care Keith reached into the crate to arrange the doll in a sitting position. And then, almost reverently, move "her" out of the box and onto the couch. As he moved "her", Keith noted that the mannequin was both heavier and lighter than he'd expected. For a doll, he thought it to be heavy, but for a woman, light. He was definitely not disappointed in its appearance or its feel. For the rest of that evening he just stared, touching it in a sexual manner ended up being the farthest thing from his mind. And there they sat, while Keith watched the evening news before bed as was his wont. "Good night," Keith said absently, when the news ended, then smiled at this stupidity. He was realized that he was talking to the doll... ...and so it went for a few days. The doll stayed on the couch in front of the television, clothed, and the end of the news, before bed, Keith bade it, "Good night." After a few weeks, Keith started saying more than "Good Morning" and "Good Night." At first this was occasional, then more and more often, he would blurt out comments about things on the news, or a particularly stupid commercial. It hadn't taken long at all before he was no longer thinking of the doll as "it" but rather as "she." Keith would have denied it if asked, but he was vaguely aware that he sort of listened for answers. When he was honest with himself, he realized that he was anthropomorphizing, and that this was a symptom of his overall isolation. One day, he found himself shopping for outfits for the doll. When he realized what he was doing, it amused him greatly particularly because he still could not bring himself to undress her, or use her as she was intended to be used. Nevertheless, he purchased a couple of outfits he thought "she" would look good in. When he was going through some boxes in preparation to move, he stumbled across an old bracelet he'd found on an expedition. An oddity he'd decided to keep because it had been completely out of place in the location in which it had been found. The snake motif and open wrap around design had been intriguing, and although Keith had always meant to have it examined by experts, he'd never gotten around to it. Fashioned out of some sort of silver alloy, Keith decided it would look good on the doll. Although not really cognizant of the fact, when he maneuvered the bracelet onto the doll's left forearm, it was the first personalizing touch he'd added since "her" delivery. Although he was still not actually touching it other than in passing, Keith was starting to think along the lines of whether "she" was "comfortable" in her pose and other, if he'd stopped to consider them fully, ridiculous thoughts. What he didn't really realize was that the doll, bought to take care of one of particular need, was actually taking care of another need that he'd not considered at all; bought for sex it had in a limited fashion become a companion. Keith was settled into a comfortable routine, the doll was an accepted presence in his house, and he was waiting for the "right" moment to "make his move." And this comfortable arrangement may have continued indefinitely, but Keith had committed to moving, which was going to have very unforeseen results. The move was from his single detached home in the country to a downtown condominium apartment. True to his somewhat "Scottish" attitude towards money, Keith had selected a small, newish, firm for the move because they had submitted a quote significantly lower than anyone else, in addition to offering to include in the price some services the others had stated would cost extra. For instance, Keith wasn't comfortable with the idea of coordinating between the condominium tower management and the movers and he was pleasantly surprised to find a company that said they would take care of all the move details if he'd provide a contact point. All Keith would be responsible for was to move anything he considered fragile and his own clothing. The movers would pack and ship everything else. The firm was very open about the fact that the reason for their lower quote was a damage disclaimer. They committed to placing Keith's furniture in the rooms indicated on shipping labels. What Keith didn't realize was "firm" really meant two guys with a truck. The day before moving day, Keith was packing a couple of final boxes he intended to take himself. This was going to be his second and last load of the day, everything else would be moved by the moving company. The very final thing to be packed was "her" box. Keith was embarrassed that he felt guilty about shutting "her" back in her crate, even though he knew that "she" would be completely indifferent to it, and had avoided doing it for as long as possible. He rationalized his aversion to the task as an attachment similar to how anybody would feel towards a favourite and treasured object. Finally, there was simply nothing else to pack. With a sigh, Keith took the shipping crate out of storage, placing it on the floor beside a stand-up light. Carelessly, he placed the crate on the lamp's power cord, not realizing that the edges of the crate were directly on a frayed patch. Keith mumbled to the doll, "It's only for a little while," absently placing "her" into the nest of packing material in the crate. Keith held the hinged lid of the crate open with one hand while trying to arrange the doll in the interior with the other. "She" was in a fetal position, but there was something that was not quite right and the doll didn't settle into the "bed" properly. Trying to cajole the doll into place, Keith felt a sharp pain in his hand and gasped. As he flinched, Keith jarred the box, happening to bring the frayed portion of the cord into contact with a nail. However improbably, a connection was thus closed arcing electricity to ground. For a moment, Keith was in excruciating pain and disorientation then mercifully faded into unconsciousness. The last thing of which Keith was aware was confusion at the sight of looking upwards as the lid of the shipping crate slammed down. Then, there was nothing. Keith returned to his senses, or at least, he thought he did. He was either in complete darkness, or his eyes were still closed. As he couldn't tell if his eyes were open, he wasn't really sure he wasn't dreaming. Eventually, he decided that he was awake, and either in complete darkness, or had gone blind. Remembering the sensation of pain, he hoped it was the former and not that latter. As he attempted to determine his surroundings, Keith discovered that he was not capable of movement. Not just arms and legs, but fingers, head, mouth and he suspected even his eyes and eyelids. In rising panic, he tried to call out, but no sound was forthcoming. He couldn't tell whether he was not breathing, or breathing so shallowly as to not be discernable. In only a short time Keith was struggling to retain his self-control and failing, instead, trying to scream for help over and over, thinking that perhaps it was his hearing and not his voice that was the problem. Keiths' descent into madness was arrested by a sudden sensation of motion. A fact that was almost lost in the relief that at least something was working. However, his attempts to vocalize a cry of distress gained no discernable response. The clinical observer in Keith realized that that probably meant that it wasn't his hearing that was the problem, but rather an inability to vocalize. Despair took hold, but Keith fastened onto the continued sensation of motion, and grew heartened when he realized he could also hear distant sounds. The sound of traffic, he judged, and a vehicle in motion. So, Keith thought, definitely not a hearing problem. The sounds of traffic eventually ceased, as did the sensation of movement. Keith strained, trying not to lose that tenuous connection to reality, and was heartened when what he judged to a short while later the feeling of moving started again. Keith was trying to make sense out of the limited information he had when what had been a regular motion turned into a sudden jar propelling him into blinding light. Keith was momentarily jubilant! He could see. "What the?" And hear. As his eyes adjusted to the sudden bright light, Keith felt the pressure of being gripped, and then, helplessly, being shoved back into a container from which he'd apparently fallen. Then, things got worse. There was a flurry of rapid motion stuffing the box full of other material that had fallen out. As the shapes resolved, Keith recognized the face of one of the movers, the older of the two. The ratty faced, evil one. The face looked about, then looked down focussing. "What have we here?" Keith felt a hand groping, but couldn't make out what it was his head wasn't angled properly and he still couldn't move anything. But he could feel, and he was feeling pressure on body parts where body parts shouldn't exist. Keith wanted to, tried to, scream out, 'Stop, stop!' "What're ya doing?" Keith heard a fairly distant voice call. "Nothin," the ratty faced mover called back loudly, "dropped a box, no biggee." The man paused, waiting for a reply, then grinned downwards at the doll. 'Always wondered about these,' he thought as he furtively flipped open the blouse buttons, looking back over one shoulder occasionally. When the blouse was open, he hooked a finger over the bra and pulled it down. "She-it," he muttered, thinking 'I've seen boob jobs that looked faker..." "C'mon Frank," the distant voice called again, "I need a hand down here. I want to finish today, dammit." "Yeah, yeah." Keith could see the impatience on the man's face as he replied perfunctorily, but he nevertheless, stopped his groping, closed the lid and returned Keith to the dark. He heard a toilet flush. "What were ya doin up there?" Frank shrugged, "had to take a leak." Zeke could tell there was more to it than that, but let it go, let he'd let so much go in the past. "We need to get this cabinet over against that wall." Zeke indicated a spot against a wall opposite the kitchen opening. "We gotta be careful, it's an antique." "Weighs a ton," Frank replied, "has to be an antique, no one uses real wood anymore." "K. On three," Zeke took a grip, waiting for Frank to get positioned. "One, two," a pause, "three." Moving quickly but carefully Zeke maneuvered his end towards the proper place. Frank followed his lead. "Great." Zeke said when the piece was in place, "that's it." "Now the money." Frank agreed. "Yeah, well," Zeke wiped his forehead with his arm, "we gotta wait for the old man. He said he'd meet us here, or leave a cheque, and I didn't see a cheque when we got here." "Ah, c'mon," Frank grimaced, "you're kidding. It's beer time." "Nothing I can do," Zeke shrugged. The two waited for a while, jawing about actresses for a bit, but Frank was getting increasingly impatient. Finally, Zeke realized that he must have misunderstood or something as it was long past when he had told the professor they would be finished. "Maybe he meant to meet him at the old place?" Zeke ventured. "Shit," was Frank's reply, "that's at least an hour from here now." Frank paused and then added for clarity, "y'know, in traffic." Zeke thought for a moment, "yeah, well not much for it. We wait or we go back." "I ain't goin back," Frank said emphatically, "no way, I got a date with a beer and I ain't spending two hours driving out to Hicksville and back." Zeke sighed, "love it when a plan comes together. Okay look. I'll go back, you stay here. I'll give you a ring if he's there - you call me if he shows up here." "Gotcha." Frank grinned, thinking of the sex doll. Zeke would be gone for at least a couple of hours, and the only other person that could come in was the old professor: And there was a chain latch. "Sounds good to me." As soon as the door closed on Zeke's back, Frank latched the chain. 'Yee-ha' he thought with glee, 'no way anyone's going to interrupt this little party.' As soon as he was certain that Zeke was well on his way, Frank hurried down the hall to the bedroom. He was practically chortling out loud as he knelt beside the crate he'd dropped and opened the lid. He could only bring himself to pause for a moment, taking in the site of the mannequin before he eagerly started to pull out the packing materials. As soon as he'd touched it's tits he'd known what it was, and know what he'd like to do. "Oh yeah," he muttered, lifting the doll out of the crate by the waist, "oh yeah." Keith was momentarily elated when the darkness lifted again, but immediately became concerned upon seeing that it was the evil faced mover again. There was something about the look on the man's face that was very disquieting. A feeling that was augmented when the man reached in and lifted Keith out of confinement. Keith couldn't really tell what was going on, what with the unfamiliar surroundings and limited field of view. Trying to hold back panic, Keith attempted to yell, kick, scrape, or flail, anything to make it known to the mover that he wasn't carrying some inanimate object. But the effort was no more successful than it had been earlier. The mover carried on, unaware. Carrying the doll over to the bed, Frank laid it on its back on the mattress. After a moment's consideration, Frank played with the mannequin's limbs, posing it this way and that. He was impressed by its range of motion, eventually settling on a pose with its legs spread wide and knees bent. When Frank bent the legs, the skirt flipped up around the doll's hips, revealing almost not there silk panties. Running a finger along the sex clearly outlined beneath the taught fabric elicited a wicked grin. 'This is unbelievable,' Frank thought, unbuttoning the rest of the buttons on the blouse, to flip the two halves aside. With great delight Frank circled his hands about the doll's waist, then slid them flat, upwards from the stomach. The motion pushed the bra up over the doll's breasts. Frank cupped them, kneading them, pinching the nipples, clearly pleased by their realistic texture. All of this felt quite wrong to Keith, not only in the one dimensional quality of the sense of feeling, but even the information that sense was providing. Keith's mind raced to try to understand what had happened and what was now happening. The next event was horrifying. Never a patient man, Frank abandoned the doll's breasts to place one hand flat on its stomach. Keith felt an uncomfortable pressure as the man leaned in to hold the doll down. Then, with one powerful jerk, the mover ripped the doll?s panties off. ?Oh yeah.? Frank muttered, while hastily opening his pants to get at his erection. He climbed onto the bed, kneeling between the doll?s outstretched legs. Keith cringed, suddenly understanding what the man intended to do, even though he had no understanding of how it could be possible for the man to do what he thought he was intending to do. ?No, no, no, no, no,? an endless litany ran through Keith?s head. This couldn?t be happening. Keith continued to command movements that weren?t forthcoming; to roll away, or kick the man off. Even worse, all Keith could see was alternately the ceiling or the mover?s face, neither of which provided any sense to the feelings. Just the sensation of hands passing across Keith?s lower body was confusing and alarming, eliciting outrage, anger and frustration, particularly at the mounting pressure below. Then the anger was replaced by shock and disbelief as the pressure turned into a sensation of penetration and something in his lower region stretched to accommodate a hardness that was pushing unceremoniously inwards. But disbelief and confusion could not override the reality of what Keith could feel happening. As the hard shaft cleaved inwards, Keith?s confused disbelief turned to outrage and gained a bitter edge at the impossibility of being used in this fashion. There was no pain, indeed, Keith wasn?t certain pain was still a sense available, but there was a distinctly unique feel of a channel that couldn?t possibly exist, opening and accommodating the penetration. And as the shaft pushed in, Keith could feel the mover?s hands squeezing and pinching at breasts that also shouldn?t be. And as Keith struggled to understand all of these impossibilities, the feeling of a short withdrawal was followed by a hard thrust which fully seated the shaft. Barely had Keith the time to absorb the feeling of something deep, deep inside when it slowly withdrew until only the tip was barely inside. Then, with barely a pause the hardness began long deep continuous strokes in and out, the shaft was almost fully withdrawn each time, each time allowing the channel walls to close before being forcefully parted. The shaft was pushed in hard and deep, finishing abruptly against the end of the passage. Keith?s whole body jerked with each thrust. When Frank forced himself into the mannequin he was pleasantly surprised at how the channel walls gripped with almost lifelike firmness. He grunted in satisfaction when he forced himself fully inside. With barely a moment?s pause, he took a slow experimental stroke. ?Man, this is good,? he thought, ?no headaches, no whining, just down to business.? He smiled in satisfaction and started to really get into it. After thrusting for only a minute or two, Frank felt that good tension start to grow in his lower body. He hadn?t really planned to go all the way, but Frank had never been one to exercise restraint. With mean spirited spite, he grabbed the doll?s wrists and jerked its arms over its head. Excited by how the doll?s breasts stretched and jiggled with this forceful motion, he abandoned all restraint. An evil grin was plastered to Frank?s face as he started to fantasize, barely noticing the scrape of the jewellery on the doll?s wrist against his forearm. Thinking of all of the ?bitches? that had rejected him, Frank pounded angrily into the slim form beneath, not worrying anymore about damage, more excited than he had ever imagined could be possible no matter how realistic the sex doll. Soon he was muttering, ?oh yeah baby, oh yeah.? Disgusted by the evident lust on the mover?s face, Keith wanted to close his eyes now, but was no more able to now than before. Each deep penetration increased a feeling of loathing which in normal circumstances would have turned his stomach. Keith?s anger turned to despair when he realized the shaft was starting to slide in and out more easily, obviously becoming lubricated. Guessing the obvious, Keith wanted, tried, to scream out, to stop what was now inevitable. But, when the tempo suddenly increased and the thrusts became, if possible, more forceful, Keith?s fears were confirmed. Completely nauseated by the sensation, Keith?s mind tried to retreat into darkness, gibbering in horror. No matter the rage he felt, there was nothing Keith could do but endure the violation and begin a silent cry of anguish from feeling a pulsing sensation start inwards. The force travelled quickly along the walls forced apart by the violation of the mover?s shaft. Then, the question as to whether or not Keith could feel pain was answered. In the same instant of Keith?s realization of Frank?s beginning ejaculation, a searing ball of white fire engulfed the two. It raced into and contracted every muscle in Keith?s body, up into his brain to burn his consciousness into nothingness. For the second time in as many days, Keith was ripped from reality. Keith?s descent into unconsciousness was so rapid, that he never heard Frank?s abruptly short scream of pain. Keith?s slow return to consciousness started with a sensation of suffocation. In confused panic Keith managed to grasp, and then threw off the weight which restricted free chest movement, and gasped in air. For a moment, Keith was elated at being able to move, but as air flow accelerated, awareness returned, and with it the sensation of wrongness. Everything was wrong, clothing was askew and binding, cutting painfully into too sensitive flesh, limbs were constrained and uncoordinated. Keith flailed to get free of whatever it was preventing movement, but in the dark it was difficult. In addition, hands and fingers weren?t functioning properly, failing to do what they were commanded to do. But eventually, the fabric yielded and although naked, Keith could move freely. Then, the worst thing of all occurred; memory returned: Memories of disability. In sudden panic Keith spoke, ?hello? Is there anyone there?? There was no answer, but nevertheless, Keith felt relief. Despite the memories, there was speech, there was hearing, there was movement, and even in the dim light, there was vision. That was the good news, the bad was the disorientation, the feeling of the world being just wrong. Fighting disequilibrium, Keith stumbled upright, searching for a light switch. Everything looked to be too tall, but the room was vaguely familiar. ?Of course,? Keith thought, as more memories surfaced, ?the new place.? The vertigo Keith felt upon standing started to become overwhelming. The bathroom? Oh yes. Turn and walk, quickly now, before? ?Keith hurried and managed to reach the toilet to vomit, catching a glimpse of a figure in the mirror in passing. But the vomit didn?t come, despite new trepidation raised by the glimpsed reflection. Keith stood and turned. The face in the mirror looking back was ?her.? Tunnel vision was an alert and Keith managed to start moving to a kneeling position before blackness once again reigned. Keith awake again, more normally this time, although puzzled by being naked on the floor of the bathroom. It was light. And there was a voice calling from the front of the apartment. ?Hello,? a pause, ?Professor Graell?? ?omigod,? Keith thought, ?the door is open?? Hurriedly, Keith stumbled to the closet. Feeling awkward, or maybe drunk, but at any rate, not quite in control, but urged on by an irrational terror of someone entering, Keith made it around the bed before stumbling over what appeared at first to be a corpse. Graell puzzled over the figure on the floor, a mannequin? At any rate, there was no time at the moment to look closer, pulling on the robe, Keith tried to calm down. Hurrying down the hall, still swaying and uncoordinated, Keith tried to think of who it could be, hoping they didn?t just walk in. But, upon approaching, Keith could see that the door, although ajar, was held closed by a security chain. ?Professor Graell?? The voice was vaguely familiar. ?Yes, yes,? Graell replied impatiently, wishing the man would just be quiet to allow for a thought or two. ?Hello?? There was a note of puzzlement in the voice now which was lost on Keith. ?One moment,? Keith peered through the partially open door. Recognizing that it was one of the movers, Keith continued, ?Just a sec,? and closed the door. Pretending to fumble with the chain, Keith had a bit of a panic attack and jammed the chain in its track, fumbling to free it again. What was the mover doing here? Would he know? Almost paralyzed with doubts and confusion, shivering in trepidation, Keith finally unlatched the chain and opened the door, trying to appear nonchalant but feeling anything but. Zeke was silent for a moment, taken aback by the unexpected presence of a young woman, ?Um,? he paused to look at the apartment number again, ?I?m, uh, looking for Professor Graell?? Zeke?s inquisitive honest tone was disarming. Keith preoccupied by other thoughts, replied instinctively, ?Yes?? Zeke wasn?t sure he?d been understood correctly. He took the young woman?s one word answer to mean she was expecting a follow up and there wasn?t really, so he added lamely, ?Um, is he here?? He was rewarded by a flash of understanding in her eyes. ?Oh,? the brain caught up and put the mouth into neutral, ?um, no.? ?Uh,? Zeke paused, this wasn?t really going well. He decided to try another tack, ?I?m, ah, Ezekial Fitzpatrick. One of the movers Professor Graell hired?? ?Yes?? Again, Keith got the tone wrong and knew it, but was still trying to make sense of a world that seemed completely off kilter. The last time he?d talked to Zeke they?d been seeing almost eye to eye, and now the man appeared to be a giant. Sure, enough, Zeke was caught off guard. It sounded like she was indicating she knew who he was, but Zeke had no idea who she was, and was certain he would have remembered meeting her. ?Um, can I, ah, come in?? Keith paused, panic rising, not sure what to do. What would anyone do in the circumstances? More importantly, what would a young woman in a dressing gown do? Keith?s hesitation prompted Zeke to continue. Fortunately, hesitation was exactly the right response, putting Zeke onto the defensive. ?I have I.D. if you want?? Zeke offered. ?I just really need to clear up a couple of things.? He paused, ?Really need to,? Zeke finished lamely. What could he say, Zeke thought, he was six two and 210 pounds, and figured if he was what looked like 5 nothing and maybe 90 pounds soaking wet he?d be hesitant too. Not really knowing what else to do without making things worse, Keith gulped and opened the door wider and motioned Zeke in. As far as Keith could figure, sending the man away would be worse than trying to sort out what he wanted. ?Thank-you,? Zeke said as formally as he could with a slight nod before stepping into the entrance way. After closing the door, Keith turned and looked up, way up, and then realized from the downward tilt of Zeke?s head that the robe was maybe revealing more than might be wanted. Cheeks blushing fiery red, Keith raised a hand to clutch at the lapels of the robe to close the view. Zeke looked away quickly, but he could tell from the sudden colour in her cheeks that he was busted. ?He, ah, decided on the trip then?? Zeke said quickly, distracted and thinking, ?nice.? There?d been a very lovely view of creamy smooth skin and rounded curves, just enough of a view really, to have been sexier than complete nudity would have been. Keith remembered having mentioned that whimsy in passing. At the time Keith had regretted revealing his desires, but now, was pleasantly surprised that that moment of indiscretion during their initial meeting was of advantage, and grasped at the opportunity to move on from the ?boob-boo,? (as Keith thought it) feeling it to have been a rookie mistake if there ever was one. ?Sorry, yes.? Keith decided to plunge on knowing that some sort of explanation was required, ?Sort of a last minute decision when I told, uh, him, that I could take care of the place for him while he was away.? A masterful lie if there ever was one, Keith thought, and it had only sounded partially contrived. ?Lucky him then,? Zeke said with some sincerity, it hadn?t actually sounded like much fun when the old man had been going on about it, but whatever, the old boy was getting to do what he wanted to do. However, Zeke recalled Graell say something about how difficult it was to get away, and his curiosity got the better of him, ?He, ah, didn?t mention he had a daughter,? Zeke was fishing, wondering about the relationship between the older academic and the stunning young woman. Zeke also noted, in looking around the apartment, that there hadn?t been much, if any, unpacking going on. ?Niece,? Keith had had a moment to think about that one, and was ahead of Zeke. Then, seeing that Zeke was starting to look around, wanted to re-engage him in conversation, ?I?m Ke,? he stuttered, realizing that ?Keith? had been about to come out and finished with ?K,? somewhat lamely. ?Kay?? ?K-e-i,? Keith improvised, using a favourite name from the sex doll site, ?Graell. My mom?s sister?s name.? Keith winced mentally, ?Where had that lie come from?? ?Well, pleased to meet you,? Zeke turned his attention back to the young woman and back to the point, to Keith?s relief. ?I was wondering, um, do you know anything, I mean, did your Uncle mention anything, about payment? Did you get here last night?? ?Yes,? Keith replied, not really knowing what else to say, and then realized that was sort of confusing, ?I mean, yes, I got here last night, but no, he didn?t mention anything really.? ?Oh.? Zeke was disappointed, ?Well, I left my partner Frank waiting here just in case, was he still here when you got here?? ?No,? Keith replied somewhat truthfully, ?no one else home when I got here.? ?Oh,? Zeke?s was again disappointed and it crept into his tone, ?Professor Graell said he?d leave a cheque if he wasn?t here when we were done?? The questioning tone sort of left the statement hanging. ?Ah, he, ah, didn?t really say much,? Keith replied shifting from one foot to the other in increasing discomfort, ?And me staying here was kind of a last minute thing.? Keith was acutely aware that the mover was sort of staring, and more than worried, that at some point, something would come up that couldn?t be answered. And then Keith had a ?d?oh? moment. Professor Graell was standing right here, albeit unbeknownst to the mover, this could be sorted right out. ?Let me take a look around?? Keith knew of the perfect way to get the mover out of the apartment. ?Sure,? Zeke replied, but his tone said; ?don?t bother,? and he elaborated: ?Me an? Frank took a good look around when we got here and didn?t see anything obvious. Most everything else here we brought in, and we were in and out most of the day.? Keith made a downwards open hand motion, ?Just, wait here, I?ll check the study,? and actually managed to twirl about in a somewhat coordinated fashion to retreat down the hall. Paying the man seemed the safest bet, and since he was expecting a cheque, a cheque he would get. Keith kept a cheque book in a lockbox in a secret drawer in his old wood desk. The desk was supposed to have been put in the study, and judging from the placement of the furniture visible so far, the movers had followed instructions very well. If the desk was where it was supposed to be, the cheques would be there, along with a pen and envelope. Sure enough, to Keith?s relief, the desk was exactly where it should have been and it took only a moment to get the book, then fill in the appropriate details ? yesterday?s date etcetera ? after all, the signature wasn?t a problem. Keith called out through the open door ?Yes, I found an envelope here,? pausing, ?Zekenfeldt? Does that sound right?? Keith knew full well that was the name of the firm, but Zeke didn?t know that. ?You found something? Great, yeah,? Zeke said in surprise, ?Where?? he asked in an attempt to disguise the fact that he was watching very appreciatively as the young woman returned down the hall, the robe had fallen open again showing off a generous amount of cleavage. She was a looker. The realization that Zeke was staring, again caused Keith to raise one hand and hold the closed the lapels of the robe again in irritation, not used to having to pay so much attention to modesty. However, the distraction and cover up bought Keith a moment to think. ?Ah, in a book,? it wasn?t a stretch. Keith continued truthfully, ?y?know, absent-minded Professor, uses anything handy as a bookmark. The envelope was open,? Keith said, handing it over. ?Bookmark? Well, we only sort of looked for something out in the open, hadn?t thought of that,? Zeke admitted accepting the envelope, thinking now that he?d started to make a big deal out of nothing. The professor had done what he?d said he would do, more or less. Zeke opened the envelope and glanced inside. There was a cheque made out to Zekenfeldt in the exact amount of the quote he?d given. He was somewhat disappointed, which showed on his face. Keith realized the cause of Zeke?s expression right away. No tip. But Keith knew that there wouldn?t have, couldn?t have, been a tip included on the cheque. ?Is there a problem?? Keith asked lightly trying to maintain an open expression. ?No,? Zeke paused, ?no, it?s exactly right. Thanks a lot. That clears up a lot. Wish I knew what happened to Frank, though. He left his phone in the truck so I can?t get hold of him. It isn?t like him to take off without getting his cash.? Keith paused a moment, trying to make things right with the mover. ?Look, my Uncle was stingy,? Keith explained, knowing that that?s what people said, and knowing it was true, ?but he always tipped appropriately when service was good.? Keith turned to go back to the study, calling over a shoulder at the same time, ?Just let me see if I can find some cash.? Zeke was embarrassed, ?Ah, no, that?s okay,? he called after the retreating figure, noting that she had a great posterior too, ?I couldn?t take your money.? ?Nonsense,? Keith replied, then thinking quickly, added, ?besides, I?ll just send my Uncle an e-mail and he?ll reimburse me. It?s no trouble.? ?Except,? Keith added mentally, ?for not having a lot of cash in the house.? But there was some. In addition to the chequebook, the lockbox contained Keith?s passport, which, truth be told, was probably useless at this point, some American and left-over European funds and an envelope containing some emergency household money. It was the latter Keith intended to raid now. Putting aside a twenty, just in case, Keith returned with the rest, remembering, this time, to hold the robe closed. Keith handed the cash to Zeke. ?Best I can do.? Zeke was shocked as a quick count revealed it to be a little over 10% of the bill. A fair amount of cash, Zeke thought, for a slip of a thing to be carrying around. ?That?s great,? Zeke stammered, ?but really, I can?t.? ?No worries,? Keith replied, ?I?ll get it back? while thinking, that getting it back was no issue at all. ?Thanks,? Zeke stammered, in genuine gratitude, ?thanks a lot.? And then hesitated before continuing, ?um, my company is just starting out, really, and a customer testimonial would work wonders.? He searched Keith?s face, not able to read the expression there, ?Do you think your Uncle would provide one?? ?Well,? Keith looked away, ?I can ask? Would an e-mail be okay? I don?t know when he?ll be back.? ?Oh. Right.? Zeke had forgotten about that, ?Sure. An e-mail would be fine.? He stuck out a hand, ?thanks again, for everything.? Keith?s petite hand was engulfed by the mover?s huge mitt, but the gentle shake Zeke provided was anything but what had been expected. ?Good luck.? Keith said inanely closing the door on Zeke?s retreating figure. Professor Graell had never been much one for locks, but now Keith carefully fastened the chain, then stopped to breathe, forehead resting on the doorjamb, letting the shakes subside. ?Now what?? Keith finally thought, with a somewhat fearful glance down the hall towards the bedroom, ?what the hell is going on?? ?First things first,? Keith resolved with a shudder, having no great desire to return to the scene of the crime, as it were. Half suspecting the figure on the floor to have become animate, Keith carefully peered around the corner and let out a breath. It was still on the floor in a dishevelled heap. Approaching carefully, Keith realized it was in fact a mannequin, looked actually, like another one of the models from the company that ?she? (as he still thought of the first doll) was from. Blonde. Keith turned it over to reveal vaguely familiar features, and rather large breasts, visible as the unbuttoned work shirt fell open. There was something else visible too, and Keith jerked back in surprise, releasing the mannequin to roll back face down on the floor. ?Futanari?? Keith said out loud, ?What the?? The mystery deepened. Keith Graell had been hard pressed to order any of the sex dolls, let alone a futanari model. Keith knelt, and again rolled over the futanari doll and propped it up in a sitting position against the wall. It?s equipment jutted upwards, and Keith was both embarrassed and ill at ease, at the sight, frightened almost. Looking into the doll?s eyes, Keith suddenly realized the doll seemed familiar, it?s face seemed to Keith to be a feminized version of the second mover, Frank. On further inspection, Keith was certain of it. And with that certainty, came a bit of panic, a fight to retain control, of deep slow breaths until finally, Keith?s heart stopped pounding. Forcing the issue, Keith?s slowly looked up to lock eyes with the futanari doll?s. ?You?re in there, aren?t you?? Keith muttered, after a sudden epiphany, and then wondered, ?what did you do?? And then more generally, ?What could possibly have caused this, or am I just locked in some psychotic delusion?? The loss of memory was profound, although as Keith had come to realize, the missing events had left an atavistic and extremely negative reaction to the blonde doll. Leaning forward, Keith slid the shirt from the doll?s shoulders, completely exposing it?s upper torso, and was shocked to reveal the snake bracelet. So, thief for certain then, Keith presumed, and removed the bracelet, then, for good measure, decided to remove the trousers as well revealing all of the doll?s glory as it were. Truth be told, Keith had been a little intimidated and uncertain in purchasing a sex doll, and hadn?t really inspected ?her? or regarded ?her? as a toy. This other one though, was a different kettle of fish entirely and with morbid fascination, Keith took a good look. The blonde doll, Keith guessed, was one of the taller models, but didn?t recognize it at all from the ?showroom? page. The breasts were huge, ?DD,? Keith figured, and taking a quick look down into the robe, was very, very grateful for the ?B? cup on the original model. The blonde?s other equipment didn?t look to be much more than average size, Keith thought, but it was certainly very realistic in detail. Recalling that the website had said that the futanari equipment was removable, with more than a little self-consciousness, Keith reached down to try. After a little bit of fumbling, the appendage, (appendages? Keith mused) released, then slid out of the torso. Having forgotten momentarily that maybe there was another thinking being present, Keith suddenly felt awkward kneeling there with a penis in one hand. Awkwardness was quickly replaced by curiosity. ?I wonder what that felt like?? Keith mused, sitting still for a few moments all the while staring at the doll. ?What if? Keith had a sudden thought, ?Frank is in there?? After all, Keith had personal experience with the phenomena, although, without knowing or understanding what or how anything of the sort could have happened. In the same way that some people found clowns creepy, Keith found the blonde doll creepy. No particular reason for it, it?s just that they were, well, clowns. Something to be feared. Something to be revolted by. Something that for no good reason creeped you out. ?You left something,? if not so disturbed, Keith would have smiled, but tapping finger to cranium, continued, ?in my head.? There was no discernable change in the dolls demeanor. Nothing to indicate listening or comprehension but Keith was not sure that both of those things weren?t happening from personal experience. Keith wondered if this was a soliloquy or if he was speaking to someone inside the mannequin. ?Y?know,? Keith continued softly, explanatorily, ill at ease, ?I could see, I could hear. I could feel motion and touch, but not really hot or cold. Nor pain.? Still nothing, but Keith hadn?t expected anything. ?I really tried to get out. I saw you look at me, I tried to say, to get you, to help, but then,? the memory was terrifyingly clear, ?you closed the lid. And that?s the last thing I remember. You grinning and closing the lid.? Keith?s voice took on a stream of consciousness-like tone. ?You came back and did something, didn?t you?? Keith made a leap of logic then, ?And whatever you did, caused us to change places, and,? Keith stopped, considering how insane it sounded, ?change. At least. in your case, to change. I think I look just like I looked when you found me, except something you did, somehow you made ?her? ? I mean, me ? become alive.? Bitterness had crept into the words, and it was shockingly deep bitterness to Keith?s ears. If all of what had happened was as real as it seemed so far, the full import of which was only just starting to come to Keith?s realization, life as Keith had known it was over. Keith held the hermaphrodite equipment up in front of the blonde doll?s eyes to make sure it was seen, ?What did it feel like when I removed this?? No reaction, of course. ?I wonder,? Keith?s tone was deceptively light, ?can you still feel me touching this,? Keith stroked the shaft once lightly for effect, ?or does it have to be connected?? Keith suddenly wanted to lash out, to rip out the feeling of helplessness and confusion. ?No? Nothing?? Keith got an evil idea, ?Maybe you are just a doll. And maybe I shouldn?t have waited to experiment.? A final bitter thought; ?I don?t think you waited to experiment.? Leaning forward, Keith placed the phallus against the doll?s lips with one hand, and with the other operated the jaw lock to free the motion of the dolls mouth. Again, Keith hesitated before continuing. ?Bet you didn?t know they could do this,? and truth be told, while Keith had known the dolls capable, had not thought that the sight of a penis sliding past the lips would be so fascinating. It went deep, ?all the way? deep. And then, Keith felt a little silly pushing what was essentially a dildo into the mouth of a doll. Keith removed the device with a feeling a little uncomfortable, knowing that revenge had motivated the action, and with that realization almost left good enough alone. ?I ?don?t think you?d have the imagination to figure that out.? Keith thought, but the feeling of anger about something, the revulsion about something, was deep rooted. And still, however wrongly, the motivation for vengeance. Not really wanting to acknowledge the probable truth, Keith knew what to do, and knew how to do it. Kneel-walking to the packing crate, Keith recognized in passing that it was the original crate, not a new one. Keith was bent on retrieving the accessory bag that had come with ?her? as there was the ?spare? vagina in it, along with a few other maintenance odds and ends, including a tube of latex safe lubricant that he now needed to achieve satisfaction. ?What do you feel about this?? Keith asked rhetorically, fitting the vagina into the blonde doll. Then holding the phallus up again to make sure that if Frank was there it could be seen Keith continued, ?I bet you used me. I bet you didn?t care that it was someone else?s property.? Or fantasy, Keith didn?t want to admit. ?Yes,? Keith thought, ?I bet you did. But I don?t remember. Maybe if I did remember I?d know how to undo whatever you did. But I have no memory of anything before regaining my senses this morning, no recollection of regaining control, just left-over nausea.? Keith carried on, ?Ever wonder what it would be like to fuck yourself?? Trying to be light-hearted and matter of fact about it, Keith lubed the shaft and then slowly inserted it, instantly feeling heart-racing anger and revulsion. Surprised at the profound feelings the action evoked, Keith started to feel a twinge of guilt. ?Yeah,? Keith nodded with the thought, ?I bet that?s what you did alright,? but there was still no memory of the event whatsoever. After a few moments of thrusting the penis in and out, Keith?s morbid fascination faded. ?Puts a whole new wrinkle on things doesn?t it?? Keith said with a giggle, holding the phallus up again, then adding with a sudden inspiration ?Or maybe a little more than a wrinkle, eh?? Keith flipped the doll and pushed the erection into the second (or third depending on your point of view of order) orifice. Just for good measure adding, ?that?s the,? a pause for effect, ?end of it then.? But Keith?s mirth was hollow. Violating the doll hadn?t proved or solved anything, but had frustrated Keith in also failing to provide any understanding of the situation. Keith was now not only creeped out by the doll, but worst of all, a little creeped out with himself in the realization that ?I?m no better than he.? Keith was almost sick with guilt and self-loathing, and pushed the doll away, throwing the phallus after it. It bounced, and rolled into the closet. The next couple of days had been as normal as could be expected, mostly, with the notable exceptions of sleeping and personal hygiene. For some reason, Keith couldn?t get past the ?killer clown? in the closet. Keith had stowed the thing with a blanket over it, but it was there, and Keith knew it. In addition, although it was quickly fading, there was a red mark on Keith?s left forearm where the snake shaped bracelet had been. Having discovered the bracelet on the blonde dolls arm, this mark was a constant reminder, and so, one way or another, the menace was always just below conscious thought. Keith had the irrational feeling that the doll was biding its time before making its move. But the thing which impacted the most was that Keith thought the id didn?t fit properly in the skin . Or more properly, the body, which was constantly tripping and bumping things because nothing was as close or as far as it should have been. Not to mention just the feeling of things ? although the perfect eyesight was a very welcome change. So, it took a long while to get to sleep, and invariably a nightmare would strike shortly afterwards. Once awake again, it took even longer the second time to settle into a comfortable position to get back to sleep. And of course, almost anything in the bathroom felt odd. Showers in particular were an exercise in avoiding places where things were missing or where things were present that shouldn?t be. However, the days were filled with unpacking and organizing, and Keith was slowly falling into a routine. Each day since moving had started with some exercise, at the moment several jaunts down and up the building?s fire exit stairs located to each side of the elevators, then clean up, and finally coffee and the newspaper. So today, day three ?P.E.? ? post event, as Keith referred to moving day ? made it officially a routine and with a routine, although tired with scratchy eyes, Keith was not in a bad mood. The table was in the sun, the chair was comfortable, the coffee good and nothing in the newspaper was overly upsetting. Things were looking up, that is, until a knock sounded on the door. For a moment, Keith thought it could be ignored, but it sounded again, more firmly and more forceful. Keith went to the door and peered through the spyhole. Uniforms. Keith?s heart clenched. A hand went to the doorknob and opened the door as far as the security chain would allow. Two policemen stood in the hall, both impossibly tall from Keith?s point of view; one younger, one older, both male. ?Yes?? Keith managed to say in an even tone. ?Kei Graell?? The older one asked. Keith blinked, ?what the?? Why would the police be using that name? ?Yes, that would be me.? Not that Keith was used to answering to that name or anything like that? ?We?d like to ask you a few questions if you don?t mind.? Again the older officer spoke, calmly, courteously, but firmly. ?Ah,? Keith was at a loss and sort of stammered out, ?um, should I be asking for a warrant or something?? The younger one passed what he thought was a surreptitious meaningful look to his partner. His partner just smiled. ?Just a couple of questions, Ms Graell,? the older officer repeated, ?we aren?t going to look around or anything. We would have done this on the phone, but you aren?t easy to contact.? ?Oh.? Keith paused guiltily, that was true, no phone yet, ?Okay then, but um, I should see some identification? Please?? The older officer smiled, and reached for his wallet, the younger one got a sour look on his face, looking pointedly up and down his partner?s uniform. ?You most certainly can,? the older officer smiled, ?you can never be too careful.? And then for his partner?s benefit, ?You can get a uniform anywhere. Y?know, I have a couple of daughters near enough your age and I wish they were as careful as you.? The little speech was contrived to try to put ?Kei? at ease. As he spoke he fished out his identification and passed it through the narrow gap. ?Thank you officer,? Keith glanced at the card, ?Phipps.? Keith closed the door, unlatched the chain and then opened it wide, motioning inwards. The older officer walked in nonchalantly, but his eyes did a trained sweep over what was visible and missed nothing. The officer noted that there were some boxes not yet unpacked, but there was a pile of packing materials by the door, cardboard and the like, presumably waiting to go to the recycling room. The young woman was dressed in a sweatshirt and track pants, and he presumed it was because she was going to continue with the unpacking. The clothing was poorly fitting, and he guessed it was her uncle?s. The walls were bare, but some of the bookshelves had had books placed on them. A stack of pictures rested against one wall in the living room, just visible from the foyer to one side of a table. An open newspaper and a coffee mug were on the table. Nothing out of the ordinary for an apartment recently occupied. Keith pointed towards the kitchen, ?Coffee?? ?No thanks,? Officer Phipps responded taking out a notepad and shaking his head, ?we shouldn?t be here that long.? ?Sit?? Keith ventured. ?No really,? Phipps reiterated, ?Just a couple of routine questions on a missing person case. I wanted to come in because I didn?t want any nosey neighbours involved.? ?Oh,? Keith nodded, ?that?s kind of you.? ?So, do you know this man,? Phipps handed over what looked like a mug shot photograph, ?Frank Blumfeldt?? Keith looked at the picture quickly, hoping to appear nonchalant and not quite managing it. It was the killer clown, male version. ?Not really.? Keith replied. ?Not really?? Phipps pressed, wondering what the momentary odd expression on the young woman?s face had been about. ?His partner,? Keith said truthfully, ?came by the day after my Uncle?s move looking for his partner, Frank. I told him that I hadn?t seen him.? Phipps nodded and made a note, the ring of truth was clear, but the fearful widening her eyes had been out of place. Something could be amiss, or he could simply be misinterpreting her expression. ?You arrived here that evening?? The younger officer asked as Phipps wrote, trying to establish some dominance, typical alpha male behaviour. ?Yes,? Keith nodded. ?And he wasn?t here?? Officer Phipps seemed content to let the younger officer pursue the questions at this point. He?d already made up his mind that this was a dead end. ?It was dark when I got here; later than I meant,? Keith explained, ?I wasn?t expecting anyone to be here and as far as I know, no one was here but me.? Keith confirmed with a shrug, adding, ?and I keep the chain on.? Phipps waited for a moment, pen posed over the notebook hoping the silence would elicit an elaboration, but it didn?t. A very mature young woman, he concluded, although maybe one with security issues. Very fine line between caution and paranoia, Phipps knew. ?Well, that confirms what Mr. Fitzpatrick said,? Officer Phipps said, closing the notepad with a flourish, ?Thank you very much Ms. Graell.? He paused, ?Interesting name though, Kei, where?s that from, China?? Keith had taken the trouble to look it up and corrected the officer, ?Japanese or Hawaiian. In my case, Hawaiian. My mom?s family had roots there.? Phipps had looked it up too. Amazing what was on the internet these days. Well, ?i?s were dotted and ?t?s were crossed. One more ex-con had disappeared into the woodwork. He smiled and handed her a business card, ?Just in case you find something or remember something you think is important. You can give us a call.? Keith took the card and nodded, ?Okay.? Keith showed them out the door, then immediately resolved to get rid of the mannequin in the closet. It was highly improbable that anyone would think to try, and if they tried, to match the missing man to the mannequin, but Keith had had enough of the rollercoaster. By lunchtime photographs had been taken, as untraceable an account as Keith could figure out how to set up was in place, and the mannequin was listed as ?never used? in the adult section of eBay. Much to Keith?s surprise, it had sold by the end of the day. It could have something to do with the 50% markdown against similar objects. It could have been because Keith had indicated courier shipping would be pre-paid. Whatever the case, the next day Keith had it secured in the packing crate and waiting for when the courier company came by to take the delivery. And while Keith still wondered if Frank?s consciousness was in the mannequin or not, he was surprised at how relieving it was to see the last of the ?killer clown.? That night, Keith slept well.