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Inside is a plush sex doll named Sophie. ", "count": "8", "submission_right_submission_id": "344634", "submission_right_file_name": "442665_3timer_sophieboxweb.jpg", "submission_right_thumbnail_url_huge": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/huge/442/442665_3timer_sophieboxweb.jpg", "submission_right_thumbnail_url_large": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/large/442/442665_3timer_sophieboxweb.jpg", "submission_right_thumbnail_url_medium": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/medium/442/442665_3timer_sophieboxweb.jpg", "submission_right_thumb_huge_x": "200", "submission_right_thumb_huge_y": "192", "submission_right_thumb_large_x": "200", "submission_right_thumb_large_y": "192", "submission_right_thumb_medium_x": "120", "submission_right_thumb_medium_y": "115", "submission_right_thumbnail_url_huge_noncustom": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/preview/442/442665_3timer_sophieboxweb.jpg", "submission_right_thumbnail_url_large_noncustom": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/large/442/442665_3timer_sophieboxweb_noncustom.jpg", "submission_right_thumbnail_url_medium_noncustom": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/medium/442/442665_3timer_sophieboxweb_noncustom.jpg", "submission_right_thumb_medium_noncustom_x": "120", "submission_right_thumb_medium_noncustom_y": "107", "submission_right_thumb_large_noncustom_x": "200", "submission_right_thumb_large_noncustom_y": "178", "submission_right_thumb_huge_noncustom_x": "300", "submission_right_thumb_huge_noncustom_y": "267" } ], "description": "My main characters tend to have serious issues. \n\nNot sure why.\n\nCame up with this idea a few days ago and decided to run with it since nothing else was really working out.", "description_bbcode_parsed": "My main characters tend to have serious issues.  

Not sure why.

Came up with this idea a few days ago and decided to run with it since nothing else was really working out.", "writing": "[center]Inside the Box\n\nPart 1[/center]\n\nThere was a knock on the door. It startled Tornell, who wasn't expecting anyone. He scratched the back of his paw nervously. He considered that maybe someone had merely knocked on the wrong door and they would go away once realizing their mistake. A second, more insistent knock proved that theory wrong. He made his way through the disheveled mess of his dark, dreary apartment toward the front door. He put his eye up to the peephole to see who it was just as a third knock boomed. Tonell gave a gasp and pulled back from the door. He hadn't gotten a good look. He scratched the back of his paw again. It was scabbed, and the fur was worn off. Anxiety was starting to swell inside of him and he started to feel sick.\n\n“Who is it?” He asked the door.\n\n“UPS.” A muffled voice replied. “I have a delivery for a... uh... Tornell Mmm... Ma... Merbo-rego?”\n\n“Morboregio.” Tornell corrected. \n\n“Yeah, that's it.” The voice agreed.\n\n“Just leave in outside the door.”\n\n“I'm sorry, sir,” The voice said, “This says “live delivery”, I have to get a signature for that.” \n\nTornell was confused. He did nearly all of his shopping online so deliveries weren't unusual, but he would have known if he had ordered anything living. He didn't have or want pets. He certainly didn't order live food. \n\n“I don't think I can do that.” Tornell said.\n\n“That's okay.” The voice said. “I can take it back to the local outlet and you can pick it up there later.”\n\n“No!” Tornell panicked. “Don't do that! I'll sign! Just hold on a minute. I'll sign.” That familiar ill feeling gripped his insides, and he could feel the panic crawling under his skin. It wanted to burst out. His eyes watered and he wiped them with the back of his arm. He wasn't expecting anything that day. The next day, yes, but not that day. There was just no way he could pick something up from the UPS outlet, that was clear across town. It was better to take it now. If it was wrong he could send it back tomorrow.\n\nHis paws started to shake as he lifted the bar from the door. It was a heavy, solid iron bar that made the door nearly impenetrable. At least he hoped it did. There were deadbolts too. Four of them. He clicked each one open, hesitating for a moment on the last one. The two chains would stay. If the delivery person had a problem with that, then to hell with him. \n\nTonell opened the door as far as the chains would allow and peeked through. The delivery person was a male canine. A mixed breed of some sort. Definitely some retriever in him. Tornell knew it wasn't the fault of the fur outside, but as a feline it heightened his anxiety. His therapist called it “Instinctive Regressive State”, or some shit like that. Probably because she just didn't want to flat out call him a racist. \n\nThe canine tipped his baseball cap at Tornell. “Afternoon, sir.” He said. “Sorry to bother you, but if you give me a quick “John Hancock” on my tablet I'll be out of your fur.”\n\n“I didn't buzz you in.” Tornell accused. The sunlight shining in through the door hurt his eyes. He could smell fresh cut grass and gasoline engines. “How did you get in?”\n\n“One of your neighbors was coming in at the same time, and I just followed her in. Was that wrong of me?” He asked as he slipped the tablet through the crack in the door.\n\nTornell took the tablet tentatively. “If you could ring first next time, I would appreciate that.”\n\n“I'll be sure to remember that.” The canine assured. “There's a little pen thingy on the bottom, just sign it in the box.” He added helpfully.\n\nTornell popped the stylus from the bottom of the tablet and signed his name. The signature looked terrible since his paw was quivering so badly. He wanted to ask if there was a way to re-do it, but he also wanted the driver to go away as quickly as possible. A pain in his head punctuated itself. The beginnings of a migraine. That decided it for him. He gave the tablet back.\n\n“Thank you.” The delivery driver told him. “Do you want me to just leave this here?”\n\nThere was a largish brown box set on the floor outside the door, a two-foot by two-foot cube. Stamped on it in red were the words “Live! Handle Carefully!”, although one of the corners of the box looked like it might have been dropped once. \n\n“Yes, I'll get it in a minute.”\n\n“Alright. Have yourself a good one.” The driver turned and walked away. Tornell listened as his footfalls receded then went down the stairs. He listened for a few minutes longer in case anyone else was around. All sounded quiet except the faraway drone of traffic passing by. \n\nHe closed the door, took a deep breath, and unhooked the two chains. He could taste saliva in his mouth, too much of it, his body wanted him to vomit. His heart was beating hard. It would only take a second. Just a second. Open the door, get the box. That's all there was to it. No big deal. Normally he would wait until night to get any deliveries. It was safer at night. More comfortable. Still, he didn't want whatever was in the box to die on his doorstep. The sun was out. It could get quite hot in a box left outside.\n\nTornell swung open the door. He winced as the sun bathed him with it's oppressive glare, instantly stepping up the pain of his oncoming migraine. The light glistened off the spotted, golden fur of his arm when he put it up to block the sun. His ears flattened back. His banded tail swished violently back and forth in agitation. In the light it was clear to see that he was an African golden cat, although his family had moved from Africa many generations ago. \n\nHe grabbed the box and tossed it inside without giving much thought for the contents, then he slammed the door closed again. The heavy metal door made a resounding thud that could probably be heard in every apartment in the building. He snapped each deadbolt closed hastily. Gasping for breath as the panic attack gripped him. He let out a sob and tears flowed down his cheeks. He put the iron bar back in its place and refastened the chains before falling in a heap at the door.\n\nFor eight years it had been like that. The tyrannical, overwhelming, and utterly illogical fear ruled his entire life. He knew it was all in his head, but knowing didn't change anything. The fear was real. He was trapped in his apartment by it. He saw his therapist through Skype. Paid the neighbor's cub to get his mail and pick up occasional groceries. Everything else he had delivered. He ate a steady diet of pizza and Chinese food from delivery drivers who knew to take the money slipped under the door and leave the food on the doorstep. \n\nHis family helped some, but they had long found his disability exhausting. Especially since he could only allow them to visit for a few minutes at a time before his phobia would emerge. What's more it was difficult for them to see him that way. Living in the dark and hiding from the world. Most of his contact with them was through the e-mail. \n\nTornell picked himself up and moved to his desk in the living room. The apartment only had three rooms. A bedroom, a bathroom, and a living/kitchen/dining room. There was a doorwall that led to a balcony, but he never used it. In fact, he had covered the glass doorwall with cardboard to keep the light out. Currently the kitchen aria was cluttered with dirty dishes and empty pizza boxes. When he got the motivation he would bag up his trash and put it outside the door. The neighbor's cub would take it down to the bin as part of his pay. \n\nA computer monitor on the desk was currently giving off the only light in the apartment. He had three monitors for the three computers, but currently he was only using one. Besides the television they were his only contact with the outside world. Computers were also the only place where he could socially interact with others. What's more they were the source of his income. He was very aware that he could die without them, as a result he owned many of them. The three set up at the desk, four more in boxes stacked in his bedroom closet that had never been opened, plus two outdated ones that he kept “just in case”. \n\nThe feline picked up a prescription bottle that helped with his migraines. He shook out a pill and swallowed it dry. Then he picked up a pack of cigarettes and plucked out a stick. Even those he bought online, usually by the crate. He lit the cigarette and sat down in the chair with his face in his paw, waiting for his body to calm down. The migraine was coming, there was nothing he could do about that except suffer through it, but the panic would die down in a few minutes. \n\nWhile he was waiting his eye caught the box he had suffered so much to retrieve. It had landed on it's side. He knew that because the side facing him said “This Side Up”. He guessed at the very least it might get his mind off his distress. He got up and walked over to it. \n\nHe placed it right side up and tapped the box to see if there was any response from inside. He didn't hear anything moving. He scratched the back of his paw nervously. Maybe whatever was in it was dead already. The thought of sharing his living quarters with a carcass didn't sit well with him. He also didn't relish the idea of opening it and finding a bloated, maggot infested body. The box didn't smell bad though. In fact, it didn't really smell like anything other then a box. \n\nTornell took a drag from the cigarette and positioned it on the edge of an overstuffed ashtray nearby. He turned the box so he could read the mailing address. It was his correct name and address on the box, but it didn't have a return address or even a company name on it. \n\nHe decided to open it. He found a knife in the kitchen that wasn't dirty and carefully slit the tape keeping it closed and flipped open the top. Inside were green foam packing peanuts with a folded note on top. He opened the note.\n\n[b]Congratulations, [u]Mr. Morboregio[/u]! \n\nYou have just received what we at The Perfect Companion believe to be the finest product of its kind on the market today! Inside is your brand new Perfect Companion, matched specifically for [i]your [/i]individual needs! We think you will find her to be “perfect” in every single way and hope you enjoy your new life with her.\n\nHer name is [u]Sophie[/u], why don't you introduce yourself to her? She can't wait to meet you! \n\nSincerely, [/b]\n\n[b]The staff at TPC\n\n(P.S: We apologize for the delay, and we realize that you were put in an awkward position by elements outside of your, and frankly our, control. Due to the nature of this product all sales are final, however, we gladly invite any questions, concerns, or comments you might have. You can contact us by the telephone number listed on the back of this letter.)\n[/b]\n“What the fuck?” Tornell said quietly after reading the note. TPC was an internet based company that produced overpriced sex dolls, at least it used to be. An online friend of his had recommended the company highly. Six months ago he figured “what the hell?” and purchased one. Afterward the company disappeared from the net. After searching the internet for weeks trying to locate the company he figured he had been taken for a ride. He had long since wrote off the five grand.\n\nTornell flipped over the note and saw that indeed there was a phone number on it. Even given his aversion to confrontation, he fully planned on calling them. The “Live Delivery” crap had been a sick joke. He sighed and brushed away the packing peanuts. May as well see what he got for all the heartache. He couldn't help but be disappointed by what he found. \n\nThe doll was smaller then he had expected, like a cub, and it appeared to be simple plush. It was something that probably could have been produced for a tiny fraction of what he had payed. What's more he distinctly remembered asking for a feline model, the one in the box was a rabbit. To the credit of the company it was well designed and the seams looked tightly sewn. It was packed into the box in a cute fetal position with it's eyes closed, it even had a thumb stuck in its mouth. It almost looked like it was alive. It had white fur and a pink nose, the insides of its long flop ears that were laying flat against it's back were also pink. He was certain he didn't specify albino. It was naked, but there were a number of individually wrapped clothes included. He pulled out several of them. One had “Sexy teddy” on it. Another had “Pajamas”. A third said “Sunday School”. There were more, but he didn't bother with them.\n\nHe touched the doll and found it was still warm from being in the sun. That heightened the illusion that it was alive. He brushed the fur on its thigh and found it to be pleasing to the touch. It was the softest, most delicate fur he had ever felt. It was a sex toy, was it not? He stroked the rump and the puffy tail, then ran an exploring digit between its legs. He could feel both the anal and vaginal openings. “Fully functional”, the website had promised. He gently stroked the vagina. It must have been made of the softest silk on earth.\n\nIt moaned in response to his touch.\n\nTornell recoiled as the doll stirred in the box. The eyes fluttered open, and it yawned widely, showing off the oversized, plastic incisors and pink velvet tongue. It tried to stretch, but found the box restrictive. It sat up and looked around, squinting as it did so. It wrinkled its nose.\n\n“Ooh, it smells bad in here!” It noted.\n\nIt felt around under the foam peanuts of the box and found a package. It slipped out a pair of large blue framed eyeglasses from the package and put them on. That seemed to help. It looked around again and spied Tornell with it's pink, dolls eyes. It smiled widely.\n\n“Hi!” It said cheerfully. “My name's Sophie, what's your name?”\n\nThat was too much for Tornell. He stumbled backwards and tripped over the computer chair. The panic was rushing back. There was someone in his house! Not really someone, something! In his place! Where things were supposed to be under control! Where [i]he [/i]was under control! Where he was safe! That canine had tricked him! Tricked him into taking something into his home! He scrambled away on the floor toward his bedroom.\n\nThe doll looked shocked by his reaction. “Oh, I'm sorry!” It said as it stood up, looking a bit unsteady. “I didn't mean to scare you!” It tried to climb out of the box but tripped as it did so, flipping the box over on top of it and spilling packing peanuts and accessories across the floor. \n\nTornell fled into the bedroom and slammed the door. There were several deadbolts on this door too. He locked them as quickly as possible. He couldn't catch his breath. From the light of the monitor in the living room he could see the shadow of the doll under the door as it approached.\n\n“N...no!” He gasped, his migraine was reaching it's peak. “Th.. this isn't... this is...”\n\n“I'm sorry.” It said again just outside the door. \n\nTornell stood straight up and grasped his head in both paws. “I... I'm not... crazy!” The migraine crushed in on him turning the world into white light. Evil, vicious, pure unforgiving white. \n\nThen he passed out.\n\n", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "
Inside the Box

Part 1


There was a knock on the door.  It startled Tornell, who wasn't expecting anyone.  He scratched the back of his paw nervously.  He considered that maybe someone had merely knocked on the wrong door and they would go away once realizing their mistake.   A second, more insistent knock proved that theory wrong.  He made his way through the disheveled mess of his dark, dreary apartment toward the front door.  He put his eye up to the peephole to see who it was just as a third knock boomed.  Tonell gave a gasp and pulled back from the door.  He hadn't gotten a good look.  He scratched the back of his paw again.  It was scabbed, and the fur was worn off.  Anxiety was starting to swell inside of him and he started to feel sick.

“Who is it?”  He asked the door.

“UPS.”  A muffled voice replied.  “I have a delivery for a... uh... Tornell Mmm... Ma... Merbo-rego?”

“Morboregio.”  Tornell corrected.  

“Yeah, that's it.”  The voice agreed.

“Just leave in outside the door.”

“I'm sorry, sir,”  The voice said, “This says “live delivery”, I have to get a signature for that.”  

Tornell was confused.  He did nearly all of his shopping online so deliveries weren't unusual, but he would have known if he had ordered anything living.  He didn't have or want pets.  He certainly didn't order live food.  

“I don't think I can do that.”  Tornell said.

“That's okay.”  The voice said.  “I can take it back to the local outlet and you can pick it up there later.”

“No!”  Tornell panicked.  “Don't do that!  I'll sign!  Just hold on a minute.  I'll sign.”  That familiar ill feeling gripped his insides, and he could feel the panic crawling under his skin.  It wanted to burst out.  His eyes watered and he wiped them with the back of his arm.  He wasn't expecting anything that day.  The next day, yes, but not that day.  There was just no way he could pick something up from the UPS outlet, that was clear across town.  It was better to take it now.  If it was wrong he could send it back tomorrow.

His paws started to shake as he lifted the bar from the door.  It was a heavy, solid iron bar that made the door nearly impenetrable.  At least he hoped it did.  There were deadbolts too.  Four of them.  He clicked each one open, hesitating for a moment on the last one.  The two chains would stay.  If the delivery person had a problem with that, then to hell with him.  

Tonell opened the door as far as the chains would allow and peeked through.  The delivery person was a male canine.  A mixed breed of some sort.  Definitely some retriever in him.  Tornell knew it wasn't the fault of the fur outside, but as a feline it heightened his anxiety.  His therapist called it “Instinctive Regressive State”, or some shit like that.  Probably because she just didn't want to flat out call him a racist.  

The canine tipped his baseball cap at Tornell.  “Afternoon, sir.”  He said.  “Sorry to bother you, but if you give me a quick “John Hancock” on my tablet I'll be out of your fur.”

“I didn't buzz you in.”  Tornell accused.  The sunlight shining in through the door hurt his eyes.  He could smell fresh cut grass and gasoline engines.  “How did you get in?”

“One of your neighbors was coming in at the same time, and I just followed her in.  Was that wrong of me?”  He asked as he slipped the tablet through the crack in the door.

Tornell took the tablet tentatively.  “If you could ring first next time, I would appreciate that.”

“I'll be sure to remember that.”  The canine assured.  “There's a little pen thingy on the bottom, just sign it in the box.”  He added helpfully.

Tornell popped the stylus from the bottom of the tablet and signed his name.  The signature looked terrible since his paw was quivering so badly.  He wanted to ask if there was a way to re-do it, but he also wanted the driver to go away as quickly as possible.  A pain in his head punctuated itself.  The beginnings of a migraine.  That decided it for him.  He gave the tablet back.

“Thank you.”  The delivery driver told him.  “Do you want me to just leave this here?”

There was a largish brown box set on the floor outside the door, a two-foot by two-foot cube.  Stamped on it in red were the words “Live!  Handle Carefully!”, although one of the corners of the box looked like it might have been dropped once.  

“Yes, I'll get it in a minute.”

“Alright.  Have yourself a good one.”  The driver turned and walked away.  Tornell listened as his footfalls receded then went down the stairs.  He listened for a few minutes longer in case anyone else was around.  All sounded quiet except the faraway drone of traffic passing by.  

He closed the door, took a deep breath, and unhooked the two chains.  He could taste saliva in his mouth, too much of it, his body wanted him to vomit.  His heart was beating hard.  It would only take a second.  Just a second.  Open the door, get the box.  That's all there was to it.  No big deal.  Normally he would wait until night to get any deliveries.  It was safer at night.  More comfortable.  Still, he didn't want whatever was in the box to die on his doorstep.  The sun was out.  It could get quite hot in a box left outside.

Tornell swung open the door.  He winced as the sun bathed him with it's oppressive glare, instantly stepping up the pain of his oncoming migraine.  The light glistened off the spotted, golden fur of his arm when he put it up to block the sun.  His ears flattened back.  His banded tail swished violently back and forth in agitation.  In the light it was clear to see that he was an African golden cat, although his family had moved from Africa many generations ago.  

He grabbed the box and tossed it inside without giving much thought for the contents, then he slammed the door closed again.  The heavy metal door made a resounding thud that could probably be heard in every apartment in the building.  He snapped each deadbolt closed hastily.  Gasping for breath as the panic attack gripped him.  He let out a sob and tears flowed down his cheeks.  He put the iron bar back in its place and refastened the chains before falling in a heap at the door.

For eight years it had been like that.  The tyrannical, overwhelming, and utterly illogical fear ruled his entire life.  He knew it was all in his head, but knowing didn't change anything.  The fear was real.  He was trapped in his apartment by it.  He saw his therapist through Skype.  Paid the neighbor's cub to get his mail and pick up occasional groceries.  Everything else he had delivered.  He ate a steady diet of pizza and Chinese food from delivery drivers who knew to take the money slipped under the door and leave the food on the doorstep.  

His family helped some, but they had long found his disability exhausting.  Especially since he could only allow them to visit for a few minutes at a time before his phobia would emerge.  What's more it was difficult for them to see him that way.  Living in the dark and hiding from the world.  Most of his contact with them was through the e-mail.  

Tornell picked himself up and moved to his desk in the living room.  The apartment only had three rooms.  A bedroom, a bathroom, and a living/kitchen/dining room.  There was a doorwall that led to a balcony, but he never used it.  In fact, he had covered the glass doorwall with cardboard to keep the light out.  Currently the kitchen aria was cluttered with dirty dishes and empty pizza boxes.  When he got the motivation he would bag up his trash and put it outside the door.  The neighbor's cub would take it down to the bin as part of his pay.

A computer monitor on the desk was currently giving off the only light in the apartment.  He had three monitors for the three computers, but currently he was only using one.  Besides the television they were his only contact with the outside world.  Computers were also the only place where he could socially interact with others.  What's more they were the source of his income.  He was very aware that he could die without them, as a result he owned many of them.  The three set up at the desk, four more in boxes stacked in his bedroom closet that had never been opened, plus two outdated ones that he kept “just in case”.  

The feline picked up a prescription bottle that helped with his migraines.  He shook out a pill and swallowed it dry.  Then he picked up a pack of cigarettes and plucked out a stick.  Even those he bought online, usually by the crate.  He lit the cigarette and sat down in the chair with his face in his paw, waiting for his body to calm down.  The migraine was coming, there was nothing he could do about that except suffer through it, but the panic would die down in a few minutes.  

While he was waiting his eye caught the box he had suffered so much to retrieve.  It had landed on it's side.  He knew that because the side facing him said “This Side Up”.  He guessed at the very least it might get his mind off his distress.  He got up and walked over to it.  

He placed it right side up and tapped the box to see if there was any response from inside.  He didn't hear anything moving.  He scratched the back of his paw nervously.  Maybe whatever was in it was dead already.  The thought of sharing his living quarters with a carcass didn't sit well with him.  He also didn't relish the idea of opening it and finding a bloated, maggot infested body.  The box didn't smell bad though.  In fact, it didn't really smell like anything other then a box.  

Tornell took a drag from the cigarette and positioned it on the edge of an overstuffed ashtray nearby.  He turned the box so he could read the mailing address.  It was his correct name and address on the box, but it didn't have a return address or even a company name on it.  

He decided to open it.  He found a knife in the kitchen that wasn't dirty and carefully slit the tape keeping it closed and flipped open the top.  Inside were green foam packing peanuts with a folded note on top.  He opened the note.

Congratulations, Mr. Morboregio!  

You have just received what we at The Perfect Companion believe to be the finest product of its kind on the market today!  Inside is your brand new Perfect Companion, matched specifically for your individual needs!  We think you will find her to be “perfect” in every single way and hope you enjoy your new life with her.

Her name is Sophie, why don't you introduce yourself to her?  She can't wait to meet you!

Sincerely,

The staff at TPC

(P.S:  We apologize for the delay, and we realize that you were put in an awkward position by elements outside of your, and frankly our, control.  Due to the nature of this product all sales are final, however, we gladly invite any questions, concerns, or comments you might have.  You can contact us by the telephone number listed on the back of this letter.)

“What the fuck?”  Tornell said quietly after reading the note.  TPC was an internet based company that produced overpriced sex dolls, at least it used to be.  An online friend of his had recommended the company highly.  Six months ago he figured “what the hell?” and purchased one.  Afterward the company disappeared from the net.  After searching the internet for weeks trying to locate the company he figured he had been taken for a ride.  He had long since wrote off the five grand.

Tornell flipped over the note and saw that indeed there was a phone number on it.  Even given his aversion to confrontation, he fully planned on calling them.  The “Live Delivery” crap had been a sick joke.  He sighed and brushed away the packing peanuts.  May as well see what he got for all the heartache.  He couldn't help but be disappointed by what he found.

The doll was smaller then he had expected, like a cub, and it appeared to be simple plush.  It was something that probably could have been produced for a tiny fraction of what he had payed.  What's more he distinctly remembered asking for a feline model, the one in the box was a rabbit.  To the credit of the company it was well designed and the seams looked tightly sewn.  It was packed into the box in a cute fetal position with it's eyes closed, it even had a thumb stuck in its mouth.  It almost looked like it was alive.  It had white fur and a pink nose, the insides of its long flop ears that were laying flat against it's back were also pink.  He was certain he didn't specify albino.  It was naked, but there were a number of individually wrapped clothes included.  He pulled out several of them.  One had “Sexy teddy” on it.  Another had “Pajamas”.  A third said “Sunday School”.  There were more, but he didn't bother with them.

He touched the doll and found it was still warm from being in the sun.  That heightened the illusion that it was alive.  He brushed the fur on its thigh and found it to be pleasing to the touch.  It was the softest, most delicate fur he had ever felt.  It was a sex toy, was it not?  He stroked the rump and the puffy tail, then ran an exploring digit between its legs.  He could feel both the anal and vaginal openings. “Fully functional”, the website had promised.  He gently stroked the vagina.  It must have been made of the softest silk on earth.

It moaned in response to his touch.

Tornell recoiled as the doll stirred in the box.  The eyes fluttered open, and it yawned widely, showing off the oversized, plastic incisors and pink velvet tongue.  It tried to stretch, but found the box restrictive.  It sat up and looked around, squinting as it did so.  It wrinkled its nose.

“Ooh, it smells bad in here!”  It noted.

It felt around under the foam peanuts of the box and found a package.  It slipped out a pair of large blue framed eyeglasses from the package and put them on.  That seemed to help.  It looked around again and spied Tornell with it's pink, dolls eyes.  It smiled widely.

“Hi!”  It said cheerfully.  “My name's Sophie, what's your name?”

That was too much for Tornell.  He stumbled backwards and tripped over the computer chair.  The panic was rushing back.  There was someone in his house!  Not really someone, something!  In his place!  Where things were supposed to be under control!  Where he was under control!  Where he was safe!  That canine had tricked him!  Tricked him into taking something into his home!  He scrambled away on the floor toward his bedroom.

The doll looked shocked by his reaction.  “Oh, I'm sorry!”  It said as it stood up, looking a bit unsteady.  “I didn't mean to scare you!”  It tried to climb out of the box but tripped as it did so, flipping the box over on top of it and spilling packing peanuts and accessories across the floor.  

Tornell fled into the bedroom and slammed the door.  There were several deadbolts on this door too.  He locked them as quickly as possible.  He couldn't catch his breath.  From the light of the monitor in the living room he could see the shadow of the doll under the door as it approached.

“N...no!”  He gasped, his migraine was reaching it's peak.  “Th.. this isn't... this is...”

“I'm sorry.”  It said again just outside the door.  

Tornell stood straight up and grasped his head in both paws.  “I... I'm not... crazy!”  The migraine crushed in on him turning the world into white light.  Evil, vicious, pure unforgiving white.  

Then he passed out.

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