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Part 2 wanted to get done.\n\nI apologize for the crappy thumbnail. My graphics stuff still hasn't been switched over to the new comp, so I'm making do with Gimp.", "description_bbcode_parsed": "When something wants to get done you go with it.  Part 2 wanted to get done.

I apologize for the crappy thumbnail.  My graphics stuff still hasn't been switched over to the new comp, so I'm making do with Gimp.", "writing": "[center]Inside the Box\n\nPart 2[/center]\n\nTornell was awakened when he slipped off the edge of his bed and onto the floor. He grunted and looked around in confusion. What the hell was he laying on the edge of his bed for? He had fallen into a mound of his clothes. He wasn't sure if they were dirty or clean. Lost track since he last did the laundry. He felt weird. Out of place. That dream had been intense. Living dolls and crazy shit like that. He must have thrashed his way off the bed. \n\nHe got up and dusted himself off unnecessarily. Then he scratched the back of his paw for a moment. He wanted a cigarette. Needed one right now. \n\nHe unlocked the bedroom door and went into the living aria. It was bright in there. The cardboard must have fallen off the doorwall again. He put a paw over his eyes to cut down the light. The last thing he needed was another migraine. He felt his way over to the desk and found a cigarette. Lit it up and sighed out a puff of smoke. It smelled wrong in there. It smelled clean. \n\nIt smelled like outside.\n\nHe lowered his paw from his face and looked at the doorwall. He felt a gentle breeze play through his fur. The cardboard hadn't fallen off. The damn thing was wide open! A truck went by on the road below. It boomed loudly as it went though the pothole that the city never seemed to fix. A car horn blasted a few blocks away. He saw someone moving in the window of one of the apartments across the way. A female Persian cat. She she happened to look out the window. Instead of seeing the normal blocked out glass of his apartment, she was greeted with a view of a shirtless, out-of-shape golden cat in ratty pajama bottoms. \n\nTornell rushed over and slid the glass door closed. After flipping the latch he took several deep breaths. He tried to will himself to stay calm. It wasn't working. He could feel his heart-rate rise. Someone was in his apartment. He glanced at the living aria. Someone had been cleaning. The computer desk had been organized and wiped down, as had the kitchen counter. The pile of dishes in the sink were cleaned and stacked aside to dry. The stacked washer/dryer was humming away in the closet, it made a bump and switched over to a spin cycle. The trash had been bagged up and set by the door to be taken out. There was a box stacked with the trash. On it there were letters in red. They said “Live! Handle Carefully!”\n\nIt hadn't been a dream at all.\n\nTornell's body started to shake. He remained holding the handle of the door to keep his balance. He was feeling weak and his body wanted to give in to the panic again. He could hear someone humming in the bathroom. A pleasant tune that he couldn't recognize. The bathroom door opened and the doll walked out. It was wearing a lace trimmed black and white French maid outfit with a very short skirt and black fishnet stockings. It was carrying a bucket and wearing rubber gloves. It slipped off the gloves and hung them on the edge of the bucket to dry. Then it opened the cupboard under the sink and and put the bucket inside. It bent over as it did, giving Tornell a view of its fluffy bunny tail and frilly panties. \n\nTornell realized that it wasn't all that intimidating. It stood no taller then three and a half feet. Maybe the size of a six-year-old cub, the fact that it was without breasts gave it an even more cublike appearance. It had a bow tied around the base of each of its lop ears, which in themselves were nearly half the doll's height and hung down like pony tails. It had large bunny feet that made him wonder how the stocking fit over them. The glasses kept slipping down its nose and it pushed them up with regularity. \n\nEven realizing that the doll was probably harmless, it agitated him greatly to have it in his apartment. His home. His sanctuary. Outside there was danger and elements beyond his control. Situations in which he was ill suited to deal with. There were so many furs in the world, and they did things that were senseless. Murder, robbery, drinking and driving, suicide bombings, wars... and they're talking, always talking. On the radio, on their phones, to each other, to themselves. Talking senseless babble without even the faintest clue of the dangers that surround them. Even without the aid of the furs things can go horribly awry. Planes fall from the sky, hurricanes crash onto the shore, tornadoes, disease, fires, earthquakes. In his apartment, he was in control. Things didn't happen that he was unaware of and didn't dominate. There were no surprises, no situations he couldn't handle. He looked at doll that was moving about the kitchen on it's own accord. \n\nUntil now.\n\nThe doll spied him clutching at the doorwall for support. It smiled. “Hi, again!” It said. “I hope you don't mind that I cleaned up a little.”\n\nTornell froze. He found he couldn't say anything in response, but the doll wasn't discouraged by his silence. It worked as it talked. Using a chair to get up on the kitchen counter so it could reach the high cupboards, it began to put the clean dishes away. \n\n“You don't have a lot of cleaning supplies, but I found some baking soda and dish soap and made do.” It explained. “You'd be surprised at how many things baking soda can clean. Like that toilet. I don't think it's been cleaned in months, but it's sparkling now. It smells better in here now too. It smelled like moldy gym socks burning in an ashtray before. Yuck!”\n\nIt hopped down off the counter. “Oh, that reminds me. I cleaned your ashtray.” It picked up the heavy glass ashtray off the edge of the counter. “You probably want it.” \n\nIt moved toward him, it had a happy bounce in the way it walked, almost like skipping. Tornell had a strong urge to move away from it, but there was nowhere for him to flee. “Here you go.” It said, holding up the ashtray for him to take. When he made no move to accept it the doll reached for his hand. He thought it was going to touch him but instead it gently plucked the cigarette from his trembling paw. He had forgotten about it and the cigarette had burned halfway down, leaving a long, precarious ash. The doll flicked it into the ashtray. \n\n“You know, you don't have to stand.” It told him and took the ashtray and burning cigarette over to the plush easy chair in the corner. It stuck the cigarette between one of the ridges of the ashtray and set it on a small folding table next to the chair. “You should sit down. I'll turn on the TV if you want.” It picked up the remote and turned the television on. He owned a small, archaic tube style television. “Do you like cartoons? I like cartoons.” \n\nThe doll found a cartoon show about a sponge that lived in a pineapple. “Here we go.” It moved back toward Tornell. This time when it reached for him it grasped his paw in both of its own. “C'mon!” It insisted, tugging at his arm. “Sit down.”\n\nTornell relinquished his grip on the door handle and allowed himself to be pulled to the chair. He sat down slowly, keeping his eye on the doll. He sunk his claws into the armrest, which were tattered and torn from having done it so many times before. Despite his tense demeanor the doll seemed pleased.\n\n“Do you want anything to drink?” It asked. “Are you hungry? I could make you something to eat. You don't seem to have a lot of food here, at least not that isn't turning green, but I think I could fix something up if I tried.”\n\n“No.” Tornell managed to say. His voice felt wrong. Strained and off pitch. He actually was hungry and could have used a drink, but it seemed easier to turn down the offer.\n\n“Well, let me know when you get hungry.” It said. “There's still a lot of work to do. I haven't even gotten to the bedroom yet. I found some of your clothes out here and put them in the wash already. I put mine in too. You know, new clothes are always so stiff and itchy. I still need to vacuum, but I can't seem to find it. Is it in the bedroom?” It went into his bedroom. “Oh, wow! Don't you hang anything up? It needs to be aired out in here too.” Tornell could hear the window being opened. “There, that's better. Is this dirty or clean? Ew! That's definitely dirty! This is dirty too. Dirty. Clean. Dirty. Do you even own a pair of underwear without holes in it? You know what? Everything is wrinkled anyway, I'll just wash it all. Found the vacuum. It looks pretty beat up, I hope it works.” \n\nIt emerged from the bathroom dragging his vacuum behind. It did work, he knew, but only poorly. Years of abuse had taken its toll. \n\n“I'll just put this in the corner here and use it later.” It said as it did so. “You're watching TV now and I wouldn't want to disturb you.”\n\nTornell wasn't really watching it at all. Not because it was an insipid show about a talking sponge, but because he was trying to get his mind around the fact that there was a plush doll doing his housework. He picked up the nearly finished cigarette from the ashtray, took a drag then butted it out. The doll talked incessantly. It just did not shut up. He scratched the back of his paw and wondered if there was a way to turn it off. It made him very uncomfortable that it was bustling about. \n\n“I wanted to make you some cookies or something while you were sleeping,” it told him as it continued putting the dishes away, “but I couldn't find all the ingredients. You don't have any sugar. Or butter. Or flour either. If you want I could make a grocery list and I could cook you up a whole bunch of great stuff. You like pasta, don't you? I looked online and found this portobello lasagna recipe that I wanted to try and make. I hope you don't mind that I used your computer, you left it on so I figured it was okay. We could have cake too, cause it's my birthday, ya know? Well, the closest thing I have to a birthday since I wasn't really born.” \n\nIt finished in the kitchen, brushed its paws off on each other, straightened the front of its dress and sighed. “I think I'm going to take a break for a few minutes if that's alright.” It skipped over to Tornell, to his dismay it climbed right into his lap and settled in. His claws dug deep into the upholstered armrests. “Are you enjoying this show?” It asked him.\n\nThe doll nestled against him, pushed up its glasses and watched the television in silence for a moment. It blinked and Tornell could hear a soft click of the plastic eyelids. Its body was warm, somehow it generated its own heat. It appeared to have a skeletal structure under the plush. It even seemed like it was breathing. It giggled at the antics of the characters on the television.\n\n“I watched this show for a little bit earlier.” The doll told him. “See, the sponge is kinda dumb, and the starfish is really, really dumb. They have a squid for a neighbor that's kinda dumb too, and he doesn't like them. They all live under the sea and there's a town full of fish. There's a squirrel too for some reason. They drive around in boats, which I don't really understand. Cause they're fish, and they could just swim, ya know? The sponge works in this fast food restaurant and his boss is a crab. They serve this sandwich that I think is crab meat. That doesn't make much sense either and is kinda creepy when you think about it. There's also a – EEK!”\n\nThe doll let out a squeal as Tornell suddenly stood straight up out of the chair, sending it tumbling to the floor. It landed on its rump and its glasses fell off. The feline looked down at it, his heart was racing and his throat felt dry and course. It finally happened. He had taken that last step off the deep end and gone completely insane. That was the only explanation.\n\n“You're not real.” He told the doll, his strained voice came out like a croak. It put the glasses back on it's face and looked at him with a puzzled expression. “You're in my head, and... and you're not real.”\n\nHe stepped over it and went to his desk where his cigarettes were. He fumbled with the pack. Three of the sticks fell onto the floor, but he managed to pull one out for himself. He jammed it into his mouth. \n\n“You're not real.” He muttered again, keeping his back to the doll. Maybe it would go away if he ignored it long enough. He flicked his lighter several times before managing a flame. “You... you can't be real. I'm not gonna fall for this shit, I'm not this fucking crazy.” The cigarette danced up and down as he spoke, making it impossible for him to touch the flame to it. “You can go away now becau – YEOW!”\n\nHe yowled in pain and spun around. The unlit cigarette fell to the floor and the doll spit out some of his fur.\n\n“You bit my tail!” He said in disbelief and clutched his inured appendage. He looked at his tail, it didn't appear that the doll had broken the skin.\n\nThe doll smiled at him sweetly. “Feels real, donnit?” \n\n“What are you?” He asked.\n\n“I'm Sophie.” The doll said. “I already told you that. Don't you remember, silly?”\n\n“No. [i]What [/i]are you?” He emphasized. \n\nIt cocked its head at him. “I'm a plush Perfect Companion model: eight, five, one, gee, seven, seven, zee, ex, four, with realistic breakaway vaginal membrane and self-lubricating system options.” It hiked up the dress and displayed its stomach. It had an outie belly button. It grabbed it, twisted it and it came off like a valve cap on a tire. \n\n“See? I come with a special, water based, non staining lube that you fill up here. It's a rare option and really cool.” Sophie told him with pride. “It mimics saliva and vaginal secretions, so there's no prep work and I'm always ready. It also coats and protects my silicone rubber internal system, giving me a much longer life span then most other companions. I filled it up earlier and there's a spare can next to the washing machine.” \n\n“You're a robot?” Tornell asked.\n\n“What? No!” The doll scoffed as it returned its belly button and straightened its dress. “I just told you, weren't you listening? Why did you ask if you weren't gonna listen? It's kinda a rude question anyway, ya know? I didn't ask what you were. You don't just go around asking that.”\n\nTornell went back to the easy chair and sat down. He slouched down into its lushness and rested a paw on his forehead. Migraines felt far away, but he still didn't feel well. It was all so overwhelming. The doll picked up the fallen cigarettes and his lighter, bending over with its tail in the air again. The long ears slipped off it's shoulders and dangled to the floor. He could see the crease of its vagina through the panties. It stood up, pushed its glasses up, and stuck one of the cigarettes in it's own mouth. It lit the cigarette and exhaled a puff of smoke, wrinkling its nose and smacking its lips in distaste. \n\n“Yuck!” It said, bringing the lit cigarette to Tornell and offering it to him. He hesitated for a moment.\n\n“Are you going to tell me how bad those are for me?” He asked.\n\n“You don't know?” \n\n“Of course I know, [i]everybody [/i]knows.” He told it.\n\n“Then what difference would it make if I told you something you already knew?” Sophie asked.\n\nHe couldn't argue with that and took the smoke. The doll leaned on the armrest and attentively watched him take a drag. Sophie didn't seem to have much respect for personal space. \n\n“Are you gonna tell me your name now,” it asked, “or am I going to have to start calling you Daddy?”\n\nThe cat flicked the cigarette into the ashtray. “Tornell.” He said. “Tornell Morboregio.” He was surprised that he was starting to feel at ease around it. His heart rate was dropping and the tension in his body was starting to loosen. It seemed his mind was more comfortable with the idea that it had a product number. That means its not really much different then a computer or an appliance. It just happens to move and talk. The television talked and that didn't bother him. Although he probably would find it unnerving if it replied to his questions.\n\n“Mor-bo-re-gi-o.” The doll enunciated incorrectly. “That's a mouthful. Do you prefer Tornell or Mr. Morboregio? Or can I call you Nell? Or Tori? Or Mr. M? I [i]could [/i]call you Daddy if you want. Would that make you happy?” \n\n“Tornell is fine.” He told it. \n\n“Okay... Tornell.” It seemed to enjoy the word. Then it stood up properly and stuck its paw out to him. “Hello, Tornell, my name is Sophie.” It said as if first meeting him.\n\nHe gave the doll a queer look. “Hello, Sophie.” He said, but refrained from shaking its paw.\n\nAfter a moment the doll dropped its paw, not terribly perturbed by the rejection. “Now that we met, wanna have sex?” It asked.\n\nTornell was taken aback by the sudden question. The doll rolled it's pink eyes with a bashful smile and said: “Well, that [i]is [/i]what you bought me for, isn't it?”\n\n“N... not right now.” He told it, feeling very flustered. “I wouldn't wanna... um... just... you know... damage you.”\n\nThe doll pouted. “Of course you're going to damage me. You're not gonna make me stay a virgin forever, are you?” \n\n“No, it's just – a virgin?” That sounded insane. \n\n“Well, yeah.” Sophie said. “You didn't want a used companion, did you?” It patted its lower abdomen. “The breakaway vaginal membrane only works once, that's how you know I'm brand new.”\n\n“Will that hurt?” He asked. He immediately felt stupid for asking question like that of something that had a serial number. However the doll looked pleased that he seemed concerned for its welfare. It took his paw in its own and stroked it tenderly.\n\n“I donno.” It said. “Probably. Felines have spines on their penis, and that will probably hurt too, but I can bear it for you.” It saw the damage to his fur and skin that excessive nervous scratching had done to the back of his paw. It kissed it and then nuzzled it against its cheek. \n\nTornell suddenly felt a strange pull in his chest toward the doll. The sensation jolted him and he snagged his paw away, leaving Sophie looking puzzled. He blinked rapidly for a second and shook off the feeling. \n\n“Yeah, um... we'll do that later.” He said, fixing his interest on his burning cigarette. \n\nThe washer clunked then made a loud buzz, indicating that the cycle was finished. Sophie stood by him for a moment looking dejected. It suddenly brightened, “You're right!” It said. “It should be romantic and in the heat of the moment! That way it will be really special.” \n\nSophie skipped off to the washer to change over the loads, humming happily while it did so. Tornell watched the doll. This bright, cheery thing flittering about in his apartment, where things were never bright and cheery. He still wasn't entirely sure that Sophie wasn't a construct of his imagination. His sore tail sure believed she... it was real. What really bothered him was that for a moment, a tiny, fleeting moment, he thought he felt an emotional connection with it. Whether the doll was real or imagined, he felt something other then fear for Sophie. \n\nThat in itself scared the hell out of him. \n\n \n\n", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "
Inside the Box

Part 2


Tornell was awakened when he slipped off the edge of his bed and onto the floor.  He grunted and looked around in confusion.  What the hell was he laying on the edge of his bed for?  He had fallen into a mound of his clothes.  He wasn't sure if they were dirty or clean.  Lost track since he last did the laundry.  He felt weird.  Out of place.  That dream had been intense.  Living dolls and crazy shit like that.  He must have thrashed his way off the bed.  

He got up and dusted himself off unnecessarily.  Then he scratched the back of his paw for a moment.  He wanted a cigarette.  Needed one right now.  

He unlocked the bedroom door and went into the living aria.  It was bright in there.  The cardboard must have fallen off the doorwall again.  He put a paw over his eyes to cut down the light.  The last thing he needed was another migraine.  He felt his way over to the desk and found a cigarette.  Lit it up and sighed out a puff of smoke.  It smelled wrong in there.  It smelled clean.  

It smelled like outside.

He lowered his paw from his face and looked at the doorwall.  He felt a gentle breeze play through his fur.  The cardboard hadn't fallen off.  The damn thing was wide open!  A truck went by on the road below.  It boomed loudly as it went though the pothole that the city never seemed to fix.  A car horn blasted a few blocks away.  He saw someone moving in the window of one of the apartments across the way.  A female Persian cat.  She she happened to look out the window.   Instead of seeing the normal blocked out glass of his apartment, she was greeted with a view of a shirtless, out-of-shape golden cat in ratty pajama bottoms.  

Tornell rushed over and slid the glass door closed.  After flipping the latch he took several deep breaths.  He tried to will himself to stay calm.  It wasn't working.  He could feel his heart-rate rise.  Someone was in his apartment.  He glanced at the living aria.  Someone had been cleaning.  The computer desk had been organized and wiped down, as had the kitchen counter. The pile of dishes in the sink were cleaned and stacked aside to dry.  The stacked washer/dryer was humming away in the closet, it made a bump and switched over to a spin cycle.  The trash had been bagged up and set by the door to be taken out.  There was a box stacked with the trash.  On it there were letters in red.  They said “Live!  Handle Carefully!”

It hadn't been a dream at all.

Tornell's body started to shake.  He remained holding the handle of the door to keep his balance.  He was feeling weak and his body wanted to give in to the panic again.  He could hear someone humming in the bathroom.  A pleasant tune that he couldn't recognize.  The bathroom door opened and the doll walked out.  It was wearing a lace trimmed black and white French maid outfit with a very short skirt and black fishnet stockings.  It was carrying a bucket and wearing rubber gloves.  It slipped off the gloves and hung them on the edge of the bucket to dry.  Then it opened the cupboard under the sink and and put the bucket inside.  It bent over as it did, giving Tornell a view of its fluffy bunny tail and frilly panties.  

Tornell realized that it wasn't all that intimidating.  It stood no taller then three and a half feet.  Maybe the size of a six-year-old cub, the fact that it was without breasts gave it an even more cublike appearance.  It had a bow tied around the base of each of its lop ears, which in themselves were nearly half the doll's height and hung down like pony tails.  It had large bunny feet that made him wonder how the stocking fit over them.  The glasses kept slipping down its nose and it pushed them up with regularity.    

Even realizing that the doll was probably harmless, it agitated him greatly to have it in his apartment.  His home.  His sanctuary.  Outside there was danger and elements beyond his control.  Situations in which he was ill suited to deal with.  There were so many furs in the world, and they did things that were senseless.  Murder, robbery, drinking and driving, suicide bombings, wars... and they're talking, always talking.  On the radio, on their phones, to each other, to themselves.  Talking senseless babble without even the faintest clue of the dangers that surround them.  Even without the aid of the furs things can go horribly awry.  Planes fall from the sky, hurricanes crash onto the shore, tornadoes, disease, fires, earthquakes.  In his apartment, he was in control.  Things didn't happen that he was unaware of and didn't dominate.  There were no surprises, no situations he couldn't handle.  He looked at doll that was moving about the kitchen on it's own accord.  

Until now.

The doll spied him clutching at the doorwall for support.  It smiled.  “Hi, again!”  It said.  “I hope you don't mind that I cleaned up a little.”

Tornell froze.  He found he couldn't say anything in response, but the doll wasn't discouraged by his silence.  It worked as it talked.  Using a chair to get up on the kitchen counter so it could reach the high cupboards, it began to put the clean dishes away.  

“You don't have a lot of cleaning supplies, but I found some baking soda and dish soap and made do.”  It explained.  “You'd be surprised at how many things baking soda can clean.  Like that toilet.  I don't think it's been cleaned in months, but it's sparkling now.  It smells better in here now too.  It smelled like moldy gym socks burning in an ashtray before.  Yuck!”

It hopped down off the counter.  “Oh, that reminds me.  I cleaned your ashtray.”  It picked up the heavy glass ashtray off the edge of the counter.  “You probably want it.”  

It moved toward him, it had a happy bounce in the way it walked, almost like skipping.  Tornell had a strong urge to move away from it, but there was nowhere for him to flee.  “Here you go.”  It said, holding up the ashtray for him to take.  When he made no move to accept it the doll reached for his hand.  He thought it was going to touch him but instead it gently plucked the cigarette from his trembling paw.  He had forgotten about it and the cigarette had burned halfway down, leaving a long, precarious ash.  The doll flicked it into the ashtray.  

“You know, you don't have to stand.”  It told him and took the ashtray and burning cigarette over to the plush easy chair in the corner.  It stuck the cigarette between one of the ridges of the ashtray and set it on a small folding table next to the chair.  “You should sit down.  I'll turn on the TV if you want.”  It picked up the remote and turned the television on.  He owned a small, archaic tube style television.  “Do you like cartoons?  I like cartoons.”  

The doll found a cartoon show about a sponge that lived in a pineapple.  “Here we go.”  It moved back toward Tornell.  This time when it reached for him it grasped his paw in both of its own.  “C'mon!”  It insisted, tugging at his arm.  “Sit down.”

Tornell relinquished his grip on the door handle and allowed himself to be pulled to the chair.  He sat down slowly, keeping his eye on the doll.   He sunk his claws into the armrest, which were tattered and torn from having done it so many times before.  Despite his tense demeanor the doll seemed pleased.

“Do you want anything to drink?”  It asked.  “Are you hungry?  I could make you something to eat.  You don't seem to have a lot of food here, at least not that isn't turning green, but I think I could fix something up if I tried.”

“No.”  Tornell managed to say.  His voice felt wrong.  Strained and off pitch.  He actually was hungry and could have used a drink, but it seemed easier to turn down the offer.

“Well, let me know when you get hungry.”  It said.  “There's still a lot of work to do.  I haven't even gotten to the bedroom yet.  I found some of your clothes out here and put them in the wash already.  I put mine in too.  You know, new clothes are always so stiff and itchy.  I still need to vacuum, but I can't seem to find it.  Is it in the bedroom?”   It went into his bedroom.  “Oh, wow!  Don't you hang anything up?  It needs to be aired out in here too.”  Tornell could hear the window being opened.  “There, that's better.  Is this dirty or clean?  Ew!  That's definitely dirty!  This is dirty too.  Dirty.  Clean.  Dirty.  Do you even own a pair of underwear without holes in it?  You know what?  Everything is wrinkled anyway, I'll just wash it all.  Found the vacuum.  It looks pretty beat up, I hope it works.”  

It emerged from the bathroom dragging his vacuum behind.  It did work, he knew, but only poorly.  Years of abuse had taken its toll.  

“I'll just put this in the corner here and use it later.”  It said as it did so.  “You're watching TV now and I wouldn't want to disturb you.”

Tornell wasn't really watching it at all.  Not because it was an insipid show about a talking sponge, but because he was trying to get his mind around the fact that there was a plush doll doing his housework. He picked up the nearly finished cigarette from the ashtray, took a drag then butted it out.  The doll talked incessantly.  It just did not shut up.  He scratched the back of his paw and wondered if there was a way to turn it off.  It made him very uncomfortable that it was bustling about.  

“I wanted to make you some cookies or something while you were sleeping,” it told him as it continued putting the dishes away, “but I couldn't find all the ingredients.  You don't have any sugar.  Or butter.  Or flour either.  If you want I could make a grocery list and I could cook you up a whole bunch of great stuff.  You like pasta, don't you?  I looked online and found this portobello lasagna recipe that I wanted to try and make.  I hope you don't mind that I used your computer, you left it on so I figured it was okay.  We could have cake too, cause it's my birthday, ya know?  Well, the closest thing I have to a birthday since I wasn't really born.”  

It finished in the kitchen, brushed its paws off on each other, straightened the front of its dress and sighed.  “I think I'm going to take a break for a few minutes if that's alright.”  It skipped over to Tornell, to his dismay it climbed right into his lap and settled in.  His claws dug deep into the upholstered armrests.  “Are you enjoying this show?”  It asked him.

The doll nestled against him, pushed up its glasses and watched the television in silence for a moment.  It blinked and Tornell could hear a soft click of the plastic eyelids.  Its body was warm, somehow it generated its own heat.   It appeared to have a skeletal structure under the plush.  It even seemed like it was breathing.  It giggled at the antics of the characters on the television.

“I watched this show for a little bit earlier.”  The doll told him.  “See, the sponge is kinda dumb, and the starfish is really, really dumb.  They have a squid for a neighbor that's kinda dumb too, and he doesn't like them.  They all live under the sea and there's a town full of fish.  There's a squirrel too for some reason.  They drive around in boats, which I don't really understand. Cause they're fish, and they could just swim, ya know?  The sponge works in this fast food restaurant and his boss is a crab.  They serve this sandwich that I think is crab meat.  That doesn't make much sense either and is kinda creepy when you think about it.  There's also a – EEK!”

The doll let out a squeal as Tornell suddenly stood straight up out of the chair, sending it tumbling to the floor.  It landed on its rump and its glasses fell off.  The feline looked down at it, his heart was racing and his throat felt dry and course.  It finally happened.  He had taken that last step off the deep end and gone completely insane.  That was the only explanation.

“You're not real.”  He told the doll, his strained voice came out like a croak.  It put the glasses back on it's face and looked at him with a puzzled expression.  “You're in my head, and... and you're not real.”

He stepped over it and went to his desk where his cigarettes were.  He fumbled with the pack.  Three of the sticks fell onto the floor, but he managed to pull one out for himself.  He jammed it into his mouth.  

“You're not real.”  He muttered again, keeping his back to the doll.  Maybe it would go away if he ignored it long enough.  He flicked his lighter several times before managing a flame.  “You... you can't be real.  I'm not gonna fall for this shit, I'm not this fucking crazy.”  The cigarette danced up and down as he spoke, making it impossible for him to touch the flame to it.  “You can go away now becau – YEOW!”

He yowled in pain and spun around.  The unlit cigarette fell to the floor and the doll spit out some of his fur.

“You bit my tail!”  He said in disbelief and clutched his inured appendage.  He looked at his tail, it didn't appear that the doll had broken the skin.

The doll smiled at him sweetly.  “Feels real, donnit?”

“What are you?”  He asked.

“I'm Sophie.”  The doll said.  “I already told you that.  Don't you remember, silly?”

“No.  What are you?”  He emphasized.  

It cocked its head at him.  “I'm a plush Perfect Companion model: eight, five, one, gee, seven, seven, zee, ex, four, with realistic breakaway vaginal membrane and self-lubricating system options.”  It hiked up the dress and displayed its stomach.  It had an outie belly button.  It grabbed it, twisted it and it came off like a valve cap on a tire.

“See?  I come with a special, water based, non staining lube that you fill up here.  It's a rare option and really cool.”  Sophie told him with pride.  “It mimics saliva and vaginal secretions, so there's no prep work and I'm always ready.  It also coats and protects my silicone rubber internal system, giving me a much longer life span then most other companions.  I filled it up earlier and there's a spare can next to the washing machine.”  

“You're a robot?”  Tornell asked.

“What?  No!”  The doll scoffed as it returned its belly button and straightened its dress.  “I just told you, weren't you listening?  Why did you ask if you weren't gonna listen?  It's kinda a rude question anyway, ya know?  I didn't ask what you were.  You don't just go around asking that.”

Tornell went back to the easy chair and sat down.  He slouched down into its lushness and rested a paw on his forehead.  Migraines felt far away, but he still didn't feel well.  It was all so overwhelming.  The doll picked up the fallen cigarettes and his lighter, bending over with its tail in the air again.  The long ears slipped off it's shoulders and dangled to the floor.  He could see the crease of its vagina through the panties.  It stood up, pushed its glasses up, and stuck one of the cigarettes in it's own mouth.  It lit the cigarette and exhaled a puff of smoke, wrinkling its nose and smacking its lips in distaste.  

“Yuck!”  It said, bringing the lit cigarette to Tornell and offering it to him.  He hesitated for a moment.

“Are you going to tell me how bad those are for me?”  He asked.

“You don't know?”  

“Of course I know, everybody knows.”  He told it.

“Then what difference would it make if I told you something you already knew?”  Sophie asked.

He couldn't argue with that and took the smoke.  The doll leaned on the armrest and attentively watched him take a drag.  Sophie didn't seem to have much respect for personal space.  

“Are you gonna tell me your name now,”  it asked,  “or am I going to have to start calling you Daddy?”

The cat flicked the cigarette into the ashtray. “Tornell.”  He said.  “Tornell  Morboregio.”  He was surprised that he was starting to feel at ease around it.  His heart rate was dropping and the tension in his body was starting to loosen.  It seemed his mind was more comfortable with the idea that it had a product number.  That means its not really much different then a computer or an appliance.  It just happens to move and talk.  The television talked and that didn't bother him.  Although he probably would find it unnerving if it replied to his questions.

“Mor-bo-re-gi-o.”  The doll enunciated incorrectly. “That's a mouthful.  Do you prefer Tornell or Mr. Morboregio?  Or can I call you Nell?  Or Tori?  Or Mr. M?  I could call you Daddy if you want.  Would that make you happy?”  

“Tornell is fine.”  He told it.  

“Okay... Tornell.”  It seemed to enjoy the word.  Then it stood up properly and stuck its paw out to him.  “Hello, Tornell, my name is Sophie.”  It said as if first meeting him.

He gave the doll a queer look.  “Hello, Sophie.”  He said, but refrained from shaking its paw.

After a moment the doll dropped its paw, not terribly perturbed by the rejection.  “Now that we met, wanna have sex?”  It asked.

Tornell was taken aback by the sudden question.  The doll rolled it's pink eyes with a bashful smile and said: “Well, that is what you bought me for, isn't it?”

“N... not right now.” He told it, feeling very flustered.  “I wouldn't wanna... um... just... you know... damage you.”

The doll pouted.  “Of course you're going to damage me.  You're not gonna make me stay a virgin forever, are you?”  

“No, it's just – a virgin?”  That sounded insane.

“Well, yeah.”  Sophie said.  “You didn't want a used companion, did you?”  It patted its lower abdomen.  “The breakaway vaginal membrane only works once, that's how you know I'm brand new.”

“Will that hurt?”  He asked.  He immediately felt stupid for asking question like that of something that had a serial number.  However the doll looked pleased that he seemed concerned for its welfare.  It took his paw in its own and stroked it tenderly.

“I donno.”  It said.  “Probably.  Felines have spines on their penis, and that will probably hurt too, but I can bear it for you.”  It saw the damage to his fur and skin that excessive nervous scratching had done to the back of his paw.  It kissed it and then nuzzled it against its cheek.  

Tornell suddenly felt a strange pull in his chest toward the doll.  The sensation jolted him and he snagged his paw away, leaving Sophie looking puzzled.  He blinked rapidly for a second and shook off the feeling.  

“Yeah, um... we'll do that later.”  He said, fixing his interest on his burning cigarette.  

The washer clunked then made a loud buzz, indicating that the cycle was finished.  Sophie stood by him for a moment looking dejected.  It suddenly brightened, “You're right!”  It said.  “It should be romantic and in the heat of the moment!  That way it will be really special.”  

Sophie skipped off to the washer to change over the loads, humming happily while it did so.  Tornell watched the doll.  This bright, cheery thing flittering about in his apartment, where things were never bright and cheery.  He still wasn't entirely sure that Sophie wasn't a construct of his imagination.  His sore tail sure believed she... it was real.  What really bothered him was that for a moment, a tiny, fleeting moment, he thought he felt an emotional connection with it.  Whether the doll was real or imagined, he felt something other then fear for Sophie.  

That in itself scared the hell out of him.  

  

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