It has to be done

Sighing on the inside, you push open the door. A tinny little song plays over some speakers to announce your presence. The shop is stuffed wall to wall with all manner of stuff, some of it more on the tame side and some on the racy side. You're checking out a pair of life sized anime figurines when a tall, older black man comes out from behind a curtain at the back of the store.

He looks a little surprised to find a pretty young girl standing here in his store, or perhaps it's so late and close to closing that he's just surprised to see anyone. "Uh, hi there," he says, waving to you and moving toward the counter. "Need anything in particular?"

"Uh, well, actually I came here about something I saw on your website."

"I don't have a website."

"Err - I mean it was posted online. The, ah, Dragonette figure?"

"Oh! You want to pose for it?"

You feel yourself turning an interesting shade of pink. "Yeah."

He steps out from behind the counter and starts rubbing his chin. You're wondering if you're about to get rejected, because that's what it looks like. Then he says "Hmmm. A website. I've been meaning to get someone to set one up for a while now. It'd probably bring in more business, right?"

"Yeah, probably." You look over at a rack of lewd mangas and a second rack with some top shelf leather accouterments for the S&M fans. "I bet customers would like to know what's in stock, what's on sale. Preorders, backorders, all that stuff."

Henry looks a bit taken aback. "Yeah. That's it exactly. Got to stop procrastinating and get back in touch with that web designer." He runs a hand through his hair and says, "Right, Dragonette - so you know what's involved?"

"You take a mold and some headshots then you use them to build a new figurine like this, right?" You gesture toward one of the anime girls standing off to the side.

"Well yes, though that's Veranna from Hell Blades. Not actually one of mine and not, ah, equipped the way mine are. She was created by an acquaintance of mine and he shipped her here once his store in Japan got shut down for political reasons." He laughs. "You wouldn't believe how much fun it is getting one of these across international borders."

The whole situation is so strange, and Herny so different from what you expected that you start laughing with him. He asks for your name and you're so comfortable you just blurt it out - thankfully he doesn't also ask to see your driver's licence or that year Trish took off would have been a problem. As predicted he's willing to do it for the listed three hundred - he doesn't even bother bargaining that hard. It's really more playful, more for show than anything.

He shows you the equipment, explains the molding process, shows you some sketches of the planned 'Dragonette' and shows you 'Katrina', one of his creations, to give you a better idea of what you're signing up for. The price tag is eye-watering, but he claims he's made and sold three of them. The fake doll has amazingly real looking - and feeling - plastic skin and quite the feature list, even a warming pad and a lube reservoir.

You have to admit that as a man you might just have gone for a sex doll like this after a messy breakup a year ago, had you known such a thing could be bought. And had you been living alone, obviously. Explaining that to Mom would have been something else.

Henry closes up the shop and starts preparing some quick setting compound in a little mixing tub. It's at that point you remember what else the woman said and ask for the Eolasine salve to help clean yourself up, saying you heard about it from the same person who showed you that link to the job offer.

He blinks rapidly a few times and says, "Oh yes. Of course." He passes you a small clear bottle with some transparent blue fluid in it. If it didn't smell so sugary you'd suspect he was pranking you with window cleaner. "On the house," he says and then points out where the bathroom is. There aren't any instructions and the label was obviously printed on an inkjet, but you know salves go on the skin so you sit on the toilet and smear the liquid over your labia.

It feels cool at first, then it warms up and gets quite sticky. You wonder at that but apply a little more. When your hand comes away there's streaks of thick white slime mixed with the blue fluid. Amazed, you look down and watch quite a lot of sperm drip and dribble from your cunt. Evidence of just how much Trish must have pumped inside you earlier.

You keep applying more salve until your pussy finally stops leaking cum. By then the little bottle is almost empty. God - so much cum! How did it not run out and soak your panties all on it's own? And where can you get more of this stuff? There are times when you desperately want to fuck Trish but you don't want a river of spooge oozing out of your slit for the rest of the day.

It takes a while for Henry to set everything up. He's very particular and you find it relaxing to watch him work. He's not bad looking either - not that you're in the market, but you expected some oily porn star looking dude to be running an adult store like this. Instead he's clean shaven, has only a small tattoo on his wrist and dresses like a service rep at any store in the mall.

When everything is set Henry asks you to take off your underwear and gets you to sit on a gynocologist's exam chair. You jokingly ask him how many of these he sells and he tells you two in the last three months. The molding process takes a while and it's not the most comfortable thing you've ever done. It's not disgusting or painful, but you can't move around and you feel absolutely weird.

The second mold involves inserting and inflating a little balloon in the end of a condom and then injecting some quick setting plastic into that while it's lodged in your pussy. That one is even weirder than the mold of your outer and inner lips. It makes you think of Trish and to try to drive that thought away you ask about the Eclatane juice.

Henry blinks a few times and fetches another little bottle, much like a mana potion from one of your favorite games. "Enjoy," he says as he hands it over. The thin and slightly off white liquid doesn't look that encouraging but a taste changes your mind. It's like drinking sweetened silk. There's a slight nutty aftertaste, plus a hint of citrus. You're not even sure all the flavors should go together, but they do.

You like it so much you ask if you can have another one.

"Another what?"

You hold up the bottle. "Eclatane juice"

He blinks and goes behind the counter, returning with a second bottle. "Enjoy," he says, handing you another of the tasty beverages.

By the time you finish the second drink the molds are finally done. Henry seems very pleased with them and, after taking a mass of pictures of your face so the artist he's working with has something to work from for the head, he pays you and wishes you a good night, offering that in a few months there might be another project, if you're interested.

You stand outside, waiting at the bus shelter. For whatever reason the woman hasn't phoned you back. More annoying is that ever since you left the shop you've been feeling some strange things in your belly. Maybe you overdid it with that Eclatane juice. Hopefully you can make it home before you need to use a bathroom. It's strange though. It's not so much a pressure like gas, more a kind of deep warmth somewhere beneath your lungs and above your kidneys.

Finally the bus arrives and you manage to grab a seat near the back. Half an hour to get home and, provided the bitch leaves you alone, you just need to stop by a 24 hour store of some kind to pick up some ice cream or something as an excuse for why you went out.

Getting you molded up to be some perv's sexy dragon girl doesn't really seem like the kind of your tormentor would go for, but you hope that she just wanted to prove again what a slut you are. In a way it's good that you're already pregnant. It kind of limits what she can do to you.