Date: Thu, 27 Nov 2014 15:14:13 +0000 (UTC)
From: z119z 2000 <z119z2000@yahoo.com>
Subject: Black Friday Sale

Black Friday Sale

z119z (z119z2000@yahoo.com)

(c) the author 2014

[A word of explanation may be in order for readers outside the United
States. Our national holiday of Thanksgiving falls on the fourth Thursday
of November. Schools, offices, and many businesses are also closed the
following day, which means that a large percentage of the population has
the day free. Traditionally this Friday is the start of the Christmas
shopping season, and stores have special sales on this day. The discounts
on high-priced goods can be quite large, and throngs of shoppers clog
stores with the best sales. It is known as Black Friday because the high
volume of sales on that day generates lots of income, and for many retail
businesses the day means that they will have a profitable year--or "be in
the black"; hence Black Friday. Comments are appreciated. Please send them
to me at z119z2000@yahoo.com. Thanks.]


"Mom, it's Tyler. I'm still in Boston at the office. I just got a text from
the airline. My flight's been cancelled because of the weather. We're
having a freak snowstorm, and Logan Airport's closed until tomorrow morning
at least. O'Hare's still digging out from earlier today, and it's already
filled with people trying to find flights. They rescheduled me for a flight
on Saturday, but I have to go through Dallas, and the flight won't get into
Denver until early evening, and I have to leave the next day, so . . ."

"Oh, Tyler." The disappointment in his mother's voice was clear. "Are you
sure you can't get here? Have you tried the other airlines? And we've
invited Reverend Hansen's niece to meet you, and your sister brought home
one of her roommates just to meet you. The girls will be so disappointed."

"Mom, it's not just Boston. The entire East Coast's shut down. All the
airports are closed. Nobody's flying, and I'm one of thousands who have to
reschedule. I'm still at work, but they're telling us to leave early. I
don't know how long it's going to take me just to get back to my
apartment. The subway's running slow because of the storm, and I've got my
suitcase and . . . ." It took another ten minutes of conversation to get
his mother to accept that he wouldn't be coming home. Tyler could detect
that she suspected him of exaggerating the severity of the storm just to
get out of spending Thanksgiving with his family. She wasn't happy when he
hung up. She still had a lot to say to him--and he knew she would take the
time to say it in her next phone calls.

Even when everything went right and he made all the connections,
Thanksgiving travel was always a bitch. It seemed like he barely made it to
his parents' home before he needed to start back. He had to work a full day
on Wednesday, which meant rushing to the airport to catch a flight on
Wednesday evening. By the time he had changed flights in Chicago and
finally made it to Denver, it would be almost midnight. Then he had to rent
a car and drive for another two hours, the last forty miles over
back-country roads, to reach his family's ranch outside Bryant in the
northeast corner of the state. On Sunday he had to leave early in the
morning to be back in time for work on Monday.

All for what--his mother's dry turkey, a lecture from his father on what he
was or was not doing with his life, awkward conversations with the
unmarried women his relatives invited to meet him.  Not to mention trekking
through crowded airports, playing Russian roulette with the weather and
risking delayed or cancelled flights, sleeping on the lumpy sofa in the
living room (his brother and his wife and their children got the spare
bedrooms), no alcohol, no sex, giving the same answers to the same
questions from all his relatives, screaming kids, his brother's bragging
about his successes. It just wasn't worth it, but every year his parents
insisted that he make the trip so that he could "be with us on the
holiday." They always pretended their sole concern was to keep him from
being alone on the holiday, but neither of them ever hesitated to play the
guilt card. ("Your grandmother was saying just the other day how much she's
looking forward to your visit," etc.)

Tyler felt almost thankful for the snowstorm. He hadn't lied to his
mother. The storm and the resulting snarl in travel would be on the nightly
news in Colorado, and his family would know that he had a good excuse not
to be with them. And, just once in his life, it would be good to hole up in
his apartment and relax for four days without having to think about other
people. The only interruptions would be the obligatory phone call tomorrow
to his family to express his regrets for missing Thanksgiving with them (he
figured it would take about thirty minutes to say sorry to everyone) and,
weather permitting, his daily run. The gym was out--there had been a sign
on the door for a week announcing that it would be closed on Thanksgiving
so that "our employees can spend the day with their loved ones," but he
could make up for the lost time on Friday and the weekend. For once, he
would have a real vacation.

The subway trip back to his apartment took three times as long as
usual. Because of the storm, the trains were even more crowded than they
usually were at rush hour. The first Green C train at Park Street was so
crowded that there wasn't room for him and his suitcase, and he had to wait
another twenty minutes for the next one. When the train finally emerged
above ground at the St. Paul's Street stop in Brookline, it was immediately
surrounded by swirling snow. Passengers getting off had to wade through
several inches of dirty slush. The traffic jam on Beacon Street meant that
the train often had to wait minutes at the stoplights for the cross traffic
to clear. It was nearly 7:30 by the time Tyler made it back to his
apartment. A quick check of his refrigerator and cupboards confirmed what
he already knew. He had no food.

Which is why Tyler found himself standing in line at the deli counter in
the supermarket just after 8:00. The fourteen people in line ahead of him
looked like they were in the same straits as Tyler. Alone on the holiday,
too lazy or too inexperienced to cook for themselves, one after another
they stepped to the counter and asked for "one of those Thanksgiving dinner
specials."

According to the sign on the wall behind the counter, the special included
"two slices of Turkey breast meat with all the trimmings, $6.95" A
drumstick could be substituted for the white meat for two dollars
more. Cardboard cutouts of turkeys and pilgrims carrying blunderbusses and
axes surrounded the sign. Presumably the blunderbusses had been used to
kill the turkeys for the dinners, and the axes to chop off their
heads. Displayed on the counter was an open Styrofoam box divided into
compartments. The largest compartment held the turkey slices. Arranged
around it in the smaller sections were stuffing, mashed potatoes, and green
beans. Gravy was slathered over the meat, stuffing, and potatoes. The
person who had prepared the sample must have been in a hurry; there were
dribbles of gravy over the green beans as well. Next to the box were a
small container with cranberry sauce and a triangular box with a piece of
pumpkin pie.

A table behind the counter was stacked with prepackaged brown paper sacks,
with the tops folded over and stapled shut. Each had a label with
"Thanksgiving Deli Special" and a barcode so that it could be scanned
quickly at the checkout. The line moved quickly. The customer in front
barely uttered "Thanksgiving special" before the clerk had swiveled around,
picked up one of the sacks, and then swiveled back and handed it over. The
clerk's bored wish of "Happy Thanksgiving" was perfunctory. She sounded as
if she had already said it a thousand times that day.

Tyler counted the number of people ahead of him in the line and the number
of sacks left on the table. He came up three short. Unless someone in the
back was preparing more "Thanksgiving Deli Specials," he wasn't going to
have the traditional meal.

"Sorry, folks. That's it. We're sold out." The clerk sounded thrilled to
make that announcement. Her day was over. She turned away, snapped off the
lights in the deli section, peeled off the plastic gloves she was wearing,
and threw them in the trash bin before scurrying off. She ignored the
attempts of the woman standing at the head of the line to order something
else from the deli cases.

Tyler got one of the last frozen TV dinners left in the freezer
section. The store was out of turkey. He would have meatloaf for
Thanksgiving. Luckily the liquor store was better stocked. He was able to
buy three twelve-packs of beer. Not his usual brand, but, hey, beer was
beer.

*****

Thanksgiving was rather of a blur. When Tyler awoke on Friday morning, he
found himself lying half-undressed on his bed. His throat was so dry it
felt cracked, and his head throbbed, He remembered having his first beer at
noon. He thought he had had a few more after that. At some point he had
been watching a football game, but he couldn't recall what teams had been
playing. One side had been wearing red--maybe. That might have been a game
on some other day. He wasn't sure if he had eaten anything. It was all sort
of hazy.

He dragged himself into the bathroom and under the shower. It didn't
help. He needed a cup of coffee. Several cups. He rummaged through the
stock of cans and packages in the kitchen cabinets and found an old jar of
instant. Only a powdering of dust remained in the jar. He would have to go
out. At least he knew now that he had eaten something. The aluminum tray
from the TV dinner lay crumpled on the kitchen counter. All that remained
were some smears of gravy and a few lima beans. Also strewn across the
counter were the reasons for his dry mouth and his headache--eleven
partially crushed beer cans.

He needed coffee. It was just past 6:30. Surely the Starbucks at Cleveland
Circle would be open by now, even if was the day after Thanksgiving. If
not, there was that 24-hour convenience store at the end of the block. It
never closed, and it always had coffee. Tyler cocked an eye out the
window. It was just getting light. It looked cold, but at least it had
stopped snowing. Cold might even be good. The shock would help wake him
up. That and the coffee. And after coffee, if the sidewalks had been
shoveled, he would go for a run and then to the gym. That would cook out
all the alcohol out of his system and clear his head. He pulled on a
sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants. As he was going out the door, he
noticed his sunglasses on the table by the door. He grabbed them. His eyes
needed protection against sunlight reflecting off the snow.

It was colder out than he had anticipated. He almost turned around to go
back and get a pair of gloves, but then he decided that he would be all
right. It wasn't that far, and he could cut through the alley behind the
drugstore and save a couple of minutes.

He had never been down the alley before. During the day it was always
packed with trucks making deliveries to the stores and restaurants that
backed onto it. Early on the morning following Thanksgiving, it was
deserted. Halfway down a light attached to the wall of one of the buildings
illuminated a sunken areaway, but that was the only sign the alley was ever
used.

Six or seven steps led down into the areaway. Tyler glanced into it, just
to make sure no one was lurking there. To his surprise, there was a shop
window filled with small doll-like figures and sign reading "Black Friday
Sale." There was an "Open" sign on the door, and the shop was lit up. He
could see the shadow of someone moving around inside. The incongruity made
Tyler laugh. A Black Friday sale in a small shop down an alley. Who would
ever see it and visit the shop? He had lived in this neighborhood for three
years, he had walked past the alley several hundred times, and yet he had
never suspected that there might be a shop back here. It must be the
owner's idea of a joke.

He leaned over the railing at the top of the areaway and peered into the
shop. Now that he examined the figures more closely, he could see that they
were dressed in a variety of action hero costumes. The bodies of the
figures were very lifelike. Tyler didn't recognize any of the characters,
but then he didn't pay much attention to that sort of thing. His nephews
were fanatics, however. Something like this would make ideal Christmas
gifts for them. The clerk would undoubtedly be able to tell him what
characters were popular now and advise him what to buy.

Tyler hesitated. It was early, but the sign did say the shop was
open. Maybe he should come back later. But it would be great to get that
bit of Christmas shopping out of the way. And he was sure to be the only
customer in the store. It wouldn't take long to have a look. He walked down
the steps and tried the door. A bell jingled overhead when he opened it. He
stuck his head in and said, "Excuse me. I saw the sign. Are you open?"

Just as he was speaking, a man's voice called out from the back, "Come on
in. I'll be with you in a second. I'm just getting a cup of coffee. Can I
offer you one?"

That was all that Tyler needed to hear. Coffee and maybe a solution to the
annual problem of finding appropriate gifts for two nephews he barely
knew. He stepped all the way in and closed the door behind himself. "I'd
love one. Thanks."

"Milk? Sugar? Have a look around. Coffee's almost ready. I'll be with you
in a minute."

"Thanks. Black for me. You're a real lifesaver. You've no idea how much I
need a cup of coffee."

The shelves were filled with hundreds of figures. Each was a foot or so
high. The molding of the faces and bodies was incredibly detailed. Tyler
picked one up. It was heavier than he expected--and warmer. The body had
the pliant hardness of muscled flesh. Even the hair looked real. It fell
realistically away from the scalp when he tilted the figure to the
side. The costume on the figure was made of cloth. It wasn't painted onto
the plastic or whatever material had been used to make the figure. It
hugged the body like Spandex. The figure appeared to be naked beneath the
costume. The muscles were clearly outlined by the tight costume. Tyler took
a closer look. If he was any judge, the figure was "going commando." Tiny
cock and balls were visible beneath the Spandex. Well, not so tiny--Tyler
corrected himself--in proportion to the rest of the body. He turned the
figure over and pushed the cape to the side. The tights were rightly
named. They clung to the figure's ass, and the seam disappeared into the
crack.

Maybe, Tyler thought, these won't be so appropriate for his nephews. He
could imagine what his sister-in-law would say. She already made certain
that the nephews were never left alone in a room with their gay
uncle. She'd probably think Tyler was trying to convert them. He did have
to admit, however, that the doll he was holding was a powerful argument for
the beauty of the male body.

"Here you are." A bulky man in his forties--Tyler assumed he was the owner
of the store--maneuvered his way through the curtained door at the back of
the room holding two mugs of coffee. "No milk, no sugar." He held out the
cup in his right hand. The man looked like the type of nerd who would run a
store devoted to selling action figures. The stereotypical geek getting on
in years but still devoted to fantasies of muscular men with superpowers
fighting other muscular men with superpowers.

"Thanks. I really need this." Tyler placed the figure back on the shelf. "I
can't it over how lifelike these are. They must be molded from life. Where
are they made?"

"Here. I make all of them myself. I have several basic models. They can be
dressed in a variety of ways--whatever you want really. I can't reproduce
the costumes of action heroes on TV and movies. I'm not licensed to do
that, but most people want something like the clothes on Sam--the figure
you were looking at. You know, the usual form-fitting body suit and a
cape."

The man made Tyler feel uncomfortable. After he had handed Tyler the cup of
coffee, he had stepped back, and, as he spoke, he examined Tyler slowly
from head to foot. Tyler felt like he was being scrutinized under a
magnifying glass. But it wasn't the usual gay cruising look. It felt more
like . . . what? Some memory. If he hadn't drunk so much yesterday, his
mind wouldn't be so fuzzy. He took a gulp of coffee. Then it came to
him. It was the same calculating look Mr. Caldwater, who ran the men's
clothing shop in Bryant, gave his customers. Mr. Caldwater could look at
you and know your size. He never had to take your measure. This man seemed
to have the same ability. It was vaguely embarrassing to be stared at like
that. He had to say something to direct the man's attention away.

"They're incredible. What are they made out of? Some sort of plastic?"

"Yeah, something like that." The man smiled to himself. "It's a special
formula I've devised. It's a trade secret. Sorry. Don't mean to sound
mysterious, but I don't want to give away my methods. That wouldn't be good
business. I have lots of competitors who would pay well to know my
secrets. You've no idea what some of them have done in an attempt to learn
how I make my toys. They're really quite unique. Did you notice how
flexible the figures are?"

The man sat his mug down on the counter and picked up one of the
figures. "Here. Try this one. You'll see. Go ahead. Move the arms and legs
and twist the torso. Don't worry. You won't break it."

Tyler gingerly moved one of the figure's arms. He almost dropped it in
surprise. "Jeez, that's amazing." He maneuvered the arm back to its
original position. "The bicep flexes just like on a real arm."

"Oh, yeah, All the muscles move realistically." A note of pride crept into
the man's voice.

"These are amazing. How long have you been here? I didn't know your shop
existed."

"I'm open only by special appointment. Today's an exception. Most of my
business is done over the Internet. I have customers all over the world. I
don't really have any walk-in trade to speak of. Today's a special sale for
some of my local customers. I texted them inviting them to preview my new
collection of models starting at 2:00. It will be crowded here this
afternoon. I just came in early to get everything ready."

Tyler nodded and looked around. "Uh, one thing. I was thinking of giving
these as Christmas presents to my nephews. They watch all the cartoons and
action movies, but they're only six and eight. These figures may be too
adult for them. Do you have any that are a little less lifelike? I mean not
so , , , maybe not so anatomically correct?"

"No." The man shook his head. "Sorry. These aren't really toys for
children. I could maybe put something like a jockstrap with a cup over the
groin to hide the genitals, but if your nephews undressed the figures, they
would find a working set of cock and balls?"

"Working?" Tyler laughed. "That makes it sound almost like they could have
an erection."

The man nodded yes. "Yep. They can. As you noted, they are very true to
life. Of course, on small figures like these, the erections aren't
impressive, but many of my customers prefer that. My clients who think
bigger is better find the larger models more than satisfactory in that
department."

Tyler looked around at the hundreds of figures on the shelves. Some of them
did have erections. Odd that he hadn't noticed that before. He could have
sworn that all those cocks had been limp when he first walked in. Surely,
he would have noticed the swollen cocks tenting those elastic tights. He
leaned in to take a closer look at the figure directly before him on the
display shelf--Was that a tiny wet spot on the front of his briefs? "Larger
models?"

"Yes, all the sample display figures are one-sixth size. In the back, I
have half- and full-size figures. Within limits, I can make each model any
size the customer wants. I have one customer who has a collection of
miniatures, none more than four inches tall. The largest figure I've made
was seven feet tall. That's the tallest I can make with the 3D printers I
have now. Of course, it was a special order and very expensive. More
coffee?"

Tyler looked down at his cup in surprise. He hadn't realized that he had
drunk the entire cup."Oh, thanks. I would like another cup. It's great
coffee by the way."

"It's my special blend. I prepare it myself. Why don't you step into the
back? I keep the larger models back there. I'll get you another cup while
you look at them." The man held the curtain back so that Tyler could step
through. "Go ahead. They're in the room at the end on the right. I'll just
be a second."

The figures in the room on the right were housed in brightly lit, glass
display cases. As the man had promised, each was full-size. Unlike the
figures in the front room, all were nude. The right arm of the figure
nearest the door was stretched out as if to shake Tyler's hand. He reminded
Tyler of a gay porn star whose photos had fueled many of his teenage
fantasies. Seeing the figure made him wonder what had happened to the
guy. What was his name? God, he used to know that. He couldn't remember
anything this morning. The owner had better hurry with that cup of
coffee. He was still half asleep.

Mark something, wasn't that it? Every time the guy appeared in a new video,
dozens of pictures and excerpts from the videos had immediately been
uploaded to the Net. For a couple of years, not a week had gone by without
new pictures of him appearing. And then suddenly, he had just disappeared.
But his pictures were still around. Tyler saw one occasionally.

There were wisps of hair across the figure's knuckles, and his forearms
were covered with a thick brown pelt. Tyler peered through the glass. Each
hair seemed to be individually molded and attached. The upper arms were
hairless; revealing the veins twisting over the surface of the biceps. In
every detail, the figure resembled a living man frozen into place. The face
had slight wrinkles around the eyes and the mouth, and there were even a
few hairs growing out of the nostrils. The pecs were sharply defined and
hung over six-pack abs. The nipples were stiff. A faint treasure trail led
downward between the abs. Tyler couldn't prevent his eyes from staring at
the man's genitals. The cock was uncut, and the foreskin pulled back to
expose the head. The right ball hung down a good inch lower than the left
one. The figure languidly rotated its hips forward slightly so that the
cock and balls moved back and forth.

Tyler jumped back. He had to have imagined that. Then the cock moved
again. It looked like it was beginning to swell and grow larger. No. Tyler
shook his head in disbelief. It couldn't be. That was crazy. All that
alcohol he had drunk yesterday was giving him hallucinations. He had to get
control of himself. He'd have a hard-on before long if he didn't rein in
his imagination.

"Would you like a closer look at Mike? He's one of my most popular models."
The man handed Tyler his cup of coffee. "Here, drink this while I get him
ready."

Tyler gulped down the coffee while the man unlocked the door of the display
case and slid the figure out. "Like all of the figures, the life-size
models are fully functional. Let me demonstrate." The man grasped "Mike's"
cock and stroked it slowly. "Watch closely."

The man's remark was unnecessary. Tyler couldn't take his eyes off Mike's
cock as it quickly grew erect. "Would you like to touch it?" The man
stepped to one side and motioned Tyler forward.

The cock was rigid and hot. It throbbed in Tyler's hands. When Tyler
squeezed it, Mike arched his back and thrust his hips forward. Tyler
suddenly found himself embraced. Mike smiled and then leaned forward to
kiss Tyler. His tongue parted Tyler's lips and insinuated itself into
Tyler's mouth. One part of Tyler's mind concluded that Mike had to be a
real person. Not even the best robot could feel this lifelike. Mike was so
hard, and the muscles were so alive beneath his hands as he ran them over
Mike's back and down onto his buttocks. The other part of Tyler's mind
decided that it didn't matter what Mike really was. Human or robot, Mike
knew what he was doing. He was pushing all of Tyler's buttons.

Mike placed his hands on Tyler's shoulders, guiding him down to his
knees. Tyler couldn't help himself. He leaned forward and ran his tongue
over Mike's cock. It even smelled like a real cock. He took it into his
mouth and began sucking on it. Tyler could sense Mike becoming more and
more excited. He took the cock all the way into his mouth, sucking on it
harder and harder. Tyler lost track of time. It might have been minutes, it
might have been hours. He couldn't think of anything but worshipping Mike's
cock.

Off to one side, the shopowner was opening another of the display
cases. Out of the corner of his eye, Tyler glimpsed the man walking another
figure past him and then around behind him. He felt strong hands grasp him
by the hips and pull his lower body up to a standing position. Tyler found
himself bent forward at the waist with Mike's cock in his mouth. Then his
sweatpants and briefs were pushed down past his knees. Tyler tried to pull
away from Mike's cock and look around to see what was going on. But he
wasn't given time to protest. Hot hands grasped his butt cheeks and spread
them apart. A wet tongue began rimming him. He moaned. Mike's cock was
repeatedly pushed deep into his throat as the person behind him plunged his
tongue again and again into Tyler's ass. Jesus, how long was the guy's
tongue? Nobody had ever rimmed like this before. It felt like there was a
good inch of tongue up his ass.

Tyler didn't understand what was happening. His mind refused to process
it. He was dreaming. That was the only explanation he could think of. But
it didn't matter. If this was a dream, he could only hope for more of the
same. All he had wanted was to have a cup of coffee and maybe buy some
Christmas presents, and now he was the filling in a meat sandwich.

The man behind him withdrew his tongue from Tyler's ass and stood up. Tyler
barely had time to register what was happening before the man thrust his
cock into Tyler. Mike and the other man began pumping in unison. Their
cocks grew even bigger. The man fucking him thrust into him so hard that
Tyler had to grab Mike by the ass to keep himself from falling over. The
last thing he wanted to do was to pull off the other man's cock. It felt so
good. And he didn't want to stop sucking Mike. God, it was a great cock. It
fit his throat perfectly. The muscles in Mike's ass contracted and relaxed
as Mike rammed his cock even deeper into Tyler. Tyler's mind shut down in
the fury of the men's assault on his body.

Mike cried out and wrapped his hands around Tyler's head, pressing Tyler's
face into his crotch. Tyler couldn't breathe, but he didn't care. The hair
surrounding Mike's cock was as soft and silky as his muscles were
hard. Mike's hair quickly grew wet with the juices foaming out of Tyler's
mouth.

The man behind him wrapped his arms around Tyler's waist and lifted him up
so that he could shove his cock even deeper into Tyler. The move forced
Tyler's mouth down onto Mike's cock. The two men began fucking him even
faster.

Their breathing grew ragged. Tyler couldn't distinguish their grunts and
cries from his own. Somewhere someone said, "On the count of ten. One
. . . two . . . three . . . ." As the numbers mounted, the two men's cocks
grew even larger in Tyler's throat and ass. Tyler couldn't think. All he
could do was experience the force of their cocks tearing into him.

On the count of ten, both men came. Mike's cum shot down Tyler's
throat. His mouth suddenly filled with cum. He swallowed it greedily as he
kept sucking on Mike's cock. He felt the heat of the other man's cum in his
ass.

Gradually the fucking subsided into a few spasmodic jabs. Mike gave a final
thrust and then pulled out. He wiped his cock across Tyler's mouth, leaving
a trail of cum on Tyler's lips. Tyler slumped to the floor when the man
behind him released his body.

"Here. Let me clean you up." The shopowner dabbed at Tyler's face with a
washcloth. "As you can see, Mike and Sean are entirely realistic. They can
do anything a human male can do. There, at least your face is clean. I
can't do much about your clothes. I sponged off as much as I could, but
they need to be washed. You were drooling and leaking quite a bit."

Tyler was sitting in a chair. He couldn't remember how he had gotten
there. The last thing he recalled was feeling the heat of Mike's cum on his
lips.

The man saw Tyler looking around in confusion. "This is my workroom. It's
where I make the figures. I will demonstrate the process. Just slip out of
your clothes."

Tyler's hands grabbed the bottom of his sweatshirt and began pulling it up
and off his body. He didn't try to stop them. The thought that his lack of
resistance was strange flitted through his mind, but it seemed
unimportant. He bent over and unlaced his running shoes and then peeled off
his sweatpants.

"Just lie down on this table. Face up."

Tyler complied. His mind was hazy. He knew that he was behaving oddly, but
he also felt a warm glow of pleasure in obeying the man. His headache had
disappeared, and his mouth was no longer dry. Maybe later he could play
with Mike and Sean again--or some of the other guys. There were dozens of
glass cases in the room he had been in, and each of them held a man. Some
of them had watched as Sean and Mike had fucked him. Could that be right?
He thought he remembered seeing one of the figures stroking himself. His
mind felt so blurred. He wasn't thinking straight. Maybe something had been
wrong with that TV dinner. He felt so hot. Did food poisoning give one
hallucinations and a fever? He felt so heavy and so tired. He would just
rest for a while. Then he would get up.

The man put on rubber gloves and then picked up a plastic sack with a tube
leading from the bottom, like an IV drip bag. It held a clear liquid. "The
drug in the coffee is one part of the process. It's had plenty of time to
circulate throughout your body and mind by now. It helps you relax and
makes you receptive to the other drugs. Mike and Sean artificially
inseminated you with another drug. This--" The man held up the plastic
sack. "This contains a different chemical. It's administered through an
IV. This is just the preliminary treatment. Once all these drugs have had
time to diffuse through your system, you'll get a different batch of
chemicals intravenously. And then I'll immerse you in a bath of chemicals
to coat every part of your body and complete the process. Don't worry. You
won't feel anything in another minute or so. It doesn't take very long. The
chemicals will preserve your body in its present state so that it never
decays. They will also work on your mind and make you docile and malleable
and anxious to please. Your reactions to your partners will be so intuitive
you'll be a perfect lover for everyone who buys a copy of you. Just as Mike
and Sean did for you a few minutes ago, you'll adjust automatically to your
partner's needs. When the chemicals have finished working, I'll scan your
body so that I can produce other copies of you in different sizes on the 3D
printers. I think you'll become one of my most popular models. It really
was a stroke of luck that you came into the shop so early today. You'll be
ready in time for my sale this afternoon. I won't be able to prepare a
special costume for you, but I don't think my clients will complain. Always
time for that later."

The man swabbed the inner surface of Tyler's elbow with alcohol and then
inserted an IV shunt into the vein. He taped the needle in place and then
hung the plastic bag of liquid on a stand before attaching the tubing to
the shunt. He patted Tyler's chest reassuringly. Tyler smiled back at him
mindlessly.

*****

"Gentlemen, I'm pleased to introduce the latest addition to my 2014 Holiday
Collection. It's called Tyler." The man pulled aside the curtain concealing
the display case. "Tyler is the newest model in our All-American Boy line.
Just to give you a bit of background, he grew up on a ranch. As you can
see, he has the type of rangy body developed by physical labor and high
school sports. He also exercised regularly at a gym. He was 28 years old
when I harvested him. Of course, like all our models, Tyler is fully
functional. He is currently available in any of our standard sizes and can
be costumed as you wish. Special orders for other sizes are also
possible--within the usual limits, of course. The original model has
already been sold, but his specs are stored and he can be reproduced on our
printers. And today, he can be yours at the special Black Friday sale
price."