Plastic

I'm not the type of guy you'd usually find in a strip club. Hell, I don't even drink. Can't stand the taste of alcohol. But my boss is a real "Good Ol' Boy" type of guy, and when he heard that I had never been, he insisted I come along with him and some of the other guys from work as the designated driver.

The strip club in question was set up inside of a small remodeled hotel. Most of the ground floor had been gutted to make room for the tables, bar, and stage. The most interesting thing about the place was the spiral staircase that wound up around to the second floor and into a sort of balcony around the tables and stage area. Instead of a "backstage" the girls seemed to have their dressing rooms or whatever upstairs in the old guest rooms, because they arrived via the stairs as they were announced by the DJ.

Greg, my boss, handed me a stack of bills as the first girl took the stage. "Here, for driving," he said with a smirk, "but yer gonna wish you were a bit sloshed- the send out the uglier girls later on once everybody's too drunk to care." I took his advice with a grain of salt, considering there was already a girl dancing on the table in front of me. I spent the night quietly enjoying the show, throwing out a bill every now and then out of appreciation. I've always been shy around pretty girls. But as the night went on I began to loosen up and enjoy myself more and more.

The DJ announced the next girl as Candy as she took the stage, covered up by a pink leopard print trenchcoat. She threw it off as the music started, revealing a figure like a living Barbie doll- an almost cartoonish hourglass, with gravity-defying breasts that simply couldn't be real. They were barely contained within her neon pink bikini, which matched the rest of her accessories- bright pink lipstick, nail polish, and platform heels. Even her platinum blond hair was streaked with hot pink. The only thing on her that wasn't pink was her bellybutton ring. It was transparent and cylindrical, but in the dingy lighting I couldn't figure out what it was supposed to be. It was shaped kind of like a thumbtack.

Everything about her embodied the idea of some sort of idealized plastic doll, even her skin- slick and shiny, looking completely hairless and even pore-less in the dim strip-club stagelights.

I seemed to be the only one paying attention as she started her routine, the rest of the group laughing and joking among themselves. Which was really too bad, because Candy's routine was really impressive. Not just sexy, which it was, but physically impressive. She could lift her whole body off the ground by grabbing the pole with one hand, then grab it with the other and hold herself horizontally like a human flag. She could suspend herself from the pole between her legs and lazily spiral down to the floor. She bent her spine all the way backwards so she could lie on her chest and plant her feet on the stage in front of her.

She ended her performance by swirling back to her feet with a flourishing "make it rain" gesture, apparently only just now noticing nobody had tipped her. I hurriedly flung the remains of my cash up on stage, but the bills remained stuck together in a single wad. A hot pink heel snapped down on the bills and slid them across the stage, where Candy made a show of bending over very slowly to pick them up. She waggled her finger in a "follow me" gesture as she flipped off the stage. I was mesmerized by the sight of her leaving until I heard Greg's snorting laughter. "You best follow her boy, you just paid for a private dance!"

I hurried to catch up with her as she reached the bottom of the stairs. I found myself engrossed in the view of her ass as we headed to wherever it was we were going. I took note of her tattoo- a small barcode in the typical "tramp stamp" location. At least she's self aware about the whole "slutty Barbie" thing she's got going on, I thought to myself with a chuckle. We eventually reached a door, and I realized with some alarm I hadn't really paid attention to how we got there. Asking for directions back to the stage would probably be awkward.

I followed her in and shut the door behind me, only to realize it was dark as shit in there. I groped around blindly for a light switch. I found one, and the light came on with a click. The stripper spun around, startled, and I started to apologize as I reached to turn the light back off, but stopped.

She looked different in the light.

Her skin wasn't just perfectly smooth and hairless, it was slick and shiny. Like beige latex rubber. Her platform pumps were fused seamlessly to her feet. Her "fingernails" were just pink dots painted on her fingertips. Her makeup looked like it had been literally painted on. So did her eyes- they were just flat color on her face, but they moved like they were alive. As my eyes searched frantically up and down her body, I finally recognized what the weird "piercing" on her bellybutton really was. It was one of those plastic air intake things you see on inflatable stuff, like beach balls and pool toys.

Her movements didn't look right anymore, either. On stage she had been enchanting, swaying with a seductive jiggle and bounce. But now, here in the harsh light, her movements seemed artificial and wrong, like a marionette being jerked about in low gravity.

I started clumsily backpedaling out of the room, stammering and stuttering at this bizarre plastic thing before me. It started strutting towards me confidently, but its weird cartoon eyes were wild and panicked looking. It opened its mouth, revealing that it didn't have human teeth or gums behind its rubbery pink lips. It was a puckered "O" ring set in more pink latex. It contracted with a squelching sound, and a gob of cloudy fluid dribbled down its chin and onto its absurd artificial breasts.

As I finally began to turn to run it lunged at me. I managed to slam the door behind me, but I heard it pounding against the inside. I held the doorknob to keep it from opening the door as my mind raced for a logical course of action. But then I saw flat latex fingers tipped with pink scrabbling through the crack under the door. Then long flattened arms snaking out after them. I stopped and starred too long, long enough to see a flattened, hollowed out stripper's face pushing itself up through between the door and the floor. I fucking ran.

But I had nowhere to go. That thing had led me deeper into what used to be the halls of the old hotel, there were doors everywhere. I'd never find my way out before it caught up with me. But I could try to hide! I pulled open the nearest door and rushed inside. Trying to hide my heavy breathing, I peered out the peephole. I could see it, half walking, half slithering down the hallway. It was still re-inflating itself, taking big gulps of air with its gross fuck-hole mouth. It was almost all the way down the hall and I was starting to try and think of another way out when something rattled loudly behind me. I let out a yelp and saw the lovedoll's torso spin all the way around with its lower body still facing forward, twisting at the waist. I spun to look at the room I'd barricaded myself in without examining first. It looked like a fairly ordinary hotel room except for the big padlocked chest against the far wall. It rattled again as I watched, as if there was something moving inside.

My panicked brain decided to ignore that for now and searched the room for something to defend myself with. I grabbed a lamp of the night stand. I held it above my head and waited besides the door. The plastic thing threw open the door and I brought the lamp down as hard as I could, caving the side of its head in. It stumbled but didn't fall. It slowly turned its partially imploded face to look at me, then took a gulp of air that popped its head back into shape with a *tunk* like a soda bottle.

Its limbs stretched and warped as I grappled with it. It wasn't inhumanly strong, but its limbs and fingers wrapped and squeezed around my own. It forced me to the ground, shattering the bulb of the lamp still in my hands. Its arms coiled down my body and began unbuckling my pants. It seemed to be trying to force its head towards my crotch. I squirmed helplessly, trying to maneuver the lamp. I jabbed the broken glass into its thigh, which ripped open with a hiss of warm, moist air.

The thing squealed and loosened its grip. It tried to stand, but stumbled to the ground. It gulped at the air but couldn't reinflate its pierced leg. As I got to my feet and caught my breath it crawled, then slithered to the chest across the room. Propping itself up on the chest, it grabbed its own limp limb and began tying it in a knot. Like a sort of make-shift tourniquet, to keep it from losing any more air. The rest of its body swelled until it was once again shaped like a stripper, albeit with only one leg.

It stared at me, flat eyes full of... fear? The chest rattled again, the entire thing shaking. The wounded blow-up doll pushed its finger into the keyhole and twisted. Then, suddenly, it pushed against the chest, forcing its body between it and the wall, pulling open the lid and spilling its contents onto the floor.

I didn't realize what they were at first. Dozens of squirming, wormlike shapes in all sorts of colors. They ranged wildly in size and shape, the smaller ones about four inches long to the biggest at about two feet. Most were squirming around like worms, but others had more creative means of locomotion. Some long ones scrunched around like inchworms, and the smallest seemed to vibrate their way across the floor. Some rolled like logs, some tumbled end-over-end, and a few with multiple prongs walked as if they were legs.

They were dildos. Living, fucking moving dildos.

They crept towards me, forming ranks like a legion of tiny soldiers. I was still catching my breath, but I leveled my makeshift weapon. Like hell was I going to be killed by a swarm of Naughty Dragon rejects. But they stopped short of me, shifting to point towards me like so many colorful rubber spears. We were at a standstill.

I lowered my lamp. Obviously I'd damaged the thing too badly for it to fight back, and the pricks on the floor seemed more like they were defending their friend than trying to attack me. "Hey," I said, "can you talk?" The thing called Candy peeked out from behind the box and shook its head "no". "But you can understand me?" She shook her head "yes", but rolled her "eyes" as if to say "duh."

"What do you want from me? Why did you bring me here?" She opened her mouth and made that awful sucking noise again. "Ew, yeah, I got that, but why?" She made a ring with her finger and thumb then shook it back and forth, the universal "jack-off" gesture. Then she rubbed her stomach. "You... eat sex? Or cum, or whatever? Like a succubus or something?" She nodded. "Do you kill people?"

She shook her head "no". Then she pointed at me, then gestured towards her ruined leg. "Yeah sorry about that. Kinda wrecks you dancing career huh. Will it, like, heal? Eventually?" She made the sucking noise again, staring hungrily at my crotch. "Hell no. That ship has sailed, you killed the mood. I probably won't have a boner for weeks." I thought for a moment. "Still, I do feel bad. If you show me the way out I think I have an idea that'll help us both out." Candy made a slightly different sort of noise, and the dildos started squirming and rolling and tumbling back into their box.

About five minutes later, a very drunk Greg came stumbling down the hallway. I'd sent him a text asking him to join me upstairs for some fun. He'd eagerly accepted, but seemed too drunk and excited to notice the deflated blow-up doll sprawled across the floor. Not that it was particularly out of place, considering it was a strip club. He didn't notice when it slithered up his legs, or when it unzipped his fly. But he did notice what happened next. But fortunately Greg was the sort of guy who didn't ask questions when he looked down and saw a pretty blond head bobbing up and down between his legs.

I didn't watch. Seeing my boss get fucked was not on my list of shit I wanted to see even if it wasn't with some sort of living sex toy. I stepped out into the hall as Candy got to her feet, with Greg passed out on the ground. She wiped her chin then stuffed her entire hand in her mouth to clean it. The look on her face said she enjoyed grossing me out. "Real nice. How's your leg?" She stretched it out to show the tear, which now looked as if it had been repaired with something like a scab but closer to fabric glue. "Great. Help me get him downstairs so we can leave."

But then I heard something. It sounded like something huge stomping towards us. At the far end of the hall, a lumbering figure appeared. It was roughly humanoid in form, but lopsided and misshapen, with one arm much longer and thicker than the other. It looked like it was made entirely out of bondage gear. It was almost completely covered in black leather belts and straps and chains. Nothing but empty space was visible between the gaps, as if it was being worn by some invisible being. Its larger arm ended in what looked like a cluster of twitching fingerless leather gloves. It's "face" was one of those leather gimp masks. It was wearing a red rubber ball gag across its face like an eyepatch, but it looked like some sort of saliva-like fluid was drooling out of its "eye socket".

Candy's head spun towards me, twisting completely around so her body was still facing the leather thing approaching us. She mouthed "run". I pulled Greg, who was fortunately starting to come to, onto my shoulder and we started shuffling as quickly as I could manage in the direction she showed me the exit was in. I looked back just before we got out of the hall.

The thing was holding her in the air with its massive arm, the multiple gloves pulling and twisting her body out of shape. She hissed and squirmed but couldn't get free. I considered going back to help, but suddenly the bondage-hulk was being swarmed by a wave of brightly-colored phalluses. The dildos shoved themselves into the gaps in its coverings, in and out of the holes in its mask. It loosened its grip and candy slithered down its arm and away from it.

Greg was passed out again completely once I got him into my car. The rest of the guys joked about how much fun we must have had without them. The next day Greg said I must have really shone him a good time because he couldn't remember a damn thing, but he knew he got laid. He even gave me a raise. A few days later I saw a woman boarding a bus out of town, her exaggerated figure almost covered up by her trenchcoat, which wasn't leopard spotted this time. She saw me, winked, and blew a kiss that sent viscous ooze dribbling down her chin before the doors shut.

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