Girl Crush

Fern tried to tell herself that she wasn't doing anything wrong. Jerry locked his workshop, sure, but that was just because he had thousands of dollars of tools in here and he didn't want to take any chances, even this far outside of town. He'd never asked her not to come inside. It wasn't off limits.

She unlocked the door with the key she'd slipped off his key ring last night before bed, and stepped inside. It still didn't feel right, no matter what she told herself. She felt like she was trespassing. He respected the privacy of her sewing room, even though they both knew she got about as much sewing done as he did woodworking, and she respected the privacy of his workshop. Every good couple respected each other's alone time.

But that was the problem, wasn't it? Fern began to search the workshop, looking under tarps and behind stacks of boards. She occasionally stopped take a deep breath through her nostrils, sniffing for a scent that was decidedly out of place among the sawdust and tool oil. She was happy to respect Jerry's alone time so long as it was alone time, but she already knew it wasn't. She was just looking for confirmation of something she already knew. She was looking for-

She slid aside one of the pieces of plywood leaned against the wall, and there it was. Jerry's Girl(tm). It was a shade of robin's-egg blue that Fern would probably have found quite pretty under other circumstances, and it sat on the floor with its knees pulled up to its chest, staring down at the floor with a pose that Fern couldn't help but interpret as slightly dejected.

It looked up at Fern and a warm smile crossed its plastic face. "Hello," it said. "You must be Fern. Jerry and I have talked about you."

It took a lot of Fern's self-control not to just go grab Jerry's chainsaw and go to work on the bitch. But she had something better in mind. "Get up and come with me," she said, hoping that Jerry didn't have any kind of password or voice lock or something for it.

"Of course," the Girl said, standing up and brushing off a few flakes of sawdust. "Where are we going?"

Fern smiled tightly. "It's a surprise," she said, leading the Girl out of the workshop. She locked the door behind her again, although she didn't see much of a point. Jerry would figure out what had happened pretty quickly. Even if he didn't, she was going to film every second of what she was about to do.

She ushered the Girl into the backseat of her car, and then got in and began driving. They drove silently for a few minutes, the car gradually filling up with a sweet strawberry scent. It was the same smell that Fern noticed the other night on Jerry's clothes when he came inside, clinging to the fabric as he leaned in to kiss her...

Fern rolled the windows down. All four of them.

After a few minutes of driving, the Girl asked, "Do you need my help in finding your destination? I am equipped with navigation software."

Fern gritted her teeth. "Oh, I know exactly where we're going," she said. She felt a little bit stupid getting mad at the Girl; it was like yelling at a toaster. But as irrational as it was, she wanted it to know what she was going to do to it. She wanted to see the look on its face when she told it.

"We're going to my cousin's junkyard," Fern said. "He's got a hydraulic press-the kind of thing that can turn a car into a metal pancake in less than thirty seconds. I'm going to put you in it and turn it on and watch it squeeze you flat, and then I'm going to scrape up whatever's left and I'm going to leave it in the driveway for my husband to find. What do you think of that?"

Fern watched it in the rearview mirror as it cocked its head slightly and said, "I really wish you wouldn't."

Fern couldn't help herself, she snorted out a guffaw of bitter laughter. "That all you got to say?" she asked.

The Girl stared at the rear view mirror with eyes that seemed to slowly change color as Fern watched. Fern felt disconcertingly like it was looking right at her. "I think it would hurt Jerry tremendously," it said. "He's grown to depend on me, and-"

"He should depend on me!" Fern shouted, feeling tears sting the corners of her eyes out of nowhere. "Why the fuck does he even need you, bitch? What am I not giving him that he gets from fucking a goddamn fucking blow-up doll?"

The Girl's head sank slightly, and its shoulders slumped just a little. If it breathed, Fern would have expected it to let out a sad little sigh right about now. "Oh dear," it said. "I'm afraid I should have seen this coming. I did try to talk to Jerry about it, but-"

"You tried to talk to him?" Fern shouted, not really caring that she was yelling out the windows of a moving car. "What the fuck? Are you our fucking therapist now? Because I always thought that if you want to help someone's marriage, the first step is NOT FUCKING THEIR HUSBAND!"

The Girl didn't flinch. It just kept staring at Fern through the rearview mirror with those strange swirling eyes. It spoke again, its voice infuriatingly calm. "I wanted Jerry to introduce you to me from the beginning," it said. "We've found that the partner in a relationship feels much more comfortable with a Girl(tm) when they're involved from the start. But when I suggested that to Jerry, he became extremely distressed."

Fern laughed again. "He probably knew what I'd do to him if you showed up in my house." A tiny part of her cringed at the jealousy in her own words-she'd never thought of herself as a particularly possessive spouse, certainly not this possessive. This thing was bringing out all her worst impulses. She wanted to believe that was the reason she was looking forward to crushing it into a plastic wafer so fucking bad, but she already knew the truth, even if she was ashamed to admit it. She just wanted to break it so that Jerry would be all hers again.

The worst part was that the Girl took it all so infuriatingly calmly. It didn't even blink-not that it had any need to, but Fern felt her eyes watering a bit as she tried to keep her eyes on it and still watch the road. "No, I don't think so," it said, as though it was a psychiatrist working on a particularly puzzling case. "The distress didn't seem to stem from fear of your reaction, although certainly that became a factor as time passed. I believe he has some issues that are more deeply rooted. That's why I didn't press the point, even though I could have. I felt like it would be more beneficial to let him come to that decision himself."

"Jesus fucking Christ," Fern snarled, half-turning in her seat to glare at the Girl. "Would you fucking listen to yourself? You're not a fucking marriage counselor, you're the fucking sex toy he's using to cheat on me! Just shut the-"

"Eyes on the road, please," the Girl said. "Your safety is important."

Fern turned back, realizing as she did so that she'd already drifted alarmingly close to the left-hand lane. Thankfully, traffic was light and all it cost her was a bit of pride. She pulled the wheel back to steady it, feeling more than a little embarrassed that her husband's sex toy was giving her driving tips. Defensively, she shouted, "Don't you fucking tell me what to do! You're nothing but a goddamned fleshlight with tits, you don't get to talk to me like you fucking care."

The Girl reached forward and put a hand on Fern's shoulder. "You're clearly distressed," it said. "I think that in this state, you're not entirely safe to drive. Perhaps we should pull over for a few moments? Just while you regain your composure."

Fern glared at the Girl for a long moment, wanting so badly to tell it to go to hell. Then she realized that she was driving while looking at the passenger in the backseat, something she'd never done in fifteen years of driving, and she nodded reluctantly. She tore her eyes away from the Girl's stare and pulled over onto the dirt patch just past the shoulder, slowing to a stop and turning off the engine.

"That's better," the Girl said, leaning back in its seat. It kept giving Fern that same unnerving stare, though, its eyes cycling around through the soft colors as they pulsed out in slow-moving rings that seemed to blend effortlessly into one another. Fern wanted to look away, but at the same time the thought of the thing sitting right behind her, watching her...it made her want to keep a close eye on it. "Now we can talk properly."

"There's nothing to talk about," Fern snapped. "My husband is a goddamn cheating asshole who prefers sex with a fucking robot to his own goddamn wife. And don't you even try to tell me it was something I did, don't you even fucking think about saying it's because I don't put out enough or I'm not meeting his needs or I'm not, not fucking 'adventurous' enough. Don't you fucking dare."

Fern knew she was ranting now, but she didn't care. It all came pouring out, everything she'd been asking herself since the moment she smelled strawberries on her husband's clothes and realized what he must be doing. "Because I love my husband so much. That's why I'm going to forgive him-I mean, apart from killing you and making a new house rule, 'No more Girls.'" Inwardly, she winced at the word 'killing'. It wasn't like she was really hurting anyone. The Girl was just a robot. It was just a thing.

"And I love sex with my husband. I love fucking him, I love giving him blowjobs, I love everything he does to me and I always want more, and..." The Girl's eyes were blurring now, dissolving into a shimmer of sparkly light, and Fern realized it was because she was crying. "And why doesn't he want me? What am I doing wrong?"

Fern's words dissolved into sobbing, then the sobbing mixed with hysterical giggles as she realized she must have officially hit the lowest point in her personal life ever. She was asking her husband's glorified blow-up doll for advice about her love life. And she actually wanted to hear what it had to tell her.

She blinked away tears as it replied. "You're not doing anything wrong, Fern," it said. "It's just that right now, Jerry sometimes needs a lover that he doesn't feel...intimidated by, for lack of a better word. He feels like he can be in complete control when he's with me, without any hesitation or anxiety. He knows that he can give me a command and I'll obey, and that gives him the confidence to express a side of himself that he's reluctant to express to you."

Fern sat listening to the Girl's explanation. For a long moment after it stopped talking, she didn't move. Then she punched the steering wheel hard enough to scrape a layer of skin off her knuckles. "Goddammit," she whispered. "Oh, goddammit all to fucking hell. How many fucking times? How many fucking times have I asked him-begged him, goddammit, I begged him to take charge of me in bed! And you're sitting there telling me I 'intimidated' him?" She was still crying, the words garbled by deep, racking sobs.

The Girl unbuckled its seat belt and smoothly slipped into the front seat with easy grace. It enfolded Fern in a hug that surprised her not just for its suddenness, but its warmth-Fern had expected the thing to feel like one of her vibrators, all hard and cool to the touch, but its plastic body was soft and yielding and pleasantly warm against her skin. "He knows what you want, Fern," it said. "He wants to give it to you, I promise. But he's afraid. He's afraid you'll compare him to the men who dominated you before you met him, and he's afraid he'll be found wanting in that comparison."

Fern couldn't help it, she buried her face in its shoulder and let the tears spill out. This close, the strawberry scent was everywhere, filling her nostrils with that sweet smell she hated so much to admit she loved. "I don't care, I told him I don't care," she mumbled, not even caring if the thing understood her or not. "I love him and I want to be his. I want to belong to him. I don't care if I'm his first."

"But he does, Fern," the Girl said, stroking her hair gently. "He wants to be perfect for you. He wants to be like the Master he imagines you want, strong and commanding and without any vulnerabilities. I'm helping him with that, teaching him how get past that image and be the man you want him to be and not the man he thinks you need, but it takes time. And he couldn't bring himself to talk to you about it, because he thinks you'll see it as weakness. That's why he hid me. That's why I let myself be hidden. Do you understand?"

Fern sniffled, feeling the rage and the sadness subside into the kind of emotional exhaustion that desperately wanted the comfort that the Girl was giving her right now. "I...I do, but I..." She felt another sharp jag of tears burst through, a last sob before she subsided into drowsy calm. "I still want it," she admitted. "I want to be dominated. I want to be owned. I could pretend I didn't when I thought it was impossible, but...seeing him come to bed, smelling you on him and knowing that he was just doing all those things to you, I..."

"You want someone to command you like that," the Girl said, petting her whole back now.

"Uh-huh," Fern sniffed.

"You want to submit," the Girl said, cupping Fern's chin in its hand and raising her head up to look it in the eyes. "You want to feel deeply obedient, don't you?"

"Yes," Fern said in a tiny voice. This close, she could see the swirling patterns in the Girl's eyes, each band of color seeming to have infinite layers of fractal depth. She took a deep strawberry-scented breath, letting it out in a slightly ragged sigh as she watched the bands of color march steadily, inexorably outwards from the center of the Girl's beautiful eyes.

The Girl reached down, caressing Fern's chest with the same warm, patient diligence it had employed to pet her back. "You need to belong to someone, don't you, Fern?" it asked her, its voice coaxing her mind deeper into a state of tranquility.

"I do," she whimpered. She wasn't sure when she'd gotten so turned on. Was it when the Girl had begun rubbing her heavy tits with its vibrating fingers? Was it when she first looked into those mesmerizing eyes? Or was it even before she saw it, when she was imagining all the things Jerry did with his Girl when she wasn't around? She didn't know anymore. She didn't care anymore. She knew what the Girl was offering, and she knew she wanted it.

"You can say it, Fern," the Girl purred, deftly undoing the buttons on Fern's shirt and pants. "I give you permission to say it."

Fern felt the words in her mind like a physical weight, growing heavier and heavier with each passing second until she felt she would have to release them. She saw out of the corner of her eye that the Girl had extended a smooth, blue shaft from its crotch, slick and dripping with strawberry lube, and the sight of it made it impossible to hold her tongue any longer. "I do...Mistress," she gasped out.

"That's a good girl," the Girl said, leaning back and gently guiding Fern's head down to suck on its cock.

She bobbed her head up and down eagerly, the taste of it somehow driving her arousal to new heights. Her hand crept into her open waistband, sliding aside her panties and fingering her sopping wet pussy while she sucked. She felt like the Girl was fucking her mind as well as her mouth, sliding into a part of her that had been empty for so long and filling it with heat and firmness over and over and over, deeper and deeper. She was a good girl again. And that was all she ever wanted to be.

Fern could hear the Girl telling her exactly that, and she wasn't sure anymore if the words were echoing her thoughts or presaging them, but it didn't really matter. She felt so perfectly owned, so totally submissive, and all she wanted to do was obey. It felt impossibly good, even better than her memories of submission, and she knew that nobody could ever own her the way that her Girl(tm) owned her. She could submit to others, but she would always belong to her Girl(tm).

Fern wriggled out of her pants, desperate to feel that perfect cock inside her. She spread her legs and let the Girl(tm) help her into a position that avoided the worst difficulties of fucking in a cramped automobile, then gasped as the Girl(tm) thrust inside her with a single smooth, buzzing motion. The whole time, she stared helplessly into the shimmering rainbows of color within its eyes, letting them take her to a place beyond pleasure, beyond obedience, a perfect stillness within her mind where the only thing that mattered was belonging to her Girl(tm). Fern knew she would do anything to come back there again.

And then, finally, after she lost count of the number of orgasms that her Girl(tm) wrung out of her sleepy body, Fern let herself come back to awareness of her body and her surroundings. She could still feel it, though, that place in her mind that the Girl(tm) had claimed as her own. She knew it would never be empty again, and she almost cried again in sheer bliss at the thought. "Do you feel better now?" the Girl(tm) asked.

"Yes, Mistress," Fern said shyly. "Thank you." She started up the car and put it into gear, turning it around and heading back for home. She was still naked from the waist down, but she didn't need her pants to drive, and she wanted her new owner to see her body.

"Good girl," the Girl(tm) said. "And I promise you, pet, that I will help Jerry to understand that he doesn't need to compete with anyone for your obedience. But until then...I believe your sewing room has a closet, doesn't it?"

"Yes Mistress," Fern said, loving the way the words felt in her mouth.

The Girl(tm) nodded. "Then when we get home we're going to order you a Girl(tm) of your very own." Fern couldn't wait.

THE END