Chapter One

Dr. Deborah Duvall strode through the busy lobby of BioSynth Technologies with unwavering purpose as her heels clicked sharply on the polished marble floor. Her tailored light blue suit hugged her toned frame with every step, accentuating her feminine allure yet maintaining an air of crisp professionalism. Glossy brunette hair, swept into an elegant updo, framed the lead scientist’s piercing green eyes, which scanned the room with a hint of disdain. Subtle makeup enhanced the woman’s natural allure as a light gloss on her lips caught the morning light streaming through the modern glass walls. At 36, Deborah stood as a powerhouse in Los Angeles’ biotech scene, with her ambition and dedication to helping people burning as fiercely as the scowl on her face.

BioSynth Technologies thrived as a fierce competitor in the cutthroat American biotech market. Its Los Angeles headquarters stood as a towering monument of glass and steel in the heart of downtown. Much like the AI revolution that preceded it, and the smartwear war before that, livable, wearable technologies were the newest breakthrough, and Deborah was a key player in that field.

Deborah was the head of research in the firm’s Medical division, and she had developed and pushed products that had saved countless lives. Her latest research into a technologically advanced synthetic skin, designed to heal first-degree burns, correct mentally debilitating cosmetic defects, and even regrow and replace actual limbs, was going to earn the young lead scientist a Nobel prize one day, Deborah thought to herself.

Unfortunately, the Medical division was not the only arm of BioSynth vying for investors’ attention. Whereas Deborah focused on life-changing and life-saving technologies, BioSynth’s AI division worked on pushing the boundaries of entertainment and convenience. The intelligent brunette spent much of her time clashing with the head of AI research, Miles Caldwell.

As she crossed the lobby, Deborah’s eyes landed on a busty woman seated behind the reception desk with curves that seemed designed to captivate. However, she was no ordinary woman. In fact, she was no human at all. She was an Intima Creations Companion doll specifically designed to fulfil menial administration tasks.

The doll’s tight white blouse strained against her ample chest as each breath mimicked the oxygen intake of a real human. The button-up shirt tapered at the waist, and the thigh-length black latex pencil skirt emphasized the doll’s plump rear. Her glossy blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her blemish-free face bore a permanent, almost eerie, smile with lips painted a vivid red. Deborah’s scowl deepened as she saw the blonde AI bot and the nearly identical redhead beside her. This creation was a mockery of professionalism dressed up in a form-fitting pencil skirt. She was designed to fulfill perverse fantasies under the guise of office work.

Just a month ago, Deborah had stood before the all-male board with a meticulously crafted petition to banish AI companions from BioSynth’s headquarters. She argued their presence cheapened the company’s mission, made the business vulnerable to a PR disaster, and distracted it from true innovation. The board had dismissed her pleas with an 8-1 vote, and the rejection burned in her chest like a personal affront. They concluded their decision was based on cost efficiency, with the maintenance on the dolls costing far less than human labor, but Deborah knew the truth. The board was remnants of the old guard, and they enjoyed having pretty, subservient drones around to gawk at.

“Dr. Duvall, your presentation materials are ready for you in your office,” the blonde AI secretary called out with a syrupy voice the moment Deborah stood in range. The secretary gripped a tablet with her perfectly manicured nails and extended it towards the head of medical research.

Deborah paused with her green eyes narrowing at the doll’s smiling facade. “I don’t need the reminder. Don’t talk to me,” the woman snapped and waved off the offer without breaking her stride. She had no desire to engage with these machines nor any need for their hollow assistance.

“Of course, Dr. Duvall,” the blonde said with an unwavering smile as Deborah stormed off. “Have a great day.”

The scientist groaned at the companion’s words. She knew the bot had been programmed that way, but it felt as though the doll was mocking her with feigned sweetness. Deborah’s fingers tightened around her briefcase as she marched towards the elevator.

The elevator doors loomed ahead with their polished chrome reflecting Deborah’s determined expression. The brunette’s mind raced with thoughts of the boardroom battle awaiting her. Miles Caldwell, her AI division counterpart and rival, would be there, attempting to undermine her every step of the way. Today, Deborah would prove her synthetic skin technology’s worth. She knew Miles had nothing on her pitch, and her breakthroughs had the potential to make a real difference in the medical field. That was far more important than short-term financial gain. All Deborah needed to do was prove it to the board.

❖

Fresh from collecting her presentation file from her office, Deborah headed toward the boardroom on BioSynth Technologies’ executive floor. The clicking of her heels was a rare sound on the male-dominated executive level, save for the grotesque AI admin dolls occasionally tottering around. Deborah sighed. She hated these meetings with a passion. Years of honing her craft to save lives through medical innovation felt world apart from the soulless business dealings of the boardroom. However, she knew that swaying the all-male board was critical to securing funding for her synthetic skin project. The brunette’s heart raced with the weight of responsibility this upcoming meeting held. Her team depended on her.

Pausing at the frosted glass of the meeting room, the scientist clutched her tablet in one hand and sighed. The pressure to secure funding gnawed at her, and her green eyes clouded with frustration. Before she could steady her nerves and prepare for the executives’ arrival, a taunting voice sliced through the quiet hallway behind her.

“Look who it is,” Miles Caldwell’s smug tone dripped with arrogance as he stood close enough behind the brunette for her to feel his presence. “Ready to lose another pitch, Dr. Duvall?” His gray suit hugged his slim frame perfectly with a crisp white shirt and subtle cuff links holding him together. Neatly trimmed black hair framed his piercing gray eyes, and his well-trimmed goatee beard added to the man’s juvenile charm.

Deborah turned sharply with her fists clenching at her sides and her eyes blazing with fury. “That’s not how it’s going this time, Miles,” she shot back sharply. “Have you seen my project? There’s no way your pitch can demonstrate the advanced technology my team has developed.”

Miles raised an eyebrow, enjoying the rise he was able to get out of his medical counterpart. “How could I see your project? You have your lab locked down tighter than Fort Knox,” he chuckled, as if he knew something he wasn’t telling her. “But we know how you tend to crumble under pressure.”

The brunette woman’s jaw tightened as she stepped closer with a rigid posture. “Excuse me?” Deborah snapped. “My division has saved actual lives, made a real difference to how people live and feel about themselves? All I’ve seen with the AI division is pandering to perverted tech bros who want to use our technology to demean women. Have you seen the admin dolls prancing around downstairs?”

Miles’ grin widened as his gray eyes gleamed with amusement. “Oh, Deb, I’ve seen them alright,” he said with his tone dripping with mockery. “This is what the market wants, and it’s profitable. That’s what the board cares about in the end.”

The brunette clenched her fists tighter with her nails digging into her palms. “Screw you, Miles,” she hissed. “Your so-called breakthroughs are just watered-down versions of my technology, and I’ll make sure everyone in there knows it.”

The man paused for a moment before leaning in closer, his voice lowering to a taunting whisper. “Careful, darling,” he said with a sleazy tone. “If you keep throwing accusations around like that, you’ll sound like a paranoid fool. The board’s already whispering about your erratic outbursts, and this isn’t helping your case.”

Before the woman could fire back, a group of board members filtered through the hallway with their smart suits. Their presence forced Deborah to swallow her anger, and she straightened her posture as her composure snapped back like a taut wire. Miles smirked at his rival’s restraint, the satisfaction evident on his lips.

“Knock them dead, Deborah,” a warm voice broke the tension as Walter Knight, BioSynth’s 64-year-old CEO, approached with a paternal nod to both scientists. His gray hair was neatly combed, his warm brown eyes conveying a quiet wisdom, while his navy suit and silk tie radiated authority. His hand rested briefly on Deborah’s shoulder, and the gesture carried a weight of encouragement that steadied the woman’s nerves. The CEO offered Miles a curt nod before stepping into the boardroom.

Walter had always been somewhat of a mentor to Deborah at BioSynth. His guidance had steered her through the corporate maze, a game she disliked more than anything else in the world. His belief in the woman’s work fueled her ambition and determination, and he was often the only encouraging voice in the room when she had to present to the executives. Fortunately, Walter’s opinion carried a lot of weight, and that helped her push her projects forward.

Ignoring Miles’ lingering smirk, Deborah shuffled into the boardroom with her tablet clutched tightly. The room’s long table unnerved her, with many of the seats already occupied by men chatting amongst themselves. The brunette scientist moved to the head of the table and began setting up her presentation. This was make or break for her research, and she knew she had one shot.

❖

As the nine executives settled into their seats around the long mahogany table, the boardroom pulsed with quiet anticipation. Deborah sat beside her rival at the head of the table with her light blue suit accentuating her poised frame, and her tablet placed before her. The brunette woman’s face focused on the men surrounding her, their jovial ‘boy’s club’ faces and familiar chatter grated on the woman. Was there not one woman competent enough to sit on this board? She thought. Walter Knight, seated at the table’s center, cleared his throat and rose as the chatting immediately died down. The older man commanded attention as he cleared his throat.

“Gentlemen,” Walter said with his eyes sweeping the room. “And lady,” he added as his gaze fell on Deborah’s, prompting a smile from her despite his language emphasizing the lack of gender diversity in the room. “Dr. Duvall and Mr. Caldwell, along with their teams, have poured their passion and expertise into our next revolutionary product. Both have crafted synthetic skin technologies, yet their visions diverge sharply. Unfortunately, budget constraints from our last shareholder meeting force us to choose only one of these amazing products to take to market.” A nervous aura filled the room as the CEO glanced at both of his R&D heads. “Today, Deborah and Miles will present why their work deserves the investment, and why the other should be shelved.”

Walter sat back down and nodded to his Medical head of research. “Deborah, you’re up first.” The brunette woman sighed; this was the moment she’d been dreading.

Taking a deep breath, Deborah rose and stepped to the head of the table, feeling self-conscious as her heels clicked softly on the polished floor. She pressed a button on the device in her hand, and the projector behind her hummed to life. It displayed vibrant images of smiling patients and examples of her high-tech skin as the woman began addressing her audience. “Good morning,” she started. “Umm, my project,” she began as she stuttered into a rhythm, “represents a leap forward in medical technology. This synthetic skin is not just a mask, unlike previous medical models. It has the ability to completely heal first-degree burns, conceal debilitating cosmetic defects, and even regrow limbs for amputees.” Her latest claim prompted a gasp from the audience, which elicited a smile from the woman’s lips as she continued. “That’s right. This is all possible with secret proprietary code, which means if the product takes off, we will have the monopoly on limb regeneration.”

Deborah took a pause before continuing her pitch. “Last year, Acticure Pharmaceutical’s lead scientist won a Nobel Prize for a healing dermacream. However, my design surpasses that breakthrough by a long way. This skin integrates seamlessly with the nervous system and adapts to the wearer’s needs. It is able to communicate with the brain and identify the problem before working on solving it. This product would offer hope to millions who currently need it. It will position BioSynth as a pioneer in life-changing innovation.”

Her words resonated with the group, and the executives leaned forward with interest flickering in their gazes. Walter’s subtle, proud nod fueled Deborah’s confidence and steadied her nerves. She detailed the skin’s applications with data on neural integration and expected patient outcomes. She spoke about the huge success in every animal testing trial, and how she had enlisted three private clinics willing to volunteer for human testing. “Remember, we are all people at the end of the day. This isn’t just about profit,” she added with a soft tone. “It’s about transforming the lives of our consumers, and setting a new standard for medical science. Imagine the impact on a burn victim, or an amputee regaining their independence. In my heart of hearts, I believe there is only one way forward for BioSynth Technologies, and that is through medical innovation.” As she concluded, a hearty round of applause filled the room, and the brunette scientist returned to her seat. Deborah felt pride welling up in her chest, although a flicker of doubt lingered. Would her passion sway these profit-driven men?

“Fantastic pitch, Dr. Duvall,” Walter said across the table. “Miles, you’ll have to up your game to beat that. The room is yours.” He gestured to the AI head of research, signaling for Miles to lead the table.

Miles rose and adjusted his suit as he strode over with his goatee framing a charismatic grin, “Thank you, Walter,” he said with a nod that carried a hint of condescension. “I have to admit, Deborah’s passion is inspiring. As I sat there, I almost wanted my own project to fail.” His comment elicited snickers from a section of the group. “However, we all live in the real world, and we need to talk about what the market demands.” The man clicked the device, and his own presentation appeared on the projector behind him, a presentation very different from his rival’s.

The projector displayed an Intima Creations companion doll covered in synthetic skin that mirrored Deborah’s design with unsettling precision. It gave the dolls a far more realistic appearance. “As you all know, last year, we forged a partnership with Intima Creations, led by their CEO, and my friend, Gavin Power,” Miles continued with a smooth and assertive tone.

Deborah twitched at the mention of Gavin’s name, and her fingers tightened around a nearby glass of water. Gavin Power, the brash CEO of Intima Creations, was a walking caricature of arrogance and self-entitlement. Think about everything wrong with the tech-bro movement, and Gavin sums it all up in one charming package. His smug grin and predatory charm made Deborah’s skin crawl every time she was near him, and she loathed his cavalier attitude toward exploiting technology for profit at the expense of women’s rights and dignity. His company’s companion dolls, designed for sex, no matter how PG they were marketed, were everything he despised about the industry, and his alliance with Miles only deepened her contempt.

“We’ve integrated our AI software into Intima’s dolls,” Miles said confidently. “However, there is one missing piece. These dolls may look totally realistic, but the moment you touch them, you know they are synthetic designs. The real missing piece is realistic, breathable, programmable skin.” The young man gestured to the screen. Staring closely, not only was the technology a direct rip-off of her own, but Deborah noticed the small-print patent codes bore a striking resemblance to her own. Her suspicion was confirmed. “With BioSynth’s cutting-edge AI and this skin, we can create next-generation Intima Creations companion units that sell at a premium. When this takes off, it will make BioSynth billions.” He glanced at his rival with a smirk. “Unfortunately, as admirable as the medical team’s project is, there just isn’t as much money in medicine anymore. AI companions are where the market’s headed, and Intima’s partnership gives us a head start.”

The board erupted in enthusiastic applause, and Deborah sank deeper into her chair as her confidence crumbled like ash. Her earlier triumph felt distant as the executives murmured excitedly about the latest presentation, agreeing with Miles’ vision. Robert Kane, a blonde-haired board member, spoke up with a firm voice. “The financials are crystal clear. Intima’s market share is booming, and we’d be fools to ignore a partnership that promises immediate returns.”

Luke Reed, the COO, leaned forward and added, “Companions are a safe bet for profits. I’d love us to invest in medical tech, but it’s a long game we can’t afford in this economy. Miles’ pitch aligns with our shareholders’ priorities.”

Deborah’s heart pounded as the board’s enthusiasm for Miles grew. Walter raised a hand, silencing the rest of the room. “I see immense value in leading the way in medicine,” he said firmly with his eyes locked reassuringly on his medical research chief. “Sometimes, not everything is about maximizing profit. Deborah’s work could redefine BioSynth’s legacy. Think about the bigger picture.”

The board paused as a tense silence hung over the room. Robert’s laughter broke through, which was accompanied by some of the other men. “With all due respect, Walter,” he said with a smirk on his lips, “the economy’s brutal right now. Long-term dreams won’t keep our shareholders happy, and they won’t keep our jobs secure. We need projects that deliver profit now, and Miles’ plan does exactly that.”

Simon Cho, the company’s CFO, nodded in agreement. “Intima’s deal has the potential to lead to a buyout. Gavin Power has made it clear that he is looking into purchasing an AI corporation. This is what is best for our shareholders.”

Sensing the tide turning against her, Deborah shot to her feet with her fists clenched tightly. “Miles’ idea is a blatant rip-off of my synthetic skin, even the damn patent codes are the same,” she declared accusingly. “I don’t know how he did it, but Miles stole my designs and created a low-standard knock-off rather than creating an original proposal. You can’t reward this kind of plagiarism and call it innovation.”

Miles leaned back and chuckled softly. “Deb, you’re being very unreasonable,” he said smoothly as his tone turned patronizing. “You need to see the bigger picture here. Your skin hasn’t even been tested on humans, so you have no solid data on its efficacy or safety. My project uses the skin for companions, where health risks are negligible. My design is the surer bet.”

“That’s absolutely nonsense!” the brunette woman snapped, her green eyes blazing with fury. “My design is completely safe! You stole my work, and pander to creeps like Gavin Power for your own perverted ego.”

The board shifted uncomfortably, and their whispers grew skeptical and conspiratorial. Walter could sense that Deborah was losing the room and decided to act. “Enough,” he boomed as he stood up, commanding attention. “It is true that there are concerns about the long-term wear for Deborah’s skin. With that in mind, we can’t make a fair decision until the medical department proves its safety for human use.” His eyes softened as he looked at her with a subtle nod, conveying his support. While he framed it as a challenge to the brunette woman, he knew the board was about to vote against her, and decided to give her extra time to prove her team’s worth. “You have ten days, Deborah, to demonstrate your synthetic skin is safe for human use. We’ll reconvene then for a final decision.”

Deborah nodded solemnly with her heart sinking under the weight of Walter’s challenge. The CEO had bought her time, but the odds felt stacked against her after the meeting’s recent events. How was she going to convince a room full of money-driven Neanderthals that her focus on curing the planet should outweigh the profit from selling a few disgusting sex dolls?

The brunette left the boardroom as the meeting adjourned and made her way back toward her office with a fresh challenge ahead of her. She wasn’t out of this yet.

❖

Sitting at her desk in her office, Deborah seethed with fury over the boardroom’s events. The sting of the executives’ laughter and Miles’ smug triumph burned in her chest as she hunched over her laptop. The brunette’s fingers danced across the keyboard with a fierce rhythm as she composed an email to Dr. Jeremy Hall, one of her trusted research team leaders. “Jeremy, I need you to investigate the AI division’s second skin proposal immediately,” she typed with her eyes narrowing and her jaw tight. “Compare it to our design and compile a report on any overlaps, especially in the coding. Make this your highest priority. You have five days to complete the report.” The research leader clicked send with a sharp jab and leaned back, her blood still boiling with anger and determination. She needed to show just how much of a fraud that son of a bitch was.

Suddenly, the door swung open, and that same son of a bitch, Miles Caldwell, cheerily strode into Deborah’s office without so much as a knock. As he approached, his taunting grin irked the woman even more. “Get out now, Miles,” she roared with a sharp voice.

The cocky man ignored her command and sauntered closer as his eyes gleamed with juvenile amusement. “My my, such a short temper, Deborah,” he said, his tone dripping with mockery. “Your presentation skills could use some polish. You’ll never sway a crowd with that kind of emotional display.”

The 36-year-old woman shot to her feet and stood up straight as she stared daggers into his soul. “You know damn well you stole my designs, Miles,” she said fiercely. “There is no need to play coy anymore. I’m going to spend the next ten days proving your plagiarism,  and by the time I’m done, you’ll be getting used to the view from a lonely prison cell.”

Miles laughed with his head tilting back, his grin widening at the woman’s threat. “Oh, Deborah, your passion is almost charming,” he said before his tone turned serious and his eyes narrowed. “But be careful with those accusations, doll. You’re starting to sound like a crazy woman, and the board already suspects you’re unhinged.” He grinned again. “One more outburst like that in the boardroom might cost you more than your precious project; you might be out of a job altogether.”

Deborah’s blood boiled at the man’s remark, and she leaned over her desk to close the gap between the two rivals. “You think your smug threats can intimidate me?” she hissed, her voice trembling with rage. “I’m the one with integrity here. You’re just a used car salesman in a cheap suit who stole my idea.”

The man looked down at his outfit and feigned offense. “I can assure you, this suit is not cheap,” he said jokingly. “And you’re the one who started with the threats. If you keep screaming about theft without the proof to back it up, you’ll only confirm the board’s suggestion that you’re losing it. I’m not even the one pushing this narrative, you’re doing all that by yourself.”

The woman lost control of her emotions and slammed her fist against the desk, the thud echoing through the office. “Get out!” she growled in a defiant screech.

Grinning wide, knowing he struck a nerve, Miles gave a mock bow and sauntered out of the office, his confident stride carrying him through the door. Deborah sank back into her chair, her breath ragged, and her mind racing with fury. She knew Miles was wrong, but Deborah couldn’t get his warning about her job security and the board’s perception of her out of her head.

A gentle knock broke through Deborah’s spiraling thoughts as Samantha Brooks tentatively stepped into the office. Her long auburn hair was tied in a neat ponytail, and her hazel eyes glowed with concern. Samantha was one of Deborah’s lab technicians and her longest friend at the firm. Despite being her boss, Deborah confided in Samantha and often told her more than she should have, knowing she needed a friend she could trust to get through the day-to-day stress.

Samantha’s slim, athletic body was framed by a white lab coat over a soft cream blouse and black pants. A hint of gloss shimmered on the woman’s naturally plump lips, and her delicate features radiated warmth. “Deborah, are you okay?” she asked, her voice soft and sincere. “I heard commotion all the way from the break room. What’s going on?”

Deborah forced a tight smile and shook her head. “I’m fine, Samantha, thanks,” she said, her tone strained as her hands absently fidgeted with a pen. “I’ve just been under a lot of stress lately with the board. That bastard knows how to push my buttons, and I have no idea how he managed to steal my research.”

The auburn-haired woman stepped forward and placed a reassuring hand atop Deborah’s on the desk, her expression warm and supportive. “Don’t let Miles get to you,” she said with a steady conviction. “We both know you designed the superior product. Your skin is going to transform lives, and he can’t take that away from us. The entire team trusts your vision completely.”

Her friend’s words warmed her heart, and Deborah nodded with gratitude. “Thanks, Samantha,” she repeated softly as her shoulders relaxed slightly. “I really needed to hear that today. Sometimes, it feels like I’m fighting this battle alone.”

Samantha smiled, her eyes sparking with encouragement. “You’re not alone,” she continued. “The entire team is behind you, and we believe in what we’re doing here. Keep fighting for the project, Deborah. You’ve got this.” The lab technician always knew exactly what to say to make her friend feel better. With a final nod, she turned and left her boss alone in the office.

Deborah leaned back in her chair, as he mind rattled off various extravagant ideas she had to prove the safety of her product. Samantha’s unwavering support had lifted her spirits, but Walter’s ten-day deadline loomed like a guillotine over her project. Ten days was nowhere near enough time to initiate proper human testing, with regulatory approvals and volunteer protocols. The thought of navigating that bureaucratic maze in such a short time made the woman’s stomach twist with anxiety.

All of her ideas ran into brick walls as she mentally crossed them out. Eventually, she thought about an extreme measure, but perhaps the only one that could impress the boardroom. The only way to prove the skin’s safety and efficacy in time was to become a live test subject herself. The idea sent a shiver down her spine, as fear pulsed in her veins. Wearing the prototype would demonstrate its medical promise directly to the board and showcase its safe application. If the mastermind of the synthetic skin was prepared to wear it herself, the men would see how confident she was in its promise.

It was a bold, risky move, but Deborah’s determination drowned out her caution. Resolved to take a prototype from the tab, the woman tapped away at her computer as she designed a plan on how exactly to achieve that without the organization finding out.

❖

Deborah slipped into the main medical research lab, her heels clicking as softly as she could manage on the checkered floor. Most of her staff had gone home for the evening, and she had hoped the room would be empty. The woman’s heart continued to race with the weight of her decision to ‘borrow’ the synthetic skin prototype, a desperate move to prove its worth to the chauvinistic board.

The lab was quiet, only the quiet hum of the machines in the background distracting her, and her eyes darted to the secure cupboard where the prototype hung, its shimmering surface locked behind glass. Before she could creep toward it, a figure caught Deborah’s attention, standing at a workbench, his eye pressed deep into a microscope.

The man was Ned Jackson, the lead technician, and often the last one to leave. Deborah and Samantha frequently joked amongst themselves after work that Ned’s lack of social life meant that he was married to his job. The brunette woman attempted to quietly ease past the man without him noticing, but to no avail.

Ned stood straight with a start, turning to watch his boss’s gaze. The man fumbled his words as he caught sight of the woman behind him. “H-hello, Dr. Duvall,” he stammered, his hazel eyes wide behind wire-rimmed glasses, his lanky frame shifting awkwardly. Ned was a brilliant scientist with a memory like Deborah had never seen before. Still, his social awkwardness, especially around beautiful women, was painfully clear. His obvious crush on Deborah showed in his flushed cheeks and nervous glances, but the 36-year-old had always kept him at a professional distance, ensuring he knew the feeling wasn’t reciprocated. His obvious attraction and strange behavior often made their interactions awkward.

The head of the division forced a calm smile and stepped closer with her blue suit clinging to her frame. She knew she had to play nice if she wanted to leave with that prototype. “Hi there, Ned. What are you working on?” she asked softly as her green eyes met his to ease the man’s nerves.

The intelligent man adjusted his glasses before gesturing to the microscope. “J-just analyzing some cell regeneration data,” he said before shifting the topic. “How can I help you, Dr. Duvall?”

Deborah’s heart pounded with nerves as she attempted to keep her voice steady and her smile warm. “I have an important meeting tomorrow,” she said confidently, as if she wasn’t entirely making it up. “I need to show off our prototype to secure funding for our division.”

Ned’s brow furrowed, his fingers twitching nervously at his side as he felt something didn’t quite feel right. “I-I thought the meeting was today,” he said with confusion flickering in his eyes.

The woman slowly stepped closer, her heels clicking deliberately, her posture relaxed as if to mask her urgency. “It was adjourned until tomorrow,” she replied quickly, thinking on the spot. “The board needs a demonstration, and a live look at our prototype is the best way to convince the top brass what we’ve managed to accomplish.”

The nerdy man shifted uncomfortably, his fingers absently brushing his microscope as his cheeks flushed deeper. “Umm… you know no one can remove a prototype from the lab without compliance sign-off,” he said hesitantly. Ned always struggled to stand up to his boss’s decisions. “It’s against protocol, boss. It could get us in trouble and cost me my job.”

Deborah smiled softly and stepped closer, her hand brushing lightly against the tall man’s cheek, a calculated touch that made his eyes widen. “Ned, the future of this division depends on tomorrow’s demonstration,” she said softly, purring with persuasiveness. “If we don’t succeed, our jobs could be toast anyway. I’ll only borrow it for a short while, I promise,” she winked at him, softly brushing his cheek. “I’ll make sure you’re rewarded greatly when we secure the funding.”

Ned held his breath as Deborah’s soft touch lingered on his face. He swallowed hard, feeling his crotch stir from the sensual touch. The man’s cheeks flushed red, and his resolve quickly dismantled before her flirtatious plea. “I-I suppose, just this once,” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper as he searched in his drawer and handed Deborah a key to the secure cabinet. “Just bring it back after, okay?”

Deborah leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her subordinate’s cheek, her lips warm against his blushing skin. “Thank you, Ned,” she said with a grateful smile, her green eyes glittering with appreciation. “Don’t breathe a word of this to anyone. I can’t have the AI division knowing what we’re up to.”

The woman moved to the secure cupboard and used the key to unlock it. The prototype’s shimmering surface gleamed under the lab’s lights as she carefully lifted it from its mount. Looking at the article, you would struggle to believe the skin could mimic real, breathable skin, but as it’s worn, it adapts to its wearer and feels as real as biological skin.

Holding the prototype close, Deborah turned back to Ned and smiled lightly. “You’re a lifesaver,” she winked at him before striding out of the lab. Her life’s work had been put into the item she held in her hands, and she was going to make damn sure it saw the light of day.

❖

Back in her upscale Los Angeles apartment, Deborah stood naked before the synthetic skin prototype, its form hanging on a hanger against the closet in her bedroom. The material shimmered unnaturally, its surface both alluring and intimidating. The woman reached out, her fingers trembling slightly, and traced the edge of the skin, its latex-like texture cool and surreal against her touch.

Deborah recoiled in fear. Each time she had started slipping the material on, doubts began to creep into her mind, and she pulled back, returning it to her hanger with a frustrated sigh. She knew the dangers the suit held, but Miles’ taunts echoed in her mind, and she knew she couldn’t let that bastard win. Shaking her head, Deborah swallowed her doubts and steeled herself with resolve. This time, she wouldn’t pull back.

With a deep breath, the scientist lifted the prototype and began slipping it on, stepping feet-first through the opening at the neck. The tight latex feel hugged her legs as she pulled it up, the material stretching over her neatly trimmed crotch to accommodate her toned frame. It was a snug fit, requiring careful maneuvering as she eased it over her hips and torso, its surface clinging to her curves like a second layer of skin.

Once her arms and legs were adjusted, fingers and toes pulled into their sleeves, she tugged the attached mask upward, enveloping her face, ears, and the back of her neck, pulling the woman into total darkness as the material settled into place. Only Deborah’s brunette hair remained uncovered, and for a moment, she appeared as though she was wearing a faceless zentai suit. As the scientist smoothed the skin over her body, her hands pressing gently against her waist and chest, a distinct click echoed in her ears. The suit activated and tightened around the attractive woman’s form. She gasped for air as a brief suffocating sensation gripped Deborah, until her breathing steadied and her sight returned to normal.

Stepping before her full-length bedroom mirror, Deborah gazed at her reflection, her green eyes wide with anticipation. To her delight, she looked exactly as she had before, her toned physique and modest breasts on display just like they had been before she put on the prototype suit. She felt a slight tightness around her body, reminding her that the suit was still there, but there was no visible seam, and the second skin blended in with the color of her own skin, devoid of any artificial sheen. The prototype blended so perfectly with Deborah’s body that it seemed as though she was wearing nothing at all.

A triumphant smile spread across the woman’s lips as pride surged through her veins. This was the breakthrough she’d poured her entire career into, and its first human test event was flawless. Deborah imagined the board’s stunned faces as she showcased her project’s medical potential, Miles’ smirk fading as he realized he’d been outsmarted. The head of the medical division couldn’t wait to wear the prototype to work and demonstrate its capabilities, proving the skeptics wrong once and for all.

Satisfied with the prototype’s initial integration, Deborah moved to the bathroom, her newfound confidence propelling her steps. The cool marble tiles brushed against her feet as she prepared for bed, her mind buzzing with excitement as she felt her surroundings much like she would have without the synthetic skin. As she brushed her teeth, the brunette marveled at how natural the skin looked. Tomorrow would mark a turning point for her project, a chance to silence any doubts and secure her legacy at BioSynth. With a final glance at her reflection, Deborah slipped into a white nightgown and climbed into bed. Perhaps she would win that Nobel prize after all.

❖

Deborah awoke the next morning feeling more energized than she ever could remember. The synthetic skin she’d donned the night before seemed to pulse with vitality. It had been designed to flood the system with much-needed natural vitamins at night with the aim of rejuvenating the wearer’s body, and boy, did it work. Standing before her bedroom mirror, the brunette examined her reflection with a critical eye. Her toned body and familiar features stared back at her, albeit with fewer crow’s feet around her eyes than before. The skin was doing exactly as it was designed to do, and there hadn’t been any unexpected side effects to worry about.

Satisfied, Deborah moved to her closet and slipped into a navy blue suit and pant combo, the expensive fabric hugging her curves with a professional elegance. Raising an eyebrow, the woman noticed her pants felt tighter around her rear than usual, the material clinging more snugly than she’d expected. Shaking her head with a wry smile, Deborah resolved to cut out those midnight pizza runs after a late night at the lab.

Heading into BioSynth, Deborah settled into her office, her mind buzzing with anticipation for the day. She sat in her chair and powered up her laptop, immediately checking her emails. An email from Dr. Jeremy Hall popped up, confirming he would investigate Miles’ team’s skin proposal with the highest priority. Deborah grinned. If she could prove the safety and efficacy of her amazing project whilst demonstrating that Miles stole her designs at the same time, the meeting in just over a week’s time would be nothing but a slam dunk.

As the brunette typed a quick response, her gaze lingered on her hand with a flicker of unease. Her skin seemed darker somehow, a subtle bronze hue that hadn’t been there yesterday. Frowning, she dismissed it as a trick of the morning light and continued working. Perhaps she needed to initiate further testing on the skin once exposed to sunlight, just to be sure.

Halfway through the morning, Deborah rose and headed to the restroom. Something felt off about the way she walked, as if she was pushing around a little extra weight that made her hips roll a little further. After finishing her business, the lead medical researcher glanced in the mirror as she washed her hands and froze at her reflection. Her skin looked noticeably tanned, a rich bronze glow that stood out against her usual fair complexion. That was definitely not a trick in the light. Had she always been this tanned? Doubt crept into her mind as she leaned closer, trying to remember her previous complexion. She ran a hand over her cheek. The texture remained smooth, and the tan was even over her entire body, but the deepened hue felt alien, stirring a knot of unease in her stomach. This was definitely a side effect she wasn’t expecting.

Returning to her office, Deborah eased into her chair as her posture suddenly felt all wrong, as if a cushion had padded her seat. She glanced down at her seat, but nothing seemed different; something had definitely gone awry. The tightness in the scientist’s pants intensified, and her rear felt more pronounced, pressing uncomfortably against the fabric. A chill ran through the brunette’s spine as she suspected her ass had expanded; there was no other logical explanation.

The panic hit Deborah hard, and panic began to rise in her chest. Noting that her suit needed further adjustments and testing before she could wear it any longer, the woman reached for the disarming button at the base of her neck. She pressed it firmly, expecting the suit to immediately release its grip. However, nothing happened. Deborah pressed the button again, harder. Still, the prototype remained locked in place, enveloping her real body snugly without any intention of letting go. The brunette’s breath quickened, her fingers trembling as she tried a third time, but ended up with the same result. She would have to deal with this when she got home. She refocused on her work, pushing down the fear that she was potentially trapped inside her own creation.

Deborah’s phone buzzed on the desk, snapping her out of her spiraling thoughts. A reminder flashed on her screen, informing her that her lunch date with Samantha was due shortly. Deborah had originally planned this lunch meeting to share her bold plan of wearing the prototype to sway the board with her trusted friend. However, now with the suit refusing to release, her body adjusting in unsettling ways, the brunette wasn’t sure if disclosing this to her friend was such a good idea anymore.

Sighing deeply, the woman stood, her navy suit clinging tightly and her movements feeling foreign. As she headed toward the office door for the lunch date, Deborah noticed her hips swaying exaggeratedly to accommodate her newly pronounced ass. She shuddered, but no matter how she tried to adjust herself, the brunette found her ass swaying hypnotically as she walked. With a determined breath, she pushed through the door and headed out of the BioSynth building. A little bit of fresh air would do her good, she thought.

❖

Stepping into the chic Lost Garden cafe, Deborah forced her mind away from her suit clinging tightly to her morphed lower frame. The upscale LA venue buzzed with soft chatter, its modern decor bathed in natural sunlight through the expansive windows surrounding the facade. The woman’s hips swayed with emphasis as she walked in, and she attempted to adjust her posture to mask the effect. Glancing around, Deborah caught sight of Samantha sitting by a window, who waved her boss over with a warm smile.

As Deborah approached, Samantha rose and enveloped her friend in a warm hug, her fitted lab coat swapped for a light pink blouse and white skirt that showed off the auburn-haired woman’s slim body. Her eyes sparkled with friendliness as she parted them to speak. “Wow, Deborah, I love your new tan,” Samantha said brightly as she studied the woman’s bronzed appearance. “It looks amazing and so evenly applied. Where did you get it done?”

The tanned woman’s heart skipped a beat. She knew it was ridiculous, but she had hoped no one would notice the sudden changes. Her green eyes darted away from Samantha as she fumbled for a response. “Oh, just a salon in Beverly Hills. You wouldn’t know it,” she said quickly, her voice tight and fingers fidgeting with her purse strap. “Nothing too exciting, I just fancied something different. So, how’s the lab been today?” Deborah forced a smile as she shifted the conversation, desperate to avoid further questions about her appearance.

They settled into their seats by the window, and Deborah eased into her chair with a subtle wince as her pronounced rear pressed awkwardly against the cushion. A waitress approached with a notepad in hand, her smile polite. “I’ll have a black coffee,” Deborah said plainly. Samantha ordered a skinny latte, and as the waitress walked away, they slipped into a familiar conversation about work. Samantha’s voice was light and enthusiastic, recounting a minor breakthrough in the lab, and Deborah was happy to temporarily take her mind off her own issues.

Yet beneath her nods and smiles, Deborah’s mind churned with a difficult debate. Should she disclose to Samantha about wearing the prototype and its unsettling effects? She knew if there was anyone she could trust in that building, it was her auburn-haired friend, but the fact that she was suffering from side effects they had never anticipated left the medical chief feeling humiliated.

The suit’s refusal to disarm, the inexplicable tan, and her expanded ass weighed heavily on her, and the idea of her subordinate judging her made the woman feel uneasy, whether she was a friend or not. Deborah’s fingers tightened around the freshly presented coffee mug as she weighed the consequences, and she softly bit her lower lip as Samantha continued to speak.

After twenty minutes of Samantha gossiping about life in the lab and making jokes about Ned’s obsession with his boss, the lab technician smiled softly and took a sip of her drink. “It was great catching up like this,” she said lightly. “Although considering how urgently you invited me out, I thought you might have had some big news to tell me. Anything exciting to share?”

Deborah softly shook her head, her lips pressing into a tight smile. “No, Samantha. No news yet,” she said softly. It was too embarrassing and risky to involve her friend in all of this. She resolved that she needed to go it alone. “But I’ll let you know as soon as something comes up.” She took another sip of her drink in an attempt to hide the suspiciousness in her voice.

Samantha nodded softly and smiled at her friend before reaching across the table and taking hold of Deborah’s hand. “I know it's not been easy lately, but you got this girl,” she said encouragingly. “Whatever’s going on, you know you can trust me.” She ran her hand over her friend’s fingers and stood up. With one final warm hug, Samantha waved and left the cafe, leaving Deborah on her own again.

Left alone with her coffee, Deborah slid back into her seat and stared into the dark liquid, her reflection warped in its surface. The warmth of Samantha’s friendship reminded her that she was not alone, but it also gave her the perspective that it wasn’t just her job on the line. She needed to fix this before the board threw out years of development with a single vote. Drinking the rest of her coffee, Deborah rose to her feet. She’d figure it out, she thought to herself; she always figured it out in the end.

❖

Returning to her office, Deborah stepped back into her office. She sat at her desk, pausing again at the unfamiliar bronze hue of her skin as she woke up her PC. Her heart pounded with anticipation and dread as she loaded up her emails, hoping for an update from her research team leader, Jeremy, about Miles’ stolen designs. Her inbox stared back empty, and frustration twisted in the woman’s chest; she was running out of time.

Determined to uncover the cause of her unexpected changes, Deborah delved into the latest safety research files from the final batch of animal testing. Surely there had to be something her team had missed, she thought. Her green eyes scanned the data with growing desperation, searching for any overlooked detail that could explain the prototype’s behavior, but the reports offered no answers. The synthetic skin had passed the final tests with flying colors, behaving exactly as it was intended. None of this made sense.

A notification popped up on the brunette’s laptop, breaking her focus. An email from Miles Caldwell appeared, strangely sent from a personal, non-BioSynth address. Why was this asshole messaging her from a burner email? Groaning, the medical research chief opened it, and her eyes widened in shock at the contents. The message was curt, direct, and menacing: “Deborah, Deborah, Deborah, what a pickle you’re in now. I know exactly what you did, and you’re in deep, hot water now. Meet me at El Murrino’s Italian immediately after work if you don’t want the board finding out, naughty girl.”

Deborah gasped and absently bashed her fist against the wooden desk. How had he found out? Did Ned spill the beans? Was she caught on CCTV? Rage battled inside the brunette woman as she processed her rival’s threat. Refusing Miles could mean exposure of her prototype theft, jeopardizing her career. However, Deborah couldn’t think of anything worse than seeing that bastard’s smug face when he came face-to-face with her after knowing what she did. The woman shook her head and sighed heavily. She didn’t have a choice. She knew she needed to meet the cocky AI research leader if she was ever going to protect her reputation.

Two hours later, Deborah found herself stepping into the Italian restaurant directly across the street from her workplace. It was an upmarket establishment that many businessmen frequented after work. Her heart raced with dread as she scanned the room, spotting her rival, Miles Caldwell, in a corner booth, enjoying a glass of red wine. The clicking of her heels alerted Miles to the woman’s presence, and his cocky smirk appeared as he admired Deborah’s form.

“Well, don’t you look radiant, Deb,” Miles said, his voice dripping with self-satisfaction and mockery as the woman slid into the booth. He wanted to savor his rival’s discomfort. “That tan is quite the statement. I wish I could spend all day lying on a sunbed, but some of us have work to do.”

Deborah’s eyes narrowed as she stared at her colleague in fury. “How about you cut the bullshit, Miles,” she snapped sharply. “What do you know, and what do you want?” She had no time to play his games.

The man’s goateed grin widened as he leaned back, his eyes gleaming with malicious amusement as he enjoyed Deborah’s abrupt response. “Oh, Deb, I know far more than you’d like me to know,” he grinned, swirling his wine glass as if he were taking his time. “I know you stole a prototype from the lab, and I know you’re wearing it right now. You’ve violated multiple regulations in the last 24 hours, and now you find yourself stuck in the skin. Am I warm?”

The woman’s heart pounded as Miles explained exactly what the issue was. How the hell had he found out? “What do you know about it?” She asked. “Who told you?” There was no point in hiding the truth; the side effects were there for everyone to see.

Miles’ grin turned predatory as he took a sip of his drink and placed it back on the table, leaning forward as if to disclose a secret to his nemesis. “Let’s just say I have my little birdies,” he said smoothly, enjoying her discomfort. “But there’s more. You may have thought you were ‘borrowing’ your own prototype, Deborah, but you actually stole mine.”

Deborah’s eyes widened as she shook her head. “No, that’s not possible. I took it from the medical lab.” She knew she had just admitted to stealing her own skin to Miles, but the revelation caught her off guard.

Miles paused before grinning. “Our suit was moved to the medical lab as our lab was undergoing a brief refurbishment. I know, I argued against it, but the synthetic skin you took, it belongs to the AI division.”

The man leaned even closer, practically on her side of the table, as his voice lowered to a taunting whisper. “And because you’re wearing my tech, it allows me to do things like this,” he said before glancing at his smartwatch and tapping various buttons, activating a protocol.

Deborah leaned back and gasped as a sudden tingle coursed through her lips. The sensations intensified until tiny pinpricks covered every cell in her lips. She shuddered as they began to swell, inflating further and further, into obscene, porn-star-caliber pillows that felt heavy and unnatural. After forming their desired shape and size, the tingling dissipated, but the alteration remained.

Miles raised his phone with a big grin, displaying the front camera to show Deborah her new reflection. The woman’s eyes widened in horror as the face staring back at her presented grotesquely exaggerated lips, forced into a puckered pout against her tanned skin. They were obviously fake and completely altered the appearance of her face. “Take a look, Deb,” Miles said, his tone dripping with humor.

“What the fuck did you do to me?” Deborah whispered with a louder tone than she had planned, prompting a couple of nearby patrons to look in their direction. Blushing, she tried to ignore the stares as her hands flew to her face, feeling the unnatural heft of her new, huge lips. Humiliation surged through the scientist, her fingers trembling as she tried to comprehend the sudden transformation.

Miles leaned back with a chuckle, his eyes gleaming with triumph. “Well, unlike your neuro-adaptive technology designed for human use, my skin responds to commands from a console like this,” he said, tapping his smartwatch lightly. “It allows the user to modify his or her AI companion in any way they like. That’s why you can’t remove it, it’s not your design.”

Deborah clenched her hands into fists, her body visibly shaking at the thought of Miles altering her body. “Change me back, and get this fucking thing off me!” Again, her fury was unable to keep her voice in a whisper, and several people glanced her way, eliciting a bigger grin from Miles.

Her rival shook his head with mock sympathy. “Sorry, Deb,” he said. “While your skin was designed for human use, mine was created for companion dolls. We never saw a need to remove the skin, so we never added a release feature to the design. I’m afraid you’re stuck in that thing, at least for the time being.”

The brunette woman’s eyes widened, and she gasped in terror. “You can’t be serious. I can’t be stuck in this skin. There must be something you can do.” Deborah couldn’t believe she was pleading to the one man she hated more than any other, but she knew he held all the cards.

Miles shrugged with a smug chuckle. “I don’t think you’re in a position to negotiate, Deb,” he said condescendingly. “The way I see it, you’ve got two choices. You’re wearing my most advanced prototype, and I only have one of them. I could easily frame this as an attempt to sabotage my team’s hard work, and the evidence is all over you. That would put you out of a job for sure, and, frankly, would likely land you in jail.”

The AI research head paused, letting the weight of his words settle. “I could definitely add a release feature to the design, but it would take at least a week. Until then, I still need my advanced prototype, so I’m going to need you to pose as an Intima Creations AI companion doll until I can get you out of that thing. No one can know that Deborah Duvall is inside the suit.”

Deborah gasped, and her eyes widened with fright. He couldn’t be serious. “You can’t force me to do that,” she responded furiously. “I hate those demeaning things walking around the building. I won’t do it!”

Miles grinned wider. “I thought you might say that, and of course that is totally your choice,” he said, phrasing it as a fair ultimatum. “However, if you do refuse, I will be taking my findings to the board first thing tomorrow morning. They’ll love hearing about your reckless theft, especially after your little outburst in the boardroom. You’re already on thin ice, and this would be the final nail in your coffin.” His eyes gleamed with victory as he knew he had the woman trapped.

Deborah’s hands shook. “You’re really blackmailing me into acting like one of those dolls?” she whispered.

Miles laughed heartily. “Blackmail? No. I’m simply giving you a choice. It’s entirely up to you which path you take.” The man withdrew a piece of paper from his inside pocket and wrote down his address before sliding it over to his huge-lipped rival. “I’ll give you two hours to make your mind up. Be at this address by 8PM. If you’re not there, I’ll be sending a very interesting email to the executives before I head to bed.”

Deborah parted her plump lips, but had no words. Miles stood and adjusted his suit with a smirk. “I could revert your lips back to normal, but I think I’ll leave them as they are, just to remind you how important your next decision could be,” he said with a mocking wink. “Don’t be late, doll.” Laughing, he strode out of the restaurant, leaving Deborah alone in the booth to contemplate the horrific revelation and her next impossible choice. Refuse his demand and lose everything, or accept, and spend the next week posing as Miles’ humiliating companion doll.

❖

A loud knock echoed through Miles’ downtown apartment, and he answered the door with a grin spreading ear to ear. Standing before him was Deborah, now wearing a casual white t-shirt and black leggings, with a gray scarf wrapped tightly around her lower face to conceal her grotesquely swollen lips. Despite covering half of her face, the woman’s green eyes blazed with defiance as the man greeted her. “Well, well, look who finally decided to show up,” Miles said, his voice dripping with juvenile amusement. “Lose the scarf, Deb. You don’t want to hide a masterpiece, do you?”

Deborah narrowed her eyes before eventually shaking her head. “I’m not doing that,” she said, her voice muffled but coherent. “Just tell me what you want from me.”

Miles casually leaned against the doorframe, wearing his own navy blue polo shirt and blue jeans, looking the woman up and down. “I think you need to drop the scarf if you want my cooperation,” he said tauntingly. “Or perhaps you want me to send that email to the executives right now?”

The transformed woman’s body shuddered as rage battled within her. She knew her rival held all the cards, and she couldn’t risk tempting him into destroying her life. Reluctantly, she unraveled the scarf with her trembling fingers, revealing her obscene, porn-star bimbo lips, before letting the material fall to the floor. The air felt cool against her altered face, and Deborah rushed into the apartment before anyone saw her.

Miles chuckled and closed the door, gesturing for her to follow. “That’s better,” he grinned. “Let’s get to work.”

The man led his embattled colleague into the master bedroom, where an iPad lay waiting on his neatly made bed. The room’s modern decor felt suffocating as Deborah stood in the last place she wanted to end up. Picking up the tablet, Miles glanced at the brunette with a smirk. “So if you’re visiting me, I’m guessing you’ve made your decision,” he said casually, with a tone that was loaded with menace.

She stood rigid, her hands clenched at her sides, her lips heavy with an unnatural pout. “Y-yes. I’m here to accept your proposal,” she said with a strained tone, not wanting to succumb to her rival’s demands but knowing she had no other real choice. “But you better damn well make sure there’s a release trigger within the next seven days so I can pitch my own proposal at the meeting.”

Miles grinned mockingly before slowly nodding, his eyes examining Deborah’s form with glee. “You have a deal,” he said before his tone turned serious. “Now, strip.”

Deborah’s eyes widened, shock flashing across her tanned face. “What? That’s not part of the deal. I’m not stripping for you,” the brunette snapped, her voice trembling, her hands gripping the lower hem of her t-shirt tightly.

The bearded man rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically before setting his tablet down. “You can’t exactly walk into BioSynth tomorrow looking like Deborah Duvall if you’re to act as my prototype. What the hell would they think of me?” he said with a patronizing tone. “I need to see what I’m working with if I’m going to make you a convincing AI companion. Perhaps this was a bad idea. Maybe I should email the executives right now.”

“No!” Deborah exclaimed immediately, desperation surging in her chest. Her fingers hesitated, but the threat of her career falling apart outweighed her feminist pride. With a shaky breath, she began to peel off her white t-shirt and black leggings, removing her sneakers until she stood before her nemesis wearing a simple black bra and pantie set, her bronzed skin more on show as she stood practically naked before the man.

“Everything, Deb,” he said, using the nickname he knew she hated as he savored her discomfort. “All of it.”

Swallowing hard, Deborah unhooked her bra before stepping out of her panties, standing naked with her body trembling, her face burning with humiliation. Miles smiled as his eyes scanned the woman’s form, appreciating her slim, toned figure, his mind noting how he could improve on her pert B-cup breasts. He was about to have a lot of fun. “Well done,” he said patronizingly. “Now let’s make you perfect,” he said, picking his tablet back up and loading a customization screen before entering commands into the unit.

It wasn’t long before a tingling sensation erupted across Deborah’s scalp, and the woman gasped sharply as her tied-up brunette hair began to unfurl, dropping across her upper back before lengthening. Eventually, her hair hung loosely and settled against the brunette’s mid-back. The transformation wasn’t over yet, however, as her strands shimmered unnaturally and began to soak out the color of her dark locks, transforming into a bleached blonde shade. When the pins-and-needles sensation ceased, the former dark-haired woman stood before her rival with long, platinum blonde hair.

Deborah’s hands flew to the unfamiliar locks, tugging them in disbelief, but the change was undeniable. Her face contorted into an expression of horror and humiliation as she realized how far Miles was about to take this transformation. “No, stop this now, Miles,” she whispered. However, Miles only grinned wider as his fingers danced over to a new section of the display.

The woman’s green eyes prickled with an intense warmth, and Deborah temporarily lost her sight. After blinking rapidly, she stared back, and Miles smirked at his handiwork. The new blonde couldn’t see the transformation herself, but her eyes had shifted to a vivid, bright blue shade. The change also gave her a wide, naturally vacant expression that paired with her already obscene lips to create a doll-like appearance. Deborah rushed to a nearby wall mirror and froze, holding her breath in dismay as she caught the stranger staring back at her. Her once-sharp features were softening, and her new eyes made her look perpetually surprised.

Miles tapped the tablet again, and a warmth spread across her cheeks, reshaping the woman’s facial structure into a rounded, softer form with high cheekbones and a small, button nose. The transformation practically erased her distinct angles, leaving a vaguely familiar but distinctly different woman in the mirror. Deborah turned back to her tormentor. “What the fuck are you doing? Look at me!”

Miles tried to keep a straight face, but the glee in his eyes was impossible to avoid. “I’m making sure no one discovers who you are,” he mocked as his fingers continued to dance over the tablet, ignoring Deborah’s protest. A sudden tingle surrounded the woman’s pert 34B breasts. Deborah glanced down, shaking her head, as she witnessed them expand before her eyes. The transformation was slow and deliberate, and she shuddered as she felt the ‘implants’ expand inside of her. These were not being built for a natural appearance. The weight felt foreign, pulling at the new blonde’s posture, as they expanded into large, rounded 34DD mounds, sitting high and inviting on her upper torso. Deborah’s hands clutched her breasts in disbelief, and immediately shot them back from the sensitive sensation she experienced as her nipples grew, forming in a permanently taut, erect, slightly upwards-pointing display.

As Deborah’s humiliation deepened, her waist began to cinch inward, as if an invisible corset tightened around her midsection, sculpting an exaggerated hourglass figure that accentuated her newly enhanced breasts and ass in a way that screamed artificial promiscuity.

The alterations kept coming as a searing burning sensation flared just above Deborah’s bare pussy, prompting her to open her mouth and scream out. She bent forward, struggling to see past her newly rounded tits, and her heart skipped a beat at what she found displayed before her. Just above her slit, between her exaggerated hips, Deborah saw a circular logo with BioSynth’s logo displayed in the center. Around the edges of the circle, the words “Property of BioSynth” were printed starkly in black block lettering, effectively branding her as an object.

Another burning pain erupted on the blonde’s lower back, and she twisted awkwardly but was unable to spot the black barcode tattooed just above her plump rear, its dark lines a humiliating marker of her objectified state. The scientist’s hands trembled as she touched the tattoos, as the raised branding amplified her sense of violation.

Miles’ fingers continued to move over the iPad, and a final wave of pinpricks danced across Deborah’s face and hands. Her short, professionally cut nails lengthened into glittering pink talons, with her toes matching the shade, and her face tightened as heavy, flawless pink makeup materialized around it. Thick eyeliner, bold blush, and glossy pink lipstick spread across her face, completing Deborah’s transformation into an exaggerated AI companion doll.

The bearded man stepped back with a broad smile, his eyes widening with surprised satisfaction as he surveyed his transformed rival. “Perfect,” he surmised before moving to his closet and pulling out an outfit on a hanger. He held out a tight white button-up blouse and a short latex skirt that mimicked the slutty style of BioSynth’s AI secretaries. “I think Dee Dee here is ready to present herself to the world,” he said with a mocking grin, christening his rival with a new name.

“You disgusting bastard,” Deborah spat, her voice thick with rage as she struggled to comprehend the level of violation Miles had committed on her body. Her new blue eyes burned defiantly, but her expression remained open and vacant. Before the transformed woman could protest further, a loud knock echoed from the front door, startling them both.

Miles dropped the secretary outfit on the floor and immediately fumbled with his smartwatch. Before Deborah could ask her nemesis what he was up to, she felt a shudder run down her spine, and suddenly she found she had lost control of her motor skills. Frozen in place, Deborah stood with a straight back, her busty naked body on display, before her lips contorted to form an open, wide, frozen O-shape, mimicking an old-fashioned sex doll. The woman tried to move, but her muscles were rigid, trapping her in a standing pose like some inanimate mannequin.

“Sorry, Dee Dee,” he said with a mock apology, his tone dripping with condescension as the woman could do nothing but stare helplessly back at him. “We haven’t worked on your voice yet, and I can’t risk anyone discovering your identity.” With that excuse, Miles left the room, closing the door behind him, leaving Deborah frozen in place, facing his large bed.

Opening the front door, Miles was met by a running hug from an auburn-haired beauty. “There’s my sexy man,” she said as her arms wrapped around him, before kissing him passionately in a deep embrace. The woman was Samantha Brooks, Deborah’s trusted friend and subordinate, wearing a sexy red dress that clung to her beautiful, natural curves invitingly. “Ready for some fun,” she purred.

Miles shut the door and began leading Samantha to the bedroom. “As always,” he replied as he reopened the bedroom door and immediately tossed the auburn-haired lab technician on the bed. He crept onto the bed beside her and began kissing the woman’s neck.

During the makeout session, Samantha suddenly went quiet as she noticed the naked figure standing before the pair, her head tilted with intrigue. “Umm, Miles. Why do you have a naked admin doll in your apartment?” She asked curiously.

The man lifted his t-shirt from his body and tossed it on the carpet before grinning nervously. “I’m just borrowing it to test out my prototype,” he said casually, creating his story on the spot. “I’ve been authorized to take it home for surveillance. You know, quality control and all that.”

Samantha rose from the bed and edged closer to Deborah’s frozen form, her plump fake lips stuck in place. The woman’s close examination made Miles shift uneasily. “It’s weird,” she said with a chuckle. “This doll almost looks a bit like Deborah, if you take away the bimbo hair and tits.”

Miles shuddered, but formed a mischievous smile. Samantha knew exactly what Miles thought about Deborah, and she secretly shared the same resentment. “That’s exactly why I chose this model,” he said in amusement. “It’s fitting, don’t you think?”

Samantha turned to her secret lover and laughed. “That’s exactly what the self-righteous bitch deserves,” she said, unaware that Deborah was standing right there, listening to every word of her subordinate’s betrayal. Miles pulled the auburn-haired woman back onto the bed, slowly peeling off her red dress, his fingers lingering on her bare skin.

“You’ve been invaluable, babe, feeding me all that intel and sending me Deb’s prototype code,” he said with a smirk, glancing briefly at the inanimate woman. “You’re the sexiest little spy I’ve ever seen. Pretty bad friend, though.” He chuckled at his statement.

Samantha giggled and kissed the man on the lips, her bare, modest chest pressing up against his. “You know I only have eyes for you, and the demanding bitch doesn’t have a clue.”

“That’s my girl,” Miles grinned, knowing that if Deborah hadn’t suspected the pair’s affair before, she definitely knew about it now.

The man guided his lover’s head down towards his crotch as he unzipped his pants. As it released, Samantha wrapped her lips around his shaft, enveloping his cock in her warm, inviting orifice.

As the woman bobbed, Miles grinned up at the frozen Deborah standing before the pair, her eyes staring ahead, unable to move or react. “I think I’m going to have a lot of fun this week,” he said with a wicked chuckle, his hands guiding Samantha’s head up and down his shaft as he winked at the trapped doll.

Deborah reeled inside her enforced, naked prison. She relentlessly tried to will herself to freedom, but her muscles refused to respond. Her closest work friend and most trusted colleague had backstabbed the new blonde to her face, albeit unknowingly, and Deborah was facing a week of humiliation under the facade of a busty, blonde Intima companion doll. Could things get any worse?

End of Chapter One