April 4. 11:34 P.M.
The phone rang. It wasn't so much the fact that the phone rang that bothered Lyle Fenton, but rather which phone rang. Fenton's bloodshot eyes stared at it in disbelief.
"Lyle, are you going to get that or not?" whined Tina from her usual perch in the upstairs bedroom.
Lyle supposed he was, if only to shut Tina up. He rose from the couch, knocking the half-full whiskey bottle onto the floor, where it added its contents to the other stains in the portion of the shag carpet that surrounded Lyle's end of the couch.
He staggered into Kendra's playroom, put his hand on the pink plastic receiver and hesitated. Toy phones weren't supposed to ring. At least not this one.
It rang again. He put the receiver to his ear.
"Well, Lyle, aren't you at least going to say hello?" a soft, seductive, vaguely familiar feminine voice asked him.
"How did you know my name?" Lyle inquired of the phone, feeling somewhat stupid about engaging a plastic toy in dialog.
"It was on the credit card you used to pay for me today. I'm very glad you bought me, Lyle. You're going to be glad, too."
"But I didn't buy you today," Lyle told the Margie-phone. "Kendra's had you for over a month, now."
"Not the phone, silly. Me." Lyle recognized the voice now. Margie. He had just bought Kendra a new, improved Margie doll he had seen on TV. One who supposedly wouldn't say things like "Math is for geeks." Or "I think I'll paint my nails again." Her voice was the same as the old Margie's, though. At least over the phone.
She was just one more Margie doll to add to Kendra's seemingly infinite collection. He scanned her shelves. There was surfer Margie, ballerina Margie, place-kicker Margie, and his favorite one of all, harem girl Margie. They all had the same luxurious long blond hair and impossibly large breasts combined with an equally impossibly minuscule waist. Why, if Lyle were 5'7" shorter and made of plastic he might give that Ben doll a run for his money. Anatomically correct Ben. Why couldn't they leave the innocence of childhood alone, Lyle wondered, as he drunkenly contemplated running his tongue up and down surfer Margie's naked torso.
"You should take me out of the box, Lyle. We could have some fun together," the Margie voice on the phone whispered softly.
Now they were programming the dolls with late-night dialog for dads. Lyle supposed it was a pretty effective marketing technique. He looked dubiously at the box. He wondered what sort of fun the doll had in mind.
"Put the receiver closer to your ear, and I'll tell you," the Margie-voice whispered, as if the doll could read Lyle's unspoken thoughts.
Lyle put the receiver closer to his ear.
"We could..." the doll began, but Lyle didn't hear the rest of it because he was distracted by the thin filament that was weaving its way through the receiver and into his ear. It seemed to pass right through Lyle's eardrum and snake its way straight through his middle ear and into his brain. Into the right temporal lobe to be exact, if Lyle remembered his college anatomy. The filament felt warm in there, and Lyle shuddered as a wave of pleasure passed over his body.
"And I would lick your..." the doll was saying, as Lyle's body was overcome with another wave of pleasure that stretched from the tips of his toes to the bald spot on the top of his head.
"Did you like that, Lyle? That was nothing compared to what you will feel if you take me out of the box."
"Oomph," replied Lyle, as he reached for the box. He could feel the electrical filaments inside his brain multiplying, traveling down his extremities, reaching his fingers, his toes. His penis became enlarged as never before, and his balls throbbed with the pressure of their fullness. He wanted her. He wanted her now.
"Unwrap me, Lyle. Unwrap me, and I'm yours," the doll said. Lyle tore away the cellophane barrier that separated him from the object of his desire. From the silkiness of her polyester hair. From the exquisite feel of her jutting plastic breasts. He tore at Margie's pink party dress as well, not wanting anything to stand between them.
How would he explain this to Kendra, he wondered. Oh well, he could always tell her he had to put batteries in the doll so she would be working when Kendra first saw her. Or something like that.
The naked Margie doll seemed to writhe in his hand. He felt the power surging from the newly-grown electrodes in the palm of his hand into the doll's plastic flesh. Nanotechnology, he supposed. Atom-sized biological-electrical devices. That's what the Battel Toy Company must be using in these dolls these days. And in their phones as well, Lyle thought.
The Margie doll rubbed her arms sensuously against Lyle's hand. Their plastic flesh felt warm, almost human, against his skin.
"You know where to put me, Lyle, if you want to be truly happy," the doll whispered in the most seductive voice Lyle thought he had ever heard. Lyle thought he did know, and gently lowered the doll to his lap. Her tiny fingers actually reached out for his zipper, undid the button on his pants, and pulled him out of his shorts.
The doll wrapped her entire torso around Lyle's organ, licking the tip with her seemingly infinitely extendible tongue and rubbing her breasts up and down the shaft. Lyle could even feel the wet spot of Margie's vagina as it traveled up and down, up and down his prick. At each point of contact, the new electrodes inside Lyle's penis and balls delivered a pulse of the purest ecstasy Lyle had ever experienced.
"How do you like your little girl's new toy so far, Lyle?" the doll's sultry voice asked Lyle, as her deep blue eyes rotated up to focus on his face.
"Gnork," said Lyle. He thought for a minute and then added, "Ooooh, oooh, yes, ah."
