The way the waves rocked against the side of the schooner was like a lullaby, causing Marnie’s eyes to drift shut as she sat in the deck chair. Somewhere below her parents were making lunch, and she was fairly certain that the captain and his first mate were watching her sunbathe from the wheelhouse, but they seemed harmless enough. The notion of a sailing trip around the peninsula, towards the Sea of Cortez, had sounded like a nightmare, at first – a week with just Marnie’s parents, no cell, no civilization. But here on the ocean, she found that she was enjoying herself, even if she pretended she wasn’t.
Marnie rolled over, unclasping the top of her bathing suit, a red two-piece she picked up right before the vacation, and tossed her long, dark hair over her shoulder, feeling the sudden and welcome sensation of the sun’s rays beating down on her. The normally pale skin was beginning to tan, and Marnie fancied the idea of returning to her second semester of college sun-bronzed. She might make her roommate Cathy jealous, with her blonde hair and naturally Californian figure. Marnie may have been less endowed, but her lean runner’s body was not unappealing.
From the wheelhouse, she heard the sudden call of the captain, screaming something in his native Spanish. Marnie’s head jerked up, her hands, reaching behind her to fasten her top automatically, the sound of the captain’s cries replaced by a harsh grinding and pops like a series of gunshots going off all around.
She was on her feet when the fuel tank blew, jettisoning her into the air like a leaf picked up by an autumn breeze and cast thoughtlessly across a backdrop of blue sky. The water hit her like a punch, forcing the air out of her lungs, pushing her into the clear water of the Pacific. Marnie kicked hard, her instinct taking over as her eyes found light above her and kicked for it, arms and legs paddling furiously upwards until she broke the surface and swallowed oily, hot air.
‘Oh my God!’ she thought, the first thing strung together in any recognizable fashion since the first cries from the captain, her heart still hammering in her chest, body alive with danger. She swirled the water around her, angling until she found the schooner’s bow pointed straight up to the sky, a wooden finger extended from the sea, quickly sinking back into the water.
“Mom?! Dad!” Marnie swam for the boat, seeing no one else paddling in the wreckage, no other voices heard calling. Only the debris from the cabins and the deck, splintered wood, part of a mast, and a field of life preservers, papers and wrapped food. “Somebody?!”
No one answered. She dove, briefly, looking for a sign of life, for any recognizable face, someone to save her, tell her this was all a bad dream. The low mumble of the ocean replied, faceless, uncaring. In time, Marnie wound herself around a fragment of the mast, floating amidst the wreckage, and she wept until she could cry no more and shock and exhaustion overtook her.
Marnie awoke when water seeped into the corner of her mouth, filling it with salt water. her eyes jerked open as she spat, wiping her lips with the back of her hand, her elbows sinking into sand. She realized that there was earth beneath her, and dragged herself to her knees, taking stock of her surroundings. To her left and right, the beach stretched, lazily angling away from her in the distance. Ahead of her, she saw a high bluff, insurmountable, but a more gentle green hill was visible to the west. She couldn’t quite see, but it appeared to be cut, with a fence separating it from the beach. Marnie weakly rose to her feet, adjusting the swimsuit as best she could as she began her trek towards what, she hoped, must be civilization.
By the time she reached the slope of the hill, it was clear that someone was tending the land, as the fence she had imagined she saw turned out to be very real, wooden poles that rose only to chest high, with utilitarian beams between the poles. She supposed cows or sheep might be daunted by the fence, but anything larger would easily escape. As Marnie reached the fence, she saw that the hills gave way to a large field, trees littered about the lush green grass. It looked like a painting to Marnie, one of those early American paintings that were always on the covers of literature book in the college bookstore.
Marnie slipped through the fence, enjoying the spring of the grass under her feet and between her toes. Despite the horror of the day’s events, the pastoral setting and the combination of sea air and the fragrance of the field soothed her. She found herself reaching out to low-hanging trees, feeling the caress of the leaves on her fingertips. She paused, leaning against a tree, catching her breath and trying to push the images of the boat’s wreckage on the surface of the water. something distantly jingled, the high, tinny sound of a distant bell or bells. It reminded Marnie a bit of sleigh bells, the irony of that not lost on her as she started across the verdant land.
She sped the house first, a manor in the old Spanish style that California mimicked, but never duplicated. This was the real thing, sun-washed stucco walls, three floors, offset as they climb the high hill the manor on which the manor sat. A recessed balcony on the top floor pressed against glass doors. Marnie thought she saw someone on the balcony, but the sun reflected from the doors into her eyes, bring her forearm up to shield herself from the glare. When she lowered her arm, it was then she saw the girl.
She was possibly in her twenties, or maybe thirties, it was hard to tell, as the girl’s age was inconsequential compared to her dress. Her hair was a dirty blonde, pulled back in a tight braid, her head adorned with a pair of buckled straps that forced a cylinder between her teeth. A bit, Marnie realized, in wonder and shock. Taking into account the rest of her outfit, the leather buckled below and between her heavy breasts, the strap that ran from those buckles between her legs and up her back, the artificial hooves that covered her hands, the long boots that ended in similarly fashioned artificial hooves, which forced the girl’s back into an odd curve, thrusting her chest forward, displaying the pierced nipples, a delicate silver chain running between them.
Marnie watched as the girl moved with a lay grace just out of sight, hidden by a thick cluster of trees. As Marnie moved down the edge of the field, towards a well-worn path which led up again toward the house, she hugged the base of a tree, twisting to follow the girl with her eyes. When she saw the girl step, back arched, knees raising high with each step, towards a small clearing where a half dozen other girls stood, all dressed, bound, in the same fashion, Marnie released an audible gasp. The pony-girls all stood at attention, heads turning in unison to the tree behind which Marnie stood, her face peeking around the trunk. When one ran, they all did, rushing in a strange, yet graceful lope towards a barn resting in a corner of the fenced field.
“Don’t worry, they’ll be fine,” a husky, lyrical voice said behind her.
Marnie turned, her back against the tree, as a woman approached from the direction of the house. She wore dark sandals and a dark, loosely-fitting dress that was belted at the waist with a silver band. Her skin was deeply tanned, and her high-boned face was framed by long black hair that tumbled over her shoulders and down her back. She was enchantingly beautiful, and the gentle smile that tugged at the corners of her full lips was instantly reassuring. When she spoke it was with a delicate Spanish accent that flavored her speech charmingly.
“Please, don’t be alarmed. I am Solita. You are from the boat?” At the word ‘boat’, her eyes and lips both fell into a look of sadness. “You must be… please, come with me. You must be terrified. Is there others?”
“N-no,” Marnie stammered, “No one else.”
“You poor girl!” Solita reached to Marnie and took her by the hand, draping a protective arm over her shoulder and ushering her up the path, towards the house. Marnie, at the soft touch, felt the day’s events crash upon her once more, and she cried all the way up the path.
When her eyes fluttered open, Marnie tried to acclimate herself, a voice scolding her for falling asleep in this strange house. Still, the bed she sat upon was soft, and the breeze blowing through the curtains, carrying the evening with it, comforted her. She realized that her swimsuit had been replaced by a cotton dress, a deep red, and her hair had been pulled back into a ponytail. She stood, crossing to the window, where Marnie could see almost half the island she had stumbled upon, and she imagined that a view from the balcony she had seen would offer a look at the other side. She found her hand at her mouth again when she saw the pony-girls in the field by the barn, some nuzzling against one another, one bending at the waist to eat from a trough screwed to the side of the barn. The pony-girls’ hands rested at the top of their breasts as they stood, like vestigial limbs that would eventually wither away in successive generations.
“You must think you’ve stumbled into something horrible,” Solita said behind her, surprising Marnie. “I don’t suppose you’d believe me if I told you they want to be that way?”
“Who would ever want that?”
“You would be surprised, I think. Is your dress all right? Comfortable?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“Good. Dinner is almost ready, if you are hungry. If you’d rather take your food in this room, I understand. You must have been through so much today.” Solita moved to Marnie, but kept a respectful distance, leaning against the other side of the window, looking out on the field. “They are lovely. That may shock you to hear, but I believe they are beautiful creatures, and very happy. Tomorrow, you can go see them if you like. Close, I mean.”
“No! I’m sorry, no, thank you.”
“As you like. Would you like to join us downstairs for dinner?”
“My family and I.”
“Do you have a phone?”
“You have no idea where you are, do you, Marnie?”
Solita smiled. “There are no phones here, no boats. This is a refuge for those who find that they need to live their lives a different way. They can do that here. We are intentionally secluded. We have an agreement with the mainland that we will appear on no map, no chart, other than those that warn of a barren island. The next time there is passage from this island is when a new girl arrives to live her dream. Now do you understand?”
Marnie looked at the dark-haired woman, mouth agape. “I’m trapped here?”
“Now that’s a matter of perspective, isn’t it? But you will stay with us for the foreseeable future. Make yourself at home, Marnie.” And, with that, Solita turned and left, closing the door behind her, leaving Marnie to stare out the window, over the field.
The steps were heavy and regular as they approached the door, followed by a muffled knock. Marnie had been sleeping again, only dark on the other side of the curtains now.
No response, save another knock. Marnie gathered the red dress beneath her as she rolled from the soft bed onto the floor, crossing and leaning her head against the wooden frame.
“Solita?” she offered again.
Marnie opened the door, and immediately took a step backwards into the room, reeling from this new surprise. Standing before her was someone completely covered by latex. The shape suggested a woman, but there was no skin visible, no features to be certain of the gender. The feet and legs were covered by glossy, staggeringly high heels blending seamlessly into latex stockings, leading up to a black and white latex skirt, the white bit like plastic lace, blossoming out from her hips. A white latex apron was tied behind her (Marnie assumed), the waist it circled almost inhumanly tiny, then widening, all covered by very tight, black latex. The breasts were either freakishly large naturally, or had been augmented, but they were flesh, Marnie realized now, as the flesh held within shaped with the latex as the maid stepped into the room and bent to set down a tray. She raised again, hands coated in some tight-fitting mitten which defined only the thumb, then a mass which hid the individual fingers. The face was covered by a hood, the eyes peeking out vacant, staring ahead. Atop the latex-coated head, a small white bonnet had been secured.
“Thank you,” Marnie said, keeping a safe distance from the glossy maid.
The maid gave a small bow, turned on the high heels and exited with an exaggerated sway of her hips. Marnie’s hunger didn’t allow her to linger on the sight of the departing maid for long before she lifted the lid on the covered tray and ate the sandwich and salad provided,
The following morning, Marnie didn’t wait for the maid to appear, instead waking with the sun and arranging herself as best she could before venturing out of the room. The first thing she noticed when she opened the door was the smell of food cooking somewhere, and her mind leapt to the image of several similarly-dressed maids fussing about a kitchen, only perhaps these were dressed all in white with tall hats. She almost giggled at the notion before realizing that it could be entirely true.
At that moment, the panic seized her. Marnie slumped against the wall of the corridor, wrapping her arms around herself, an ocean of hopelessness washing over her. How could she escape from this place? If Solita was correct, there was no guarantee of rescue any tie in the foreseeable future, and she had no idea how the sunken ship could be found. And, if someone was looking for the ship and found it, why would they assume there were survivors?
She found her footing, again, unable to shake the new tension that had overtaken her, following the smell of food to a small flight of stairs, recesses built into either side of a wide landing. Within the recesses, statues stood, or what would appear to be statues at first pass. When Marnie passed them, she paused, realizing the pale, stone-like coloring was paint, and that two naked, unmoving women stood on either side of her, their eyes pointed to some unwavering point on the horizon, not registering her presence at all.
“Marnie!” Solita called happily, appearing at the bottom of the stairs. The dark dress from yesterday had been replaced by a white one, this one brief and flirty, a dress which would have been fashionable on a street in New York, as would the gold stilettos she wore. “I am so glad you’ve come down from your room. I hope you slept well?”
Marnie nodded, distracted by the human statuary.
“You must be starving. Come along!”
Marnie looked down at Solita’s outstretched hand, disoriented by the surrealism of the household, moving down the steps and taking the beauty’s hand.
Solita ushered Marnie into a breakfast room where French doors opened onto a small patio. beyond that was another field, the fence around it measuring a wider patch of land than the horse field had. Marnie was led to a table on the patio, sat down, and found renewed shock as she looked onto this new spectacle. In the field, Marnie saw large-breasted women of mostly middle age, nude save for collars around their necks and the large bells attached to them, crawling on all fours. Some of them had been painted white and black to more clearly mirror the cows they so clearly represented. To a one, they showed an expression of dumb contentment as they chewed on what must have been grass, one occasionally lowing softly, the breeze floating their moos over the field.
Behind her, Marnie felt Solita draw her hair into a ponytail, pulling the dark hair out of Marnie’s eyes. Marnie absently reached up, touching nothing, a gesture with mere distracted intent.
Solita leaned down, resting her head on Marnie’s shoulder. “Forgive me, but it’s so rare to have one here who can talk back, so I may seem chatty. All the other women on the island… well, they are not so much women anymore, but I love them all.” Solita kissed Marnie’s cheek as she stood upright, crossing to a chair opposite Marnie and sitting with an elegant cross of her legs.
“See? Listen to me chatter away. How are you today, Marnie?”
“Why did you do this to these people?”
“Do what? They all wanted this, Marnie. I am only a caretaker here. I make sure they are fed ,thank goodness the maids tend to enjoy helping there, report back if any of the guests become sick or injured so they may go back to the mainland…”
“How do you report back?”
“When a new guest arrives, as I told you. What’s wrong, Marnie?”
“I’m scared here<" Marnie confessed. "Oh, why, lovely girl? This is the safest place in the world!" "It's just so strange..." As if on cue, a maid appeared at the patio, taking her short steps on the way to the table. In one gloved hand, she held a tray holding four glasses. The maid paused before the table, carefully placing a glass of water and a glass of milk before each of the women seated there. With a bow, she turned and left. Marnie wondered if this was the same one who had brought her dinner last night. Solita barely acknowledged the latex-coated servant, instead choosing to focus on Marnie's observation. "I guess it's been so long with them, I don't see them as strange at all. Just my pets and friends. Though none of the talk back." "You must be lonely," Marnie said, her eyes darting back towards the interior of the house, wondering what other surprises awaited her inside as she took a long drink of milk. She coughed. "What?" Solita asked, leaning forward over the table and placing a hand over Marnie's. "The milk is sweet." "Oh yes, it is. Delicious, I think." "It's not...?" "From the cows? Where else would it be from?" Marnie snatched up the glass of water and rinsed her mouth with it, spitting onto the grass. Solita laughed. "You don't want to know what's in that water, then." Marnie gasped, eyes wide with imagined horrors, the glass of water still in her hands. Solita laughed harder. "It's just water, I'm kidding. You have to relax, Marnie. Look." Solita raised the glass of milk to her full lips and drank a long swallow. "See? Delicious. Nothing wrong with it. I drink it every day. Makes the cows happy when they see it, too, I think. We don't have to have the whole breast-feeding conversation do we?" "No, I understand it's not poison or anything, but I'd rather not drink it." "Suit yourself. So, I have some chores to attend to, after breakfast, but nothing too strenuous. What would you like to do after that?" "I just want to go home." "Oh, Marnie. We have everything here and no one can hurt you here. I've been alone for so long here, Marnie, please don't be scared. I just want someone to talk to." Marnie felt her heart drop at the teary voice, Solita's round eyes wet and pleading. "It's just strange for me," Marnie said. "I'll try to be less freaked out, okay?" "Okay." Solita grinned across the table at the girl as a pair of maids brought a large breakfast, placing the meals wordlessly before the women. Two days passed quickly, and Marnie found the surroundings to be a soothing balm over the fresh loss of her parents and all that she knew. If you were going to be stranded, there were worse places. The maids and statuary took some getting used to, and this morning had been the first she had actually drank the milk, but after a pair of days accompanying Solita in her tasks, Marnie felt confident it had no ill effects. Marnie marveled at how quickly the sight of a line of latex-covered maids became normal. Today, Marnie would help Solita feed the horses and cows, then they would have a long dinner, talk until they got sleepy, then start all over. Marnie admitted that Solita was a very sweet woman, if overly talkative at times. In fact, Marnie felt some sympathy for the woman who had used the opportunity to serve as caretaker on this island to escape an abusive boyfriend. Solita had told her all about it late the night before, and they had hugged and held hands as Solita recounted the darkest moments of her life. Marnie was startled by the sound of footsteps, looking over her shoulder into the house as Solita appeared, a wide-brimmed hat covering her eyes, dressed in a practical sundress and sandals. "I almost overslept." "I'm keeping you up at night. I'm sorry." "Don't be silly." Solita approached Marnie from behind and bent to hug her. "I've loved these past two days. Sometimes I don't think you realize how lonely you are until you have company to remind you." Solita released Marnie and took her place across from the thin girl. "I think you're beginning to get some sun, Marnie." Marnie raised her forearm in front of her. "Maybe a little." A maid entered, deposited the dual glasses of milk and water, and returned to the house. Marnie drank the sweet milk first, then allowed the crystal water to wash it down. "You could go swimming later if you wanted. There's a lagoon." "You'll have to show me." Marnie smiled. "Can I ask you something?" "Of course." "How do the ponies and cows and maids never say a single word? I understand that they want to live this way, but still... Stumping your toe, falling down, something would make you say something." Solita straightened in her chair as she assumed teaching mode, as she had done often as they had explored the island. "Well, when the clients come here, they are usually given a training by the company that owns the island, so by the time they land, they're like that. A few times, I've had to help with that once they arrive. Basically, it's just a series of shots and then you sit in a room where they strip away everything but what you wanted to begin with." "That sounds a lot like brainwashing," Marnie said, a little apprehensively. "Sort of. But, keep in mind that the women here all pick what they want. They sign a contract saying that they're of sound mind and all that. After the term of their stay expires, we wake them up the next time a boat comes. Sometimes, they want to go right back to their old lies, some decide to stay, like the statues on the stairs. There are six of them, in all, and they stay perfectly quiet and still until the next arrives to let them sleep. It's actually very heartwarming to see the changing of the statues, so quiet and beautiful." Marnie immediately began eating the toast on her plate as the maids arrived with the food. "I think it sounds a little shady, Solita. What's the name of the company?" Solita shrugged and took a bite of her own meal. "They stay mysterious. I had one face to face interview, and the next thing I knew, here I was. I don't regret it for a second, though it has been lonely sometimes." "I'll keep you company," Marnie grinned. "At least till the next boat gets here. My aunt and uncle probably think we all went down with the s hip." Marnie tried to make the words sound light, but they fell heavily between them. "You could stay here, Marnie. We'd live like queens." "Maybe," Marnie said, breezing past the idea as she thought of the shocked look on the faces of her aunt when she realized that her sister's child had not been lost, too. Solita smiled happily, planning their day together silently from her chair. As the weeks went by, Marnie's trips to the beach grew more infrequent as the hopes of a ship arriving any given day were fading. She would know when the ship arrived, she realized, and it was better to let time ease the wounds and aches she felt. And she had healed much. The thought of her mother's smile or father's stubbly cheeks still twisted something inside her, but it no longer drew tears at the images. She and Solita had settled into something of a routine, waking each morning, meeting at breakfast, talking over the day, then doing the chores that had not been delegated to the maids. In fact, since there were two of them now, Solita had given the maids less to do and Marnie frequently caught the shiny servants milling aimlessly about the manor, cleaning rooms and shelves that had been cleaned that morning. Marnie enjoyed working with the pony- and cow-girls, who were startlingly kind and happy, if not terrible smart. In particular, a girl with red hair and freckles all over her back and breasts, a ponygirl Marnie thought of as Cherry, had taken a shine to Marnie, and Marnie loved petting her mane, once she became used to the notion that whatever had made her a person once was no longer there. She was thickening, too. The rich diet that the maids prepared, couple with the cows' milk had rounded the harder angles on her body, filling her chest out some, too. She would never be a bra-buster, but the diet had given her a jiggle she found pleasant. Solita had commented on it a few days earlier, and Marnie noticed uncomfortably how Solita's eyes lingered on her more and more. During the regular talks in the evening, Solita had become possessive, growing uncomfortable when Marnie discussed her family on the mainland, or the notion of her leaving the island. The subject would be changed and not returned to. Still, Marnie smiled at the notion that every day she spent in this paradise among these strange creatures, she was one day closer to finally leaving it behind her. She would miss Solita, but she was young, prettier than she had ever been, and prepared to take on the world outside. The morning the ship arrived, Marnie was in her bedroom, brushing out her lengthening hair and wondering what she would do with it all. Perhaps braids tonight. She would get Solita to help her, assuming Solita wasn't exhibiting the creepier side of herself. She was shaken from her reverie by a knock at the door. "Solita?" No response. Must be one of the maids, but it was strange to have one appear in the morning when most were busy with breakfast and cleaning. Marnie crossed the room, her thin, sheer nightgown leaving her with a chill, and Marnie opened the door hugging her shoulders. There were two there, similar to the maids, but without the domestic uniform, which made them seem more sleek, and a little frightening. Behind them, Marnie saw Solita standing, her mouth turned down t the edges with sadness. "Solita?" Marnie said again, meeting the woman's eyes as gloved hands seized her shoulders and a sharp pain registered in her shoulder. Marnie had just enough time to twist in the hands of her assailants and see the hypodermic pressed into her skin. Shocked, Marnie looked again to Solita, who couldn't meet her eyes, her head bent to the ground, as darkness overtook her. Solita stroked the dark hair away from Marnie's face as her eyes fluttered opened, blinked hard, softened at the sight of her before growing suddenly cold. "Solita, what do you think you're doing?" Marnie tried to rise, to point an accusatory finger in Solita's face and tell her how scared she had been when Solita showed up at her door like that, but it was okay because it was all a big joke.. But, she couldn't. She couldn't move at all. As consciousness rose and crystallized, she felt straps holding her down, her entire body secured. The ones holding her forehead and chin still felt as if they were made of heavy rubber. Lying on a waist-high table, Marnie's eyes darted left and right. To her left, she saw one of the latexified girls that had grabbed her. To her right, a latex parody of a nurse, fussing over a box in her high patent white boots, white skirt and form fitting top, both with a red cross on them to designate a medical affiliation. It didn't take long for Marnie to understand that she was in very serious danger. "Solita?" Solita stepped forward, ran her fingers over Marnie's. "I'm right beside you, Marnie." Marnie's voice wavered as she attempted to sound calm, almost casual. "What are we doing today, Solita?" " I couldn't just let you go," Solita said, though it sounded like she was speaking to herself as much as to Marnie. "It was nice not being lonely, and when you left, I was going to be all aloe again." "I can see where you might be afraid of that, Solita, but I'm not going anywhere. See? Why don't you just let me up so we can get something to eat?" Solita continued, unabated by Marnie's easy offer. "All these weeks, spending time with you... I think I fell in love with you, you know? We could have been queens of this island. I knew that someday someone would come looking for you, or the ship would come, and I would have to decide." "Please, Solita..." "I would have to choose to watch you leave or keep you here forever with me. But.." Solita did look at Marnie, now, straight into her eyes. "...it wouldn't exactly be Marnie staying." "Solita, you don't have to do anything, I'll stay as long as you want..." Solita stroked the girl's cheek and smiled with a bittersweet twitch of the eye. "I know you will, Marnie. You won't know any better." Solita stepped from the room, as Marnie called after her, her fingers and toes wiggling, her body shifting only slightly under the straps despite her attempt. One of the "nurses" hobbled to a tray, taking earplugs out and securing them in her own ears, then delivering another set to the assistant. They nodded to each other, and the first nurse, walking in terse, squeaking steps, moved to a panel on the door. Flipping a switch, the room was filled with white noise, then, beneath that, a low hum that Marnie could just make out. It wasn't so loud as to be uncomfortable, but it was insistent, filling up her head. She was trying to identify the sound beneath the sound when her attention was distracted by the quick swivel of the surface she lay upon, standing her upright. Marnie could feel the tips of her feet barely graze the floor, the rest of her supported by the straps as a visor was placed over her head. It fit snugly, turning her world black. "Solita?" she called, but there was no sound besides the nose filing her head, no color but black. There was no difference between awake and asleep for Marnie except for a modicum of self-awareness, the realization that she couldn't see, the sensation of the straps against her skin, her immobility. At some point, she had given up struggling with the straps. Her body ached from her muscles, tensed to escape for what must have been hours, and she enjoyed the relative comfort of her limp suspension. She was still trying to pick apart the sound beneath the sound, and she felt like she could almost make it out, like a voice or a whisper, shredded by the wind. She pursued it though, as there was no other way to occupy her time as she hung here. Contemplating what the nurses might be doing around her, if they were there at all, was useless. She imagined for a moment that the sub-sound was saying her name, over and over, and she realized that it fit or that she imagined it fitting well enough to be close. There was a tugging at her straps, and Marnie readied herself for a mad dash when they loosened, but the one across her bare waist was repositioned. She squirmed, as best she could, as a rubbery finger pressed a cold, slick lubricant into her slit, giving a methodical twist to coat the walls efficiently, then retracted. Marnie pleaded, or she thought she did. She couldn't hear her voice, and remembered the plugs that went into the hyperbolic nurses' ears. Were they for the sound or her cries? She supposed it didn't matter. She was alone, regardless of the forms that moved around her, invaded her. She felt more than heard the grunt she released when a cylinder was placed into her slickened pussy, affixed in place by what she imagined must be surgical tape. Another pressure found her clit as some other device was placed over the nub, and affixed there as well. Marnie could feel the sway if wires against her thigh, but just barely. She listened for the click of the nurses' tall heels, but there was only the noise, now calling her name, whether it called her name or not. She found that reassuring at least. If she remembered her name, she would make it. No amount of darkness or noise could make her forget her name. She was stronger than those girls roaming the fields, she was somebody. And she could resist, where they did not want to. A proud smile crossed her face. All she had to do was play Solita's game until she was released. She could overtake the dark beauty if she must. Despite a healthier rounding of late, she was fit. If she had to survive for weeks on her own until a ship came, she would. The noise was fading. No, that wasn't quite right. The noise on top was fading. The one beneath rose, but was still indistinct, maybe words, like a song sung in a foreign tongue. She knew there was music there, but she couldn't find the lyrics. Still, it was softer and more gentle than the white noise, which had diminished to almost nothing. Marnie jerked her head when her vision was suddenly filled with light. In the void of blackness, a door had opened, invisible except for the light it let in. Marnie moved her head about to ensure the vision remained static, that it was just some programmed image, not reality. The opening door remained centered in her sight, the sliver of light interrupted by a form moving out of the door way and into the darkness beyond the door. The only thing Marnie could tell was that the figure fluidly reflected the light. It must be covered in rubber or leather or something to achieve that effect, and Marnie knew by the shape of it, by the way it walked that the figure underneath was Solita. She wasn't just the caretaker of this island, Marnie mused, she was a spokes model, an incentive. A soft glow rose, and the virtual Solita seemed to be immediately in front of the bound girl, a knowing smile on her face. t was a smile that urged struggle, resistance, only to be done with it that much sooner. 'Doll,' the voice said, a word Marnie heard and could not refute. She could still hear her name mixed in, or imagined it there, but 'doll' was certainly one of the things being said. At the mention of the word, a buzzing began inside her as the vibrator secured there began to steadily hum. As it buzzed within, the pressure against her clit increased, subsided, increased, subsided. It was a slow, gentle assault against her button, and her legs twitched in response as her stomach twisted itself, unable to deny the pure physical response of her sex. The Solita that stood wordlessly before her pointed behind, and a screen lowered. Solita stood just to its left as it flickered to life, and Marnie noticed the light reflecting from Solita as the images danced. Latex. She was sure Solita was wearing latex. She was rewarded with a stronger buzzing inside her, and Marnie unconsciously bit her lower lip. The screen was filled with the image of a girl alone in a room, a room decorated in bright pin - the curtains, the bedspread that Marnie imagined covered a pink mattress, pink carpet. The color seemed to run together in this room, the vision broken only by Solita's peripheral presence and the girl on the screen, wearing simple jeans, a plain tee, standing in stark contrast to the bright color around her. The on-screen Solita turned her head, seeming to stare straight into Marnie's eyes with a knowing smile, then returned her smoky gaze back to the girl on screen. The girl stood stock-still, eyes ahead, as two of the nurses, much like the ones who had attended Marnie, entered the frame on either side. When the first touched the girl, raising her arms, the anonymous girl shuddered, seemingly lost in pleasure. Simultaneously, the vibrator and cliterator (as Marnie now thought of it) both hummed to life, sending spasms through her belly. The voice filling the room whispered, "Doll..." It grew more insistent, louder. The second nurse removed the tee, revealing a plain bra beneath. Marnie wondered if the girl on screen were an actress, or if she was being programmed, toyed with, a moment of subjugation captured on camera. When the girl's bra was removed in short order by the first nurse, whose job seemed to be stripping the girl as the other nurse steadied her, another wave of whispers and vibrations flooded Marnie's senses, matching the reaction of the girl on the screen. The virtual Solita looked to Marnie occasionally, then back to the girl, the same knowing smile painted on red lips. Next, the nurse removed the girl's jeans, unbuckling them with little care, obsessed with the task and not the process. This did not stop the shivering reactions of the girl on screen, nor did it ease the whispers and ministrations of Marnie's increasingly moist pussy. When the girl's panties followed suit, leaving her bare, a look of pleading sexuality on her face, help up only by the assistant nurse, the assault on Marnie's sex was doubled, and she could feel her legs desperately trying to clench together, her hands to touch something besides the latex straps holding her. The first nurse disappeared from the frame, leaving Marnie and the girl in exquisite stasis, one held aloft by latex hands, the other by latex straps. The nurse returned, her featureless latex face tilting in examination of the girl. A hand extended, stroking the girl's face, and Marnie and the stranger moaned aloud together, as the devices within Marnie worked diligently at their tasks. Marnie's fingers curled around the latex straps that held her, squeezing them, rubbing them. The assistant nurse lifted one of the girl's legs as the first retrieved a tube from her tray, which was summarily uncapped and a gel applied to the nurse's hand. The hand began at the girl's raised foot, coating, making the shine glisten. A whir of unheard motors raised Marnie's leg in tandem with the video, startling Marnie even as her wet sex betrayed her resolve. Marne realized now what was happening. She was supposed to associate with the quivering, desperate girl on the screen, to relate to her. She would not, she vowed, even as a small orgasm rippled through her body. The devices attached to her did not slow or stop, only kept humming, pressing inside her, feeding the fire that was beginning inside. The gel applied over the entirety of the girl's leg, that leg was released, and Marnie's table recessed to settle her les back together. The reunion was short lived as the next leg was raised, just as the assistant on camera raised the appendage on screen. The scene continued to play out, the girl tended to by the assistant, arms raised, hair pulled back, and Marnie table shifted and lifted, mimicking the actions on screen. When the girl's hair was raised, Marnie felt latex fingers do the same behind her, and she could not deny the slick, sensual feel of it against her forehead as the fingers grazed her skin. Unlike Marnie, the girl on screen was now coated in a thin sheen of the gel, her body shiny under the lights, seeming reflect the pink all around her. Marnie's eyes blinked more heavily as she watched, a curiosity filling her. What came next? The answer was obvious in retrospect, as Marnie began to lose focus on the machines buzzing at the center of her pleasure, the slow drip from her own lubricated labia unattended and virtually unnoticed. The nurse bent off screen, raising again, arms full of shiny pink material. Marnie knew then, even as the whispers filling the room grew louder, "Doll... pleasure..." As the assistant raised the girl's foot again, and Marnie's table followed suit, the pink cat suit was eased onto the girl's foot, smoother by attentive hands, lifted, over the knee, the thigh, smoothly hugging the girl's skin. The girl, reacting to the latex as it was drawn up her leg, ran her hands over her breasts, over her mouth, the tongue finding her digits to lick and suck. Marnie was looking at a wholly sexual being, and she closed her eyes, the voices filling the room and the space behind her eyes, inescapable. "Doll.." it said, and, "Pleasure." Marnie's body was manipulated by the table, mirroring the girl's slow transformation from a plain-skinned woman to a pink latex-coated vision of lust. When the suit was over her arms and shoulders, the first nurse turned her around, and Marnie couldn't resist the thought that her ass looked so good in that pink skin, so smooth and perfect and round. The back was still slightly open, the seam of the cat suit drawn together by the assistant as the first nurse retrieved what looked like a small metal rod from the tray, with a handle and a dense coil wrapped around the shaft until ending in a flat metal tip. A cord hung from the base and off the screen. The assistant held together the flaps as the nurse touched the tip of the rod to the gathered latex. A wisp of smoke rose from the girl's back, and Marnie's eyes opened wider, understanding now that the girl was being sealed. Her shock was quickly replaced by a further attack on her pussy, forcing her eyelids down hard as her hips squirmed to push deeper. When her eyes opened again, the girl's back was smooth, save for a thin line where the seam had joined. She was left standing as her hands explored her body, squeezing her breasts, rubbing over her stomach, around to her back and the curve of her waist and ass. When the nurse returned to the girl, she held in her hands a pair of pink latex boots, the heels balanced on sharp heels. The girl saw them and lowered to the ground, the assistant now an observer to this girl that had not only accepted her fate, but was ushering its totality nearer. Marnie watched, her fingers unconsciously stroking the latex straps, as the voice in the room picked up another word. "Doll," it said, and, "Pleasure," and. now, "Touch." On screen, the girl raised her leg as the nurse inserted it into the spike-heeled boot, fitting it over the pinks mass that were once individual toes. The boot slid into place, and the girl lowered her leg, raising the other. As the machine followed suit, Marnie could hear the mantra over and over, "Doll... Pleasure... Touch..." The second boot slid just as easily in place, and the nurse gestured to the girl to roll over. Marnie watched as the girl obeyed the wordless command, the nurse retrieving the iron and sealing the boots as effortlessly as the skin had been covered by the pink cat suit. When the wisps of smoke had cleared, the small seams hugged the back of the girl's legs, leaving only a suggestion that the girl had not simply materialized in this fashion, borne of lust and pink latex. The assistant returned to help the girl to her feet, and a new word entered into the vocabulary of the voice whispering to her. "Obey," it said. The girl tottered briefly on her heels, then stabilized, straightening, arching, hands exploring again, one settling between her legs, now smooth and slick, the other pressing against one encased breast. The nurse disappeared again, as the image of Solita turning to face Marnie, and back again, distracted Marnie long enough to be surprised at the reappearance of the nurse. In her hands, another pink latex item was held, one Marnie tilted her head to make out, the image moving with her head, the vibrator and cliterator humming away, voice whispering again and again, "Doll... Pleasure... Touch... Obey." When the pink mask was unfolded, the girl on the screen silently moaned, the look and sounds of lust unmistakable, even in this void, and Marnie could feel her body respond to the surrender of the girl on the screen. The hood was placed over her head, smoothed, holes left for her eyes, her nose, her mouth, but otherwise featureless, another hole in the back used to feed her hair through, winding it into a long pony tail. The iron returned, sealing the hood to the neck of the cat suit, encasing the girl inside the suit. When the iron was returned to the tray, the nurse and the assistant took a step back, observing the smooth pink form, her hands still exploring and *Touching*, a beautiful *Doll* consumed by itself. The virtual Solita turned her gaze again to meet Marnie's, lingering there, and Marnie looked into the dark eyes, her body awash with pleasure, as Solita's smile grew, beautiful and knowing. Then, Solita stepped away, into the darkness. Marnie's eyes scanned the horizon of the world within the visor, searching for Solita. She gaped when Solita appeared on the screen, approaching the Doll there, reaching out to it. The Doll, upon seeing Solita, responded with abandon, moving close to the raven-haired seductress with a tilt of her hips, punctuated by the height of the heels, hands closing around Solita, tongue outstretched, worshipping the latex Solita wore, and the skin that was contained beneath it. Solita sat, scooping the Doll into her arms as it curled against her, petting its hair as the Doll kissed and licked and touched. "Worship," the voice continued, "Pleasure... Obey... Touch... Doll." Marnie wasn't sure when she slept or when she woke, only that sometimes there was darkness, sometimes there were the images and voices. The scene had replayed again and again, the girl's transformation looping before her eyes, the machines attached to her continuing their pleasuring, the voices whispering. Other phrases and words had slipped in, and Marnie knew them all by heart, now. "Doll... Touch... Pleasure... Obey... Worship... Lust... Lick... Kiss... Suck... Doll." When the nurses returned to the room in the world outside the visor and unstrapped her, lowering her to the floor, Marnie only knew that she was being moved, touched. She found herself responding with pleasure at every touch, her tongue reaching out to touch a finger if it came close, hands stroking the latex hands that held her. Once upon the floor, Marnie's body responded to the cues, arms and legs lifting and lowering with the girl upon the screen. When the nurses removed the devices providing her body with so much pleasure, Marnie filled the time between raising and lowering but stroking her breasts, her pussy. She found that the voice was all she needed to think, to touch and lick and kiss and please was all she needed to do. She remained in that state, sitting on the floor, the voices and screen teaching her, her fingers providing her with the stimulation her body now needed. She must have slept, certainly, but she couldn't remember that. In fact, she only thought of the doll and of Solita and the pleasures they must have found together. Solita saw the nurse click down the hallway on her tall white heels, mindless of Solita's presence, arms full of pink latex. A twinge of guilt came and passed, as she reminded herself that this equipment is used for selfish purposes all too often. Now, they were going to give Solita something back...a companion. As the door opened and closed on the Education Room, she heard a moan of pleasure. She wondered if Marnie might not need a new name, as any she would give her would be immediately accepted, but Solita loved Marnie and resolved not to change it. Unless she got bored with it. Solita crept to the door, ear pressed against it. No sounds, but it was quite well sound-proofed. She paced outside, chewing her lower lip. She knew the transformation occurring within the room, had, in fact, assisted with it, to provide toys for others, but this was for her, this was her reward for the months of loneliness. Marnie would be hers, forever, and she would care for her above all the others. The door opened, and Solita could hear within only a quick panting and the squeak of rubber fingers over rubber skin. Solita entered, calming herself, assuring herself that would be fine, that Marnie wouldn't run. She had nothing to fear, she realized, as soon as she saw the girl. Her short hair made only a small ponytail, but that would grow. Her eyes stared lustfully out from the hollows of her face, the mouth sealed to the lips, those full lips. The rich meals had served her well, and the pink skin that clung to her curved deliciously over her fuller breasts, her rounded bottom. She moved at first unsteadily on the spiked heels, taking a tentative step towards Solita, then gained confidence as Solita opened her arms to her, embracing her, sitting with her in Solita's lap, completing the imprint from Marnie to Doll. The Doll pressed against Solita, face upturned, kissing softly at Solita's neck as Solita stroked her hair, cooing to her, a tear squeezing from her smiling eyes, even as the Doll's hands settled over Solita's breasts, exploring them, kissing them. Solita opened her blouse for the Doll, allowing her to kiss and lick, losing herself against the Doll's latex skin. When the Doll's fingers ventured further, tracing around Solita's dampening mound, finally finding the lubrication needed to slip easily inside begin to stroke her owner to true bliss, Solita cried out, holding the Doll to her pubis, sighing as the Doll cleaned her anew with its inexperienced but eager tongue. Finally, Solita drew the Doll's face to her own, kissing it and drawing slowly back, looking into its worshipping eyes. "I'll call you, Marnie. Would you like that?" "Doll," it replied, and moaned in bliss.