But then if Robin really wanted to win me over to her side, she wouldn’t hurt me. Not too badly, anyway. So it couldn’t really hurt anything to follow this AFF lead, whether it was legit or not. I’d just have to be on guard against anything that seemed fishy.

The fishiness, though, started as soon as I walked into the apartment.

After I walked in, the door closed and locked behind me. It seemed strange that “freedom fighters” would use such features of the very system they were trying to free themselves of, but no matter. I turned to see that there was no one behind me, shrugged, and continued walking in.

An ornate metal tray floated into the room, carrying a glass of iced tea and a pitcher. I started to say aloud that I hoped the tea wasn’t poisoned, then thought better of it. I was thirsty, anyway… I took the glass and drank the tea in two gulps. It was still a bit warm, which means it had just been made, or at least that whoever was behind this wanted me to get that impression.

I really wanted to sit down, but I figured that in such a formal-looking setting, it would be better to wait for a host or hostess to greet me. Besides, where would I sit? I didn’t see a chair anywhere, which was fitting, since I was still in the lobby of this impressive mansion.

It was only then that I realized that the room was full of artwork. The wall itself was painted with artistic patterns, and in unpainted areas there were framed paintings and pencil sketches on display. I was busy noticing the detail in one particular sketch when I heard the sound of someone clearing their throat. The voice was female.

I turned around and didn’t know whether to laugh or bolt for the door.

Descending the stairs was what appeared to be, based on her size, a young girl in her mid-to-late teens. Olive skinned, in a white tube top and matching white capri pants. But — but she was missing her head!

This shapely… headless female body?! was descending the stairs, and I couldn’t help but stare at something that wasn’t there, hoping that my eyes were playing tricks on me. Or something.

I was a few steps away from the door, so I wasn’t exactly right next to the stairs, but it was plain to see that the body’s (girl’s?) neck did not appear to have been chopped — her neck stump was rounded. Which means that either whatever process had removed her head happened a long time before this, or… or she was born without it?

*Game, Bryan,* I reminded myself. *You’re inside a game. Whatever is going on here, this isn’t real.* But it also occurred to me that if I did what Robin probably expected me to do — assume that this was just some mindless body that would happily get freaky with any other warm bodies that crossed its path — she could use that against me later. How she might do that, I didn’t have any idea, and I didn’t want to find out.

The girl was now at the bottom of the stairs, and I was now staring at her tube top, which was now stretched out quite a bit more than when she started down the stairs. Not only was the top itself stretched out more by breasts that had clearly grown a bit on the way down the stairs, but they also spilled out over the top of the tube, giving the impression that they might pop out at any moment.

As she began walking slowly towards me, making little side-to-side movements that resulted in much jiggling, I began backing up towards where I thought the door was. When I got there, it was actually open, though I know for a fact it had closed and locked itself behind me when I came in. I grabbed the doorknob, only for the door to yank itself out of my grasp and slam shut again! When I tried to open it a second time, the doorknob came off in my hand.

By this time the headless girl was still about halfway across the room. I still wanted to leave rather than participate in what might be a trap, but I had no idea how else to get out of there. So when the girl began beckoning to me, I didn’t see how I had any choice but to play along, at least for awhile. Not that I was given one, because when I didn’t immediately begin moving over towards her,  I was shoved roughly in her direction. I turned around to see that, again, there was no one there. And again, as soon as I was facing the girl, I was shoved her way again.

This time she began walking towards a side room, and I followed, hoping the unseen hands would not keep shoving me. When I entered the side room, the young lady was standing a few feet away, facing me. She motioned towards a couch along the far wall, then ducked into what had appeared to be a walk-in closet in the few seconds I’d been able to see inside it before the door closed behind her.

When she emerged from the closet, she had changed from capri pants to a pair of white shorts. And of course that drew my attention to what was now visible — her shapely legs. She walked a few steps towards me, then turned back towards the closet to pull the door closed. I wondered briefly why the door hadn’t closed on its own, like the outside door had done when I came in (and when I tried to leave). But when she made a show of closing the door, at one point bending at the waist as if inspecting the doorknob, it was obvious she — or someone – wanted me to check out her butt.

*Game, it’s a game,* the warning voice in my head said again, but I was barely paying attention. When she turned around, I had to stifle a grunt of disappointment — it was a nice booty — but of course I was treated to a view of her boobs still sheathed tightly in a tube top, jiggling slightly as  she made her way towards me. When she was in front of me, she leaned towards me a bit, no doubt confident of where my eyes would wander to as she drew nearer. I didn’t get a chance to gawk too long, though, because she actually turned around and sat in my lap, leaning into me as she began to let out what sounded very much like a contented purr. For half a second I wondered, *Is there actually enough of anything inside her throat to make that sound?* and then I remembered the throat-clearing earlier. A game, it’s a game.

I looked down at the well-endowed impossibility sitting in my lap and leaning back against me, noticing that her neck stump was so well rounded that there was no hint that there had ever been a head there. There was also no way she could breathe, at least not through conventional means. This was looking more and more like Robin had set a trap to gather ammunition against me should I ever get free from the game. It was possible that I was wrong, though I couldn’t see how. I could also see only one way, at that moment, to find out.

“Nice rack,” I said, more-or-less directly to it, since I was staring down at her boobs when I said it. “And nice butt, for that matter. Too bad there’s no way to know which side you’re on.”

She shrugged, which in my mind sealed it. She was on Robin’s side. A real AFF agent or proxy would have tried to reassure me in some way that they were on my side. Yet, again, this was Robin’s game, and I was stuck in it at the moment. I had to play along.

My hands had been around her waist almost from the moment she sat down but now I began to rub my fingers up and down her sides and around her navel. At the same time I began to nuzzle against the crook of her headless neck. She let out a contented moan and I had to wonder how was that getting out when she had no apparent breathing orifice?

A passing thought caught my attention — in stories by guys who get turned on by the idea of living headless women, the neck stump is portrayed as some kind of erogenous zone. This might have been just a game, but no doubt this headless girl was there in the first place because Robin knew that I had followed such stories and had even attempted to write one. I was pretty sure I’d never get another chance like this one, game or not, so…

I began to flick the tip of my tongue against the rounded end of her neck stump. At first contact her whole body tensed up so much I thought I had done something wrong, but then she went through the motions of sighing deeply, and the accompanying movement of her boobs of course grabbed my attention. I had to wonder how she was able to breathe, and audibly at that, when there was no visible breathing aperture — and when such opening, had it existed, would have been completely engulfed by my mouth?

I kept staring at those heaving boobs as their movement increased in time with her breathing, which itself had sped up as my tongue played with her neck stump. I wanted to get at them but I didn’t want either of us to have to shift our positions even an iota. I pulled away from her neck just long enough to whisper a quick, “If you want to you could take off your top,” before returning to the task at hand. I got a surprising response.

“Nn-nnn.”

Although I wanted her to comply, I actually felt a slight tinge of relief at her response. Sometimes it’s funny how the human mind works — as unreal as this situation was, a part of my mind had been crying out, Underage forbidden trap no get-out, practically since I first laid eyes on her.  I knew I was stick inside a game, and thus a headless woman was probably just a character in the game, but yet my eyes were telling me this was a situation I didn’t want to get into. With no facial, vocal, or verbal cues  all I had to go on to estimate who I was dealing with was, well, measurements, and the dimensions I had seen when she was at the top of the stairs suggested that she might have been underage. And of course it was the part that first noticed those dimensions that was relieved at her negative response to my request.

Only that part. The rest of me, including the little soldier who had been standing at attention practically since the girl first cleared her throat, was extremely disappointed. I was gonna say let down, but, well, let’s say that hadn’t quite been let down just yet.

I had to know why, though. It was plain to me that her whole purpose was to turn me on. It was equally plain that she herself had been turned on, or at least had been working hard to give that impression, ever since the little soldier had snapped to attention.

“Why?” I asked. She responded by reaching for the top of her tube top and attempting to roll the top downwards. She had moved the top edge down maybe a half-inch before I saw the problem — the seam that attached the tube top to her body. I was caught so off-guard that I flinched, pulling my mouth from her neck stump and causing her to start to raise herself from my lap.

She was not a woman, not even a headless one at that. She was — what was she? A balloon? A mannequin come to life? Some kind of doll? In retrospect I can remember the Unreal! warnings, but at that moment I was totally oblivious to them.

My arms were still wrapped around her, though, and provided just enough resistance as she tried to raise herself from my lap. “Wait a minute,” I said. She may have been some weird something-or-other but she was close enough to female that enough… parts of me didn’t want her to move. My rational mind scrambled for something to say.

“Are you…  like that all over?” I said. She motioned towards her crotch with both hands. See for yourself, more or less.

I undid the crotch button to her shorts and unzipped. She was wearing white  panties that were more there than a thong, but not nearly as much so as “granny” panties. Rather than simply pull them away from the skin, I tried to ease my fingers below the waistband and found the same result as with the tube top — a hidden seam that corresponded to the visible seam just below the panties’ waistline. Basically, the outwardly visible seam was the seam that held her panties to her body.

I heaved a sigh. I searched for words and wound up sighing again.

“OK,” I finally managed to say. “OK,” I repeated. “So… you’re not really a woman. What are you, a mannequin? Some kind of balloon? A doll? What?”

Obviously I wasn’t gonna get a concise answer to that, since there were too many options, and she wasn’t exactly able to verbalize an answer. At least I hadn’t expected a concise answer, so I was a bit surprised when she raised one hand, holding up three fingers.

Three? What does that mean? Three… third… wait, the third option — a doll?!

“You’re a doll?” I asked for confirmation.

She replied with a “mm-hmm” and a thumbs-up. Figures. Robin probably figured I’d get all hot and bothered only to find out I wouldn’t be doing any thumbs-upping. But I already knew that if I wanted to keep from agreeing to her plan out of desperation, I’d have to keep my wits about me  — however tempted I was to do otherwise…

MORE TO COME

“You’ll see when we get there,” she said with a giggle. “Stop worrying — you know I won’t let anything happen to you.”

He tried to sit back and relax, but the situation was just too weird. Nothing in his normal daily experience could have prepared him for this — he was in the driver’s seat of his van, but he wasn’t driving. His wrists were cuffed, and the cuffs were secured to the steering column. He couldn’t see the hands driving the car, or the ones massaging his shoulders. Or, for that matter, the owner of the feminine voice trying to get him to relax.

Whoever she is — whatever “she” is — she had taken up residence in his house. Had taken charge, in fact — she now decided what he wore, what and when he ate, everything; but she did it so amicably that he had little trouble following her directions.

Lately, though, she had been asserting herself a bit more forcefully, using restraints where she had previously used persuasion.

(some time later)

The van stopped at a rocky cliff. The door swung open as Jeff’s cuffs came undone, and he floated out, with unseen hands grasping his upper arms, wrists, and ankles.

“What are you about to do to me?” he asked nervously, as he floated just beyond the edge of the cliff.

“Don’t you trust me?” she asked, in a coy tone.

In a shaky voice he replied, “Until recently I only had to trust you not to poison my dinner, or clean out my bank accounts. This is different.”

“How is this different?” she said, genuinely baffled. “I’m not gonna do you any kind of harm, but I need to know you trust me.”

“Why do you have to scare me to death to see if I trust you?”

In the middle of any incident, even one that ‘makes 300 million people very nervous’, life must go on. Even the petty and not-so-petty criminals in the involved area will go on doing what they do. Some people never learn…

Once most saw the side markings, they naturally sped up again, leaving the vehicle behind them. A few may have wondered at the very dark windows, since in New York State those are guaranteed to draw the attention of real law enforcement. But, hey, that’s their problem, right?

But an approaching motorist in a Dodge Avenger, under the influence of spite or some kind of intoxicant — or maybe both — decided to play a game with the rent-a-cop car. He honked his horn as he sped past, then immediately darted into the SUV’s lane and cut it off. The SUV’s headlights flashed him twice in response, then pulled into the center lane to pass. This started a game of speed-up-and-slow-down, with the Avenger’s driver growing increasingly irritated that the SUV’s driver would not accept “defeat” and stay back.

Finally, probably inspired by watching too much TV. he pulled next to the Liberty in the center lane as it tried once again to pass, this time on the right side since the Avenger’s driver was apparently unable to take a hint. He began inching over towards the right lane, trying to force the SUV off the road. But before he could get too far in his intended course, he saw flashing lights in his rear-view mirror. This time it was a police car. An unmistakable black-and-white Dodge Charger with the markings shared by all Westchester County Police cars used for traffic detail.

Not wanting to challenge a real cop, he allowed the Liberty to pass as he eased his car into the right lane, then onto the shoulder, with the Charger pulling over behind him. But why was the Liberty pulling over also? It was a ways ahead of him, but it actually backed up until it was almost right against his bumper.

He waited, wondering what was taking the “county mountie” so long to get out of the car when he looked back and realized — there was no one in the driver’s seat! He hadn’t checked while he was moving, reacting solely to the flashing lights. But there was movement coming from the car — the passenger door had swung open, and a small black something cleared the door and began moving closer to his car. Along with the black object floated something round and shiny. He thought it might have been handcuffs, but he wasn’t sure; the black thing blocked most of the shiny thing from view. Not that it would have mattered; neither vehicle had left him enough clearance to be able to pull off and escape whatever was in store…

The Jeep’s rear hatch swung had also open, revealing a duffel bag that was unzipping. His jaw bounced off the steering wheel when he saw a… wad of fabric rising from the duffel bag. A limp long-sleeved jersey top floated free of the bag as if invisible hands had lifted it. The top then began to tumble through the air, just inches above the SUV’s cargo floor, until it was pulled down over an unseen form that filled it very nicely. But… there was not nearly enough space in the back of this SUV for anyone to get dressed. The driver continued to watch as the top then came to rest on its bottom hem, looking for all the world like it was attached to the cargo floor.

A folded pair of jeans then floated up out of the bag, also filling out in midair to shapely curves, also without enough room for a woman of any size to fit there. The jeans came to rest next to the jersey top, which began to move unseen hands at the ends of its sleeves up and down the jeans, looking like one half-dressed invisible woman feeling up another.

While he sat staring at these pieces of clothing, the items he saw leaving the police car floated into his car through the open front passenger-door window — a pair of handcuffs and a small black package of some kind. He panicked when he saw the handcuffs, pushing the driver’s door open but as soon as he did, the door slammed itself shut as the cuffs made short work of cuffing him. The package opened, revealing a black nylon cord which tied itself to his cuffs, then tied its other end around the steering column to basically immobilize the reckless driver.

The clothing in the back of the SUV then climbed out and made their way over to the passenger side of the hotfoot’s car, which helpfully opened the front door on that side. The jeans climbed in, after which the top floated in and inserted itself into the jeans, reaching over and pulling the door shut with unseen hands. The duffel bag floated through the open window, coming to rest in the outfit’s lap. All three cars started up at that point and pulled into traffic, as the clothing in the Avenger’s front passenger seat pointed an empty sleeve at the former driver’s crotch. His pants began to unzip as a silk scarf slithered out of the bag and began to crawl across the console towards the driver.

As his car pulled out into traffic, apparently under its own power, the scarf arrived at the driver’s open jeans. One corner reached into the jeans, through his y-fronts, and began to play with him…

To all appearances — that is to those who would have been looking in the back seat — there were two invisible people getting busy in the back seat. Two half-dressed invisible people. A men’s t-shirt moved around on top of a dress that fit tightly against an unseen figure. The sleeves of the dress were wrapped around the t-shirt. The t-shirt, being short-sleeved, could not reciprocate. Nonetheless, neither garment was particularly happy about the interruption. As the t-shirt pulled away, the dress waved a sleeve towards the front of the car.

The car then started, much to the surprise of the man trying to steal it. Before he could react, though, something grabbed his feet and lifted him bodily into the air. Whatever it was had grabbed only his feet, but his whole body rose into the air and landed on the bench seat, which helpfully slid back as far as it could go. At this point the clothes in the backseat, which had slid into the car through the open window for some privacy, resumed their earlier activities as the car pulled off with the would-be thief lying in the front seat, restrained with bonds he couldn’t see. As the car pulled off, an MTA Police vehicle parked in the closed MTA command center across the street flashed its lights and honked its horn, in a show of support. Whatever happened to the attempted thief from here on out, it wouldn’t involve any police vehicles, from the MTA or any other police agency…

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