Page 4 of Vibes

“No! No, not at all. I’m boring, remember? He eventually took the hint.”

Son of a bitch. That is definitely Iris.

“Having more than one toy is a good thing,” the first voice continues, and she’s a little breathy and whispery when she speaks. That has to be the third member of their trio, Londyn, and I inwardly groan. I don’t see how Cora’s friends are going to help me. I need better rescue options.

“Variety is the spice of life,” Londyn continues. “Don’t let that cuck get you down.”

“Yeah,” Iris replies with less enthusiasm. “I don’t need variety.”

I can almost picture her squirming like she did at the party. I’ve had a few days to think on that, seeing as all I have to do is think, and a few things started seeming weird. Then again, maybe I’m reading into it too much.

“Yes girl, you do,” Londyn encourages. “Now that you’re single you can take your pleasure into your own hands.”

Iris moves and I finally catch sight of parts of her that are vaguely familiar as she continues muttering to herself. I'm focused on her chin to the top of her tits at this angle, but after ogling her for most of a night I recognize Iris’s body. I can't make out her eyes, with her head turned, but the ends of her hair curl at the nape of her neck and little pieces stick out haphazardly. My lewd gaze is drawn back to her rack, and I remind myself she is at a sex shop and I currently am a sex toy. It can’t be that perverted.

“Just get it,” Londyn chirps. “It's from the For Her Pleasure line. It’s a new brand. I hear those are supposed to be good!”

I didn’t know I was from a line of anything. Did I get tossed into packaging that says that, or is this another joke of Cora’s?

“Then why is it on sale?” Iris asks.

“Don't question when they discount the good shit.”

I inwardly laugh that I’m considered the good shit. If the packaging is part of Cora’s plan, it backfired on her friends. I will give Iris every cute nickname she wants if she picks me up off the shelf. If she'll free me from this vibration prison and get me back into a body of flesh and blood I’ll make it worth her while.

I'm not really sure how to do that, but getting off this shelf is the first step.

“Look,” Iris says with a laugh. “It's called Punchy. Can't say my vibes usually come with a name.”

You have got to be fucking kidding me. Cora made a joke about the punch bowl. This has to be her fault, and while I might not remember shrinking down to a bullet-sized vibe I do think it’s adding insult to injury to call me Punchy of all things. Wasn’t hitting me in the eye with the contents of a punch bowl enough?

Iris grabs my box and tilts me upward, and the most hypnotic blue eyes look down at me. Those are the kind of eyes I'd like to gaze into while I fuck them. She didn’t seem thrilled at the party but maybe when I’m a man again Iris will have second thoughts. To my dismay, there's a firm set to her lips, and she's studying my box as though I'm inadequate.

In this form, I probably am.

She shrugs, and I feel myself free falling until there's a thunk. The plastic design I'm staring at has to be a basket, and I silently rejoice over the fact that the nerd picked me up! I'm almost free of this porn store hell.

“If nothing else, it can sit in my drawer waiting for a rainy day,” Iris continues, shattering my enthusiasm.

If she puts me in a drawer to be forgotten, it’ll be even worse than staring at the store day in and day out. Sitting in the dark is a crueler fate than the discount bin. How do I fix my problem if I’m tossed into a drawer?

“Come on,” Londyn replies, and I feel myself moving. It’s strange to feel any kind of movement when barely anyone has touched my box in days. I hadn’t acknowledged how touch-starved I was until right now. “Have a party for one and forget all about Dylan.”

“I don’t need a party. I need wine.”

“All the more reason to have a happy-time party.”

“That’s what you’re buying?” Cora says, her voice panicked.

Ah ha! I might not be able to see the witch, but the fear in her voice is satisfying. Did she think I’d never get off the shelf? This is her own comeuppance for transforming me into a mockery of my former self.

“Iris is having a personal party,” Londyn says cheerily, oblivious to her friend's dismay. “I told her the line is a good one.”

“Well, usually,” Cora grumbles. “There’s other options. Do you want another color—”

“Cora,” Iris deadpans, “color is irrelevant here. So long as it works, I don’t care.”

“I just…” Cora’s voice trails off, and I really, really want to see the expression on her face right now.