Savanah's Swan Song (Part 15)

Link to the previous chapter: https://www.patreon.com/posts/savanahs-swan-14-118549031

Savanah expected Chad to call back immediately.  Beg her forgiveness.  Throw himself at her mercy.  He had done it countless times before, even when she knew, deep down, that he shouldn’t have to.  He was a bit of a…What was the word kids use nowadays?  A ‘simp’?

But he didn’t.

It was only a matter of time though.  There was no way Chad would trust that glorified Teddy Ruxpin doll to star in a 100-million-dollar movie.  Surely, he would call before filming commenced.    

But he didn’t.

Of course, he’d call after the thing crashed and burned.  It was one thing to copy a performance and sing songs that had been sung a hundred times before.  A robot might be able to mimic movement, cadence, and inflection, but could it bring to life words on a page?  With no real experience to draw upon, could it “find the motivation,” as her acting coach always said, to manifest a compelling and convincing character from scratch?  No.  Chad would call, begging her to rescue the production.  To save her from herself.

But he didn’t.

Fueled by anger and expectation, Savanah spent hours on the treadmill.  She lost another five pounds.  Her puffy tummy, thick thighs, and heavy breasts were still evident when she was naked, but she looked almost back to normal when clothed.  Perceptive cast and crew members might detect a subtle difference, but it wouldn’t be obvious, at least not once they finished filming the beach scenes.  That was only a small part of the movie, and she would be ready to take over once Chad called to tell her that they were done.

But he didn’t.

He’s not going to call, Savanah finally concluded after Chad’s second week away.  She was foolish to think he would.  He was living the high life in Hollywood.  Hobnobbing with celebrities during the day and fucking her facsimile at night. 

Was that…thing even programmed to have sex?  Of course, it was.  It had to be.  There was no way an oil tycoon or tech billionaire would shell out big bucks for a ‘bot they couldn’t bang.  “Companionship,” was the word Dr. Wagner had used during their first meeting.  She remembered the obese scientist’s overly familiar greeting.  “I feel like I already know you,” he had said.  Perhaps he already did.  Intimately. 

Now it was Chad’s turn.  She remembered how he had leered at her Double-D’d double as it bounced around singing ‘Happy Birthday.’  No telling what kind of kinky sex games he was teaching it to play.  Making it do all the things she wouldn’t.  With any luck, it would malfunction during oral sex.  

Savanah wanted to go out on the balcony and scream…but couldn’t.  She was supposed to be a thousand miles away.  She wondered what would happen if she just flew out to LA.  Showed up on set.  Confronted her imposter.  Brought the whole charade down in a spectacular explosion.

Of course, she’d be caught in the blast, no matter how satisfying it might feel to light the match.  Her career would be over.  Even worse, she’d be a laughingstock.  She pictured herself being dragged from the set as Chad and her bitch-bot shook their heads piteously.  She could see the tabloid headlines now: Chubby Savanah Georgia Imposter Crashes Movie Shoot.

No, it was best to let things play out.  She could survive a bad performance.  She had endured them before.  The difference was this one wouldn’t be of her own volition.  That’s what killed her.  The loss of control.  Her career had become a rudderless ship captained by a jilted lover and a sexed-up scrap heap of spare parts pulled from a Dell computer.  All she could do was hope they didn’t run it aground.

Meanwhile, she was a prisoner in her own home.  Actually, it was worse than that.  At least prisoners got to go outside and mingle with other convicts occasionally.  She was in solitary confinement. 

So, she indulged in the one thing someone stuck in solitary was entitled to--

Food.