Chapters Dollhood: A Woman's Choice Book 2 Chapter 22
September 26th, 2049
My wedding day: the most spectacular moment in a woman’s life, the defining moment when she is passed from her father to her husband; it’s all a haze in my memory.
I was there, as were countless other people who can attest to my attendance, but my mind was not. I was a Doll, present but not present, caring not for the sip of champagne I was allowed to taste, nor the bit of icing John had me suck off his finger, nor the japes and double-entendre from my now father-in-law. I can tell you it was lovely, it was fashionable and chic, but it was also torturous.
It all began earlier in the day just before Chastity and I had been fitted into our wedding dresses, completely made up and prepared with fourteen-inch waists that made me thankful for the rib reduction included in my enhancements, otherwise it would’ve taken days, a week, maybe even a fortnight of progressive lacing to fit us into our dresses. Not to say this was a walk in the park: I was at my absolute minimum waist size and had to be brought back around with smelling salts multiple times — held at my neck of course, not my nose — once during lacing and twice over the course of that special day. The cruel embrace of my corset was truly unforgiving, especially since I already had no mobility above my waist save for my breathing. Indeed, Collins Sr. had gotten into the habit of calling Chas and I his ‘trophy wives’ due to our enforced poses. Tightlacing on Dolls was more aesthetic constriction than posture enforcement like before, but the final result was worth it and I wasn’t getting any younger. Even if my face showed no age, by my twenties I would be lucky to reach this measurement again, and I wanted to impress John, my man, my owner-to-be.
All of our preparations were to be expected: hair, makeup, jewellery, as well as the refitting of our engagement gifts in our behinds.
I had grown somewhat accustomed to the eternal tease over the previous two weeks, as accustomed to intermittent vibrations as one could get, but I was still flush and needy most of the day and the fragile handle I had once had on my sex drive was absolutely gone now. With every vibration and spasm, gentle or devastating, I was reminded of the object which occupied my behind, and the man to which it belonged to, who I was soon to belong to. Indeed some days I felt like naught but a simple ambulatory carrier of this mass of ivory inside me, a decorative accessory wrapped about this piece of my fiancé, rather than the inverse. And if I was scheduled to greet John the next day, or Chastity Mr. Collins, then we would even sleep with our gifts overnight, bound like Sleeping Beauty on the telly, and I use the term ‘sleep’ lightly, for who can sleep with such vibrations tickling their unspoiled flowers, or with the faint sound of the same torment coming from the other bed, mere paces away?
I won’t pretend I did not fantasise my sister and I helping each other like we used to when our gloves were too tight, or gush at the idea of the Althea I used to know opening that door again to give me another taste of what could’ve been, for what does one do with hours of edging in this way? But my main fantasy was John, growing a pair and using them on me, as unlikely as that was. On our first date after Father inserted my gift, just three days later, I would have thrown myself at John and begged him to plough my empty cunt if I could have, but instead the soft, timid man threw himself at me instead!
As I sat there in the drawing room, hoping I wasn’t making another wet spot on the chesterfield — for Father had threatened nappies if I stained the cushions again — my fiancé nearly cried into my lap when he heard the low rumbles emanating from my hips, randomly turning on and off so I could never grow used to a pattern, or desensitised to the faint teasing.
“I’m so sorry, Hope! They made me, I didn’t want to, I wanted to get you a new locket with our photos, oh I didn’t want the sculptor to touch me there, or for you to have to go through this, you’re so much better than this, my angel, will they know if I take it out? Should I? Darling, I can help, send me a sign!”
I didn’t strive to respond though, for his apology pained me. He only saw me as a victim, an innocent girl ensnared in this depraved body, but such things were not so cut and dry. He had no understanding of a girl’s sinful needs, never mind the needs of a living Doll; I don’t even think he knew what was truly vibrating! It was me, Hope the Doll, clenching what muscles she still had control over so that the lovely sensations could travel farther through her pelvis and bring her the climax she had been waiting days, weeks, months for.
The truth is, I wasn’t “so much better than this.” By the time I had spent a single day and night with the spear inside me, I didn’t want him to take it out, no! I wanted more first, more of him. To be honest, I was impressed by the sheer mass of my new toy compared to our small trainers in school, and it had piqued my curiosity how a man so well-endowed had become so insular and weak-willed. But such curiosities were a privilege for a clear-headed woman. I wanted his warm manhood to fill me up along with the ivory lookalike left inside my rear, and then after I received my long-awaited gift, my real engagement gift; a single, blissful orgasm… oh dear… then we could end this torture.
Oh, an end? Such is not a Doll’s lot in life.
Once the ivory phallus was buried in me yet again, secured in place, and my maid had left to fetch my dress, I was visited by two guests, Father and Lord Chittenham. I tried not to squirm. Father seeing me in only my stays and fine hosiery was fine, better than nearly nude as before, but I had no desire for Chittenham’s leery eyes to feast on me, undressed as I was.
Yet against my will, as always, my rectum clenched and vibrated and I grew hot and panting. Each breath limited by the shallowness of my severe bridal corset, the rise and fall of my breasts became faster and more passionate, my gagged mouth pooling with drool. Such was the effect of their gaze, their purely masculine presence, and with their presence came an instinct to just give in to my body. A Doll shouldn’t worry about such things when a man is present, any man. It was so nice to see both of them, yes it was, yes it was, just like Teacher Dottie said…
“Oh Hope, congratulations on your engagement!” the well-groomed snake said, squeezing my useless shoulder warmly. “I am so thrilled to see you and your sister walk down the aisle today. Oh, where is Chastity anyways?”
I couldn’t respond, nor even indicate I heard him. Some thick saliva slid down my throat unhindered, and I reflexively swallowed. Father answered.
“Our routine has gone to the dogs this morning with two ceremonies in one day. Chastity is in the bedroom eating her breakfast and drinking her normal hydration tonic whilst the automaids finish Hope here. On that topic, I tell you old friend, I’ve doubled the dose of antidepressants in her tonic and she still refuses to cooperate as she once did so eagerly. Chas has been very… troublesome since the engagement.”
Chittenham was shocked, “Not Chastity, certainly?! But she’s been your pride and joy since her first heels, has she not?”
“Aye, it’s disappointing.”
I was sitting right here, how could he just outright call Chas his favourite? And on my wedding day, no less!? The men seemed to notice this on their own and convened in hushed tones, but they were standing right there in front of me and the bustle of our staff preparing for the reception downstairs was but a gentle din up here in the dressing room. Besides, my eavesdropping skills were wonderful, it being the only hobby left to me.
“Well the antidepressants are a good start, maybe an extra dose of nutri-mix every other day to perk up her energy, but not too much or she will put on the pounds. Increase the aphro-supplements next— now, Alan I know you’re a traditional man, but daughters or not, the true heartstrings of a woman are in her loins—”
“I would rather we not discuss this in front of Hope, both of them have a very healthy dose already, and really after today it’s on their husbands to untangle the puzzle that is a woman’s will.”
I was in shock, my father had been drugging me this whole time! But what could a Doll do but slurp up her meals eagerly, even knowing they were laced? Of course I had known my daily mush had vitamins to complete my diet and hormonal supplements to make up for my missing child-bearing organs, but full-bore aphrodisiacs! At the sharp intake of air that should’ve been a gasp, their eyes glanced at me and their voices became overly-cheery yet again, ringing with falseness and patronization.
Lord Chittenham slid forward. “Right-o old chap, of course! Hope! Do you ever walk into a room and forget why you came in the first place? I’m here because your Pappa is concerned about young Johnny Collins and his— erhm, let’s say his gentle sensibilities.”
He would have hated being called Johnny, I thought to myself.
“Honestly, none of us are sure if the boy is an eccentric genius or a goddamn pederast.”
“Language, George!”
“Excuse me, dear. Let’s look on the bright side, shall we? Maybe it’s both! Either way, his father is a gentleman, and a wizard at evading the King’s coffers, so here we are. But I have a possible solution, a trick we can play to entice him. Now Alan, Jack, and I are going to implore the young lad to consummate the marriage tonight, under threat of it being null and void otherwise. Jack has him under such a vice with the expenses of his education, it seems the boy will do anything he’s told, but not too enthusiastically it seems, eh? So we have him try you out, give your snatch a whirl — sorry, Alan — and with what the good doctors prepared down there, he won’t know what hit him!”
Okay this all made sense, though I hadn’t expected my Father and his cohort to be involved in this part of my wifely duties.
“Or… perhaps the little prude has a more pietistic understanding of betrothal, and other than tonight and his session with a birth surrogate in a few years, the boy keeps his ‘affairs’ to himself, leaving you to go about your daily and nightly routine in peace but completely unfulfilled.”
“No! No! I don’t want that at all!” I thought. With that horrifying possibility laid out before us, Chittenham reached into his jacket pocket to extract a squeeze tube of some unknown substance and some latex gloves.
“That’s where this comes in. What I have here is a powerful aphrodisiac and stimulant, well past the legal potency here at home, though it’s naught but a trip to the chemist’s when I’m at my château in Nice. I use it on Belle almost daily, and your mother and I experimented a bit with it when we were young, well before she dollified herself for your Pappa.”
What?? I was suddenly struggling against my frozen face to mouth the question on the tip of my tongue, but nothing happened, air travelled through my neck a tad more vigorously than normal. I had no idea Chittenham even knew my mother, nor that they were partners or friends or the like! Father was too busy eyeing the vial in Chittenham’s hand speculatively, of course such a revelation must have been old news to him, and no one could see the shock I was in. What history between the two of them could have made Mother react so dramatically to his reappearance all those months ago? Had Chittenham had a hand in her original dollification?! Was he perhaps why we were all subject to such customs? I had no time to ponder, for the landed man was already spreading my knees and unclipping my understrap.
Father looked away, he didn’t want any part of this, but he was there nonetheless. Perhaps some part of him didn’t trust Chittenham alone with me, friends as they were. Who could know? I wanted to close my legs and protect my most sensitive flesh from this man I had every reason to distrust, but I couldn’t make myself do it. The gift was driving me mad, I needed his fingers to touch me, please, please, please!
But I had no true understanding of madness, not yet.
His tampering being far below my field of view staring straight ahead at his virile beard, he narrated his actions. “Now, dear Hope, I’m not going to violate your virginity at all; your hymen will be intact, surgical artifice that it may be after your transformative enhancements, I know it’s important to some.”
Father cleared his throat.
“Ah yes, well, no need for me to opine. I have this gel, or a paste, really. I’m going to spread it on your labia and clitoris, and attempt to press some up your vaginal canal if I can.”
Oh! It was cooler than his fingers… his gentle but firm fingers… his firm, strong fingers running up and down my silicone-infused lady lips, coating them in the stuff. Oh just touch my little Doll clit, your Lordship, please! And then he did! Oh just a few swirls, and a smirk! He knew what he was doing to me, this deviant! Wait, no, I don’t want that, I want the truth! What did he do to Mummy?
And then it began to tingle, and grow warmer, and warmer, and grow tight and engorged and tingly and wet and— oh my God, what did he do to ME?!
“There, see? I can already see it working. Alan? There, look, her kegels are spasming— no, no, you should really see. There’s an autonomic one for her ass… there’s a rolling contraction… that’s all programmed in, no… there! There’s a good ol’ vaginal clench! That’s not dolly functionality either, that would require something inside just like her tusk. It is reflexive, yes, but it’s all her. God’s design! That would be our Shangri La if we had mere Ladies to deal with. Good girl, Hope! Good girl! That’s what our boy is going to feel the moment he gets himself inside, but the main event will be when this gets into his bloodstream too. Now, Hope, I hate to subject you to this so far in advance of your consummation, my dear, but today shall be busy, very busy, and you sisters are going to be the stars! We can’t have Johnny suspecting anything with a sudden absence during the festivities.”
I wanted to scream at him, tell him to stop looking at my lady parts like a science specimen, beg him to wash it off, beg Father to make it stop, but no… my legs just shivered in anticipation… maybe he would touch me again… I blinked, and struggled to take in enough air with my waist compressed as it was… it was getting harder to keep track of their words, care about what they were saying, even though they were Societymen and all our Teachers had made it very clear that Societymen — or any Man really — was ALWAYS deserving of our utmost attention… my attention… I couldn’t focus on anything beyond the heat, the tingle, the yearning!
It was as if I was perched on the precipice of climax, stuck there — What’s that word Althea used? Oh yes! Cumming! — stuck there, unable to cum nor relax. Why wasn’t I cumming?! How did Belle survive this every day? Or had she not? Was she merely an empty shell, personality destroyed with this never-ending lust? The only saving grace was my contractions, my vibrations, it all triggered another pulse in my womanhood too, oh yes! Maybe this would send me over the edge? Just a little— NO!
Chittenham pulled John’s ivory cock from my ass before setting it on the dressing table amongst my powders and perfumes, leaving me empty once again but no less on edge.
“I know this was probably just reseated, but I have to take his gift out for today, Hope. We have to seal you up or you’ll drip away the potency before he gets in here, and you’ll stain your wedding dress while you’re at it.” He intonated like it was common sense, whilst he applied some kind of sticky plastic tape onto my front hole and betwixt my cheeks over my rear, pressed thoroughly to make sure the adhesive seal was seamless, and then resecured my understrap tightly, pressing into my vulva. Oh God in heaven, I remember when that understrap was the most teasing part of my sorry life!
He winked, patted my thigh, and bade me good luck, leaving with Father once my maid had returned with my wedding dress for the final test fitting.
I’ll tell you something, dear Reader: sometimes it feels as if I can feel the arms I lost, the hands I was encouraged to willingly discard. Dame Henderson called it phantom limb syndrome, quite normal but usually reduced or infrequent thanks to our special vitamins. Well, at that desperate moment I could feel them without a doubt, and believe me, they were reaching for my altar of venus, desperate to touch, fondle, rinse, wipe away whatever was sending me to the moon right now.
But they were swatting at nothing, feeling naught but the emptiness of the beyond. A faint twitch could be seen at my right shoulder, but not by me.