Chapters Dollhood: A Woman's Choice Book 3 Chapter 31
The angry words of my Father rang out in my head, looping on some infernal tape, as I minced down the hall.
A hollow, wanton shell.
I knew one of those.
Furious, I wanted nothing more than to strut, chest-first, into the Doll stepping gingerly beside me, just enough for her to fall down. With her heels as precipitously steep as my traveling boots, it mightn’t have been hard. I wanted to ask her where my Mummy had gone; what had become of the woman who had stood up for her two innocent daughters all those years ago, before we were privy to what was truly expected of us. I found I wanted to hurt Cushions — perhaps jostle loose a shred of the Doll I had idolized so dearly whilst growing up, perhaps just ruin her immaculate life as mine had been — but after my ‘displays of passion,’ there was little chance my automaid would allow me to divert from the set course.
This urge eventually left me, as all unfeminine thoughts did, whilst the concerns of the quotidian took their toll. The gifts, my constrained breath, my unsteady step; you’ve heard this all before, Dear Reader.
My heart only mourned, and thanked my body for keeping such vengeful sin bottled up inside, for it would have changed nothing, and I would have suffered greatly by Jack’s hand for overstepping so. Besides, it was not Cushions’ fault, as hurtful as her actions had been. She had been serving her owner like a good Doll should, addressing a need, releasing their masculine energies. She simply wasn’t my Mother anymore.1
If I could only speak. If I could cross into womanhood for a moment, convince this mouth not to sing or lilt, just to advocate but a whisper; if I had one word — maybe two, but one would do — what would I even say to my Father?
Hope… Mistake… Betrayed… Switched… Favourite—
I stopped myself, treading into unproductive fantasies. How long had I known Father saw me — Hope — as the troubled child? He had confirmed as such on my wedding day, and now… How long had I buried it? I sought to do so again, for I needed to focus on escape; that word I once thought poisonous.
Yet I couldn’t muster hope of such reprieve and revelation, I just couldn’t. Father had spurned me so thoroughly, not only misunderstanding but assuming the worst of me, it left me almost believing his words. My filled holes could not disagree with him. I had dripped upon mine own Father! I couldn’t imagine anything more embarrassing, even after all I had suffered…
Truth is, pleading with him had been a grave mistake. He saw only the empty desire writ upon my face! I knew then I could not communicate with anyone… John, Father, Jack, Pris; anyone, without exuding this cursed silent sexuality which Doctor Eaton and his Dollmakers had infused with my body! Simply panicking again, like the horrific moment I was swapped, stolen: how foolish was I to think this could work on Father if not my own husband? I had only proven yet again that a Doll could neither beg nor plead for anything… anything except more of whatsoever their Man had in mind; in my case, mistreatment.
I would not try again. Father didn’t know how effective mentioning Jack was, as I had no intention of subjecting myself to more of St. Werburgh’s Continuing Studies — if it could at all be avoided — lest I risk losing my last shred of self entirely.
What worried me further was the threat posed by Jack’s current discussion with Doctor Eaton, to which end he surely had waiting in surprise, like this very trip. Busy with keeping myself of sound mind through these many trials, I had largely avoided the thought of my plain outward appearance. As Father had said, I was tastefully augmented — from afar some might even mistake me for a woman! — but I could hardly see Jack settling for such. A spiral of intense worry in my heart began each time a snide comment of inadequacy was made at dinner, as I dreaded whatever refinements my guardian and abductor had in mind for permanent alterations; alterations that would make a return to normalcy nigh impossible.
So even as my hysterics raged, I returned to total passivity. I needed give Jack no excuse to alter me to his designs, surely enlarging some parts of me and reducing others.
Making our progress down the hall, slow and steady, the drawing room doors opened wide ahead of us, and a perfect specimen of such reduction sat idly on a settee on the far side of the room. Seeing the blur of my old friend was all it took for my heart to flutter, yet I did not deign to step any faster than my guide deemed proper and refined. Eagerness be as wilful as resistance, albeit sweeter.
As she resolved in my periphery, I couldn’t remark upon any changes to Cuddles’ form. She was perhaps dressed more divergently from my M— from Cushions, but then again her outfits had always skewed to the more infantile. She still had the most pronounced chest of us all, that was without a doubt, so I struggled to discern what precisely Doctor Eaton had actually altered.
Then she looked at me.
My lungs compressed as they were, I nearly fainted from the shock, stumbling slightly and needing to be caught by my handler. It was not proper to curtsey to the companion of the house, and so my trajectory ended at my own seat rather than closer to my friend, but as soon as I had been lowered and regained my breath, she had every ounce of my invisible attention.
The limbless beauty didn’t dare move her short thighs, for even on a stable surface she was pendulously top-heavy, but now in lieu of those old symbols of disagreement and distress, she had her head! Eyeing me in a way I could not reciprocate, Cuddles looked at me with her head and neck, glancing at Cushions too before nodding subtly to us both.
I clicked my heel in reply.
This was considered practically revolutionary in communication for us Dolls, and even though Cuddles’ face remained inert in expression, her unsteady movements were communicative enough. They at least told of a person beneath the perfect complexion, who was overwhelmed by the inflated flower gag in her mouth; who looked out the window wistfully; whose sharp gaze I had once seen so much depraved intention behind.
But we couldn’t speak.
I clicked my heel again, and it indeed caught my old friend’s attention. Her head whipped around, manicured hair bobbing, fleur-de-bouche fluttering, and she eyed me, then just stared at the floor, before looking out the window again.
I strove to recall the language Chastity and I had fashioned as bound girls together, a code made of gestural nods, eye expressions, and declarative gazes; in our years smothered by the panel gags that announced our names and nothing more. It would serve me no good though, as I could not instruct her from inside my shell, nor did her face emote at all, simply blinking with that blank pout in whichever direction she now pleased.
Besides, I doubted she had any pleasant words in store. It took me a moment to remember who I was to her; who she saw sitting prettily in perfect form in the scandalous dress. She hadn’t liked Chastity much even before the Christmas Fiasco; I can’t imagine what seething hatred she held by then — either dulled or fermented sharply — for the Doll sitting across from her. I was lucky to have received a nod.
Regardless, it inspired hope that Althea was somewhat sane and good-natured inside that gratuitously-refined body, having reached some sort of peace. I could no longer take that assumption for granted after Cushions’ behaviour and my partial re-education, imagining where further might lead…
We waited quite some time, as Dolls do…
The door opened behind us, and in strode our good men. Cuddles straightened her head to match our posture, but her eyes were so wilful in their wandering, sneaking glances at their wont, more and more as the men came closer; I could already taste the capsaicin from St. Werburgh’s.
Father’s calm cantor echoed amidst our silence. “…I swear that fellow is a genius, and what’s more, it’s refreshing to see such a success resting not upon his laurels but his continual good wit.”
“Wit indeed.” Jack agreed. “Eaton brought forth concerns in my plans I hadn’t even pondered; flaws, if I am being honest.”
The two of them wandered into my field of view, Father holding a flat wooden box. Cuddles had graduated her peeks to staring now, tracking them both in a way that felt almost indecent.
“Quite satisfies my concern over the cost of his services!” Jack added.
Father sidestepped the impolite topic of money, lecturing, “Yes, you’ll come to learn the Society favours a strong partnership between owner and those artisans, and you must allow them to guide you toward a design that fits your lifestyle whilst also respecting the Doll’s right to a simple, purposeful life. Chastity relinquished herself to your care — by proxy of course — and I assure you she has nothing but devotion in her heart. We repay that in kind.”
“And pray tell, what if my lifestyle does not adhere to your—” Jack halted, noticing the elephant in the room. “Alan, did Cuddles just…?”
Father chuckled, and lent over to deposit the box upon my lap, “You’ll hold this for me, won’t you dear?”
I gave him a heel-click in eager service; anything to make our last conversation water under the bridge, even if it wasn’t truly. His trousers were changed, but little else between us had. My dress split down the front as it was, the skirts outspread to the sides like opening wings, leaving my smooth, stockinged legs emerging quite bare, and quite catching his eye, too. With a moment of hesitancy he set the box down. It wasn’t insubstantial but neither was it a burden — not that I could look down and inspect it.
He teased my chin and eagerly resumed banter with his guest.
“Yes, my friend, she did. Do a little walk around.”
Skeptical, Jack took a step forward and back, his steady step now faltering under intense scrutiny of the sex object in front of him. It was difficult for me to discern, but it looked like—
“She can’t look away.” Father noted. “Her focus is locked on any men in the room, by order of proximity or perhaps stature, I don’t precisely know the logic.” He snapped his fingers and Cuddles’ whole focus trained on Father, unblinking.
He stepped closer, her head craning up to him, and then at a certain point when it seemed she might fall back off her precarious seat, her eyeline snapped to not his face… but the center of his masculine energies: a tweed bulge not a foot from her crimson face. Her head twitched slightly, but it was quite apparent she was as transfixed on his manhood as we were on nothing, and my envy of her allowances evaporated.
“That’s marvellous!” Jack roared, “I think such a spectacle demands a drink, does it not?”
“A better idea I haven’t heard today!”
Jack served a double, brushing the autobutler away from the drawing room’s liquor cabinet. The two men saluted Doctor Eaton before enjoying their spirits.
“So, you simply wanted a change?” Jack prodded. “I won’t lie, it’s ingenious, it is, but I find her attentions quite… uncanny.”
“Ah no,” the elder Hodgkinson paused, “if I altered my Dolls with every passing fancy, Clarice would have become Cushions long ago! No, it’s actually an accoutrement to her more important alteration: the limbering of her neck. See, I must admit the horrible accident with Hope at home in London quite shook me.”
“Accident?”
“Well yes, don’t you recall? It was only a month ago your son’s wife was found abandoned in her own home!”
“Ah yes, of course. The accident.” Jack sipped.
His delivery of that line spun my head in circles but I had no time to ponder the implications. Was he just that callous? Or… was my maid’s sudden abdication of her responsibilities… premeditated? Collins Sr. had offered John his AutoServe technician to come by so generously…
“Yes, well it truly shook me, thinking of her stuck like that. I’ll admit, it’s quite an exciting thought — until it happens to your own daughter, that is! I assure you that clears the head like smelling salts. And so I ventured to explore an alternative to the doll stand.”
The twitching of Cuddles’ head increased, but she remained transfixed as Father leant down to pick her up, before thinking twice about his back and her laden mammaries, instead snapping at a maid to reposition her instead.
It took only a moment, but I watched Cuddles get lifted like a babe and carried across the room by strong mechanical hands, still desperately trying to look at the nearest of the two men, before her wide base touched down on the floor at the foot of Cushion’s elaborate crinoline, the limbless torso looking up at Father blankly in what might’ve been mandated by her new mental constraints, but also looked not unlike a curious, uncertain baby girl on the floor pleading high above with her Pappa for guidance.
It was a view I couldn’t help picturing, hazy as the memory had become after so many years, and so many changes, and so much p— I was suddenly titillated by my gifts, distracting me for a moment.
Father strode over to me and fetched the box from my lap, clicking open a simple latch right before my eyes to reveal two silken compartments in the rich wood, one harboring two strange porcelain balls, and the other with two ivory spears I recognized well; a set of engagement gifts which most likely mirrored the size and shape of my Father’s— I couldn’t avert my eyes fast enough, or at all.
He seemed to realize this unfortunate positioning shortly thereafter, turning aside with a timid grunt. “Hmmph, seems the Doctor left us with a gift indeed. A pair. I have an inkling what those trinkets might be. You will love it, dear, but one thing at a time.”
Father left me with the half-empty case in my lap again whilst finicking with the heavy dual spears, affixing their bases back-to-back with an audible click. Jack strode over to join me on my seat, reclining into the lounger in a way I was most jealous of from my perch on the edge. His hand tested the roundness of my bottom through my salacious dress whilst I stared blankly at the scene playing out in front of me, Father doffing Cuddles’ fleur-de-bouche only to replace it with the phallic gift deep into her mouth, more than tickling her throat. Cuddles of course swallowed her half of the shaft dutifully with naught but a wet sound of acceptance, the mirrored half still sticking out.
I could plainly see what was about to occur, and I daren’t believe he would allow it to be performed in the light of day.
While Father was busy with his demonstration, a whisper came from the man who had joined me in seat, shifting his heavyset frame on the delicate furniture, his heavy breath tickling my ear. “Your dear old dad is quite the devious chap, far from the square I estimated when he and I began our dealings. I say, I think he is as chuffed to show you as me… now whether he is ready to admit that, who can say? Oh, speaking of… how did that dress work on him? Did he fancy it? He did, didn’t he!?”
Perhaps my blush gave enough away but I did not answer, not a click.
“No matter, he won’t be able to get enough once he finishes that drink,” Jack said ominously. “I mixed in something special to… loosen him up.” He fluttered a tube of Chittenham’s horrid paste in front of my dumb gaze before returning it to the safety of his pocket, leaning back again with a wicked chuckle.
No! This demon’s machinations knew no bounds! Father would notice, would he not? He would notice he was under the influence of… whatever that substance was! Wouldn’t he?
Well, John hadn’t.
After our passionate wedding night, after my lower holes intoxicated him, coaxed him into sensual lovemaking upon my rigid form for… hours… my true husband had awoken in the morning only to blame the champagne. Chittenham’s plan had worked without detection. Sure enough, following that night John had exuded a new confidence that brought the two of us ever-closer2 — my current abduction notwithstanding. And now, the deception was liable to happen again! How far was Jack willing to go? Was this a mere prank or was he truly intent on corrupting mine — or Chastity’s — relationship with Father? Were those even separate in this boor’s twisted mind?
My eyes were stuck somewhere near the man I couldn’t warn, who was taking another contaminated sip before he bunched up the folds of Cushions’ elaborate gown and lifted the hoops high, exposing the numerous petticoats and empty air beneath; exposing his wife’s delicate plastic sex to the room for her Companion to service.
He wasn’t even under the influence yet, and I could see — however blurrily — my mother’s privates. Exposed! In the drawing room!
For the first time, I feared my own Father for his lust, and where it may make him stray.
But the demonstration was only beginning. Cushions’ eagerly-spread legs suddenly captivated Cuddles’ rapt attention like a pointer dog. It was as if her sapphic nature had finally taken hold, and the ivory cock erupting from her luscious lips was a compass that coaxed her forward magnetically, as my old friend began to waddle her short thighs side to side, shuffling her buttocks along the ground in a most unladylike fashion, agonizingly slow, inch by scooting inch. Her pendulous breasts tottered side to side, as her spine twisted in a way a standard Doll’s refused to, every part of her tiny body engaged in this process of moving a foot or two forward along the ground… until she was safely inside the covers that Father let down over top.
A few pats and prims from her maid, and Cushions and her wide bell skirts looked a perfect picture. There wasn’t a hint of what — or who — lay beneath.
For a moment.
Then the dress’s lap began to unsettle. The sudden, wet sounds from inside were muffled so much by the many layers, a proper conversation could still be held. Indeed, it was a measure more discreet than the buzzing of the stand — if it weren’t my former schoolmate stimulating my mother across from me.
“…and what’s remarkable is the endurance! Cuddles is compelled to continue for a set amount of time, she shan’t avert her focus until that’s complete, but she also isn’t an automaton. She will tire and cease shortly thereafter, when she realizes the compulsion is gone — if she realizes; you know her kind. This is quite unlike a simple doll stand with a switch that can be left unattended. I bid you see how safe and discreet this is! Cushions can entertain guests without worrying about her scheduled maintenance, and if Cuddles is already prepared in place below, the other Dolls will be none the wiser! Who knows, it may become a trend of its own! Doctor Eaton was quite intrigued by the idea!”
“Is Cushions entertaining much these days?” Jack quipped.
“Just the young Mrs. Battersby and her sister once a week… and of course Chastity, when you occasion to bring her around. You will be staying for dinner, I trust?”
Jack bristled behind me. It outwardly seemed he was still chewing on staying or heading back to the city, providing one of his famous excuses, but alas he didn’t provide one. The wolf had been invited inside, and he was plenty happy to see how his scheme would eventuate. “Of course we will stay. It is but once a month; who am I to deprive you of time with your little girl here?”
It almost sounded sincere, but naturally he had to ask, “How enduring is she under there?”
Father laughed along, “I’ve been assured Cuddles is quite spirited, almost unthinkable for a Doll, but she was cut from the cloth of a brothel’s bedsheet, so take that under your consideration when you measure her enthusiasm.”
“A performance I’m sure. I’ve never known a happy whore.” Jack joked.
Father raised his drink in wry retort. “That may say more of you than them.”
“Only that I am not easily fooled, my friend. Not even by a Doll’s puckering poker face.” Now well-practiced, his fingers popped out my fleur and gripped my cheeks, exaggerating my ‘natural’ pout until my lips distorted and propped apart. Once, twice… blowing kisses in my Father’s general direction.
“A poor metric of your purported abilities. Chastity hardly made her initial reluctance a secret. Say what you will of common prostitutes, but I’d think a girl with such a pedigree bucking against the very prospect of sharing your bed illuminates your character.”
“Who doesn’t enjoy a good bucking?” Jack’s sly grin slithered into every word.
“Clearly my daughter, more so than she, or I, expected. She thinks of little else these days from what I can tell. She takes after her mother in that way.” The men admired Cushions’ shaking dress and her blank gaze, breasts rising and falling like belaboured bellows designed to deflower that poor fleur-de-cou just holding on in the midst of such passions.
And then they followed her probing stare to admire her daughter, an apple mere feet from the tree, my chin wet in obvious dumbfounded desire — not possibly Jack’s manual stimulation of my mouth… no! Of course not!
“I’d praise you for bringing her around,” Father added, “but I’d imagine her re-training had more to do with that.”
“Oh regardless, she has little else to concern herself with, so she’s more than willing these days. Insatiable appetite, this one.”
Father took another drink, conspicuously staring at my bared lips, painted cherry red, and the tight darkness within.
“Yes, she wants to be taken every which way. Your girl is no innocent dove, I tell you; Werburgh’s girls, they make proper wives! You did right by your daughters, sending them there. Chastity here bent in half before me one night not long ago, proffering her arse with little abandon. I was not even aware she had such flexibility at her disposal!” Jack boasted, before stage whispering, “Not that she could get herself out of such a pickle. I sorted to that.”
Father went as red as my rear had been that first night, without even knowing how far Jack had twisted that particular tale. Yet he remained silent, his glass half empty.
“There’s less conquest in it now, I fear.” Jack continued, leaning back. “You understand, I’m sure. You’ve a taste for conquest, yourself.”
“What are you implying?” Father shifted his gaze deliberately.
“Hmmm? Oh, I was speaking of Cuddles, of course. You have told me before how contemptuous she was of your initial offer …well, any man can brush off such disrespect from a mere girl so young and unawares… And yet you forced the issue anyway. Whatever your illusions about her current opinion, that was the initial appeal, was it not? Asserting yourself. Taking what you want. And I daresay, it paid off.” He didn’t need to point, just listen to the muffled, wet noises of her eager service under the covers of her Lady mistress.
“Perhaps you are right. I wouldn’t have used those terms, no… but perhaps you are right. I have never enjoyed her more than that first time, when the memory of her refusal was still fresh for us both.” Father resigned himself, spectacles catching the light.
“Yes, such a threshold can only be crossed once, and it is always the sweeter for it. Especially when there’s outmoded morality to overcome. These are Dolls, after all. Who’s to say how they’re played with, or what is forbidden?” As if to reinforce his point, Jack’s hand reached around my tiny waist and cradled the cup of my dress, holding it firmly enough I could feel his ownership, but not enough to upset the fabric.
There was a great deal of leeway between the line they were speaking of and the one he seemed determined to tempt my Father across. Yet Father side-eyed that hand not as disapprovingly as I expected, before clearing his throat. “Those damn purists in Hyde Park think otherwise, calling us a bunch of hedonists as if they’re right angels. But I know Cuddles. She adores the new life her former self so stupidly spurned. I scooped her out of the gutter and provided her with purpose, and a fine roof over her head. How could she feel anything but gratitude?”
“Well, it’s certainly all she can express. I have my doubts of how she’s feeling inside, but she’s far more fun that way. As I said, I am not so easily fooled… but I am easily amused. I think I will enjoy watching her dance on these new, loosened strings.”
Jack and Father admired the show in front of them in the quiet room, before Father put on some quiet music on the HiFi. “Yes, you seem to have taken a fancy to her.”
“Hmmm, pity she is so lowborn. Though I am learning quickly that a Societyman makes his wife rather than finds her, and you have groomed such a lovely canvas for me here, Alan.”
Father nodded, before looking out the window as wistfully as Cuddles had been. “You know, Hope and Chastity once made me swear, when they were just little things, that I would make sure they stayed identical. Their heads were filled with fairy tales of course, but I always went along with it, even paying Eaton extra upon their graduation to ensure it.” He glanced at Jack piercingly. “Knowing you and the smile you were wearing after that little consultation… you’re going to make me break my promise, aren’t you?”
Jack was sitting beside me, outside my field of view, but I felt his shrug of admission resonate in my very bones.
-
Dear Reader, I will tell you, that realization would sting far longer than I could foresee then, as no one else acknowledged that my mother had obviously passed at that horrid Welsh clinic. ↩
-
Until I began retreating into the Doll identity like a fool. It hurt too much to even fathom what incidents could have been avoided if not for my obstinance and misguided devotions to the ideals I already knew had entrapped me… ↩