Chapters En plein air: A Holsom Vignette Part 1
This story is building off a character introduced in A Holsom Women’s Social. Reading up to chapters 5 and 6 is recommended.
Ryan Paulson’s doll stood idly between the leads of his hired rickshaw, the bright sun glinting off the single thick strand of drool slowly, slowly stretching down from where it seeped around the edges of her pacifier. Beside her were the two retirees who had carried them this far out of town, beyond where the pavement revealed old cobblestones and the cobblestones met the dirt and the dirt grew grassy.
They were all equally stationary now, the doll and the black-clad carriage maids with their arms folded up and tucked behind their backs like vestigial wings. Among them, only the doll had no wings to speak of. She had no need for superfluous appendages, no wife did, unless for an aesthetic purpose. Anything that needed handling would be taken care of by her husband or delegated to the army of former wives now serving in retirement, mechanical limbs smoothly melded to the rest of their sleek forms.
A lick of spring air caressed the doll’s slick inner thighs, and made her nipples poke out even more than usual under her dress. The carriage maids had some scant adornment atop their sleek black figures, whether uniform or unique only they knew, but they likely couldn’t sense the wind’s light touch. The doll could. Her skin was exposed, bare to the elements, yet just as flawless as the retirees latex. She was plastic to the eye but real, supple flesh revealed itself at the touch. The slight breeze slipped up her swaying dress, again, but she did not shiver.
Jeany Paulson stood idly by the rickshaw, staring at the mass of sun-filtered green in front of her, the forest edge seeming to just swallow her up. There was so much detail in every leaf and tree and— well, she assumed there was. She remembered. For now it was a bit of a blurry mess. The transparent lenses that coated her retinas weren’t the main culprit — in contrast to the haze she knew some other women lived with, her censors didn’t hide much — but her vision was hardly clear despite her husband’s lax permissions. The doll’s eyes refused to focus, or move in any direction.
She stood there… blinking, breathing, dripping. Idle and waiting.
She wanted to look deeper into the woods, to closely admire the sun filtering through the veins of a single maple leaf, but if she couldn’t even look their way then there was no chance of her taking a step of her own accord. The doll couldn’t move without his words filling her up inside and inspiring her to act. Truly, the doll didn’t really want anything enough to act on it, not if she wasn’t told to want it, and so her eyes blinked uselessly, blurrily, at the forest.
Ryan had excitedly told her to look at the fine striations of color in a clamshell three days ago, and her focus was still firmly fixed at the point in space it had occupied at that moment as he held out his hand. After all these years she still wasn’t sure he realized the power such a simple statement could wield over her life for weeks to come. He was so gentle in guiding her, when that was his intention, but sometimes he seemed to forget that his every word was laden with command, to her.
Having just been led down the carriage step to rest at the trailhead, his steadying hand under her heavy tit for balance, Jeany’s steep boots planted themselves firmly in the gravel as soon as his guiding touch slipped away. She was stuck, right where he had left her. A wide sunhat did its best to save her shoulders from the beating maritime sun, but her skimpy dress wasn’t helping otherwise. She waited for him to—
“Lovely,” her beloved’s genial tone spoke out from behind her, taking in the scene she could not see. She immediately forgot the greenery, reminded of him. Oh how she desired to just turn around and— “Jeanette, dear, take a stroll over there into that shade for a second. Sunscreen only does so much.”
Even though all she wanted was to be closer, Jeany’s smooth legs followed her husband’s command of their own accord and walked her away from him and away from the quiet road, toward the nearest shade, under the protection of a sprawling elm. They ‘strolled about’ for a second, and then stopped her in an alluring pose, one knee slightly bent, waiting for him to finish messing with his contacts. She was often immobile, but rarely rigid.
Pleased that the other half of her brain still had the good sense to look alluring, Jeany focused her more conscious half on admiring the greenery, closer but no clearer than before. Unlike with a censor, she could still enjoy the full vibrancy of the blurry colors. It was, in a way, like living inside a Monet. That thought had occurred to her often, and it always made her smile. Or, think about smiling. She felt her lips pucker slightly, suckling happily on the phallic bulb of her paci.
Ryan hadn’t noticed his doll’s display. As little as he let slip to her, Jeany’s husband was obviously frustrated. He wasn’t swatting the air like some men did, but he was poking at it silently, focused, seemingly getting nowhere in this invisible world he and other men saw. He scratched his beard, annoyed.
“I don’t think these retirees can go into the woods.” she typed on the roof of her mouth, deftly swirling her tongue around the plastic penis to press the buttons implanted beneath her palate. Her tongue was one of two parts of this body she could control directly, and she was quite practised with it. “Sad. I really really wanted to paint for him today!”
It took a moment for an answer from Liza to arrive, overlaid in delicate cursive upon the blinking blur of greenery. “Oh dear. What a shame!”
Jeany would have put on a frown if she could. It was a canned answer.
“Are you busy sis?” Jeany tapped the little bumps, twelve of them mapped out to letter patterns she had well-memorized after her many years of marriage.
“I find myself quite indisposed.”
Jeany giggled, her chest bouncing slightly in amusement along the bottom of her field of view. ‘Quite indisposed’ was her sister Liza’s go-to scripted reply for David pounding her face into their mattress and letting her pheromone implant do its worst… or implore him to do his, that is.
Of the three Yearling sisters, Liza had gotten off easy compared to Jeany and Babbles, but she still had her own share of changes. Even though Jeany couldn’t really smell much of whatever musk was driving all the men wild, Ryan had admitted frankly how hard it was to be around her sister without doing something unspeakable to the nearest open hole… which was luckily Jeany’s mouth, ever-parted and available.
That’s one reason Jeany loved having her sister over at midday for luncheon when her nephews and nieces were at school. Liza was usually well-composed and careful beyond David’s bedroom, but one moment of not holding her legs clamped politely tight and the house would be permeated with—
“Jeanette, here, please,” her husband called, and immediately his doll was strutting on her sensible outdoor shoes — only a 4-inch heel! — over to him in the sun again, stopping just close enough to coquettishly brush her chest on his arm, staring right ahead… at his shoulder.
“There’s an issue with the ride I arranged.” he informed the air around him with a belabored sigh, “These damn retirees, I don’t even know. They’re on an awfully short leash and it seems we’ve run out the slack.”
His doll was attentive and listening, not that it showed on her permanent expression of dumb surprise. She blinked blankly.
“I’m sorry, honey, I know it’s our special day.” He tucked a finger under her chin, adjusting her gaze up toward his apologetic smile and catching the drooping drool. It clung to his finger. “We will have to head up the trail ourselves. Lucky for us, it’s only a mile or so. Any more and I wouldn’t even suggest it.”
A mile!? That was… a lot. Or it sounded like a lot. Jeany had to wonder, had she ever walked that far on her own, even before? Abby had always roamed the furthest of the three sisters, but Jeany doubted even she had made it out this far.
Ryan kissed her forehead.
“It’s going to be alright, if we find a good spot on the way, we can stop there, and come back for the overlook another day.”
Jeany had been Ryan’s doll for longer than most wives could expect to last, and she prided herself on being able to read him, this time a slip in his voice, a tinge of disappointment. He wanted to reach that overlook, badly, and he didn’t know if a dainty thing like her could make it. And to be honest, neither did she!
His doll was always quite alright if he said she was, each command bringing assurance and satisfaction, or just enough to do what she was told, but Jeany couldn’t help but doubt. Imagining herself climbing a mountain like this…. Holsom women were generally home bodies: fit but soft. Ryan would never blame her for failing because of his own designs. If her legs gave out, he would be polite and chivalrous and understanding, knowing he made her this way… that today’s plans just weren’t in the cards… and yet Jeany would still be letting him down.
That friendly stray breeze returned to flutter Jeany’s sundress, interrupting her anxieties, the little decorative sleeves tickling her shoulders and the hypersensitive exposed skin of her what-used-to-be-armpits. It picked up again and her sunhat fluttered dangerously. She didn’t want it to fly away, but there wasn’t a thing she could do about it! Bottled up inside her own head, Jeany’s frequent worrying never escaped to mar the constant expression of dumb innocence the dollification process had frozen onto her face. She barely moved as that tricky wind blew again, threatening to take her hat right off!
Thankfully, Ryan secured the string under her chin just in time, before pecking her on the cheek to little fanfare; just a blush. “It’s going to be alright. Let’s go.”
Of course he could read her like she did him. How, when that blush was the extent of her expressive ability? She had no idea.
Ryan had the easel and a leather bag on his person once the command to “follow” finally sent a tingle down Jeany’s spine. From then onward it was one foot in front of the next, no leash necessary, with Ryan taking a break whenever he heard his doll grow wispy and out of breath, ascending the golden green and gravel path.
Jeany felt each motion of her legs and hips strutting into the crunching gravel, felt the burn of effort grace her calves as the path grew steeper, but she was disconnected from that effort. His doll couldn’t cease or break, nor step faster to walk aside the man she loved so dearly. Relieved from piloting her own body, Jeany was left to her own devices, mind wandering back to her first time feeling herself submit to the command of another…
The doctor had come around to check on Jeany. Only just awoken and trapped in this body which just refused to respond, she thought Ryan had requested her to be made into a statue who could only lay in her recovery room staring at the ceiling, new weights on her chest keeping her breaths effortful while she dreamed of his cock slipping between her tense legs like a girlie film playing in the back of her head.
No matter how much she had looked forward to becoming his perfect wife, with every inch of her changed in some way, those first moments had been so scary. So scary! But once she felt the deep calm and contentedness the doctor’s words lent her when he instructed her to ‘get up’…Those simple words breathed a certain life into her, an inspiration and vigor to stand, to rise, to settle into that proud posture a wife held — with shoulders drawn back, unburdened by arms but now responsible for two heavy, voluptuous eye-catchers jutting out — all as if it was automatic, familiar. It was her moving, but not her.
It was all so new, to be a passenger in a new, sensitive body, but she couldn’t take it slow. A few more soul-warming words had the brand new Jeany eagerly following the doctor to a padded room where they would assess her many changes further over the coming days… tuning her shifted sense of balance, teaching her how to make letters with her tongue… a plastic practi-cum rod interrupting every so often, making her new mouth pop and splurt and—
“Watch out!” Ryan called, before remembering to instruct more clearly, “Step around the darker bits, hun.”
In her reverie, the gravel path had dissolved into rutted dirt, and — though infrequent — there were definitely some muddy patches that wouldn’t do her boots any favors. With a mind of their own, her feet followed his words perfectly, and Jeany was left again to her thoughts…
She remembered another first: weeks later, when a familiar voice echoed from across the small chapel hall. Ryan’s voice had called aloud, beckoning her to walk down the aisle and kiss his old wife bon esclavage. If the doctor’s words had soothed, Ryan’s sweet command blossomed in her chest like a sun casting down on a special toy that sprang to life in daylight. There were no words for how fulfilled she felt to just walk toward her new life, to do as she was told and nothing more, and be cherished for it. On her wedding day, when Jeany had heard those first words coax her forward between the pews to kneel under him… as most Holsom wives must, Jeany felt complete.
His doll’s heavy breasts swayed as she struggled up the incline, pulling her back to the present. She liked waxing poetic about his wonderful word and all, but this was real work! Passenger or not, she still felt the burn in her calves. How much farther could this overlook be!? Her mouth was no longer designed to ask, what with its donut lips and persistent pout. It was made to beg, perhaps, but not audibly.
Ryan liked to say Jeany had “grown into her silence,” and she thought that sounded true, or maybe just poetic. He was right, though. After years in this body, her breath no longer hitched or hollered, thinking it would make noise. She saved her quips for Liza, and otherwise watched and listened. It hadn’t always been so easy.
Even into her late teens, Jeany hadn’t been the prettiest or the most coordinated option for potential suitors. But she was nonetheless home-grown and school-certified and quite expensive, or so she gathered by the heads shaking when they saw her price card.
One by one, dates were scheduled, and men took her to gardens and bedrooms, dinners and doctors, measuring her every which way… and Jeany had to watch almost a dozen men warm up to her just to ultimately walk away. She had been told many times that her strongest asset was her personality. Sometimes, it was a compliment. Sometimes, it wasn’t.
And then came Ryan.
At first his polite request that she ‘please not speak’ on their first date had all but assured her that she would fail. A handicap in the one area where she compared well to the Missy’s and Kissy’s of the block! She was doomed!
They’d gone to the races, and Ryan had let her pick the pony he bet on by tapping her shoe as they walked through the stables. She did her best to keep from joining him in cheers as Playing Fast and Loose charged, flying forward on her two hooves — past Undersecretary Caramel and Tall Drink Of Water — in a heroic last lap effort to claim third prize, but her excitement was otherwise unrestrained. Ryan never scolded her for squirming, in fact if he held her more tightly it was only because he was excited, too. All in all, it was a wonderful time, but Jeany had still been surprised when he booked a second evening to evaluate her further, thinking her secret smiles and early attempts at footsies might’ve disqualified her.
While almost sick with butterflies between their rendezvous, in hindsight Jeany should have seen some redeeming signs. Their dates definitely didn’t lack intimacy, and Ryan didn’t demand total stoicism; simply silence, when she could manage it. And when she slipped he would simply tease her about it with a playfully-stern glance, a facade she knew covered a brick wall he’d rather not show her.
But he also took his time, making her nerves grow again as three whole weeks passed. They went out together every two or three days, and Ryan always felt reserved in some way. Unsure. He was testing her, gently and slowly, but who could need so much time to decide on a wife?! She immediately faulted herself, for doing too little, or perhaps too much?
Every so often, she would be compelled to demonstrate her eager initiative and prep school training; rubbing against him, bending in such a way, poking him with her knee or the tip of her armbinder, whispering a joke to find his funny bone. He would politely smile and accept her good intentions, but Ryan seemed more interested in finding her earnesty, wonder, and sharp sense of humor from the other direction. He liked holding her close enough she couldn’t ask for more. He liked making her laugh, such as reducing her to giggle fits when he found a massive mussel on the shoreline, joking that it resembled her neighbor Vulvia Wilson below the eyes.
Jeany had wanted to go and ask Mrs. Wilson what it was like to lack a voice alongside the usual wifely changes. Maybe her neighbor could speak from experience… except that she couldn’t, actually. A polite hello usually garnered something wet and bubbly in response, or worse, a ‘smile.’ No answer from that mouth would satisfy her curiosity: another troublesome trait of hers.
Jeany played along for four weeks — a month! — even holding her tongue at home to practice, but she knew she needed to show him something worth holding onto… something unique… without breaking his rules.
It was when Ryan came by her room after a long talk with her Father, Jeany popping her head out at the first whisper of a knock, crawling out of the little square door with a patch of loose canvas in her teeth, eyes gleaming somewhere between excitement and pleading. On her knees she had offered him a rendition in oil, not-quite-dry, of the crashing seafoam they had seen together from his porch the week prior, with the addition of Fast and Loose galloping wildly down the coast. To her glee, Ryan had been stopped mid-sentence by her gift, before studying every inch of the painting, careful not to scuff the paint, remarking on its quality in words she didn’t understand, complimenting how she touched him with her thoughtfulness, hauling her up to her pleasers and kissing her so far from politely.
He had turned on his heel and submitted his bid to Father that night. The two of them had found a way for her to speak in more than words.
The couple paused for a moment, Jeany’s chest rising and falling like no tomorrow as she tried to catch up on air. Ryan seemed to be a bit winded himself, which surprised his doll a bit. When they started up the hill again, she messaged Liza.
“I swear he wants to wear me out or something! We are h i k i n g.” her tongue flicked around behind the pacifier.
It took a while but the response appeared in Jeany’s contacts, clearer than the world around her. “Really? I didn’t think outdoorsing was on your hobby list.”
“Its not.” she tapped. Those pointy excitement symbols would have been useful.
“Oh well, be grateful and smell the roses. At least you aren’t cooped up inside with the kids all day!”
“Lucky that David is there.”
“No, he’s busy at work. Why?”
Jeany realized her mistake but waited a beat, not wanting to tire her busy tongue. Her little sister undoubtedly had an upper hand in their special little connection, what with being able to recite her messages out loud. Liza would get there eventually.
“Oh wait. Oh I see. No, I was busy with Henry. Sorry for the scripted line, I know you hate it.”
“You spoil him so much. I thought you wanted him to grow out of your little visits.”
“Oh but I do! Henry just needed his standards set when it comes to oral skills. He’s sneaking out to visit the Foster girl tonight— He’s grown up so fast! I don’t want him settling for less than he deserves. The girl won’t know him from Adam, so it might take her longer than I do, but all the same.”
“She also wont smell like you.”
“That’s true. I expect if he chooses her, it’s going to be a matter of time before she has a cooch like mine, but you never know with young men. It’s either a nice rack or the kitchen sink! He actually really admires you, but he hasn’t gathered the courage to ask Uncle Ryan yet.”
“Ryan isnt really the sharing type.”
“That’s what I told him, but we’ll see. It’s for the boys to figure out. Enjoy your stroll!”
Jeany was left to her huffing and puffing, hardly enjoying her ‘stroll’ when Ryan stopped again, and her legs mercifully followed suit.
“We’re here, Jeanette, you made it!”
Find out more about Holsom and other damsels on Slothargy’s DeviantArt and Pixiv