What a Doll (1st, 2nd, and 3rd Adventures)

What a Doll: Emmaquin Works the Sales Floor (1st Adventure)

Mark

“You sure you want to go through with this?” I asked after Emma and I broke off a long, deep kiss. I held her against me still, her face pressed warm against my chest, her auburn hair already shaved short and prickling through my shirt each time she nodded or moved or head.

“Are you kidding me? I've been dreaming about something like this for years, and now to be able to actually do something this close to the fantasy...”

“I'm glad my work is able to help you.”

She pulled me down to kiss me again, this time sweetly on the lips before letting me go. I towered over her even though I wasn't all that tall for a man at only 5' 10”. But at a mere 4' 7” in her stocking feet, she was roughly the same height as the dolls she collected.

She pushed away from me, and I took in the beauty of her diminutive stature as she stripped before me. Perfectly formed for her height, at least in my opinion, and a teasingly idealized blend of both slender and curvy in a way that just advertised sex.

“You understand what this suit will do, right?” As I spoke I opened a package between us and lifted out a full-body suit that looked to be the color of human skin. It was as if a person had been sucked right out of it and left just an empty skin behind.

“Yeah. It will turn me into a doll.”

I laughed.

“Silly. It won't turn you into a doll. It'll make you look like a doll.”

She walked to me and poked me in the chest with one hand while taking the suit from me with the other.

“Will I be able to move?” she asked.

“No. Not until --”

“Will I be able to talk?”

“Only when I pull your string.”

“Will I be able to do anything other than just stand around and be pretty?” “Well, you'll be able to breathe and think and that sort of thing.”

“But will anybody other than you be able to tell the difference between me and the rest of the dolls in my collection?”

I shook my head. “Not likely.”

“Then I'll be a doll. Sure, I may be a living breathing doll, but I'll be a doll nonetheless.” “Fine. Okay. It will turn you into a doll, but what I meant was --”

“You mean did I understand the science behind it, and that's still a great big no. But I do understand what will happen because of that science. This suit,” she said as she stepped into it, “will cover me completely and when you soak it with some kind of gel, it will set and become hard and shiny like a shellac.”

“And after that?”

She pulled the sleeve over her right arm and positioned her fingers into the glove portion. “And after that, I don't care because I'll be a doll, just like I've fantasized about for years.”

“Well, it's important to me, so I'll repeat it one more time. After the gel polymer bonds with the suit and makes it rigid and shiny, you won't be able to move anymore, so it will be important to hold your pose until it sets fully. Then you'll look like a featureless, immobile version of yourself.”

“Ooh, I know what happens next, and I can't wait,” she said, slipping her left arm into the suit. “That's when you'll use those art skills of yours to paint me a new face and give me a hairstyle with one of the three wigs I selected for you to choose from.” As she spoke she nodded toward a shelf that held three Styrofoam heads, each holding a differently styled wig. The first was bright red with Heidi-like braids on each side. The second was a black Betty Page-style wig. The last was a blonde one with high pigtails on each side. Each looked artificial rather than realistic. Wearing them, she would look to be even more doll-like and inhuman, just as she wanted.

“And after that,” she continued, “you'll dress me in one of the outfits I've laid out for you to choose from.” She motioned toward the bed. On it lay three outfits. One was a long, gingham dress like a doll might wear but a modern woman never would. The second was a luxurious, and obviously fake, party dress of cheap material reserved for an off-brand doll. And the third was the odd man out of the set—a cheerleader outfit complete with pom poms.

“Then you'll put me in a stand and with the other dolls in my bedroom, and you'll leave me there to be one of their little dolly sisters for the weekend while you go off to spend your boy's weekend playing poker at the cabin.”

I smiled.

She smiled back. “Excited?” I asked.

“Like you wouldn't believe, honey,” she said. “I still can't believe you're able to make something like this happen. Not only that, but that you don't think I'm a freak for wanting something like this in the first place.”

I kissed her, then helped her pull the hood over her head.

“Will I be able to see?” she asked.

“Not very well. The material is thin but still not transparent. And when it soaks and sets, it'll be even less so. Besides, how many dolls do you know that can see.”

“All my dollies have eyes, silly,” she said.

“Fake eyes, just like the ones I'm going to paint onto your face. Great big, beautiful doll eyes.” She scrunched her bottom lip, obviously disappointed.

“But don't worry, sweetie, I'm going to get the computer recording every minute of it for you to watch later.”

“You'd better.”

I nodded. “Well, if you're ready...”

She takes a deep breath, pops her neck, then smiles. “Okay. Let's do this.

I lead her to the tub that I've already filled with the polymer gel. Taking her hand, I help her into the thick, pink mess, and she slides down to soak in it up to her neck.

“Like this?” she asks.

“Just like that?”

“What about my head?”

“I'll do that part last. Can you see through the suit at all?”

“Yeah, but blurry, like you said earlier, like my eyes are adjusting from sleeping to waking up.” “That's normal. But be warned, it'll get even harder to see when the gel sets. You might get lights and some swashes of color, but that'll be it.”

“Will I hear?”

“It'll be a little muffled, but if I'm standing close you should hear me well enough.” “That's something at least.”

“Well, you're the one who wanted to be a doll, and dolls don't speak or see. I thought about using wax in your ears to take away your hearing too, so you'd quite literally be just a doll, but I realized I wanted to be able to talk to you and know you were listening so neither of us got lonely.”

“Aw... you're sweet. Wait... But you're going to be gone for the weekend. What would it matter?”

I laughed. “I thought about canceling the trip and staying here with you as a surprise.”

She gave me a hard stare. “Don't you dare, honey. I'll be fine. And I know what you're doing. You're just wanting to stay here and keep an eye on me, keep me safe. But I don't want you to cancel your poker weekend on my account. If you do, I'll get right up out of this tub now and call the whole thing off no matter how bad I want it.”

“Fine, fine.” I leaned over the edge of the tub and kissed her forehead through the suit. “But I'm not leaving till tomorrow morning, so I'll be here with you tonight anyway, and I might want to talk to you then.”

“I figured I'd still be setting overnight and you'd be scrambling in the morning to get me in place before you headed out to the cabin.”

I laughed and shook my head strongly. “Oh, no. Starting now, you'll be mixed in with the rest of your collection before dinner.”

I could see her excitement even though she didn't say a word.

“How much longer should I stay in here and soak?”

“Just another minute. We want to make sure you get a completely solid coating so you dry and harden smoothly.”

“Oh, I'm hardening just fine,” she said, suddenly squeezing her nipples. They stood rigid and clearly visible in the outline of the thin suit.

“Stop that,” I said, brushing her hands away. “You're supposed to be a child's doll, not some kind of sex toy. When I'm done with you, you're supposed to be featureless below the neck ask every one of the dolls in your collection, and thanks to this suit, you will. No nipples up here. Nothing down there either. And as smooth as a piece of polished chrome.”

“Tease,” she said, licking her lips.

I reached for her hand, and she took it. “C'mon, sweetheart. Let's get you out of there.”

She held on to keep from slipping as she stood up and stepped out of the tub. Instinctively she reached for a towel, but I stopped her, shaking my head.

“You'll want to let it soak into the fabric. It'll make for a far more beautiful doll the more that soaks in. The suit should pull any of the leftover gel away from your skin so don't worry about that.” I gave her a twirl like a ballerina and she stood on her toes to give me another kiss when she spun back around.

“That reminds me,” I said, looking at her standing on her tiptoes to reach my lips for the kiss. I left the bathroom and went back into the bedroom, then rummaged through the bottom of her closet.

“Reminds you of what?”

“Just a second. I'll show you.” I tossed shoe boxes left and right until I found the pair she reserved for those special date nights. Opening the box, I dropped the lid on the floor, then grabbed the silver, 5-inch strappy sandals. “Here,” I said, presenting them to her.

I put them both on the floor. “Hold on to the counter and lift your right foot.”

She did, and I slid the shoe onto her foot. She cocked her black face slightly in confusion.

“Most of my dolls have flat feet,” she said.

“Barbie wears heels.”

“I'm not planning to be a Barbie,” she said.

“Humor me,” I asked.

She rolled her eyes. “Fine. I owe you a little something for this anyway.” I grinned.

“You have such tiny, cute feet,” I said.

“Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“Other foot,” I said, and she complied. I'll take them off when the suit has set. You won't need them anymore after that since your feet will be molded at that arch and angle until I set you free with the counter-agent when I get back home.”

“You say the sweetest things, honey. Keep talking like that and you'll make me have to reward you later.”

I laughed again. “By the time you harden in your doll shell, you won't be able to keep me from rewarding myself, trust me.”

“You wouldn't. Not to one of my dolls.”

“Your dolls? You ARE the doll, Emma. These won't be you after you set, not a human you anyway. You'll be one of MY dolls, just like all the others in your room.”

“Oh, stop it. You're getting me hot.”

“You were already hot.”

She poked my chest. “Wow. You weren't kidding. My skin's already dry. That suit acts like a sponge.”

I nodded. “It's designed to bond with the gel on a molecular level. That's why it acts like that. I promise you it's all very super-science-y but don't worry you're pretty little doll head about it.”

“Hey!”

“Well, dolls aren't created to be smart. They're made to just stand around and look pretty when you're not playing with them.”

She poked my chest again. “So, what's next? Or are you just going to be mean to me some more?”

I kissed her head again and took her hand. “Time to bake, sweetie.” I led her into the back porch where she kept her tanning bed, then I helped her up into it.

“Be sure and hold the pose you want, because in about thirty minutes you won't be able to move much at all. And don't worry about being able to stand up. I'm going to mount you in one of the stands that holds your waist, so you don't have to even think about trying to find a well-balanced position.”

“Aw. You think of everything, don't you?”

“And then some.”

“Wait, what's that supposed to be?”

“It's a surprise, but trust me. You'll love it.”

“Well, like you said, I'll be just a doll, so I guess it won't matter. It's not like I'll be able to stop you.”

I grinned. “Nope. You won't.”

“Stop it. You're making me horny.”

“In that case, I'll leave you alone to bake for a little bit. Jazz or R&B?” “Motown.”

“Whatever you say, babe,” I said and I turned on the CD player and popped in the Best of Motown set. Then I helped her pose, warned her again not to move, and then went to the kitchen for a beer and set the microwave timer for 1 hour.

While she lay in the tanning bed baking the gel-coated suit into a hard shell barely a millimeter thick, I watched two episodes of a stupid fighting anime and downed three beers. When the timer dinged, I turned off the TV and returned to the back porch.

“Honey?” I asked, watching her shiny form that lay in the tanning bed. “Honey?”

“Mmm...” she mumbled, waking up from what must have been a relaxing nap. “Hey. I had the most amazing dream.”

“Try to move.”

“What?”

“Try to move.”

“Okay.” Nothing happened. Her arms which were raised slightly from the bed at her side remained exactly where they were. Her legs that made a beautiful 'V' neither closed, opened, or adjusted their placement in the slightest. “I can't.”

“Good. That means you're almost completely a dolly now.” “So it wasn't just a dream?” she all but squealed.

I stroked the back of my hand against the nipple=less bumps on her chest. She moaned softly. “Wow.”

“Yeah, It's deadened a little, but you should still be able to feel when people touch you even inside that dolly shell.”

“Wow,” she repeated.

I couldn't resist stroking her mannequin-like breast again.

“I hope it's okay if I have an orgasm inside this shell,” she said. “Especially if you keep that up.”

I grinned and rubbed both of her toy-like tits. Her breath caught in her throat and she said, “Oh, yeah,” then moaned again long and low.

“You like that, you little pervert?” I asked.

“You're the one groping a doll,” she said.

“Point taken. How about this?”

I traced my fingers down her stomach and then across the void of hard shell between her legs. “No genitalia at all,” I said as I rubbed the smooth, featureless crotch. “Just like every other innocent little doll in the world.”

She started to breathe short breaths.

“Only this little doll isn't quite so innocent. She's hiding a secret beneath this smooth, androgynous facade.”

I continued to cup and trace the emptiness between her legs.

“Honey, you need to stop, please.”

“Do you really want me to stop, Emma?”

“Hell no, but this isn't why we're doing this.”

“No. This isn't why YOU'RE doing this.”

“Really. Please. You're going to make me cum.”

“So cum.”

“That's not—Whoa!!! Oh god!”

“Feels good, huh?”

“Mark, please.”

“Make me stop,” I said.

She was glaring at me through the hood. I didn't need to see her face to know that.

“Mark.”

“Are you a doll? Are you my doll?”

“Please. Oh... oh... ooooooh!”

“You are my doll, and I want to play with you. Besides, there's nothing you can do to stop me, sweetheart, so you might as well just enjoy the ride. And don't worry about the shell. No amount of sweat or cum is going to hurt it. And nobody will smell anything other than the polish I'm going to use in a bit to make you shine.”

I kept stroking her and she stopped complaining, instead moaning and whimpering and breathing staccato puffs between the low, throaty sounds. After a few minutes, she cried out one last time and her head dropped back against the tanning bed. She was spent. Deliriously and deliciously spent.

“Let's get you to the next step, then,” I said, lifting her from the bed and turning the heat off. Barely 104 pounds I carried her easily under one arm, as I might any other object. There was no tenderness in the action. It was hard not to carry her more lovingly but I wanted to give her what she had longed for. I took her to the garage and leaned her against my workbench.

“Be warned,” I told her. “If you got off on that, then this may just make you lose your mind.” “What are you going to do now?”

“Well, my love, first I'm going to rub you down with his wax and then I'm going to buff you until you shine like a brand new doll at Christmas.”

And I did. I tenderly coated every inch of her body with the wax, massaging it only the hard shell, then added a second coat. Throughout the waxing, she orgasmed again twice. Being reduced to a mere doll was making her far more defenseless to sexual thoughts and her number one sex organ—her mind—was doing a number on her body.

It was the buffing, though, that really got her. I used the power buffer on her shell, and as I vibrated the motorized pad all over her, she screamed and moaned and all but called down hellfire upon me, then completely passed out. I checked on her breathing, and when I realized she was okay, I finished buffing her and left her in the garage to recover.

While I waited, I carefully removed her shoes, and just as I had hoped, her feet were trapped in an arched and angled position with no toes noticeable, just a single, featureless foot that wouldn't go back flat. I gently rubbed the sole of her foot with my finger, then set her back on the concrete floor and leaned her against the bench again to wait for her to awaken.

I was sitting in a folding chair drinking another beer when she came too and asked me what happened.

“You came so hard you passed out, sweetheart.”

“You're a very, very mean and awfully wonderful man,” she responded.

“Sorry. There just wasn't any other way to give you the shine you deserve. I mean, I don't want you to be just another doll. I want you to be the most prized, most beautiful doll in your collection.”

“Aw...” she said. “Well, after that, I think I may just sleep all weekend while I'm on display.” I laughed.

“I've got another surprise for you, something to make you more realistic as a doll.” “What is it?”

I pulled a sticker off a printed sheet. Then I dabbed a bit of glue on it. I tilted her back against the bench until both her feet left the floor.

“Whoa. Be careful. Don't drop me.”

“I wouldn't dream of it.”

I pressed the sticker onto the bottom of her foot and smoothed it out.

“What is that?”

“Guess?”

“I have no idea. Some sort of sticker?”

“Yep.”

“An ownership thing? Like this doll belongs to Emma Ralston?”

“Not quite,” I said. “But you've got the right idea. It's a barcode. It's how customers and salespeople can tell who made you and how much you cost.”

“Oh my god! That's awesome. You really do think of everything, don't you?”

“I try.” Satisfied the glue was permanent, I let her down again to the floor. “And I used the machine at work so if anyone were to actually read your barcode, it would proudly proclaim you as the property of Granger Bio-Tech, Research Division.” I kissed her thigh and she whimpered. “See, you really are my property now. Or at least the property of my office.”

“Oh my god. You're amazing. I'm like a real doll, Mark. I have a manufacturer and everything.” “Not just that. You also have a price. You retail at 1,250 dollars.” “Only 1,250 dollars? What am I? On clearance?”

I laughed. “Didn't want you to get a big head.”

“When I get out of this, Mark, I'll show you a big head.”

“I do believe that's my line, Emma. In fact, you look so amazing, I'm thinking about removing your hood and showing you a big head now.”

“Mark!”

“I know. I know. But not that we know this works even better than expected, don't be surprised if one weekend I decide you need to be turned into a sex doll soon.”

“You give me my fantasy this weekend, and I'll owe you.”

“Deal,” I said. “Now, speaking of your big head, let's get the rest of you dolled up.” “Sounds good.”

“I going to paint the gel onto your head with a brush, okay? And I'm going to give you at least two coats, driving them between coats. I'm doing that because I'll need you to read to have your new face painted on. Don't worry about breathing though. The suit will allow you to breathe anywhere it's not hardened, and I'm going to leave it soft and flexible where your nostrils are.”

“That's good. I don't want to end up a corpse in a doll shell.”

“Yeah. Neither of us wants that. But, just so you know, as you have already learned, when the shell hardens it tightens a little, hence your figure is more pronounced now than when you first put the suit on.'

“I figured that must have happened. I sure could feel it tighten on me.”

“Well, that same thing is going to happen to your face. The hood is going to tighten and it's going to clamp your mouth shut. But as we discussed earlier, dolls don't talk and you won't need to either. You'll just stand where you're put and be left to the whims or whoever wants to play with you.”

“You going to get me excited again,” she said with a giggle.

“Good. I want you to be excited, Emma. You may want to close your eyes while I put the gel on.”

I can only assume she did. Regardless I grabbed my brand new, 4-inch brush and dipped it in the can of gel, then coated her head and face until it looked wet all over. I put another coat on for good measure, then put a heat lamp on each side of her face and set a timer for 45 minutes.

I got another beer, called my mom, and caught up on her recent vacation to the Bahamas, then when I heard the timer ding, I returned to the garage.

“Emma?”

“Um mmuh,” she mumbled.

“Can you talk?”

“Arely.”

“Good. That means it's working. You look like someone has stolen your face. It's so odd and striking.”

“Ad you like it.”

“It's beautiful. You're beautiful.”

“Anku.”

“All right, Time for the second coat. This will be the last time you speak until Monday.” “Uv vu.”

“I love you too, my precious little dolly.”

Then I painted her face and head all over again, just as careful to leave two small holes untouched at her nostrils. After a thorough coverage, I set the heat lamps in place again and set another alarm for 45 minutes, more than enough time to let her head fully set.

The timer woke me from a quick nap, and when I called out to her as I walked into the garage this time, the only sound she could make in response was a series of “m” sounds.

“Honey?”

She mmm'd at me again, and I patted her shellac-covered head.

“I'm afraid that's the only sound you'll be able to make for a few days, my love, with your mouth clamped shut. Can you breathe okay?”

“Mm-huh,” she said.

“Good.”

I laid a large plastic tarp on the floor of the garage, then I set two sawhorses in the middle of the open area where anyone else would park a car. Then I lifted Emma from the table and carried her to the saw horses. I laid her on her stomach across them.

“Mmmm hmmm,” she mumbled.

“I know. I know. This is the other surprise I was talking about earlier. You see, I was a little worried about leaving you alone in the house in case something unexpected might happen, like something catching on fire or a robbery or something like that. So I told you're friend Debra about what we were doing.”

“MMMMMRRHH!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, but I just couldn't risk something happening to you, and I know being stuck in the closet in the cabin while I played poker wouldn't give you your jollies as far as your fantasy was concerned. That's when Debra recommended a Plan C. It was perfect. You'd be kept safe. Someone would keep an eye on you. And you'd get to be a beautiful doll to be admired.”

“Mmmm...”

“That's right. She's going to set you up in her boutique. She said you're just the right size for the teen girls section. Maybe a little more developed than most but she can work around that.”

I hooked up a container of white liquid latex to a paint sprayer as I spoke. I tested a little on her foot and she mumbled at the sound of the nozzle spraying.

“That's the downside of the surprise, though, honey. You know from your time there that Debra's mannequins aren't like the old-school doll you wanted to be. They are the modern, featureless ones in a solid color. So, now I'm going to paint you with a coating of white latex.”

Instead of waiting to hear her mumble her anger and disappointment at me, I simply turned on the sprayer and went to work. After about twenty minutes I let her back under the heat lamps again, then flipped her over to paint her front, again careful to use tiny brushes to paint around her nose so she could breathe.

“The best part of it, Emma,” I said as I was waiting for her front to bake and dry, “is that she's doing a summer display. And since you're not tall enough for an adult mannequin or even the juniors, she's going to put you in the pre-teen section. You're showing off some princess swimwear designed for kids. Isn't that awesome?”

She only mumbled grumpily, her voice barely above a whispered murmur through the layers that coated her new figure.

When she was dry, I stood her up as a single, human shape of shiny white latex. She very much appeared to be the opposite of a shadow, a sort of white spot reminder of where a person had once been standing.

I used the brush to even the coat, and I smoothed out a few lines where the front paint and back paint met, and when I was done, she looked just like any other hard rubber mannequin one might see in a contemporary, cutting-edge shop.

“You look absolutely breathtaking, darling. I know this wasn't exactly what you wanted, but it's the best way for me to know you're safe. Hate me if you want to, but you're going to get a doll and you're going to be on display for people to see. So, yeah, I'm still giving you your fantasy, and I promise I'll make it up to you next time by doing the other when I'm able to stay home with you.”

I let her back another thirty minutes then I came out and picked her up and took her inside to the living room.

“It's amazing. Even with no face and no hair and no features at all, you're the most breathtaking thing I've ever seen. I mean, yeah, you look like a thing, but there's something transcendent about it. You're an absolutely gorgeous piece of art.

I couldn't resist laying on the couch and stroking her unnippled breasts and the void between her legs. She swooned in a series of mmmm sounds and I continued until the sounds stopped. Then I put a finger under her nose to check her breathing. Warm breath barely touched my skin and tickled the fine hairs on my knuckles.

“Good,” I said.

She must have passed out again from the orgasm.

No time like the present, I thought, so I lifted her from the couch, gently slid her into a large, thin box, and folded it closed with a hole in the middle top. I carried her in the box out of the truck and strapped her into the bed on all four sides to keep her from sliding around. I even took the long way to Debra's boutique and stopped along the way for dinner, leaving her outside and vulnerable, to let her feel more and more the reality of her new role as just a doll, a piece of property.

# # #

“Oh my god. That's really her?”

“That's really her.”

“Inside that mannequin?”

“She is that mannequin. She's just coated with a bodysuit to keep her stiff and then painted with liquid latex, but it's all her, I assure you.”

“Wow.”

“She wanted to be a doll, and now she is.”

“That's amazing.”

“It is, isn't it?”

The Emma mannequin was leaning against the counter and Debra was tapping its belly. Each tap made a dull, rubbery thud.

“I'd never know if you hadn't told me. I mean, hell, she's heavier than a typical dummy, but just to look at her... Damn. It's uncanny.”

“She's amazing.”

“Can she see us?”

I shook my head. “Not anymore. She could a little bit before the latex, but now she's effectively blind.”

“What about hearing? Can she hear us?”

I nodded. “As long as we're close, yes. It'll be like listening through a thick blanket but she's not deaf and blind.”

We both laughed. “So it knows it's just another dummy right now, then?” “Yes, she heard you just fine.”

“It,” Debra corrected. “At least for this weekend.” She pointed at the new display dummy I had brought her. “That's not a she, not right now. That's it, a dummy to model clothes in my store.”

As she spoke, she kept smirking and winking at me.

“How are you going to use her? She doesn't have a mount like the others.”

“That's okay,” Debra said. “I have an old doll-style frame I can use with it. It'll grab the doll at the waist and hold it up at whatever height I set it.”

“Beautiful. She'll love that.”

“Doesn't matter what it loves, does it? It's just a mannequin.” She gave me another wink. She went to the back and got the stand and it looked much like the one Emma had planned to use in the house. A loop fastened around a doll's waist then adjusted in the base unit to set the height. I nodded my approval and she went to work dressing Emma for the floor. She pulled a bikini bottom over her slender, white, rubber legs, then she tied a bikini top over the nondescript boobs. The top and bottom had a pink princess crown embroidered onto them. She completed the ensemble by slipping a pair of cork wedge beach shoes onto her toe-less feet.

I carried Emma to the pre-teen's section, following Debra as she carried the stand. Once there, I positioned my stationary girlfriend into position and Debra locked her in the stand then set the height to where her shoes looked like she was walking, and they were just about to slide off her feet.

“Beautiful,” I said. “Simply breathtaking.”

“It's all right,” Debra added. “Seems a little top-heavy, and I'll probably catch some shit from the more conservative parents, but it'll do. But if those big ol' boobs do bother the customers then I'll most likely have to move it off the floor and put it in the back storage until I find somewhere else I might can use it. Maybe in lingerie since nobody minds big titties in the lingerie section. But with its height that dummy would still just look like an overdeveloped teenager. It really doesn't work anywhere to be honest.”

I could tell she was doing all she could to keep from laughing the whole time she spoke. Her lips were drawn tightly together, and her eyes watered.

“Are you sure you don't want to take her down to the adult novelty shop instead? I think she's be a lot more useful there than a classic boutique like here.”

She motioned for me to follow her, and I did. She unlocked the front door, set the alarm, then turned off the lights and we went outside.

“That ought to hold her over until tomorrow morning,” Debra said as she locked the door for the night.

# # #

All that night I dreamed of Emma stuck in her featureless latex shell, lying on the bed beside me as I rubbed my hands all over her. I could hear her mumble and moan and feel her breath come in short bursts and draws, all the while unable to move even a fraction of an inch. I toyed with her in my dreams for hours and perhaps even days and when I awoke, I had an erection larger than any I could remember since being a teenager.

I almost called the guys and canceled the poker weekend, but I had promised Emma, so I would keep my word. But I did call Debra at the shop before leaving the house.

“How's she doing?”

“IT is doing fine.”

“I assume by you stressing that word it means she's within earshot?”

“Always. And it's just standing there modeling a bikini like it's supposed to.” Then she lowered her voice to a whisper. “Nobody suspects a thing. She looks just like the others. No one's taking notice of anything out of the ordinary. I did have to warn her about those mumble noises though and that if they slipped out during the day, I have to take her off display and lock her in a box in the back room where she could mumble all she wanted without disturbing anyone.”

“What did she do when she said that?”

“She shut the hell up. That's what she did.”

We both laughed.

“Okay, well, as long as she's safe.”

“I'll an eye on her and make she gets the fantasy she's always dreamed of. You just go off and have fun with the boys.”

“All right.”

And I did. I tried to keep my mind on the games and the cookouts and the time with the guys, but I couldn't stop thinking about Emma, trapped still and helpless on Debra's sales floor, wearing a bikini designed for a pre-teen girl. In my mind I saw her surrounded by customers all day but alone and isolated in her new role and display tool. I imagined a more conservative mom or two asking about the reasoning for having such a large boobed dummy in the pre-teen section, and I could only imagine the embarrassing red that would flush over Emma's cheeks unseen in her shell of polymer and latex. She was already self-conscious of her chest and its size, no matter how many times I told her how beautiful she was and how her breasts looked amazing, even, no especially on a woman of her height.

By Sunday night, I couldn't wait any longer, and I rushed the guys to pack and by eight o'clock I was on the highway racing home to get her. I left a message for Debra that I would be at the store to pick her up first thing in the morning at six, a good two hours before the boutique opened and like a klutz I dropped my phone into the floor. It was easy enough to grab but when I raised back up, I was blinded by the lights of an oncoming car. I jerked my truck to the right, felt the impact and my world went black with my last coherent thought being about Emma and her safety if I should die in a fatal crash.

Debra

Mid-day Sunday, I made a point of repeating the time whenever I passed by Emma, not only to tease her but also to give her a sense of counting down to her freedom from my sales floor.

“I sure do love this new mannequin, Brandy,” I made sure to tell my assignment manager, “I hate to have to return her after the trial today.”

As far as Brandy knew, Emma was just another sample I had requested for a weekend trial while I was choosing a new firm to supply the dummies for the store. That would explain the short-term appearance in the store without raising any red flags in the staff.

Brandy just shook her head. “Not a good fit. It's too shiny. Too heavy-chested. Too confusing. I mean, is it supposed to be an adult doll or an older kids doll?”

“It's supposed to be suitable for either, according to the marketing materials,” I lied.

“I think it confuses the customers. I think we'll do better with a more traditional model. Flat little kids and mostly flat adults. And definitely not coated in latex.”

“You don't like the shine? I thought it made the boutique look more cutting edge.”

“If you want to be a teen trend shop, yeah, but our market is moms with kids. It looks a little, I don't know, S&M to me.”

I laughed. I so hoped Emma overheard Brandy's assessment of her as an S&M toy. “Maybe,” I said. “I still like it though. It's different and new. I kind of wish I could keep it another week, maybe even another month.”

I made sure I was standing next to Emma as I spoke. I hoped she got a nice little rise out of me wanting to keep her as store property for a little while longer.

The day went on as normal and several moms picked up Emma's swimsuit for their daughters, and I let her know that her modeling work was a rousing success.

Like an idiot, I had left my cell phone at home, so I hoped Mark would call the store, but he must have left a message on the cell, and I could get that when I got home. Knowing he'd meet me at some point either tonight or in the morning, after the store closed and Brandy had gone home, I stayed around to work on the end-of-week receipts, but before I did, and couldn't help visiting Emma again and teasing her.

“I haven't heard a word from the guy who loaned you to me,” I said at ear level with the white, featureless dummy. “I sure hope he hasn't forgotten to come get you or else I might get my wish after all and get to keep you for a little while longer.”

As I spoke, I untied the top of her bikini and started to remove it.

“No sense if keeping this bikini on you and risk him taking that with him. No, gotta keep the store property in the store.”

I tapped her shoulder as I stressed the words 'store property.'

“Well, Brandy is right. You are way too top-heavy for the kids section, but then again I don't run a short-petite specialty store, so I just had to make sure with your limitations as a mannequin.”

I couldn't resist just one running my fingers across her large, nipple-less breasts, and as I did, she moaned softly from inside her shell.

I instant snapped my hand away.

“I'm so sorry. I didn't think you could feel anything.” “Mmmm...”

“I'm sorry. I don't understand you. Do you want me to do that again?” “Mmm hmmm.”

Wow, I thought. Being trapped as one of my dummies must have really gotten her motor running if she wanted me to touch her. In all the years we'd been friends, she'd never shone even an inkling of sexual interest in another woman, let alone in me.

Still...

I stroked the hard breast again.

She moaned.

I grabbed them both and rubbed them for a few moments, listening with rapt excitement as her orgasmic noises grew more and more lively. Then I stopped.

“I image if it feels that good on your boobs, I bet this must feel absolutely fantastic.” I removed the bikini bottoms and laid the discarded swimsuit on a nearby sales table. “Ready for this, you perverted little store dummy?” I asked, giggling and grinning.

With one hand on her breast, I stroked the empty expanse of white latex between her legs with my other hand. Her noises picked up and I could tell that her breathing had quickened too.

“Oh, so you like that, do you?”

“Mmmmmmm”

“In that case, I really do wish I could keep you a few more days. Imagine all the teasing I could have given you had I know you could still feel this and that you really enjoyed it.”

She moaned again, and I really couldn't tell if she was listening or just lost in her little world. Try as I might, no matter how much I massaged her tits or her bald crotch, I could tell she wasn't quite able to get off, and her moaning and whimpering reached a certain level and just wouldn't or couldn't move beyond that.

“I'm sorry,” I said as I moved my hands away. “I guess you're just going to have to wait for Mark to help you get you over the edge. That's the best I can do with you in the shape you're in now.”

She whined and it sounded a lot like disappointment, but that could have been my own mind assigning an emotion to the sound. Regardless, I left her unfulfilled.

“I'm going to put this bikini back on the shelf. Might as well leave you here naked overnight since I haven't heard from Mark yet. I'm sure he'll be here in the morning to get you.”

Then I returned to the office to finish the receipts and get the weekly deposit ready. When I was done, I was so wrapped up in the money that I forgot to tell her goodnight.

“Oh well,” I told myself on the drive home. “That'll give her one last night of feeling like a real doll. I mean, who takes the time to tell a lifeless piece of plastic goodnight anyway?”

# # #

The next morning I was at the store at 5:30, a little earlier than Mark had said, just wanting to be ready.

“Mark will be here in a few minutes,” I told Emma, but that was it. I intentionally focused on getting the shop ready and letting her stew in anticipation of her boyfriend's return.

When I noticed the clock had passed six and was heading close to six-thirty, I didn't say anything, assuming Mark must be stuck in morning traffic or just got a later start than he had planned. But when the time was past seven-fifteen, I couldn't wait. Without saying anything to Emma—I assumed the passage of time meant little to her in her current state and that was was measuring it only by the opening and closing of the store—I quickly dialed Mark's cell phone.

It went directly to voice mail.

I tried the house.

Straight to voice mail.

The cell again.

I even tried to ping him on Skype. When I saw he wasn't online, I sent him an email, explaining that since he was running late, I'd just go ahead and put Emma in something else for the store and hang on to her until he got in touch.

I was a little worried, but I also knew Mark loved Emma so much he wouldn't dare risk her health. He must just be intentionally dragging out the game, I figured.

So I played along.

“Well, I guess your owner decided to let me keep you a little longer after all,” I said as the chime from the clock alerted me it was 8:45 and fifteen minutes from opening. “I guess I'd better hurry up and get you a new outfit before the store opens.”

I could only imagine the shock and surprise she must have been feeling at the thought of being forgotten or overlooked. I would have to give Mark an earful for not letting me in on the joke, but damned if it wasn't a fantastic way of driving home the reality that she was just property—and at the moment, my property.

“This will be perfect. It'll look so cute on you.”

I quickly put her in a pastel pink sun dress and a matching pair of pink, low-heeled, strappy sandals, appropriate for a young girl. I completed the look with a straw hat with a large pink flower on the side.

“Absolutely beautiful,” I said, and I snapped a few photos with my phone to show her later. The clock chimed nine o'clock and I unlocked the front doors and flipped the side from closed to open. The day had begun, and when Mark arrived to pick her up, it would be in a store filled with customers, further cementing Emma's role as a piece of property, an inanimate merchandising display. Mark was brilliant in his plan. If only he had let me in on it. Or maybe he was counting on my surprise making hers even stronger.

Regardless, I watched the clock throughout the day and waited for his call.

Brandy asked me about why we still had 'Tonya Tits' on display and I laughed and filed the name away for future reference.

“They're late in picking it up so I went ahead and set her up for the Summer dresses display. The dress looks good on her, doesn't it?”

“I suppose. At least it doesn't show off her tits like the swimsuit did.” We shared a laugh and set about the daily work.

When closing time came and I hadn't heard from Mark, I really started to get worried, but I didn't want to scare Emma. Sure, teasing her was one thing when I knew she was safe, but actually scaring her when there was the possibility that something had gone wrong, well, that was a different thing altogether.

I called both the cell and the home phone again before checking for a response to the email.

When I looked into my spam folder, I did see a message from him, but it was dated Saturday.

It read:

Debra,

Thanks for helping me make Emma's fantasy come true. I don't expect anything to happen but if something unforeseen should happen, I want you to be able to take care of her.

She'll need to start eating again. She'll go without over the weekend. But if she needs to be stuck a little longer, and I'm there, you'll need to take care of her.

First, you'll have to make a small hole over her lips. Use a .4 drill bit at only ¼ cm. That will be just enough to get through the shell without hurting her lips. After that, at least once a day, you'll need to use a small straw (like a coffee stir). As long as you feed her juice and water and broth she'll get what she needs to stay alive and safe until I get back.

As long as she's on a liquid diet, cleaning won't be an issue either. The polymer lining in the suit that makes the shell will simply absorb any sweat or urine away from her and then break it down chemically until it disappears. Science is pretty cool, right? Anyway, she can just pee in the shell and not have to wonder about it.

If something should happen, please take care of her like I just wrote. If anything really awful happens and I can't get back to her ever (Like maybe I die or something unexpected like that), then contact Alexandria Juarez in my office at work, and she'll be able to break down the shell and release Emma from her mannequin shape. But don't go to her first until you know something is really, really wrong, because I could lose my job if she finds out. So, please take care of Emma yourself for a few days before you contact Alexandria. As long as you're able to feed her, Emma will be fine for a few extra days in case I'm just stuck somewhere without a phone signal or a dead battery. Besides, a few extra unexpected days will only help her fantasy be that much stronger. I had actually planned to keep her that way at the house anyway as a surprise.

Thanks again for being someone Emma and I could trust with this.

I really appreciate it.

Mark

“Holy shit,” I said. “Damn.”

I glanced over at Emma and sighed.

“Where the hell are you, Mark?”

With no other options, I went to the stockroom and grabbed my drill. You never know when you might need to repair something in the store, but this was not at all what I expected to drill.

“Hey, Emma,” I said as I rested my hand on her shoulder. “Listen, I just wanted to let you know that Mark has had a delay, and he'll be back in a few days. He wanted me to apologize and let you know that he'd told me how to make sure you get fed and taken care of.”

I waited for her to respond and she mumbled something unintelligible.

“I know, sweetie, but he made sure to let me know you'd be fine and that you'd most likely enjoy a few extra days as a display doll here in the store.”

She mmmm'ed at me again.

“Now don't freak out or get scared but I'm going to drill a small hole in just a second here so I can squeeze a straw through and feed you. In the off hours, I'm going to give you water and juice and soup to keep your energy up. Mark said not to worry about going to the bathroom either. The suit will pull all that stuff away and keep you clean. It was all too science-y to me.”

I measured the drill bit length to make sure only ¼ cm was exposed. I didn't want to hurt her. She screamed a mouthful of mmm's when I pressed the button and started the drill, but in a moment I was done. I quickly checked for blood, but there was none. I went to the stock room and grabbed a coffee stir straw from the closet, and it went through, pushed against what I guessed were her lips, then went on through. “Damn,” I said. “Mark really knows his stuff.”

I left the straw in place and filled up a cup of water.

“See if you can flow through the straw,” I said.

A little bit of air brushed against my fingers.

“Oh, good. If you can blow then you should be able to suck too. I'm going to put the other end in this cup of water and you try to sip some. Okay?”

I did and she slowly pulled in a little bit. I watched it move up the straw. Good. Step one, done.

Emma was going to be okay. Now to worry about Mark.

I let her drink until the straw stopped filling with water. Then I set the cup down on the floor.

“Do you want more?”

She grunted.

“Okay, this isn't going to work. We have to figure out some way to communicate. How 'bout this? You mumble once for yes, and mumble twice for no.”

“Mmm...”

“Is your name Emma Ralston?”

“Mmm...”

“Are you seven feet tall?”

“Mmm... Mmm...”

“Good. So, do you want some more water?”

“Mmm...”

I returned the cup to the straw and let her sip some more until she stopped.

“I don't have any juice or broth here now, but I'll bring some for tomorrow, okay?” “Mmm...”

“Good. Well, it's time to close up for the night. But I'll be here first thing in the morning to feed you.”

“Mmm... Mmm...”

“Are you okay?”

“Mmm...”

“Then what, you silly mannequin? Some of us have human lives to get back to.” “Mmm... Mmm...”

“You don't want me to leave?”

“Mmm...”

“Ah. Well, I don't have a choice. I only work at the store, sweetie, unlike you, who lives here at the moment.”

I removed the straw, then downed the last of the water myself.

“You have a good night and get some sleep. You have another long day ahead of you tomorrow selling summer dresses for girls.”

She kept grunting, but I patted her shoulder and then left, shutting off the lights and locking her inside the store for another night.

The minute I was outside I had my cell and was trying Mark again. “If you're punking me and just not answering, I'm going to kill you,” I told his voicemail. “Don't me get wrong. It's a great prank, but I'm still going to kill you. So call me back, okay?”

I left the same message on his home voicemail.

I wracked my brain trying to figure out where he could be, still pondering the problem when I stopped by the grocery store for a few containers of broth and a half a dozen juices for Emma. I even got her a vitamin and protein drink just to be on the safe side.

When I got home I pulled up the numbers for every hospital between the store and the cabin. After seven long holds with the emergency room receptionists, I finally got a hit on the name Mark Yarbrough.

“Yes, we had him admitted last night actually. Are you family?” “Yes,” I lied. “His sister.”

“Okay. Well, there was an accident and he's still out of it. I can connect you with the nurse on duty.”

“Thanks.”

I waited another few minutes and a sweet voice picked up and said her name was Janet and that she was the nurse on duty.

“Janet, hi. I'm Mark's sister. Is he okay?”

“I'm so glad you called. We couldn't find any contact info since his phone was smashed in the wreck. We've been hoping someone would try to track him down.”

“Is he okay?”

“He's stable now but it was close. He broke several bones and two ribs. One of the ribs punctured his lung, but he's out of surgery and sleeping restfully now. We're keeping him sedated for the night and he'll be pretty out of it for the next two days as well because of the painkillers, but I'll let him know you called. If you want to visit, you'll be able to as soon as he's moved from the ICU in a few days.”

I thanked her, then hung up the phone.

For the first time in hours, I felt my breathing relax.

Okay. Mark had a wreck and had been hurt. But he's stable.

That meant Emma was going to be my guest at the store for several more days. But she'd be fine as long as I was able to keep her fed.

There was no sense in scaring Emma by telling her about Mark's accident, especially when there was nothing I could do about getting her out of the doll without risking Mark's career. Just play along with the lie that Mark had decided to extend her time as a doll.

I lay down on the couch to rest my eyes, my worry finally assuaged, and fell directly into an exhausted slumber.

The next three days went by in a pattern of getting to the shop early, feeding Emma, then running the shop and feeding her again after closing. I hardly even spoke 'to' or even 'at' her during the day. There was so much to do for the Summer dress sale, and the conversations were pretty one-sided anyway.

Each day I called the hospital to stay updated on Mark's condition, and it was Thursday before he was coherent enough to actually talk with me. He didn't make a lot of sense, still high on the painkillers no doubt, but he did ask about Emma and tell me thank you before having to hang up. Before he did, though, I made him promise to call me when he could form rational sentences and I told him not to worry about Emma as I was taking really good care of her.

I talked with her a little at first when feeding her in the mornings and at night, but then I figured I should just stop and let her enjoy the experience that Mark's accident was giving her. She had wanted to be at least somewhat in control of being a doll but thanks to the wreck, she was able to truly experience life as a doll, with no say at all in when she might be released and allowed to be a human being again. If I didn't miss my guess, she was probably enjoying the time more than I would have imagined.

So I stopped.

From Friday through the weekend, aside from feeding her, she was just another piece of store property. She did her job and I did mine. For the most part, I just ignored her like I did all the other mannequins.

For the most part.

I did make sure to get the feather duster and give her a good all-over dusting each night after she drank her dinner. I loved listening to her moan and whimper and I started to wonder if maybe, just maybe, Mark might even let me keep her a little bit longer after he got out of the hospital.

On Saturday Mark called to tell me he was finally off the worst of the painkillers, and I filled him in completely on all things Emma during his drug-induced haze. He thanked me again for taking such good care of her and for doing everything I could to make sure she was enjoying her doll time.

“So, when are you getting out?” I asked. “That's the million-dollar question.”

“That doesn't look so good right now. Both legs are broken so there's no driving for me, and even though I'm healing, the doctor thinks I should stay another week before having someone drive me home. Besides, with my arm in a cast, I'm not sure how easy it would be to get Emma out of that shell without a lot of help.”

Quicker than I realized, I said, “That's okay. I can keep taking care of her as long as you need me to.”

He laughed. “I'm sure, but I'm also sure she's getting pretty bored just standing around.” “Well, she did want to be a doll, and they don't really do much other than just stand around, so she should be happy.”

“I think you're enjoying this way too much,” he said.

“I think you're right.”

He laughed again. “Well, it's a moot point for another week anyway.”

“Listen, I have to go to a buyer's show this week. It's just two nights. Will she be okay if she goes two nights without food? I know that's the same as the original weekend you had planned for her, so I assume that's okay. If it's not, I can bring my assistant in on the situation, but I'd rather not. Not sure how she'd take it.”

He took a long pause before answering.

“Mark?”

Finally he responded.

“Yeah. She'll be fine. Just give her a good fill-up before you leave and when you get back. There's no need to tell, uh, Brittany, about any of it.”

“Brandy,” I corrected. “And that's awesome, because while I'm gone, Brandy will be in charge of the store and will be none the wiser, so it'll be the best most authentic experience yet for our sweet, little Emmaquin.”

“Did you just call my soulmate an Emmaquin?”

I laughed. “I did.”

“That's great. I love it.”

We chatted a bit more, and then hung up and I went back to work.

On Tuesday, I fed Emma and gave her a good dusting, but said nothing about the trip. On Wednesday morning I loaded the car and drove to North Carolina to see all the new designs I've been filling up my store with in the new Spring.

When I returned on Friday, I freaked out a little when I didn't see Emma on display in the girls' section of the store.

“Where's the loaner dummy,” I asked Brandy, and she pointed to the juniors section. “What's she doing there?”

“I just couldn't get over Tonya Tits there in the kids section, so I moved her. Damn, she's heavy though. What did they make her out of? I have to get the hand truck just to move her to the other side of the store.”

“Yeah, they made that model sturdy. A casual bump isn't going to know it over, that's for sure.”

As we talked I made my way to where I could see the top of Emma's bald, white head barely higher than the display rack in the way between us, a good six inches smaller than the rest of the mannequins in the juniors section.

When I arrived, I gasped more noticeably than I had intended. The Emmaquin was dressed in red lace nighty and matching boyshorts and standing on a pair of high-heeled, slip-on dressing slippers decorated with a red bow and sequins.

“I figured if Tonya Tits was going to be built like a woman in heat, then I could move her where she'd be a better fit. And damn if she doesn't fill out that nighty better than any of the other dummies.”

“No mistake about that,” I said.

“Did I do okay?” Brandy asked.

I walked closer to the scantily dressed display doll and rested my hand on her shoulder. “Yeah, you did great, Brandy. I think this one will be perfect over here to sell this sexy lingerie. Even moms need sexy time, right?”

“Exactly what I was thinking,” Brandy said, “And it's classy, not slutty. So it works.”

I leaned in toward Emma's ear just slightly. “Oh, I don't know. I think it's a little slutty. But maybe that's just because Tonya Tits here makes it look that way.”

When I was sure Brandy wasn't looking I made sure to give the Emmaquin a pat on her lovely, full, white latex ass.

What a Doll: Online Listing (2nd Adventure)

Mark

“I can't believe Debra kept you up on display for three weeks,” I said as I sat on the bed beside Emma. “I hope it wasn't too hard on you.”

“Just the shell, right?”

The fact that she could crack jokes about the experience was a good sign.

She lay on the bed beside me, still in the hard shell, but I had removed the latex covering and had softened and removed her hood so she could speak and see and be at least partially human again. It hadn't been easy with me moving around on crutches and one arm in a sling, but after a day of exhausting work, I had managed that much at least.

“So, you're okay?”

“I have to admit, it was fun. And when it got real, that just made it more exciting. Knowing that I would be safe took the worry out of it, and having Debra treat me like she owned me was a lot hotter than I expected.”

“Sorry I asked her not to tell you about the wreck. But I didn't want you to worry about me, especially if you were still going to be stuck in the shell anyway.”

“I totally get it,” she said. “I would have been miserable stuck there and wouldn't have been able to focus on anything other than the fact that I couldn't go see you. As it turned out, you were okay, and I was able to actually enjoy myself, even if that assistant manager of Debra's set me up in the lingerie section.”

I lay back on the bed beside her and rubbed her shiny tummy. The liquid latex layer had kept her doll skin polished and pristine, absolutely glowing even under the soft bedroom chandelier.

“Well, it was nice of Debra to let you keep the outfit. I looked great on you as an Emmaquin and I'm sure it look great on you as a living, breaking girlfriend too.”

“Aren't you sweet...”

I leaned over and kissed her deeply, our tongues thrilled to meet again after the time apart. “So,” I said as I finally broke off the kiss. She frowned, clearly wanting more. “Everything turned out all right, but it did make me realized that I need someone else who can get you out of the doll- shell in a worst-case scenario.” I drummed my fingers on her unmoving breasts. “Or we need to stop doing this period.”

She made a grumpy grunt at me.

“We're not stopping, so you had better teach Debra how to get me out. You do not get to give me one of the best experiences of my fantasy life and then tell me it won't ever happen again.”

I grinned and kissed her again.

“I was hoping you'd feel that way.”

She returned the smile.

“I take it, then, that you wouldn't mind staying the way you are for a few more days? Thanks to the accident, I don't have to be back to work for weeks, and I still owe you the original deal of you being another doll in your collection.”

“The way I am now, or with the hood on again?”

“I figured I'd just put on a skull cap and then a wig to make you look different, then maybe have Debra come over and do your make-up to look more doll-like. But yeah, with the face free so we could talk and it would be easier to take care of you.”

I could tell by the way she scrunched up her lips that she was mulling it over.

“Well?”

“Well...” she said thoughtfully. “I want to be completely a dolly since I'll be able to talk but I suppose I could just shut the hell up and enjoy it anyway.”

“Good girl,” I said, kissing her again.

I got up and left the bed, heading to the bedroom door..

“Where are you going?”

“To get started.”

“Now?”

“No time like the present.”

“I think Dolly needs a little more attention.”

I laughed. “I think Dolly forgets that dollies don't get to tell their owners what to do.” 

“Meanie.”

I grinned and left the room.

When I returned, I had a skull cap to fit what little actual hair she had into, and I smoothed it in place on her head. The flesh color matched her skin almost perfectly. Then I showed her the wig. I had ordered it especially for her to be more artificial than a wig from a wig shop. It was clearly made of bright yellow yarn and was done up in ringlets that would frame her face..

“It's perfect,” she practically yelled when she saw it. “Oh my god, it so fake, so muck like an old doll from the early 1900s. I love it.”

“I knew you would,” I said, then added, “Dolly.”

“Is that what you're going to name me? I was hoping for something less on the nose.” “Dollies don't name themselves, and since your face won't be frozen and lifeless, I figured I could use the name to reinforce your position as just a doll.” “I guess so,” she said.

“Now, let's get you dressed.”

“Ooh, Good. The gingham one. It will go great with that yarn wig.”

I lifted her from the bed and carried her to the wall. I stood up her in front of it, then tilted her forward so she leaned forward and was propped up against the wall.

“Dollies don't get to pick their own clothes either,” I said.

“Which one then?”

“It's a surprise. If you're going to be my doll while I recuperate then I want a doll that'll make me feel better.”

With her turned away and the hard shell around her neck keeping her from looking down, I went to the closet and grabbed a new outfit I had ordered on my phone from the hospital and had shipped to the house.

First I slipped a pair of cheap, rough, Barbie-type fishnet tights up her legs and over her smooth crotch. I adjusted them so the seams were straight before adding the next part. After I was satisfied with the fishnets, I pulled a black, way-oversized doll swimsuit that was covered front and back in confetti dots to give it a super sparkle look. When I pulled it into place, the back fastened with a long Velcro strip and a snap at the top—dollies didn't need actual buttons. Then I wrapped a piece of shiny plastic fabric around her waist, also black, and velcroed it together at the small of her back and snapped it at the top as well. I completed the look by draping a gaudy plastic and rhinestone necklace around her neck and fastening a matching bracelet to each wrist.

“Wow. You're really going all out,” she said, but I didn't respond. “Mark?”

“Sshh. What happened to, what were your words? Oh. That's right. Just shut the hell up and enjoy it anyway.”

“You're no fun,” she teased.

“And you're really loud for a doll. I think next time we do this I'm just going to put in a pull string so I'll be able to control what you say. Maybe some fun stuff like, 'Dolly wants to play,' 'Make Dolly pretty,' or 'Dolly wants to be your best friend.'”

“Could you?” she asked, suddenly serious.

“Sure,” I said. “Just a matter of figuring out when to hide the unit. I could think of a few places.”

“Mark!”

“I could even set it so it vibrated each time the cord was pulled and activated.” “Mark!”

“Just spit-balling, sweetheart.”

The last article of clothing was a hot-pink, cropped tank top that read “READY TO PLAY” in a zig-zaggy '80s font. He pulled it up Dollie's legs and over her hips, then fixed her arms through the sleeves and pulled it up into place. The last piece to add was a pair of fake sunglasses on top of her yellow yarn hair.

“Perfect,” I said.

I carried her to the middle of the room so she could see the mirrored door to her closet. “I looked like some slut from an 80s hair band video,” she said. “What happened to my gingham and Victorian outfits?”

“Whose doll are you, Emma?”

“I thought I was supposed to be my doll.”

“Dollies don't own dolls, silly.”

“Clearly I was mistaken.”

“Clearly,” I echoed.

Then I carefully carried her into the room where she kept her collection. I put her into the stand I had reserved for her. Her feet dangled a good six inches from the floor.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” I said, and I went back to the bedroom and returned with a pair of high-heeled plastic ankle boots, as cheaply made as any doll clothing I might have picked up at the Dollar Store. I pushed them onto her arched feet and they fit perfectly.

“Now you're perfect,” I said.

“I still look like a slut,” she said.

“Tomayto, tomahto.”

“Are you really going to leave me in this?”

“Yep,” I said. “This way you really stand out as the most special doll in the collection.”

Even if she didn't want to she had to admit I was right. In the midst of all the innocent, childish dolls she had amassed in a grouping against the wall, she stood front and center as the only unique property in the collection.

“I bet I could get a pretty penny for you on eBay,” I said.

“You wouldn't dare.”

I couldn't resist snapping a few pics of her with my phone.

“Not like you are now. You're yapping your owner's ears off. But it couldn't hurt to upload these and see what kind of price collectors might be willing to pay for such a special and unique doll like mine.”

“Mark?”

“Smile pretty for the listing,” I said and snapped another pic.

In spite of her complaining, she smiled pretty. Just like I knew she would.

“I'll let you know if anybody makes an offer I can't refuse, Dolly.”

And I walked away, turned out the light, closed the door, and left her to enjoy her dream come true, knowing I'd have to be careful. If I pushed her any further, she might actually want me to arrange to have her sold after part of the adventure.

What a Doll: Maid Marie (3rd Adventure)

Mark

After her ordeal at Debra's boutique and then spending a week among the collection of dolls in the house, I didn't allow Emma to play dolly again for a full three months. I needed to make sure she was okay and that there were no physical or mental or emotional issues hanging on after spending so long as an unmoving, silent doll. Not that any of that stopped her from begging me constantly.

Eventually I relented, convinced that she was fine on all counts, and mid-October, she had wormed her way back into the suit to become a doll again.

“Now this time I want to be what I was supposed to be,” she told me, poking her tiny finger into my chest.

“Just like last time, you'll be what I want you to be. Dolls don't get to pick out how they're created.”

She shoved out her bottom lip at me.

I grinned. “What if promise to make you a cute doll with a pretty face?” “I guess that will have to do.”

“It's the best offer you're gonna get if you want to be my dolly.”

“You're so good to me, Mark,” she said, then leaned up to kiss me. I still had to bend over for her to reach my lips.

“And you're my favorite doll to play with,” I said after the kiss.

Then I picked her up under her shoulders and carried her to the tub. It was already filled with the polymer gel that would harden the cloth suit into a hard shell, similar to that of a mannequin or porcelain doll. I laid her gently in the tub and pressed her shoulders until the gel covered her all the way to the bottom of her chin. With the angle of her head the gel made a line from her chin to the bottom of her ears, making a light across the bottom of her cheeks.

I set a timer for three minutes to let her have a good soak, and reminded her not to move. She was a good little doll and stayed still, and after the timer dinged, she tried to get out by herself and instead slipped and fell completely under the gel. A few seconds wouldn't hurt her and I could always use the solvent under her nostrils to let her breathe once the shell was thick enough to cut off her air supply.

I preferred to talk with her while I dolled her up, but in this case, her little slip might prove to be fun too. After all, she'd be at my mercy and under my control that much sooner.

“Poor little thing,” I said as I helped her out of the slick gel, at least up to the point that her featureless face was above the waterline. “Somebody sure is in a hurry to become a doll this time.” She didn't laugh. Instead she asked, “Mark? Some of it got in my mouth. Am I going to be

okay?”

“It just tastes gross, Emma but it's not poisonous or anything. Besides, if I were you I'd be more concerned with how the suit is going to harden all over now instead of leaving the cloth at your face breathable.”

“Oh shit!”

“But I'll take care of you, my clumsy little doll,” I said and she grunted at me, not liking the way I was patronizing her. “As soon as it started to get hard, I'll keep applying dabs of solvent to your nostrils to let your breath.”

I smiled.

“Ready for another coat on your face since you already jumped the gun for the first one?”

I didn't wait for her response. I just plunged her beneath the gel again and held her for twenty seconds. Then I pulled her up against so her face was out of the gel.

“Mark?” she asked, coughing.

“Get a deep breath and hold it, cuz her we go again, Dolly.” And down she went, this time for thirty seconds.

I brought her up, then dunked her six more times, each for a long as I felt she could hold her breath, then finally lifted her from the tub. She was breathing heavily from being plunged underwater over and over.

I carried her outside to the garage and surround her by four heat lamps. The two extra lamps would allow her to set that much sooner. I placed her arms and legs in position, then told her to be still so she'd set in the right position for a doll of her quality. I was sure to slip her highest heels on her feet again like last time to ensure that lovely Barbie-style arch I liked so much.

Then I let her bake. When I felt the shell firming up even a little, I dipped a Q-tip in the solvent and dabbed it under each nostril. I checked her face every two minutes and any time the dots of fabric beneath her nose weren't spongy I dotted them again with the solvent. Having Emma feel absolutely helpless was one thing, but having her risk her health was not something I wanted to consider, especially after all the ways things could have gone so much worse during her last experience as a doll.

“I bet it's feeling tight around your jaw right now, isn't it?” I said. “Keeping those flapping gums shut and silent like a good little doll is supposed to be.” She grunted at me, not wanting to disturb the final setting by moving her mouth to talk. “That's right. You just stay quiet and beautiful.”

I felt for the hold in the suit where Debra had drilled it to feed her last time, and I applied just a little solvent to keep it loose enough to put a thin straw through to feed her.

“There. Now I'll be able to feed you.”

I touched the spots under her nose, and they were still spongy and clothlike, not a hard shell like the rest of her body. Good.

“Grunt for me if you can breathe okay, Emma.”

She grunted.

“Can you speak or is your jaw held in place yet?”

She make a murgly sound but could form words. And even that would cease to just a few m-sounds the more her doll shell hardened.

I baked her for another hour, and as she hardened, I gave her another coat on her face, head and neck. When the hour was up, nothing moved, not an arm, not a finger, not her mouth.

She was again one hundred percent doll.

Now it was time for her surprise.

I fastened a metal loop around each wrist and just above each elbow. Then I did the same at each ankle and just about her knee. I attached one last metal strip on her head with superglue. Each metal strip had a small eye bolt welded to it.

Then I applied the solvent to several of her joints: her shoulders and elbows, her knees and pelvis, and an inch wide ring around her neck.

I moved each joint carefully to flex it without disturbing the rest of her shell.

When I was done, she had nine pivot points, much like a child's doll or action figure. She tried the movement herself and each action looked so robotic I couldn't help but laugh. I'm sure Emma would have fussed at me if her mouth hadn't been bound shut by the facial shell.

“Since you can nod or wobble your head from side to side now, you can answer my questions,” I said. “Can you see at all through the shell?”

She nodded.

“Well?”

She wobbled her head left and right.

“Good. You look so perfect, Emma, but I'm not done yet.”

I opened the trunk in the corner and got out her outfit. A French maid's dress with a puffy white ruffle to make it stand out on all sides. I started by removing her shoes, then slide a pair of black, thigh-high fishnet stockings up her legs, careful not to snag them on the eye bolts. One they were in place I made sure the small bolt was safely between the crisscross pattern of the stockings. Then I put the black high-heels back on her feet and strapped them around her heels and ankles.

Next was a pair of black lace panties with three rows of ruffles on the back.

After that, I slipped the dress over her head and smoothed it into place, fluffing out the ruffled underskirt for maximum cuteness.

Then came a pair of fishnet opera gloves and I was careful to thread both the elbow and wrist eye bolts through the crisscross patterns and avoid any tears. After all, it wouldn't do to give my prize doll damaged clothes.

Lastly I cut a slight opening in her red wig with ringlets all over and glued it in place on her bald head after feeding the top bolt through the slit I had cut.

She looked absolutely adorable, a gorgeous but faceless maid with all the right curves to make her master lust for her while she worked.

“Come toward my voice,” I told her, and she walked mechanically a few steps, struggling to maintain her balance walking in the high heels with so few functional joints to work with. But she made her way slowly, and I was proud of her. “That's good. Keep going.”

She walked a few more steps before I told her to stop. She couldn't see it but there was a cross pattern of wood above her. One long piece with two small cross sections on each side. Each cross section also had an eye bolt screwed into the wood on each side of the main piece.

“Now stand still for a few minutes, okay, Emma.”

She nodded her expressionless face and head.

I tied a thin, strong wire to each eye bolt on her wrists and elbows, triple-looping it and then soldering the connections. Then I did the same to the opposite ends of the wire, looping and soldering them to the control frame above her.

When I was finished with her arms, they were held slightly above her waist, pointing just off to the side as if getting ready for a hug.

“See if you can lower your arms,” I said.

As she tried, it appeared my loops were secure. She could raise her arms to make the wires looser, but could not reach lower than the wire would allow when it got taut.

“Okay, stop, please,” I said, and she did.

She grunted.

“I'll tell you later. I want to finish with you first. But trust me, you'll love it.”

I then attached a wire to the bolt above each knee, and soldered each off to the control frame so that both legs were slightly lifted as if both were taking a small forward step. Without the wires holding her up in that position, I was sure she would have toppled over onto her back.

Sure, the shell wouldn't have broken, but she could have been hurt inside it from the hard landing.

After that, I did the same to with the bolts on her ankles and secured them with her feet just barely off the floor.

“Try to lower your legs,” I instructed her, but even after struggling, she couldn't get any lower than the position the control frame held her in. And if she tried to raise her legs it caused the frame to shift above her, which in turn would make it move on of her arms.

It was gradually dawning on her, I was certain, that she had become a marionette. A lovely French maid puppet for me to control.

“Do you know what you are?” I asked. “Have you figure out what I turned you into?” She nodded.

“That's great. You're not just a doll,” I said. “You're a puppet on a string. You'll only move for me and me alone when I control your operating cross.”

She wobbled her head side to side. “Clearly she wasn't a fan of me veering her doll fantasy into selfish plans of my own. But then again, that's what happened when she gave up her humanity to become my doll. I would create her in the images I wanted. She had no say-so, at least not if she wanted the dolly play to continue.

“That reminds me,” I said, and I looped a wire through the bolt on top of her head. “Lean your head forward,” commanded, and she did. I tightened the wire through the control bar until he just tugged on her head. Then I soldered it closed. “Now you're perfect. I wish you could see yourself.”

I took the next hour to paint her new face onto the black canvas the suit's hood had created when it hardened into a doll shell. I intentionally made it nothing like her actual face.

Large, dolly eyes of bright green like a field of grass.

Thick, fake, painted eyebrows of a red that matched her clearly artificial wig.

Lips so full and red that they couldn't have been real, painted into a permanently, just slightly open pout, almost reaching for a kiss.

And a tiny noise covered with an abundance of black freckles.

She was amazing.

So doll-like.

So fake

So artificial.

And yet so beautiful.

But not a beautiful woman.

A beautiful thing. A doll. A puppet. A marionette.

A Maid marionette.

“Maid Marion,” I said with a laugh. “No. That's too on the nose. Maid Marie.”

She tried to move her head to say no, but I tugged on the wire to make her face up and straight ahead, stopping all movement.

“Only what I want to you move,” I repeated.

I opened the step stool and climbed up to lift her control bar from the rack I had installed in the garage ceiling. When I lowered, it she slumped to the floor, then when she realized what was happening, she tried to get her balance, but fail.

Still, I was holding the operating cross and she only fell so far, her knees not even touching the

floor.

I helped her all the way into a lump of exhausted doll in the floor, and lifted her and carried over my shoulder with the control bar dragging behind me.

I took her to the doll display in her special bedroom and I lay her on the bed. I left her there and went back out for the step stool and when I came back with it she hadn't moved.

“Good doll, Maid Marie,” I said. “When you try to move by yourself, you're only going to get yourself tangled in your wires and I might just let you stay tangled up to teach you a lesson.”

She grunted but remained still.

I lined the stool up beneath the second rack I had made, this one hard-bolted to the cross beam that ran just above the ceiling. After all, I didn't want her to fall. Nor did I want her to be able to readch the floor and have any control of her new puppet form other than what I gave to her.

I carefully lifted the operating cross and she followed it obediently without me having to tell her until she stood beneath the rack. Then I raised her from the floor, supporting all of her 105 pounds of weight for a few seconds before securing the control bar in place on the rack.

The ceiling in the doll room was higher than the one in the garage, and she hung almost a full foot off the carpeted floor.

I pushed her and let her swing a few feet both ways before she came to a stop. She made a mumbled grunt at me, but that only made me laugh.

I shifted the bar and raised her left leg up like she was marching. Then I manipulated both arms so they outstretched like a capital T. Then I gave her plenty of slack for her head and it slumped backward before she regained control of it and leaned it forward instead.

“I think I'll leave you like that tonight, Maid Marie.” The one raised leg was positioned so that it gave me a wonderful tease of panty and stocking when I would enter the room.

“You're so absolutely beautiful,” I said. “I think I need to show you how much I love you like this, darling.”

I climbed down from the stool and stood before her. Hanging from the rack, her hips were level with my own. I reached under her ruffled skirt and stroked the androgynous wasteland between her legs.

She made a soft moaning sound, and I got a wicked idea.

I left the room and returned in a few moments with the solvent. I painted a one-inch strip of it from the bottom of her crotch to roughly where her clit would be. I applied the liquid several times until her moans were more intense. Clearly the doll shell was softening and giving her more feeling down there.

Then I put the solvent away in a drawer and returned to my helpless suspended French maid marionette.

I spend the next thirty minutes simply stroking her pussy with one finger until she finally came and moaned just loud enough that I might have heard her barely from the neighboring bedroom, but not loud enough to even be heard over a car outside as it drove by.

“Like that, huh, my little Maid Marie?” I asked. “Well, there's more where that came from tomorrow, but for now, I think it's time to let you rest and just hang out here with the other dolls while I drink a beer and watch some TV.”

I turned off the light and left her, silent and inanimate among her favorite dolls.

Debra

I pulled up to Mark and Emma's place at nine in the morning and couldn't wait to get inside and see what devilish new mischief Mark had done to my best friend to turn her into a doll this time. He had only told me that I'd never believe it and to come over first thing in the morning since I had the day off.

So, of course, I did.

He met me at the door with a hug and immediately took me back to Emma's doll room. “Debra,” he said, “I like you to meet the newest doll in the collection, Maid Marie.”

My eyes had to have grown as big as saucers, as the saying goes. The thing that was supposed to be Emma didn't look at all like her, but then again, neither had the mannequin he had made her into before. Still, turning her into a mannequin had simply been an act of taking away her identity. This was different. This time Mark had created an entirely new identity.

The thing I was staring at was a marionette puppet of a sexy French maid. Wide and green eyes that almost seemed to be lit up by the natural light of the room. Red ringlets of a yarn-like wig hung just low enough to bounce on its shoulders. Its mouth slightly open as if awaiting or trying to give a kiss.

Its arms hung out parallel to the floor then bent at the elbows with hands pointing straight up. The puppet's legs did the same but bent at the knees with the feet pointing straight down. The doll looked a lot like a capital letter H dressed in an outfit from the classiest porn I could imagine.

“Wow.” I was just realizing that my breath had stopped from the moment I saw Emma's new form. “Holy shit.”

“What an absolutely beautiful marionette, isn't she?” he asked.

“Holy shit.”

“Right?”

“Damn. I was impressed last time, but you really outdid yourself this time. That's amazing.” “A craftsman is only as good as the materials he uses to create, and trust me, I started with the very best base model available.” Mark grinned ear to ear as he said this.

“There's no denying that,” I said. “Still... damn.”

He smiled.

“Can she hear this time?”

“A little better than last time.”

“What about see?”

He shook his head. “Especially after I painted those beautiful emerald eyes over her natural peepers.”

“I bet.”

The phone rang, and he excused himself to go get his cell from the living room. I couldn't resist walking up to the hanging puppet and touching its solid shell.

“I wonder how much you can feel that this time,” I said to the sexy doll. I glanced to see if Mark had returned, and when I realized we were still alone, I gently stroked the Maid Marie's breast.

The doll moans faintly.

“I guess you can,” I said.

Then I kept one eye on the doorway while I slipped my hand beneath her ruffled skirt. As I stroked one finger across where I expected the shell to solidly cover her crotch, I noticed that the material gave and let me brush my finger across what felt remarkably like what had to be Emma's pussy lips. The puppet moans softly but steadily.

“Whoa,” I said, pulling my hand away. “He left you more accessible down there this time.”

I squatted beneath the marionette and pulled the fancy panties to the side for a better inspection of her shell-like skin. Just as I suspected, the suit was soft across her crotch. I touched her labia again and the beautiful inanimate creature moaned again.

“So you like that, my little puppet on a string?” I asked, and was answered with another quiet, happy sound.

So I started again stroking the hanging maid doll in earnest. And while neither Emma nor I was gay or even bi, just the idea that I had such complete control over this trapped, helpless doll, her natural identity subverted and replaced by a brand new, totally artificial personal, that idea broke through any notions of straight or gay or bi and I simply had to play with the vulnerable puppet.

Besides, what could it do about the attention? Not a god damn thing. Nothing but hang there and either enjoy or not. It wasn't about the doll's happiness at this point. It was about my control over the doll.

“It's exhilarating, isn't it?” Mark's voice broke me from the attention I was lavishing on the doll's crotch.

I quickly jerked my hand away.

“Don't stop on my account. I was enjoying just watching.” “But...”

“But nothing. She's a doll. She doesn't get to decide what happens to her.” He walked behind her and stood up on a stool. “Watch.”

I cocked my head to the side and stared as he adjusted the controls for the marionette's limbs. First the maid's sexy leg dropped perpendicular to the floor, then the knee bent out slightly. Next, he did the the same with the other leg and knee, leaving the sexy puppet in an even more vulnerable position, both legs spread wide and available for anyone to touch it's responsive crotch.

After that, he lowered both of the doll's arms and poised her hands so that they pointed at her crotch, palms out, welcoming and inviting anyone who saw her to touch her in the most private of places.

“See what I mean?”

“That's just mean,” I said.

“Nope. That's just me playing with my puppet. I think she looks great like that, don't you?” “I think she looks great period,” I said.

“Play with her some more. I bet she appreciates the attention.” “Are you sure she won't be mad?”

“She's just Maid Marie. She's just a puppet. She can't get mad. Not with an empty little puppet head. It's not like she's a real person.”

He grinned for my benefit. How he loved teasing and torturing Emma in her doll state. And unless I missed my guess, she loved being teased and tortured too.

Then he left the room again, and I returned to torturing and teasing Emma myself. Why not, I figured. I had express permission from the puppet's owner.

With her new position, rubbing the doll's crotch from asshole to clit was much easier. It hung with its waist just below shoulder level, so the motion didn't even require much effort on my part. I simply took my time, gently going over and over the satin panties and listening to the artificial girl moan so quietly I soon forgot the sound as it became simply another background noise. After a few moments, the sound stopped for a full ten seconds, then a long, low breath came from the doll.

Holy shit.

She had climaxed just from me touching the outside of her pussy and ass.

Rather than let her relax though, I kept up the attention and soon she started to moan softly again. I couldn't tell if she wanted me to stop or keep going, but hell, it didn't matter. I was playing with a doll, a toy that didn't have a say in the matter.

If I had to hazard a guess, I would have thought Emma was on the verge of a second orgasm when Mark returned and I stopped and left her hanging.

“Listen,” he said, and he held up a thin, flesh-colored box. A string with a ring on the end hung from on side. He pulled the string.

“My name is Maid Marie, and I live to serve you,” the box said in a very alluring French accent that dripped of sex.

He pulled the string again.

“Would you like me to fluff your pillow, Mistress?”

Again.

“Would Master like a refill? I'm always ready to serve you.” I laughed. So did Mark.

“Yeah, yeah. I know these are usually for dolls, not puppets, but I couldn't resist.” “It's fucking perfect,” I said, and I walked to him and pulled the string.

“My name is Maid Marie, and I live to serve you,” said the sexy French voice.

“You have got to put this one her now,” I said. “I'll pay you good money to put it on her right now. That is just way too precious.”

“I'm glad you approve,” he said.

I helped him lower the puppet from the control bar and then we carefully laid it over the foot of the bed so that its legs touched the floor and its chest and face lay on the comforter.

I laughed.

It looked like it was ready to be taken doggy style.

Mark looked at me when I laughed, then at Maid Marie and he got the joke too.

“Maybe next time she gets dolled up,” he said.

He lifted the shirt to reveal the puppet's shiny, stiff back. Then he slathered superglue on the box and pressed it against the small of the puppet maid's back.

He let go after about thirty seconds but left the shirt up and the doll leaning over the bed.

“It's gonna need to set before we can use it without pulling it off Marie's back. I figure an hour ought to do it. Wanna get a pizza and a beer? My treat?”

I nodded.

“Sure. Are you sure Emma won't mind?”

“Who's Emma?” he said. “All I see is a Maid Marie talking puppet.”

Then he laughed. I joined him and we left the house to grab some lunch.

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