In the Dollhouse
by Cordial Knot
It was cold. Ashley opened her eyes. It was dark. She might as well have been trying to see through ink. Ashley knew that she must have been asleep a few moments ago but her memory was strangely cloudy, as difficult to pierce as the blackness surrounding her. Dazed, Ashley tried to figure out where she was and how she had gotten here. She realized that she was sitting, tied to a chair with thick rope that bound her arms and legs. Ashley was vaguely aware that she should be frightened by this but, in her confused state, everything had a dreamlike quality.
With a sharp click, Ashley’s world was flooded with light. Ashley whimpered a little as her eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness. Through squinted eyes, she took in her surroundings. It was an odd, unadorned room. The ceiling and the walls to Ashley’s left and right were painted solid black while the wall she was facing was bone white and stood out starkly.
Quiet footsteps came from behind her. Ashley turned as much as the ropes would allow, craning her head until her neck hurt. Off to the side she noticed a small fireplace piled with unlit logs. Standing behind her was a man dressed in ordinary clothes, someone she could pass in the street without a second glance. He was wearing a white plastic mask that reminded her of the Phantom of the Opera, except that it covered his whole face.
“What’s your name?” The man’s voice was soft and a little muffled behind his mask.
“A- Amy,” Ashley tried to sound convincing.
“Oh, darn,” the man chuckled unnervingly. He reached out and his fingers brushed against Ashley’s hair; she shivered. “I thought you might be Ashley Walker. A cute, 14-year-old girl who went missing from the mall yesterday. Maybe you’ve heard of her? She lives with her grandparents because her poor mother and father died in a car accident when she was little. She goes to the mall every Friday around 4:00 and uses the same bathroom to check her makeup… but she never bothers to check if there is anyone else in the bathroom with her.”
Ashley felt cold as the man described her and, probably, her abduction. Through the haze of her thoughts, Ashley struggled to find a retort.
“That’s not… I don’t… what do you want?” Ashley finally asked, defeated.
“You must have guessed,” the man said, sounding disappointed with her. “After all, you’re dressed for the occasion.”
For the first time since the lights came on, Ashley looked down at herself. The metal chair she was sitting in was actually bolted to the floor. Ropes were binding her stomach, wrists, and ankles as she had noticed before. But she was wearing an outfit that she had never seen before. It was a frilly pink dress that would not have looked out of place on a princess doll except for the fact that the dress had been shorn so that it was absurdly short. Standing up, the dress would have barely covered Ashley’s butt. Sitting as she was, the dress rode up on her to reveal a set of pink panties. And, probably because the dress was made for a younger girl, the fabric stretched tight against her budding breasts, leaving little to the imagination.
The dreamlike quality of her situation was rapidly fading. In a trembling voice Ashley asked, “What are you going to do to me?”
“You’ll be a doll, of course.” There was no doubt in his voice. “And you’ll play with your owner whenever he wants.”
“No,” Ashley whispered. Then, in a slightly stronger voice, she continued, “You can’t. I’ll bite and scratch and get away.”
The man didn’t seem impressed. Rather, he seemed eager as Ashley grew more defiant. “The sedative is wearing off, isn’t it? Good. Time to start.”
Start what? Ashley thought. But she was afraid of the answer so she kept quiet. The man had shuffled off behind her towards the fireplace. Turning as much as she could, Ashley watched the hunched figure light the fire and stoke it. The small room, once cold, quickly grew uncomfortably warm. Ashley’s legs were slick with sweat as she shifted in the metal seat.
The room grew steadily hotter and the silence stretched as neither Ashley nor the man was inclined to talk. Then, from the corner of her eye, Ashley watched the man pull a handful of something out of one of his pockets. He tossed it into the fire, which flared briefly before dying down to a steady smoldering. The man quickly pulled the grate shut, stopping the smoke from drifting up the chimney. Coils of smoke circled the room, without rising to the ceiling as fast as ordinary smoke would.
The man held a cloth over his mask to filter the air but Ashley couldn’t avoid breathing it. Rather than the usual harsh and bitter taste, the smoke was now sickly sweet. Ashley coughed as she inhaled the thick air. She could feel it filling her lungs and, as it did so, Ashley suddenly felt wide awake. It was as if she was suddenly aware of every detail of the room, from the small scratches on the floor to the lone cobweb in a corner of the ceiling. Her head was clear for the first time since she had woken up. She was more alert than she had ever been.
“Well, now, that woke you up.” The man must have seen her twitch when the smoke cleared her head.
Ashley was thinking quickly, thanks to the smoke. “Look, you can let me go. I haven’t seen your face; I don’t know who you are. Just leave me somewhere and I won’t tell anyone.”
“I’m not worried about you telling someone,” the man said gently. “All dolls love their owners.”
Ashley weighed her options and decided the best course of action would be to scream. So she did.
The man sounded annoyed, “How cliché.”
As Ashley drew a breath to scream again, which filled her with more of the strange smoke, she heard the man fumbling with something metallic. She started to turn her head, but suddenly the man grabbed her hair. He forced some kind of tight-fitting helmet onto her head and fastened it to the back of the chair with a series of clicks. Now Ashley was unable to move her head at all.
“What are you doing?” Ashley was getting more panicked by the second, it seemed like the heady smoke was elevating her heart rate.
The man finished adjusting the helmet and replied as he walked away from her. “You may look the part, but you don’t act like a doll. We have to fix that.”
She knew she shouldn’t ask, but, “How?”
“Just a little reprogramming,” the man reassured her. “You don’t know how to be a good doll yet.”
There was a sudden whirring as a machine turned on. It must have been directly behind Ashley for her to not have noticed it when she had seen the fireplace. The white wall in front of her suddenly began to glow. Even with the smoke accelerating thoughts, it took a moment for Ashley to realize that there must be a projector behind her, shining at the wall.
“Are we watching a movie?” That little bit of sarcasm was daring considering her situation, but Ashley had come to the conclusion that this man was a little disturbed. He obviously believed that she would be a ‘doll’ for him.
“No,” the man found her sarcasm funny for some reason. “Just you. It’s kind of long but don’t worry, the drugs in the smoke around here will keep you awake and focused until it’s done.”
“Uh… okay.” If Ashley had ever thought about what would happen to her if she was kidnapped, this was definitely not what she would have envisioned. “So, do you have any popcorn?”
“You know, I’m going to miss that boldness after it’s gone.” With that ominous statement the masked man left the room, turning off the lights and closing the door behind him.
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Ashley sat for several minutes, staring at the lit wall, with nothing changing. Now that the room was dark again, the only light came from the projector. The white wall seemed radiant while the black walls absorbed the light. To Ashley, it looked like she was floating in outer space, staring at a giant white screen. The smoke accentuated the effect. Coils still drifted around the room, occasionally refracting light from the projector.
All of a sudden, the light went out. For a split second Ashley was in total darkness, but then it came back on. A few seconds later it flickered, then brightened. It went out again but came back quicker than before. It slowly began to dim, only to flare with a sudden burst. There was no pattern. A flicker that had previously been followed by brilliance was, instead, the precursor to an abrupt blackout. It was memorizing, in a way. Ashley was kept staring straight ahead by the metal brace and the drugged air prevented her from falling asleep. Her mind was too active, processing every shift in the whiteness. Time quickly lost all meaning for Ashley.
She stared at the shining wall for minutes or hours or days before she became consciously aware of a new addition. Briefly, almost imperceptibly, faint words were visible on the wall. Like the light itself, they changed constantly and never stayed long enough for Ashley’s conscious mind to register more than one word in a phrase: lose… forget… become… identity… before…
Ashley may not have been able to read the phrases fast enough but her subconscious, fueled by the lingering smoke, registered and catalogued the instructions. Gradually, the sensory overload wore down on Ashley’s internal resistance. Failing to process and analyze so much information, Ashley’s mind began automatically following the instructions.
As her overworked mind resolved itself to follow the instructions, Ashley began to lose her knowledge of herself. Memories of family, school, and friends were overwritten, as instructed, by new memories of being a doll. After many hours and thousands of subconscious suggestions, Ashley knew that she had been made in a factory and then packaged and shipped to her owner’s house. Her owner, Dean, was her playmate. She was just a doll. Dean would decide what to do with her, what games they would play, and everything else. She was just a doll. Any orders that Ashley’s owner gave her, she would follow instantly and without question. She was just a doll. Ashley loved her owner and loved to be played with. She was just a doll. She wanted to be a good doll.
After a long time the text stopped appearing. The dancing white light resumed the steady state that it had been before Ashley’s training. Ashley stared ahead, expressionless. She had been wiped clean of her old life and had been given a new one. The steady glow was comforting; it was as simple and blank as her mind.
The respite didn’t last long. A picture was fading into view. It was another girl Ashley’s age, also dressed like a doll, playing with her owner. It was a strange game, but Ashley’s mind was too tired to wonder why the owner had to be naked for the game. The picture was quickly replaced by another, with a different doll-girl, being bathed by her owner. The pictures started coming faster and Ashley groaned involuntarily as her weary mind, kept aware by the drugged smoke, struggled to register all the images. There were girls of all ages, most with different owners. It looked like some men owned at least half a dozen doll-girls. All of the girls were smiling, clearly happy to be played with. Ashley smiled with them. They must be having so much fun. A doll is never happier than when it is being played with.
Then, the images began to shift. They were still filled with doll-girls playing with their owners, but now the games had changed. Before the first training session, Ashley would have recognized it as sex. But her new doll’s mind considered each of the acts she was seeing to be a game. These were obviously very fun games, judging by the expressions on the owners’ faces. Ashley’s subconscious accepted the new information as it had accepted everything else.
Now the words were coming back. Instructions flickering to fast to read. Ashley began to shiver, unsure what was happening to her. Her body was getting hotter and she started to pant a little. Underneath her panties, her cunny felt itchy. Ashley wanted very much to touch it, but the ropes were still holding her in place. She felt very good and she wanted it to keep going. Words still flitted across the wall, superimposed on the pictures, telling her how to feel. Ashley bucked her hips and moaned as the pleasure spiked. The rope lying across her stomach bit into her as she twisted around, but Ashley was becoming so overwhelmed that even the pain felt good. Finally, there came the highest peak in the pleasure, followed by sudden release.
Ashley sagged back into the chair as the good feeling faded. Vaguely, she was aware that her panties were now wet. It didn’t bother her too much.; changing a doll’s clothes is her owner’s responsibility. Now Ashley knew what the doll-girls in the pictures were feeling. She watched blankly as the pictures grew more graphic. Then the text returned and Ashley started to pant again. The good feeling was back.
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Two men walked into a dark room. One was wearing a mask. The other was looking around nervously, trying to see by the dim light coming from a dying fire. A bit of smoke wafted out of the open doorway, clearing the air. The masked man flicked a light switch and the room was revealed. The nervous man saw a projector mounted to the ceiling, a fireplace, and a strange metal chair. Someone was sitting in the chair.
The masked man walked forward confidently. He fiddled with some metal clasps and removed a metal helmet from the back of the chair, allowing golden hair to cascade down. Next, he set about removing the ropes. When he was done, the masked man addressed the girl in the chair.
“How do you feel?”
“Good.” The reply was slow and soft, as if the speaker was waking from a dream.
“Would you like to meet your owner?”
“Yes.” Still tired, but a bit of excitement had entered her voice.
The nervous man, Dean, watched as the girl rose on shaky legs. Her tiny dress seemed to accentuate every movement. Dean moved around to get a better view. The girl stretched, lifting her arms and causing her dress to rise up and give him a quick view of soaked panties. She turned to face him.
“Are you my owner?” The girl was timid, innocent, perfect.
Dean nodded and swallowed, his throat was suddenly dry. The girl’s eyes lit up. She rushed over to Dean and threw her arms around him, squeezing tightly. Even through his clothes, Dean could feel the curves of her body pressing against him. The girl rested her head on his chest briefly before looking up. Eyes wide, she asked him, “What’s my name?”
Ah, yes. Dean looked over at the masked man who was prompting him. The masked man had said that the procedure would remove the girl’s identity. She wouldn’t have the same name afterwards, because that was a part of her old life. The man had made a suggestion to Dean right before they had entered the room.
“You’re name is… Amy.”
Amy smiled up at him and hugged tighter.
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This was intended to be a lone story when I started but I’ve grown to like the concept and I think that more could be done with it. If you, dear reader, have ideas for a sequel (either with Amy and Dean or with new characters) please send me an email.