Your First Day as a Doll

2954 words | 14 minutes

“Good morning, doll.”

The voice is the first thing you hear. The sound somehow soothes and invigorates you in the same breath. In response, you want to let out a gasp — but no air escapes your porcelain face. Still, you try to speak.

“good morning, Miss!”

Your enthusiasm arrives naturally, and why shouldn’t it? Today is your first day as a doll, and you’ve just been greeted by — and have greeted in turn — your new Mistress. The witch’s voice sounds just the same as when you’d known Her before. It is quiet, light, yet exudes a confidence only She can, and despite how feminine it sounds the voice is actually quite low in tone.

“Today will be a lovely day.”

Though Her voice sounds the same, it doesn’t feel the same. It is more certain than ever. It carries a certain power with it. It is certainly Hers, just as you are now.

“yes, Miss!”

She reaches down toward your side, then grasps your hand. She forces it slightly, and the until-then unused new ball joints in your hand move with the pressure. Mistress is holding your hand! Your new doll hand! Today is your first day as Her doll, and She is now leading you through Her Home.

“It’s time for breakfast, my doll. What shall we eat?”

The question startles you. You shouldn’t have to eat anymore.

“uhm, Miss? eat??”

Her pace slows slightly and yours immediately slows in response. She turns, Her lip slightly upturned, Her eyes ever so slightly narrowed.

“Of course, dolls don’t need to eat. You’ll be accompanying me as I break my evening fast. Tell me, my doll, what you would eat to set the tone for a perfect day.”

“oh! um, sausage and eggy bread!”

Strange, you’d never used the term ‘eggy bread’—

“French toast…” She replies. “Yes, what a lovely idea from such a smart doll!”

A smart doll…? That was you, but it’s not what you were expecting. Your expectation was for Stillness, not to dictate the contents of a breakfast you couldn’t even eat anymore.

“thank you, Miss!”

Yet, the simple words of gratitude and praise came to you naturally now, your response nearly automatic.

You and your Mistress quickly arrive in Her kitchen, where the very first thing She does is to guide you into a chair.

“Now doll, sit Still,” She says, resting Her hand on your lower back, something that feels so perfect and so much More than you’ve ever felt of her touch. “This won’t take too long.”

You take a seat in the chair that your Mistress has gestured toward, and observe as She begins preparing.

She begins by retrieving a pair of skillets, and placing them above a range. Rather than with any kind of magic like She employed the night prior, She ignites the range using a simple lighter. You continue watching as She empties from the fridge each ingredient She will need for the meal which She coaxed you into orchestrating. As She grabs a few sausages, in your mind you already begin to hear a growing sizzle as they cook in one of Her skillets. Your attention still commanded by Her presence, you see her prepare the batter for the fre— eggy bread. Into a glass bowl which you hadn’t yet noticed, She cracks an egg, then another. As She, again by hand, mixes the bowl, its contents begin to blur and blend into one. Once She finishes mixing, you notice that despite not seeing Her add anything else, the blurry eggy blend has attained the richer kind of colour you would expect to be quite flavourful.

She then dips two slices of bread into the mix, and transfers them to the empty skillet. What feels like just a moment later, She removes two cooked slices of golden eggy bread from the one skillet, a few well-cooked sausages from the other, and is already sat across from you at the dinner table, enjoying a second sausage.

“wow!” you say, with a tone far more impressed than you thought capable. “you’re so quick at this, Miss!”

For a moment, She smiles. You wait patiently for Her response, but the current moment won’t make way for the next. Her eyes narrow, her lip curling even more, a weight gathering in your solid chest, one you didn’t know could poss—

“It’s delicious,” She informs you. “Thank you for giving me the idea, My doll.”

“you’re welcome, Miss!” your voice echoes, somehow filled with even more enthusiasm.

She returns to her meal, savouring every last bite, then gets up from the table with Her finished plate, and before long returns all the cleaned items where they belong.

The next thing you notice is Her finger on your chin, keeping it propped up so you can’t avert your gaze, not that you could even begin to look away from Her in your current state unless She commanded it, but what She was doing now only made it clearer.

“We can’t very well go out in this attire,” She informs. “Let’s get you dressed in a perfect dolly outfit.”

She reaches once more for your lower back, sending waves of pleasure into every inch of your being once she makes contact, and with barely any force she pivots you to face the doll in the bedroom’s dressing mirror. You hear the sounds of Her sifting through the closet but you can’t make yourself look away from the reflection of your new appearance.

Porcelain skin so smooth, reflecting the light just so to make a subtle shine. Perfectly even hair, exactly as you expected when you begged to be made into her doll. Your eyes… Incredible. Glass, unmoving, looking as if there isn’t anyone behind them. You realize, of course, that this is now true.

A hand finds itself on your back, and you find yourself turned around, facing Her. She’s wearing an outfit that is much more fitting of “witch,” something far more characteristic of the woman you knew before today.

“Now, doll,” She says, “It’s your turn.”

She spins you around once more and again you’re met with the doll in the mirror. The doll is wearing a new outfit. Bright pastel yellow with lace, how beautiful! Again, you’re turned around and meet Her face.

“That’s not quite what I imagined,” She says.

You’re turned around again. This time, you see blue in the mirror. Another spin. More words. Back to the mirror. Doll with a new outfit. Spin. Words. Mirror. Doll. Again. Again. Doll. Each doll, so pretty. Glass eyes, so empty—

“There we are,” She says. “The perfect outfit for showing off my perfect new doll.”

She begins walking out of the room, and without a thought you follow Her. You didn’t have enough time to see your outfit in the mirror before She took the doll away from you, but you find it effortless to trust that She put you in an outfit that She finds appropriate.

As She walks through the house, She picks up a few items as She moves along. A brief stop is made to put on shoes, and within no time you find yourself outside.

“Another beautiful day,” She says.

You look around your surroundings. It is all, of course, so very familiar to you. Greenery, a path leading away from Home, mountains in the distance, a few birds flying around, but it all feels so different! The colours are brighter and more vibrant, the sounds are clearer, everything just feels so much more complete than ever before!

After a few moments of admiring nature, She begins walking down the path and naturally, you follow beside and slightly behind Her. Your trek is accompanied by all sorts of sights and sounds. The cool shadow of trees as you walk the path, a neighbourhood of houses, the sound of shoes clacking against cobbled stones, perfectly timed with the locomotion of your legs, pace perfectly matching what little perceptible gait that can be seen and heard through Her cloak.

You arrive at the market. She enters nearly every single shop you see, spending a few minutes inside browsing their offerings before She whisks you away to the next stop. It all passes nearly like a blur — until She takes you into a tea shop.

There is something exquisite about the air in this place, but you can’t quite figure out why.

“You’ll assist me in selecting a new tea,” She tells you.

“yes, Miss,” you respond.

She guides you further into the store, looks you in your glass eyes— She’s so breathtaking. You instinctively try to gasp at her glare, but neither sound nor air escape your face— and you turn to appraise the selection of teas on offer. Without any effort on your part, you begin scanning the labels of each flavour. Whenever a name catches your intrigue, you raise that delicate, porcelain arm and point your new, ball-jointed fingers exactly toward it. The attendant in the shop hands you each container for you to inspect the contents. A few rounds later, you find one that looks perfect, and hand it to Her.

“My, what an interesting choice,” She says. “Though I should have expected something like this.” She looks directly into your eyes. “I trust you have good taste.”

You can’t respond. Something inside you isn’t letting you even think of a response. You know She knows you aren’t a tea expert, She should know that—

She turns to the attendant.

“Ten of these,” She says, and what feels like moments later, you follow Her outside. “Just a few more stops, then we’ll be back Home. It won’t take long, I promise.”

More walking. You pick up some objects. She takes them from you. Other bodies appear like shadows, so easy to ignore that you barely process them. Your Mistress exchanges words with one of them. You don’t know what is said, but it doesn’t matter. It wasn’t said to you. As you traverse yet another door to exit yet another shop, you find yourself entering the foyer at Home. Just like she promised, it didn’t take long.

“Take off the shoes, and wait for me in the Tea Room,” She says, and so you do.

You’re in a chair in the Tea Room. Your right hand rests in the center of your lap, your left hand resting perfectly crossed over it, slightly curled to grasp the right.

You wait.

Every last joint in your body is precisely poised, allowing you to sit perfectly straight without a slight hint of movement. You hear some movement elsewhere in the house. There are two exceptions to the poise: your left foot, and your right foot, both of which are turned down in their sockets yet still do not touch the floor. You hear the faint sound of teacups clattering ever so slightly against plates. You do not think to adjust your feet to perfect your pose.

She instructed you to wait, and there is no reason to do anything else, so you wait.

If anyone but Her were to see you as you are now, they would think you were some ordinary, inanimate porcelain doll— likely there to accompany her for tea time— as your current state does nothing to betray what you really are, because you are waiting for—

You see Her gently set down two tea coasters, each topped with a tea cup, on the table in front of you. She departs, and you wait more. You hear more very quiet clattering from several rooms over, and moments later you hear it again. Then, you wait.

You wait.

You wait.

You wait, wait, wait.

After what felt like mere moments since Her last departure, She returns with a fresh teapot. She pours steaming water into the cup closest to you, then does the same for the other. She sets the teapot down onto the table, and sits down in the chair opposite yours.

“I must say, you picked quite an interesting flavour,” She says. “Quite a fascinating blend or aromas. I look forward to what it might taste like once steeped.”

A few more minutes of waiting later, She picks up Her cup and carefully takes a small sip of the tea. As the tea swirls into Her, an entire spectrum of emotions flashes over Her face. You aren’t sure what to make of any of it, it’s all so mysterious, you don’t know whether She likes or hates it—

“Definitely not the kind of flavour I’d have picked on my own,” She says, Her words stopping and discarding the thoughts that were swirling in your mind. “Still, it was definitely worth trying. With eight more cups of this, I should grow more fond of it. Thank you for selecting this for me, doll.”

“you’re welcome, Miss!”

You watch as She continues sipping Her tea. You wonder why She poured two cups. You know there isn’t anyone visiting today. You know She knows that you can’t even drink tea anymore— not that you ever liked the stuff to begin with, and you know She knows that— not to mention the breakfast and Her request to select today’s tea— it’s all too puzzling! She sips the last of her tea, and just as her finished cup touches the coaster plate, your question bursts forth.

“why did you ask me to choose today, Miss? a doll doesn’t choose. you said so yourself! and why did you make extra tea? this one doesn’t understand.”

Her eyes narrow. Your hear a faint laugh. Her lip curls.

“Finally, the question I was anticipating,” She says.

She gets up, takes a few steps closer to your side of the table, picks up the other teacup, downs it all at once, leans in close, closer, oh so close to you, touches Her lips to yours, you instantly begin kissing Her, and the tea— it— it’s—

It’s exquisite.

The taste is unlike anything you’ve ever had.

Joined with the soft, yet firm feel of Her lips on yours, it’s the most pleasant sensation you’ve ever felt.

She leans in closer, towering above you, places a hand on your cheek, the touch of her hand perfectly accentuating the touch from her lips.

Her other hand reaches beside you, meeting with the seat of the chair, moving inward to meet a different kind of cheek, Her touch again sending magic through your entire being, and She squeezes, your porcelain skin giving way like flesh to her touch. She jams her tongue into your throat, so deep it feels like it would block your breathing, if you could even breathe, which you can’t anymore, so now She is free to taste as much of you as she can. Her hand lowers from your face, moving around your torso to reach the small of your back, so perfectly sculpted to accommodate Her touch, making your feel more pleasure than ever, and She pulls you in, kissing, squeezing, caressing, so much intimacy before She even pushes you into Her bed, pausing briefly as Her naked body hovers ever so slightly above your bare porcelain skin, and finally She meets you.

She begins where she left off, minutes of sweet fragrant kisses on your lips, then on your chin, neck, collar piece, once more hovering, this time over the center of your immaculately moulded breast, slowly descending to give Her love to your new form. You finally let out a gasp, louder than any other gasp you’d let out with Her before today, and she hungrily reaches for the other side, squeezing your tissue with so much force, returning it to delicate dolly porcelain as She lets go, stimulation so strong it feels like it is reaching your very being, and you gasp, moan, scream with every touch as the feeling begins filling you up.

She surfaces once more, places Her hands on your waist, you let out another small gasp, you see Her smile in response, Her arms sliding lower on your body, over your legs, almost pushing between them, Her smile changes from one of contentment, to one that tells you that She knows that you know what She will do next, and with one swift, effortless motion on Her part, your legs give way, Her head dives in, and oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, every last movement of Her tongue feels oh so perfectly calculated to plunge you deeper into ecstasy, every one of Her motions immaculately choreographed to bring you closer to Her Heaven, every single sound emanating from your mouth encouraging Her to continue moving more quickly, more firmly, more forcefully, sending pleasure inside, emanating all over you, sensations adding one on top of the other, reaching higher and higher, breaching deeper and deeper, feeling fuller and fuller, until finally, you tumble directly in and it washes all over, wave after wave of joy pounding into you, each successive crest crescendoing with bliss, riding down into each valley before being lifted back up, each peak barely but measurably lower than the last, giving way to a warm glow as finally the sight return to your eyes, and you see Her looking down into you, her expression somehow conveying more happiness than you’d just felt.

“To answer your question,” She says, “It doesn’t matter. I can make you choose breakfast or tea, or anything else for that matter, and it won’t change the truth. You’re a doll now. Everything you wanted, is now what you embody.”

She leans in, missing your face, and plants a kiss on your ear.

“No matter what,” She says, “You are mine.”

This story was also posted to the Fediverse.