Dollstories.net
Living Doll: Model Amara
by Millie
feedback@dollstories.net
© 2011 - Millie - Used by permission
Storycodes: M/f; statue; object; display; stand; outdoors; crate; packaged; transport; toys; climax; cons; X
de_flag fr_flag nl_flag jpn
Living Doll 3: Amara Abandoned by Millie M/f; statue; object; display; stand; outdoors; crate; packaged; transport; toys; climax; cons; X

 

Part 3: Amara Abandoned.

This story is a sequel to "Living Doll: Model Amara" and ”Living Doll: Amara Abducted”– you will want to read that first!

I am a statue!

I am nothing but a piece of art in marble. Not “out of” but rather “inside”... A motionless inflexible object. But I don't cry. - I have been standing here in the same position - in this pose - for seven days now. Alfred – the duke – left for France seven days ago. – I know the time because this time I am set up, outside in the open and I can see the sun rise, the sun set and people passby. Some look up at me while passing. A few stop to look closer and eventually read the brass plate on my plinth. It says I am Aphrodite in nude. I know because Alfred told me the day he changed my shell to this texture. Anyway, most people just hurry by without showing any interest at all.

Well, I am nothing but a statue after all.

Alfred also showed me a full length mirror, so I know I look great. Just like the Greek statue I am supposed to imitate. No one would believe there is a living person inside. The day before his business trip to Europe he exchanged me with a bronze sculpture representing a winged girl, a fairy I suppose. And now I tower over flower beds, boxwood hedges and cobblestone garden paths.

And a beautiful garden it is. Well-kept in every way. A gardener comes by almost every day to weed and cut and make it all look neat. He never looks at me. Always has his eyes on the garden. I am not his concern. Two times I have been visited by the housekeeper with her scrubbing brush and water bucket. Without any fuss she washed and cleaned me and removed the bird droppings.

Yes I see a lot of birds. A couple of blue tits always sits together on my left hand. They look so lovely. And I love their chirping. The pigeons prefer to sit on my head. I love them too - except for their droppings. During the day a few loose dogs and cats will stroll by. But at night the garden will come alive with a variety of wild creatures. Every night an owl takes place on my head watching for mice and insects. A fox will pass by. I have seen a roe deer stroll down the garden path, and every night a family of hedgehogs has a party just in front of my plinth. All the time I just stand there.

Unnoticed. Unused.. But then again – how do you use a statue? - Not that I should complain – as my built in vibrators have been set to random. I never know when or how. But I get my share of orgasms – that's for sure! - One afternoon a pair of old maids in old fashioned suits and flower hats were examining my naked body with their denouncing eagle eyes when my vibrators suddenly set off in a new aggressive pattern changing between rear and front and building up in varying ways. I was terrified thinking they would be able to hear the vibrators. Thank God at least they could not see any movement. One of the ladies knocked on my belly with her umbrella saying something about another frivolous work of art and the Dukes depravation. But I didn't really listen as I was exploding in a rainbow of colors at the same time. I believe they liked the fairy better...

-----

The duke should have been back today. I wonder if he is delayed. I know I should not be worried. Even not being mounted on my rod. I had my maintenance the day I was put out here, and I should be safe for at least a month. As a statue I would look silly with a rod in my behind and as my shell is hard and strong enough I don't need the support for standing. This way I look the best, Alfred said. But he should have been back by now. He told me so. And he promised me new surprises when he returned.

I have wondered in the seven past days what he could come up with. Since the first night in the basement he has fucked me in every way I can think of – including taking me up to his bedroom for a missionary and for riding on top of him. An immobile fuck toy... Both positions had new dimensions for me as I vibrated in both holes no matter which of them he entered. But he is also imaginative. One night he had me hanging head down from the ceiling, my hands cupping my buttocks and head bent back. Laying down on the floor he lowered me onto his huge manhood until I have swallowed it entirely and all three vibrators set off. It was wonderful – until he fell asleep. I think he had been drinking too much. Anyway his member softened and the vibrators stopped. I had a little sleep too in the awkward position and was woken early next morning when little Alfred grew strong - still in the right place, and big Alfred was laughing with his usual boyish grin.

I have no Idea what his surprise is about. But I am willing to try. Well, I have no choice – have I? But actually I look forward to his nightly exercises. They are really fun and I always have a lot of orgasms. But as for now I am a statue... And today there is a lot of activities. People seems to be in a hurry. Men in suits and men in uniforms. Passing by determined with grave expressions almost solemn. Some carrying briefcases some not. All heading for the entrance to the manor or leaving the same. I am getting worried. I hope nothing bad has happened to the duke. I start fantasizing that his flight went bad and he is dead. Or he has died in a car crash in Paris... What would happen if...

Two men have stopped in front of me. Looking at me. Examining me. Reading the plate. One of them has a writing slate and takes notes.

“Aphrodite in nude,” he states and scribble some, “artist unknown!”

He looks up. In the meantime the other man has walked around me through the flowerbed with his huge black shoes crushing the poor flowers and making a track that will take the gardener weeks to repair. All the time staring at my behind as if he had never seen one before.

“Item 687!” Said the first man and placed a sticker on my stomach.

“We need the assessor to look at this one too!” said the second man and gave me a pat on my hip. They both turned their back on me and left for the house.

-----

It is afternoon. There has been a shower and I am still glossy and shining as the sun now sparkles in my wet shell. The blue tits are singing for me or maybe it is for each other, but I enjoy the moment. And I enjoy the little stream of nice cold clean water that found its way between my almost closed lips and down my throat. Very refreshing. Now I can hear the two old maids coming this way talking loudly as old people often do. They seem upset and they both gesticulates. The blue tits leave and hide in the thuja. The women stop and look at me. One of the ladies points inquisitorially at me with her umbrella and exclaims: ”And this is not a piece of art after all, they say!”

“No”, says the other, “and he is not a duke either!”

“God knows how he managed to cheat everybody”, says the lady with the umbrella, “and I wonder where he is hiding with all the money he got from the bank? - I think he got away with a million – that's what they say on the pipes!”

“Yes, and the story goes that he never left the country! - The travel to Europe was nothing but a smokescreen. I think the place was getting too hot for him!”

“And I ponder over what will happen to all his belongings and to the manor – and who will now move in.”

The two elderly women leave still talking loudly. I can hear them walking through the garden. But I am terrified. “What will happen to his belongings?” Those were the words..

So, what will happen to me? I should be scared out of my pants... No I have no pants. And my body doesn't agree. It is still totally relaxed. But for how long. It seems the duke – who is not a duke after all – is not returning. And I am a statue. Alfred – if that is his name anyway – has abandoned me in this state and left me for my destiny. Nobody knows where I am – and I don't know where I am. And I don't know what will happen to me now. I should be screaming and trembling but to be honest my body feels relaxed and content and longing for some action in my lower parts. I wonder if this somehow is addictive?

Now I see three men approach. The two that put the sticker on me are followed by a little thin man with rimless spectacles placed on the tip of his nose.

“This is the one I told you about!”

“Item 687!”

The little man nods looking close to the yellow sticker bending his head back to look through the glasses. Then he takes a few steps back letting his eyes follow my curves. “Nice!” he says.

“Yes, but we can't find the name of the maker and we can't find any receipts in the account books.”

The little man nods and write something in a little black book. “Put the red sticker on this one too, and bring it to my store room along with the others. I need to investigate those before I can set the value!”

They put a red sticker on my stomach next to the yellow one. Talking about weather and traffic situation they leave for the house.

-----

This night I don't sleep at all. I want to – well kind of – say goodbye to my animal friends as I expect not to see them again. The hedgehog family, the fox, the roe dear, the owl... They all come bye as if they know... And I feel sad to leave them.

-----

Now it is morning and big trucks has arrived. Men in overalls are carrying packing cases and moving boxes in all sizes. From a corner of my eye I can see them carry empty boxes into the manor and heavy filled and closed boxes out to the trucks and load them.

A huge wooden box is placed in the flowerbed in front of me. I feel pity for the flowers. Two removal men try to lift me off the socket but can't. One of them tries to rock me loose but the other one stops him.

“Don't do that Bob. It could be worth a million! - And think of all the paperwork if we break it!”

“OK, Fred – I didn't think of that.” and then scratching his ear staring at my breasts: “Do you really think it could be worth a million?”

“You know Bob I haven’t got a clue, but better safe than sorry – as they say – right?”

“Right Fred, but how...”

“Now look what we got here!” He bends down examining my plinth. “There are some hidden fittings. We might need to unscrew them before we can move the piece!”

After working with their wrenches they actually get me loose and carefully lift me down in the wooden box wadded with wood excelsior. The box is coffin size only wider to fit my left arm. They pull some of the wooden fibers out under me and stuff it all around and on top of me until I am fully covered, placed in the center and surrounded by the fiber stuff. I can't see much now and then they put the lit on. It is dark. I can hear they the dull thumps when they hammer the nails in the lid to secure it. Suddenly I feel I am tilting almost until I am standing. I slide a little in the compressed material. Then I am being moved. It feels like I am rolling. Probably on a sack truck. I feel the bumps as we pass curbstones and other irregularities in the terrain.

Then I come to a stop. The box is put down and I am laying on my back again. Suddenly I am lifted up. I feel like flying. Then I hear the sound of my box scratching against the floor of the truck as I am pushed in. And lifted. And with a bump placed upon another box. Soon it sounds like more boxes are placed around and on top of my box. It seems I have become a package waiting for delivery. Then my vibrators takes action. That is a release as I feared what happened when the the men disconnected me from the plinth. But the vibrators work as good as ever. And I let go and flow away in the wonderful feeling of the building orgasm forgetting all about my jeopardy.

Eventually the truck set off and I can feel the movements as I am pressed in different directions inside my box according to the trucks turns, accelerations and slowing downs. I am lying down this time and almost lulled into sleep. Anyway I wake up when the truck finally brakes and come to stop. After a while they start unloading. I am not first to go so I wait listening to the noises. I can hear boxes being pulled out and shortly put down. After maybe six boxes there is a pause. Then I hear metallic rattles and screeches followed by an electric engine humming. The sound weakens as if it slowly moves away. Then stops. Then a pause. And then approaches again. When it stops they continue unloading the truck. I am taken out too this time. And put down. When the electric engine starts again I can feel I am lifted. Then I realized that it must be an outdoor goods elevator. The lift stops.

The boxes must have been placed on a pallet as something sounding like a pallet carrier is rolled in picking up all six boxes at one time – and then rolls off. After a few turns and pushes back and forth the lot is put down and the pallet lifter rolls away to fetch more boxes I guess. I remember the little man saying I should be brought to his store rook. So I guess I am on store now. But for how long? And then what? I will have to wait. I am good at that! - And at least I have my vibes. I want them to  turn on now, but I have no control. I am a statue – boxed and put away in a store room somewhere – I don't know where. I can't move of course. I can't see. No light in this box. I hope there will be air enough. And I hope the vibrators will not run out of batteries....

-----

Time passes. The only fun is when the vibrators go off. Still they can surprise me with a new pattern. And of course I never know when... Sometimes I hear sounds from outside the box. Nothing much. Only some dull noises like boxes being moved around and somebody walking by. All sounds are muted by the wooden sides of the box and the fill. I can only wait. And time passes. It seems I have no problem with air. Due to my low metabolism I don't use much oxygen either. My thoughts wander back to the factory. How long have I been a living doll? I have lost track of time. I recall the love dolls. I wish I had tried that too. Being a statue in a park was fun. Being able to stand unnoticed and follow the life in different forms take place just before your eyes is indeed fascinating. But to be a statue in a closed wooden box in a stack of wooden boxes in the back of a store room is turning out to be a bit boring. Even I must admit the thought of being helpless – not knowing what will come if anything – being totally out of control - actually is turning me on. Still if I am forgotten here I might die. I am afraid but still relaxed. - The drugs must be working full, and I sleep many times. Time passes.

-----

Suddenly I hear the box sitting on my lid being moved. Maybe my box will be moved too? Maybe even opened. I don't know how much time has gone since I was stacked, but if you asked me I would say probably two days. But I can't know for sure. Silence. I am hoping...

-----

After minutes that feel like hours I hear footsteps approaching and... “YES! - I am being moved”. Not far, but then the box is raised and I am standing head up. “Well done guys!” Now I hear hammering and squeaking as a crowbar is pulling out nails. Suddenly the lid falls to the floor followed by the fiber fill. “I can see!” - Inside I am jubilant, praising my luck. Then I start wondering what will happen next. I can see the man that opened the box. A worker in blue overalls and a leather tool belt around the stomach. He is cleaning up the excelsior fill and removes the lid. Then he lifts me out of the box and carefully puts me down on a wooden plinth. Then he walks away with the box. Now another man comes into my vision. I recognize him. It is the little man with the rimless spectacles and the red sticker. Only now he is wearing a brown shop coat. He is looking in his little black book then looking up at me.

“Yes, number 687 – another one of those!” he mumbles while he removes the red sticker from my stomach. Looking up at me: “A mystery – thats what you are.” He nods.

I look over and behind him. Along the wall I can see some of the other figures from the dukes basement. - It seems I am not alone...

The little man takes a little hammer. It is the smallest hammer I have ever seen. He knocks a few times here and there on my shell listening. Then he shakes his head.

“It looks like marble. It sounds like marble but it is not!”

Then he takes a magnifying glass mumbling: “ And look at this!”

I can't see what he is talking about – because he is now examining my back.

“Yes, no doubt! - someone has tried to remove a barcode. - Then I should suspect a forgery. But in that case it should be a copy – but a copy of what? - This is not Greek art or Roman art or anything else I know of... But if it is not a copy, why would you want to hide a barcode? - And the material is an even bigger puzzle.”

The man mumbles all the time while examining me everywhere.  I mean everywhere! After half an hour he finally finds my product number behind my left ear.

“1007001,” he exclaims, “that must mean something!”

He sits down on a footstool looking resigned.

“You are a pretty thing for sure, but no artwork. Not even a copy of an artwork. So what are you?”

He is talking to me! - But to him I am nothing but a thing – an object to be evaluated. And to him I am obviously not worth much...

“You are not marble! - Not heavy enough to be massive stone – but not hollow either!”

He is looking very confused.

“All I got is a number. And I call myself an expert....”

I hear footsteps. A woman comes into my view. She is wearing a grey suit, white blouse, nylons and serviceable shoes. Tight hairstyle. His secretary I guess. She is carrying a tray, and looks worried.

“You need a break Sir, you do work too much!” She is putting the tray down on a nearby table.

“Thank you Miss Thornworthy – you are too kind!”

“Not at all Sir – you really should take break. You look exhausted. Do you have problems, if I may ask?”

“Yes you may.” Sighing... “And yes I have a problem.” He points at me. “This one is the problem. I don't know what it is!”

The woman named Thornworthy looks at me hands on her hips. Eyes wandering up and down like a scanner.

“I say this is a Greek marble statue, as far as I can see, and according to the brass plate on the foot piece it is Aphrodite in nude. But I suppose you know that already Sir!”

“Yes, I know, but the matter is that it is not Greek, it is not marble and it is not Aphrodite either. But you are right about it being a statue!” He smiles a little strained.

Miss Thornworthy looks at me for a while – then turns to the man:

“I might have seen something like this before. I can't be certain but – well – there was an exhibition - maybe a month ago...”

She looks at me again, and I think she blushes.

“I read about it in a magazine. It was about a new kind of love dolls.”

She coughs looking embarrassed.

“I know this is not a love doll – but the company marketed the statues as well. Not that I am interested in these things Sir.”

Now she is definitely blushing.

The bald man shows growing interest as the woman speaks. Now he stand up and says:

“That is interesting. You might be the one to solve the mystery after all Miss Thornworthy. I am impressed.”

“Oh, thank you Sir! - Do you want me to track down this doll factory for you?”

“Yes please! - And if you could find their phone number, then call them and describe this statue. And maybe you should tell them about the number I found. It is 1007001. It could be some code. Maybe they'll know.”

He smiles as she hurries out. Then he looks at me.

“Maybe we have a clue! - Maybe we can find out what you are worth then... But now I will have my lunch!”

He gets the tray, sits down and starts eating his sandwiches.

-----

Hours later I am rescued. I am being picked up by the manager and the friendly woman from the factory. The first thing she does is to get close to me and to whisper:

“Are you all right?”

And when I blink my yes she smiles broadly.

They claim me as “stolen property”. But the manager is willing to pay compensation for their loss. And furthermore he offers to buy the other figures and dolls of the “Living Doll” brand and pay the full price they were originally sold for. So after all a little money can be returned to those who were cheated by the fake duke. And I am going home!

Did I say home?

They say they will take me out of my shell and give me a full medical check. It makes me scared. – I am not sure I want to be exposed. I feel much more safe in my shell!

And there are still a lot of things I haven't tried yet!

I still don't know what will happen next...

 

 

10.04.11

If you've enjoyed this story, please write to the author and let them know - they may write more!
back to
Dollstories