The Doll in the Room

by SFT

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© Copyright 2010 - SFT - Used by permission

Storycodes: Solo-M; doll; costume; touch; pose; play; cons; X

This story is covered by the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License ( )


She had asked me to meet her there at five sharp.

It was coming up on six, but she didn't seem to be around.

I looked around me, examining the room she had asked to meet in. It was a blank, bare room, no table, no tasteful accessories, just a door, a chair, and a curtained window.

Upon entering the room, I figured she was delayed or I was slightly early, so I took a seat on the convenient chair and waited quietly.

It felt quite lonely there, though it never really felt like I was alone.

That was thanks to the doll that had been casually left on the ground, its eyes blankly staring at my feet. It lay there quietly, waiting for someone to notice it. It wasn't mine, so I resolved not to notice it. Not too much, anyway.

It wasn't a normal doll, either. For one thing, it was life sized. Normally one would call such a thing a mannequin, but those are usually made to retain a single pose, and don't usually conform to a fallen form when casually left on the ground.

I wondered if it was hers. She did seem to have some fairly off the wall interests, but life sized female dolls were usually the sole province of males, especially those with more money than sense.

I checked my watch again. Six. I sighed slightly, and stretched out a bit, raising my arms and my vision to the ceiling, when I caught movement out of the corner of my eye.

My eyes darted over to the door, but it seemed to be still, as it had been an hour ago.

Hmm, I thought. Perhaps the wind had nudged the curtain. I got up to examine the window.

I lifted back the curtain, stuck my head behind it, and examined the glass. The window was closed. No wind. The curtain hadn't moved.

That eliminated the obvious things in the room that could have moved. And left the least obvious.

I walked over to the doll, and knelt down beside it to give it a closer look.

Now that I could examine it closer, I could see the attention to detail the dollmaker had put into his creation. Each finger had been sewn together individually, instead of a lazy mitten like a cheaper doll. The individual stitches were almost invisible. Its schoolgirl uniform was finely detailed, complete with an intricate school logo sewn into the front. The dress was just long enough to preserve modesty, and was made to expose the finely crafted legs, which themselves were sewn with no visible seam. The face possessed large, staring eyes, a small, delicate nose, and and even smaller mouth, each molded carefully into some sort of hard plastic and delicately painted with details. The hair seemed to be human hair, or at least some sort of indistinguishable material from that, and was carefully placed into the plastic head to give the doll a fixed hairstyle.

I stared at it intently, letting minutes pass. It didn't seem to be moving, but it was possible my eyes were playing tricks on me. I recalled thinking I saw motion in other fixed human like forms, and figured that it was just my imagination.

I didn't feel like moving it around to make sure, so I turned away from it and took a step towards the chair, when I heard a slight noise.

It sounded like a soft rustle, or perhaps a slight movement of the air. Like a breath, perhaps.

I turned around again and stared at the doll. It seemed to have remained in the position I had left it last. Its hands and head on the ground, legs pointing back.

I knelt down beside it and listened quietly.


I tried to ignore the sound of my own breathing and focused all my attention on the doll.


It remained as nothing for as long as I was there.

I glanced at my watch. Twenty minutes had passed since six.

Where was she?

I decided to alleviate my impatience by examining the doll more closely.

I placed my hand upon the side of the doll, and noticed it was warm to the touch. That's odd, I thought. Thinking over it more, it was probably stuffed with some sort of cotton or related material, meaning it would retain heat much better than say a cold latex. To alleviate my worry, I touched my other hand against the face, and noted how much cooler the hard plastic was.

I pressed it slightly, but it didn't feel like cotton. It felt more like a firm sofa, somewhat soft but with a good bit of resistance past a small amount of pressure.

I pulled it up into a sitting position and let it rest against the nearby wall. I was immediately surprised by how heavy it was. As if it were meant to simulate the mass of a real woman.

More importantly, it seemed to have joints. The arms bent like a real person's, and the legs only bent back at the knee, like a real person. I was careful not to exert too much force on it, as it wasn't mine and I didn't wish to break it.

It must've been a love doll. It made sense. An end user wouldn't want a cold, floppy woman, he would want a warm, softly resisting one.

And if it was one, it should probably be treated like one.

I thought about her for a second, but then I figured she probably wouldn't show up anyway.

However, I didn't want to be caught in a compromising position, so I walked over to the door and locked it.

I returned to the doll, and began thinking about what I was doing. It was just a doll, right? No-one need know what happens here and now. Also, I'd never actually used a doll before. This sort of opportunity doesn't come every day. I'm sure its owner wouldn't mind if I gave it a run.

It. It. I resolved to start thinking about the doll as a she, and forget about that girl who I wouldn't end up meeting right now anyway.

I placed my hand upon it's... er, her leg, and slowly moved it up and down. The soft cloth was soothing to the skin, so very smooth and so very delicate.

Her eyes continued to stare forward, as if she were inviting me to continue. She uttered no words to object, and made no motions of resistance.

I used my other hand to grab her hand, and rubbed it slightly. It was as smooth as her leg, perfect, no bumps, no blemishes. I noticed then that her hand would conform to any shape I put it in, as long as the shape was possible by human hands.

I locked my eyes upon hers, and stared as I enjoyed her. Her eyes remained inviting, and then I noticed her small, perfectly shaped mouth.

It wasn't much more than a line, but it was enough.

I leaned in slightly, and pressed my lips against her small, cold, plastic ones. It was clear she couldn't french, but she had her own charms.

I ran my hands up her shirt, and was surprised by the amount of detail on this doll. I felt a silky, thin piece of material on her chest, and raising her shirt up slightly revealed a bra, containing highly detailed breasts.

These were not the lack of breasts of a raggedy ann doll. They were perfectly shaped, maybe around a B cup, and filled the bra nicely.

Upon removal of the bra, which luckily hooked in the front, the breasts moved slightly but retained their shape and position. They were completely indistinguishable from perfect human ones, besides the lack of a nipple.

This was to be expected, though. This was an anime style doll, and anime characters didn't have useless details like nipples unless they were from hentai. They were still perfectly useable.

And used them I did. I placed my hands upon them, and rubbed them slightly, engorging myself upon the perfect smoothness that human girls couldn't possibly replicate. They were perfectly shaped for the hand, and even hung out slightly, with a human like underboob to enjoy slipping my hands in and out of.

She remained resolutely staring forward, as if nothing could faze her. I was slightly disappointed at her lack of enthusiasm, but since she was a doll it could not be helped.

Thinking about the lack of detail, a tinge of worry ran though my head, so I looked down, and pulled her skirt downwards.

She was wearing blue and white striped panties.

I took my left hand and slid it down her body, and felt around her crotch.

There was nothing there. No curtains, no hole, not even a trap.


I stopped for a second, took a good hold of her, turned her over, and examined her bottom.

Nothing there either. She had no holes. She was a perfectly formed doll, to the ideal of the female form. And this particular ideal of the female form had no holes.

A flash of anger winked through me, but quickly subsided. It wasn't anyone's fault, I simply assumed something was a love doll when she hadn't been made for such a use.

It didn't mean I couldn't enjoy her in other ways.

I turned her back upwards, and looked into her eyes. Her still eyes seemed almost apologetic now. She seemed to say, "This was how I was made, I can't help how I am."

I decided to enjoy her delicate smoothness instead. I ran my left hand back into her panties, and slowly rubbed her lack of gender. This was something you couldn't do with a real girl, and couldn't even do with a real love doll, either. The feeling of perfect smoothness, from crotch to bottom.

It was almost good enough to substitute.

I never wanted this to end.

I would never find a real girl like this. Smooth and pliable, but with enough resistance to make it feel worthwhile. It didn't even matter to me any more that we couldn't have actual sex. I wanted to be with this doll, to enjoy her every day.

But like all things, this had to come to an end. She wasn't mine, and I had to leave her as I found her.

My watch read 10:00. It had been four hours. Any longer and I wouldn't be able to give an excuse about where I had been.

I stared into her eyes. They seemed to long for me. Longed for me to touch her again, to make her live, to move through my own motions.

But I couldn't. There was no time. I needed to be places, to do things.

I redressed her, quickly. Raised her skirt, lowered her shirt, smoothed out the wrinkles. I took a hold of her and placed her where I found her, hands on the floor, knees bent back, staring intently at the chair.

Back to when she didn't even know my touch.

I sighed. I knelt down beside her, and apologized. I said I was sorry for leaving her, but there was no choice. I needed to be places, meet people, do things.

I got up again, walked to the door, and unlocked it.

I slowly opened it, then looked back and stared at her for a minute.

She was still again. Staring at the chair. As if I were never there.

As if this had never happened.

I turned away and stepped out.

She called my name.



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