The Girl inside the Doll

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"You have to see her!"

She had talked about her "creation" non stop for the last three days. I wasn't really big into fashion, much less doll making, so I hadn't really been paying attention. I was just practicing my smile and nod techniques whenever she talked about it.

She was insistent I see it, though, so after several prods and pushes I finally came by to see this glorious thing she had created.

She led me to a door in her house, a door I had never seen her open before. "I'll just be a sec, have to set up a bit," she said, pulling out a small key and unlocking the door. "Just wait here, I'll call you when she's ready."

She closed the door quietly behind her, and I found my self alone and waiting, as usual. I passed the time by thinking about what she wanted to show me.

Apparently, over a number of months, she had created some sort of anime-styled doll. An original creation, as she put it. She never showed any physical evidence of progress, but she continually prattled on about sewing the outfit, and carefully molding the head, and all sorts of things I didn't really pay attention to at the time. Clearly she was very interested in it, and so I figured there must be some merit in it.

"Okay, come in!"

In turn, I opened up the door and entered the room. Oddly enough, it was completely bare. I had expected some tools, scissors, a sewing machine, something that would indicate she worked in here. Instead, all there was was an empty room, and a life sized statue of a doll, staring at a blank wall opposite.

Oddly enough, she herself seemed to be missing. I spotted a door opposite to the entrance, but upon trying it I found that it was locked. So, either she had slipped out this door and locked it behind her, or...

Interrupting my train of thought, I heard the other door slam shut.

I whirled around to look. The door appeared to have closed itself.

I walked over to it and tried to open it. It wouldn't give. I was locked in.

She must've been disguised as that doll, I thought. I walked over to it and began to shout.

The words were unimportant though, as the doll didn't react in the slightest. Maybe it wasn't her.

So I turned away from it, and pulled out my cell phone, and called her number.

No answer.

Great. Stuck in a locked room with nothing but a doll to keep me company.

I looked her over slightly and found a note taped to her back.

I removed it, turned away, and examined it. It read, "Sorry about locking you in. I'll let you out in a few hours. For now, please appreciate my work."

Her work was hovering over me, as if reading over my shoulder.

I was so surprised by her motion that I spun, slipped, and fell to the floor.

She stared down at me, with those large, painted, animeish eyes.

She said nothing, but offered her hand to help me up.

"Look," I said, "If this is you, which I'm 99% certain, could you stop this?"

She looked slightly sad after the words came out. She lowered her hand, walked a few steps away, and sat on the floor, hugging her legs and rocking a bit.

I felt slightly guilty. She had probably planned all this out, wanted to share this with me, and now I was just flatly rejecting it. She didn't have to lock me in a room to do it, though.

Maybe I should just play along, I thought. I knew her. She wasn't off her rocker or anything, she just had a hard time expressing her feelings through words as opposed to actions.

I got up and stepped towards her.

She shied away.

It was probably an act, but I resolved to take her seriously. I knelt down, and apologized.

This seemed to bring her spirits up a bit, and she got up into a kneeling position as well.

---

She told me to appreciate her work, so I resolved to do so. I examined her hollow doll closely, as she moved and posed for me.

She had the most amazing eyes, evenly spaced onto her plastic head, staring yet seemingly full of life. They had the typical white reflection from nowhere that all anime eyes did, but this didn't detract from their beauty.

She was wearing a soft, black little winter coat, with white woolen details. They accentuated her curves perfectly, carefully detailing her chest and rear with white.

Her legs were outlined in some sort of sheer seamless cloth, and ended in little black socks covered by little black shoes. They seemed completely smooth, without imperfections, and greatly showed off her firm, taut legs, with a bit of temptation as they rose into her almost too short black coat.

It was when she touched my arm with her hand that I realized she meant had a different meaning behind the word "appreciate."

I knew of love dolls of course, even tried one before, but this was more than a simple love doll.

She was alive, breathing, smiling, and enjoying herself along with me. Such a thing was impossible with an ordinary love doll.

She began by touching my right arm, and rubbing up and down slightly with her black gloved hand. I returned the favor by touching her chin with my free hand, feeling the smoothness of her hard plastic face.

Her right hand met that free hand from below, gently shifting it away from her face and redirecting it to her hip. Her left hand released my arm, and began to reach around me, in a slow, soft embrace.

She leaned in slightly, and pressed her doll lips against mine. Her face had a permanent smile, but it didn't feel as such when pressed so close to me.

I wrapped my right arm around her, and closed the embrace, pulling her tighter towards me, but slowly, never forcing.

She was warm. She was real. She was a real girl, not a doll, but wrapped in the trappings of one. For a moment I wondered why she felt the need to be a doll to express these things to me, but her soft movements and rhythm quickly shifted that idea away from my mind.

I held her close with my right hand, enjoying her softness and touch. She wrapped her arms around me in response, and held on tight. I felt the brush of two small, soft spheres press against my chest, and at that moment felt I could no longer hold it in.

I moved my left hand to her bottom, and enjoyed the silky smoothness I found there. Her perfectly round buttocks were pleasing to the touch, just soft enough to be comfortable, yet hard enough to feel real.

I also found that she didn't seem to be wearing panties. I guess they were a detail she didn't need.

I slowly broke the embrace, retrieving my right arm from around her, and moved it towards my belt.

She caught my right hand with her left before it got there, and held it, preventing it from making progress.

She pressed a finger against my mouth with her free hand, and shook her head.

That wasn't possible, she seemed to say, without saying a word.

Dolls did't talk, and she played her role well.

I looked at her with puzzlement on my face. I had thought she wanted this. Why all the setup?

She looked sad for a moment, then placed her two gloved hands to the bottom of her coat, and pulled up.

There was nothing there. She was smooth. Nothing there that could be used, just a solid piece of cloth that could not be penetrated.

It wasn't that she didn't want to. It's that she couldn't.

I thought about it for a bit. She was a real girl in there. But she couldn't express her feelings to me except through this doll. She had created a doll that she could tell me of her love, physically, without the need for words. The words she always had trouble forming. But this limited her to the actions of a doll. We could embrace, but we could never truly love.

I couldn't simply rip away the facade of the doll. It would destroy her. She needed it.

---

She shied away again. Turned away, sat on the floor, hugging her legs, rocking back and forth.

I knelt down beside her and placed my hand on her shoulder.

She grabbed it with both hands, and held it tightly.

I put my other hand on her other shoulder, and gently pulled her to her feet, standing as well.

I looked her straight in the eyes.

"Is this you?" I said.

She looked down, and didn't answer.

I put my hands on the bottom of her plastic head, and felt around, looking for a way to remove it.

It seemed to have been made of two pieces of plastic, but they had been glued together. While together, they were impossible to remove.

I lifted up her coat and examined her body. I searched for a zipper, a seam, anything that would give her a way out of this doll.

There was none. She seemed to have sewn herself into it.

She had abandoned her old self, sealed it inside this doll. And left no escape for her.

"Why?" I shouted.

She looked into my eyes for a second, then returned her eyes to the floor. She continued not to answer.

Instead, she reached inside a coat pocket, and retrieved a single key.

She moved her arm to point out the door I had entered. This was the way out. She had made sure I, at least, would be able to escape.

She grabbed my hands, and placed the key in them, closing my hands carefully around them.

And then she embraced me again, holding me tight. She pressed against me, but there was a finality to it, as if she had simply given up. After a moment, she broke the embrace, looked at me, and motioned to the door once more.

Then she quietly turned away, walked a few steps, and collapsed to the ground, like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

---

I ran to her and picked her up in my arms. I shouted her name.

She was perfectly still. Like a rag doll, her limbs only moved in response to my motions.

In her mind, she had become the doll now. And dolls don't move under their own power. The only reason she had moved before was her lingering sense of self trying to escape.

I shook her slightly, trying to revive her.

She didn't respond.

She just stared blankly at me, no emotion, just a simple doll waiting to be loved.

I looked at the key in my hand. Maybe there was another reason she gave this key to me. There were two doors here. One was my exit. Could the other be hers?

I carried her lifeless form to the other door, and tried to unlock it with the same key.

It unlocked with a slight click, and opened into a room of white.

---

This room was as bare as the last one, except for the patterns on the wall.

The patterns were a single sentence, repeated over and over again.

"I want to feel."

She wanted to feel.

I looked upon her. This is the only hope I had. If I wanted to break her out of this doll she had trapped herself in, I would have to make her feel.

I laid her down gently upon the floor of the white room, and ran my hands up and down her sheer, smooth legs.

I enjoyed their smoothness, but this failed to bring any reaction out of her.

I couldn't go too fast though, or the shock might break her mind even further.

I straddled her, and slowly lifted her body up to mine. She remained still and unreacting, but I thought I heard her breathing becoming slightly faster.

I took my left hand, and slipped it under her coat, feeling around for any way for her to escape this doll she had trapped herself inside.

I found her right breast, and felt around it. It seemed to be inside some sort of sock-like pocket, presumably so it would hang naturally like a breast does, even when she was inside the doll. I rubbed around it, searching, prodding for weaknesses, but none came up. I followed with the other breast, with the same result.

She continued to not move. I listened closely to hear her breathe. It was slight, greatly masked by the doll head, but it was there, and slowly becoming more rapid. I took this as a sign I should continue.

I retrieved my left hand, and carefully placed it in between her legs. I couldn't feel anything through the doll, but I knew I could stimulate something if I tried.

I slowly rubbed up and down with my fingers, prodding occasionally to see if there were any places I could find to help her escape.

There were none. She felt perfectly smooth. As if there were nothing there.

Still, I pressed on.

I rubbed her crotch back and forth with my left hand, while holding her body steady with my right.

Then I felt it. A slight tinge in what I was holding in my right arm.

She seemed to tense up slightly.

That wasn't something a doll would do. I must have been able to get through to her.

The moment passed, however, and she became limp again.

I strained to listen to her breathing, and it was quite rapid, though masked.

I continued to massage her smoothness, prodding sometimes to change up the feeling, sometimes running down the leg, but always a continuous motion.

It felt quite good to me, but for a while, besides her breathing, it didn't seem to bring up much of a change in her.

Then I felt something else. A dampness, almost undetectable, in my left hand.

She was getting wet.

---

As the moisture built up, the cloth around the area seemed to loosen and weaken.

I coaxed the cloth with my hand. Pulling, teasing. For some reason, the material in this area was never made to deal with moisture, and felt like it could break at any moment.

This was it. This was her way out. If I could make her feel, and penetrate this loose, weak material in her delicate area, then maybe I could snap her out of this delusion she had encased herself in.

I poked and prodded. The cloth tugged, stretched, and then, finally, after all of this, it snapped, and revealed her exit.

I looked into her eyes.

Nothing. As if nothing had happened.

She remained still and lifeless, despite the hole I had created in her perfect facade.

Even her breathing seemed to slow and steady.

This wasn't enough. The door was open, but she wouldn't come out. I had to lead her out, by force if necessary.

---

I entered the door.

She continued to stare blankly at me, her head only being held up by my other hand.

I exited.

No change in her movement again, but her breathing seemed to quicken its pace again.

I entered once more.

She seemed to stiffen up slightly this time. But it faded once more.

I exited.

She leaned in slightly, but it might have been the force of my exit and not of her own power.

I entered again.

She definitely stiffened this time, and it didn't fade.

I exited.

She was breathing visibly now. A little more and she would be free.

I entered one last time.

She raised her head as if to scream, but no sounds came from her.

She pulled away, and pushed me off her. She stood, and stumbled around, as if disoriented. Flinging her arms out in front of her, she found the nearest wall, and smashed her plastic doll head into it.

She turned towards me.

There was a large crack down the center of her plastic doll face, not enough for me to see her real face, but also not enough to break it.

She seemed to smile a silent smile, even though the smile on her face was permanently molded there.

She turned to the wall again, and smashed her head into it again.

She showed me an even larger crack, and without turning again, she smashed her doll head into the wall one last time, splitting the head in two, and causing her to collapse again.

I ran to her and checked on her condition. She was still alive, but unconscious. The act of giving up the facade must have spent all of her energy.

Within the remains of the doll head were a needle, thread, and small bottle of glue. The head had been big enough to store these things in a compartment in the back.

Her hair, her real hair obscured her face as she lay on the ground.

---

I ripped away the doll costume from her body. She didn't need it anymore. She was herself again.

But her waking with it on would probably bring up too many questions. It wasn't entirely clear she even knew what she was doing in there.

I opened the exit and found her clothes in a heap outside the door. She must have disposed of them there when she locked me in and started this whole thing.

I quietly dressed her and placed her outside on her own couch. She moaned slightly as I did so.

It was over. I was glad. It was a moment to remember, that's for sure, but I felt slightly sad. It was something I was sure I would never encounter again.

A tinge of worry passed over me, so I brushed her hair away from her face. Hmm. It was definitely her. But what could've made her do this? She seemed so normal all the time.

Then I noticed it. A picture, on the fireplace. It appeared to be of her, but it was the sort of picture you traditionally took when someone had passed on.

I took it, and turned it over.

"Our dearest Dolly"

The name on the back wasn't hers.

I turned the picture over again, and upon closer inspection, it wasn't her, either.

It did feel familiar though, so I brought it with me to where I had disposed of the doll.

The face, though distorted into an anime form, was otherwise a perfect match for the face on the doll.

 

06.08.10