Doll Face Chapter One (Patreon)

Hey everyone,

I know I said I'd have the next issue of Regression Crisis up by today, but I've been a bit under the weather this week, so it's been sort of slow going on that. The good news is it's almost done, I'm still hoping to have it finished in just a couple of days. Sorry if anyone's disappointed, but I think it'll be worth the wait.

In the meantime, please enjoy the first part of our new ongoing serial! I'm interested to hear what everyone thinks about this story, and especially this first part. If you enjoy it and you'd like to see more stories like it in the future then don't forget to hit like and leave a comment below.

“NO! Stella, I told you: I want the butter chicken for the reception, and if you can’t deliver then I’ll find someone who damn well can!” Marilyn was barking into her phone at the caterer as she strutted up the street, looking like she’d walked out of a photo-shoot with her designer clothes and her brand new make over from one of the most expensive salons in town. Trotting along behind her, her assistant Melissa struggled to keep up with her, carrying two cups of coffee and both of their purses. If Marilyn was aware of the attention she was attracting, she gave no sign behind the dark lenses of her sunglasses... she simply continued on her way down the street and into the fashionable brownstone she’d bought with her fiancee just a couple of weeks before.

     “That’s right Saturday afternoon at four... don’t be late or I’ll-- oh what’s this now?” She sighed with irritation, bending down to pick up a strange, rectangular package on her step. Another gift for the wedding? She wondered, smiling at the thought. “Look, Stella, I’ll call you back sometime before the wedding, OK? I’ve got some other thing to deal with now.”

     But she frowned when she checked the label and discovered it was in fact addressed to her next-door neighbour...  can’t anybody get ANYTHING right? She wondered irritably. “Wait for me inside,” Marilyn said to Melissa sharply, pocketing her phone before tucking the package under her arm and setting off for next door, “I’ll be right back.”

“Won’t you come in?” Her next door neighbour beckoned with a pale hand sporting the blackest nail polish Marilyn had ever seen.  

     “Uh, I don’t really...” but before she could answer, the woman next door, who, with her black dress, pale skin, and long black hair, bore a striking resemblance to Morticia Addams, had disappeared inside. Reluctantly, Marilyn followed, still holding the package under her arm.

     “Sit down and have some tea,” the woman said sweetly, introducing herself as Virginia Carpenter. “Thank you so much for bringing my package,” she said, pouring two cups of tea and placing one in front of Marilyn. “I’ve been waiting for it for some time, you see.”

     “Uh, right,” Marilyn nodded, but she found that she wasn’t really listening. When she’d first walked in, she’d had the strange feeling that she was being watched... now she realized the entire living room was lined with shelves... row upon row of dolls: each one about 15 inches tall, dressed in immaculate, carefully crafted, seemingly by hand, each one depicting a different occupation or career. Marilyn spotted businessmen, nurses, doctors, construction workers, waitresses, cowboys... a careful cross section of people of every type, and every one of them topped with an almost disturbingly realistic face. “Well,” Marilyn said, her skin prickling as she became aware of the dolls creepy, glass-eyes stares, “I guess I should be go--”

But Virginia didn’t seem to be listening... she was tearing open the brown wrapping on her package to reveal a new doll beneath. “Oh yes,” she said, “I’ve been after this one for quite a while now.” She carefully lifted the doll from it’s packaging, turning it carefully to show it to her guest. “The Blushing Bride,” she said, her eyes flickering strangely when she studied Marilyn’s reaction.

     “Oh,” Marilyn replied, trying not to stare. She tried to deny it-- tried to pretend it was just her imagination... but the more Marilyn studied the doll in her delicate, white lace dress, gazing into that strange face, so excessively and intricately detailed, there was no denying that it bore a resemblance to her. More than a resemblance, actually... The longer she stared at the doll, the more Marilyn was consumed by the idea that she was looking at a tiny, identical version of herself. “It’s, uh... it’s cute,” she said, not quite keeping the distaste from her voice.

But if Virginia noticed, she didn’t mention it. “Isn’t she just?” She said, her voice strangely dreamy. “Isn’t she just so real? I almost feel like she’s ready to tell me all her secrets.” Virginia smiled strangely and held the doll up to her ear, pretending to listen. “Oh, what’s that? You don’t even love your fiancee that much... you’re only marrying him for the money?!” She shot Marilyn a scandalized look. “How naughty she is!”

Marilyn frowned, opening her mouth to say something before closing it. She felt almost as though this woman was insulting her to her face. She would, of course, never admit that she really wasn’t into Brad all that much... that she was more interested in what was in his wallet then what was in his pants... it couldn't be just a coincidence-- could it?

     “Well,” Marilyn said, finishing her tea quickly, “I really should get go--”

     “Do you know what I like to do, sometimes?” Virginia asked, her eyes blazing with an eerie fire, like she was sharing some forbidden knowledge.  

     “Uh... no-- what?” Marilyn asked, frowning, unable to take her eyes off the doll. She was beginning to feel oddly uncomfortable... but why?

     “Sometimes, I like to take off their clothes and find new outfits for them to wear-- give them a different perspective, you know?”

     “Um... I think I should get...”

     “I mean, just think about it,” Virginia said, ignoring her as she began stripping the doll of it’s immaculate white dress. Marilyn’s heart lept in her chest and she almost said something... but what could she say? “It’s like giving them a whole new identity... the police officer becomes an artist, the fashion model becomes a maid, a banker becomes a construction worker... and who can possibly tell what they were before?”  

Marilyn watched her neighbour strip the doll of her dress, which she set aside, unable to shake the feeling that she was witnessing some sort of violation, but unable to put it into words. She was frozen in place, staring at the doll while Virginia got up from the table and went to a large chest at the far end of the room. As she opened it up and began rooting around inside, Marilyn studied the toy and realized, with a slight blush, that she was surprisingly anatomically correct, complete with nipples and a small patch of simulated blonde pubic hair-- it was like looking at a miniature version of her own naked body. She began feeling a little dizzy.

Meanwhile, Virginia continued searching through her trunk. “Now, what outfit would best suit our blushing bride... ah-- I’ve got it!” she said excitedly, taking a few bundles of cloth and bringing them back to the table, her eyes shining with excited amusement. “The perfect new identity for our little wife to be,” she said, looking right into Marilyn’s eyes as she held up what looked like a bib in one hand and a diaper in the other. Marilyn felt an odd, hot embarrassment break out across her body as she looked at them. “What do you think?” Virginia asked, smiling mysteriously.

     “Uh... I don’t really...” Marilyn trailed off, not sure what to say.  

     “I think it suits her perfectly,” Virginia said confidently. She lay the doll on it’s back on the table and lifted her legs to slip the diaper beneath it’s surprisingly well defined buttocks. “I just know she’s going to look darling... now you hush, you little brat,” Virginia scolded, lifting the doll by the ankles once more and delivering some playful swats to it’s rear-end. “You know this suits you much better than marriage.” She looked at Marilyn, her eyes flickering mischievously. “She needs to accept that diapers and baby bottles are really more her style than getting married... right, Marilyn?”

     “Uh... I don’t think...”

     “You’re right... of course they do,” Virginia said, pulling the thick cloth up between the doll’s legs and sealing it shut with a couple of safety pins. “Clearly not ready for the responsibilities of marriage-- obviously better suited for diapers and pacifiers, wouldn’t you agree?”

Marilyn felt her self getting irritated, irrationally angry... but she felt ridiculous. After all, the scene before her was really more silly then anything. But some part of her, deep inside, couldn't shake the feeling that in some way, she was watching some sort of miniature representation of herself-- some avatar of her that was being ritualistically humiliated, stripping and replacing everything that defined her. “I... listen, you shouldn’t--”

     “There! Well, what do you think?” Virginia asked, grinning as she turned the doll around and, holding her under the arms, presented her to Marilyn just like a real baby, the diaper between her legs bulging comically around her waist and sticking out behind her, exaggerating the size of her butt. “Isn’t she just the cutest?”

     “Uh...”

    “Wait! Don’t answer yet,” Virginia instructed, setting the doll in a sitting position on the table so she could tie the little bib around her neck. “Wait until she’s fully dressed before you say anything.”

     The bib was tied into place, the little square of fabric not even long enough to cover the doll’s nipples. A matching bonnet was produced and placed atop the doll’s head before being knotted into a bow under her chin. Finally, a crinkly pair of plastic pants was pulled into place, exaggerating the size of the doll’s rear-end even further.

     “Well, what do you think?” Virginia carefully watched Marilyn’s responses, that damn smile never leaving her face. And the truth was that Marilyn was speechless. She stared down at a vision of herself that’d had her maturity and status as a desirable young woman stripped away, leaving behind some kind of adult toddler. And although the rational part of her mind told her that it was no big deal, that any resemblance between her and the doll was all in her head, nothing but a silly coincidence, the more she stared at this infantilized and debased mini version of herself, the more upset and angry she felt-- and although she knew it was absurd, Marilyn felt herself almost on the verge of tears.  

     “I...” she began, swallowing hard when she heard the tremble in her voice. “I’ve gotta go,” she said, rising so suddenly her chair nearly toppled over.

She was mortified about her behaviour, but she couldn’t stand being in the same room as that... thing anymore. Marilyn looked over at the doll, horrified when she realized how much it looked as though Virginia was cradling a shrunken version of her in her arms, the puffy white diaper, bib and bonnet so perfectly infantile... drawing sharp contrast against the sexy, womanly body that was wearing them. It was too much for her to handle.

Marilyn trotted towards the front door, Virginia’s voice rich and soft in her ears:

     “Come back any time, sweetie.”