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Marilyn was moody and irritable for the rest of the day, taking her strange sense of anger and unease out on her assistant Melissa and her fiancee Jason. Marilyn knew it was irrational, but every time she closed her eyes she saw Virginia stripping and diapering the doll... the one that so closely resembled an effigy of Marilyn herself. She couldn’t understand why it was obsessing her so much-- but every time she thought about the doll laying on Virginia’s table, stripped of it’s wedding dress, legs up in the air, looking so naked and vulnerable as the Doll Collector slid the diaper under it’s bare ass, Marilyn experienced a surge of shame, which fuelled an outburst... and poor Jason and Melissa were directly in the line of fire.

     “No! I told you before: I want fuchsia! This is Dusty Rose! Why are you two deliberately trying to ruin my big day?!” She thundered at the pair of them, stomping around the house in the midst of an epic tirade.  

     Jason and Melissa shared a silent glance at each other, suppressing their sighs. “Marilyn, darling, please...” said Jason, making a concerted effort to calm his raging fiancee. She’d been irritable ever since she returned from the neighbour’s house, and any attempts to get her to talk about it only resulted in getting snarled at. She’d berated the management of the hotel they were having the reception at, then she’d had a fight with the bakery about the wedding cake. She quickly turned her sights on poor Melissa, heaping blame for everything that (in her eyes) was going ‘wrong’ with the wedding, then focusing her wrath on Jason when he tried to defend her long suffering assistant.

     “So you’re taking her side?!” Marilyn roared at him, her anger mounting.

     “Of course not, darling,” he said, trying to sooth her, “I was just pointing out that it’s not Mellisa’s fault that...”

     “You are taking her side! I knew it!” Marilyn screeched at them. “You’re both deliberately trying to ruin this for me! Well, you can both just get the fuck out!” She said, stomping off up the stairs to her bedroom.

     “Marilyn...” Jason sighed, trying once more to be reasonable.

     “Fuck off, Jason!” she said strongly “You can both get out and don’t come back until your attitudes have improved!” she bellowed, stalking into the bedroom and slamming the door behind her.



Slipping into her night-gown, Marilyn climbed into bed and tried to get some sleep... but she couldn’t. She tossed and turned between silk sheets that felt as rough as sandpaper against her smooth skin, her downy pillows like rocks beneath her delicate scalp. Over and over the scene at the neighbour's house played through her mind, and she wracked her brain to find some sort of meaning... but all she could do was watch that strange woman strip that doll, the one that looked almost exactly like her, then lifted her legs and put her in a diaper like a baby... but she wasn’t a baby... just because she’d been dressed up like one didn’t actually make her a baby... did it?

     Over and over the scene played itself out in her mind, and every time it did Marilyn got more confused-- not to mention irritated. She couldn’t shake the sensation that her neighbour was having some sort of fun at her expense... or was it all in her mind? She pictured the doll, so much like her it sent shivers down her spine. She pictured her in her immaculate little wedding dress, so crisp and white, looking like a model of a mature, developed young woman on the cusp of the most important moment of her life... then she pictured the doll in her baby clothes, the bulging white diaper on the bottom complemented perfectly by the frilly little bonnet on her head... a living emblem of infantilization and maturity stolen away.

     She had no idea how long she tossed and turned like that, but soon she was roasting under the sheets and she was no closer to sleep... she simply lie there, awake, staring into the ceiling with her eyes wide open, brooding over the minutia of the same ten minutes over and over again in her mind, never getting closer to an answer. Soon, all she could see were flashes, the strongest images repeated over and over in her mind-- the doll’s face, so like her own, the wedding dress stripped away, the hefty white bulk of the diaper... and beneath it all, the strange eyes of her neighbour, the Doll Collector, burning into her and her silky smooth voice over and over:

      “Come back any time, sweetie.”

     Finally, she could stand it no longer. Kicking off the sheets, Marilyn rose from the bed and hastily dressed. Running down the stairs, she hesitated, briefly questioning her sanity before she pulled on her jacket and slipped into her runners. Grabbing her keys, she sweep the condo with her eyes one last time before she headed out and shut the door behind her.



“Come in, Marilyn,” The Doll Collector said smoothly, opening her door and allowing her neighbour in. “What brings you here at this late hour?”

     “I...” Marilyn stammered, suddenly feeling foolish. What could she possibly say? She just stammered and shifted from foot to foot on the front step, feeling incredibly stupid, especially under the steady, hypnotic gaze and slightly superior smirk of her strange neighbour. “The doll... from this afternoon...” she trailed off, feeling her cheeks go red. What seemed so urgent just moments ago felt utterly ridiculous coming out of her mouth now.

     The Doll Collector fixed her with a strange look and smiled slightly. “Did you want to say good night to her before you went to bed?” she asked, amused by the thought. “Come in,” she said, moving to the side and allowing Marilyn to enter.

     It was waiting for them when they went into the living room: that strange doll that, seeing it now, Marilyn realized looked so utterly like her that it was almost uncanny.

     Perched on the couch like an honoured guest, the doll was still clad in it’s Adult Baby attire-- so silly, but at the same time seemingly symbolic of something deeper... and darker.

     “I’ll fix us something to drink while you wish your friend pleasant dreams,” the neighbour said with a teasing smile, disappearing down the hall and leaving them alone.  

      Hesitantly, Marilyn walked towards the doll, an uneasy feeling hanging in her gut. The closer she got, the more pronounced her feeling of dizziness and dislocation became, and she saw exactly how much the doll looked like her, down to the smallest detail.

It’s like I’m looking at myself, she realized with finality, the room spinning around her. Like she was my little twin or something. Marilyn was sick, giddy, her head swimming, her thoughts running to crazy places. I bet if we could switch places, nobody would even spot the dif...

     Marilyn’s head swam, the room spinning around her. Her legs went rubbery, her vision went dark, and for a moment, she lost consciousness entirely, before suddenly snapping back to reality.

     “Whoa!” she said, straightening up her back, breathing a sigh of relief when she realized how close she’d come to falling over. Good thing I was sitting on the couch, she thought, seconds before she realized that she hadn’t been sitting on the couch-- the doll...

     Where was that thing? Marilyn looked down to see if it was sitting next to her and gave a small shriek of horror...

     Not only had she taken the doll’s place on the couch, she had also adopted her attire... Marilyn found herself topless-- except for the tiny little baby bib that only barely came down over her nipples. She gave a choked cry when she saw the diaper that had been strapped to her hiney, all white and crinkley and taped up tightly around her waist. Reaching up, she confirmed the presence of the bonnet, the crowning touch on her new infantile attire.

     Frantically, Marilyn reached up and tried to untie the knot under her chin, but it wouldn’t budge. Reaching down, she grabbed the tapes of her diaper and tugged, trying desperately to peal it off, all to no avail, her fingers slipping off the plastic like it had been coated in grease. With a screech of frustration, she pounded the couch in fury and scanned the room for something she could maybe use to cut herself free.

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