A Day

by TheDollmakerr (ao3)

Chapter 1: 6:00

Evelyn Harris, The Dollmaker to some, was roused by the insistent beeping of her alarm. She reached one impeccably manicured hand out from under the bedcovers and pressed it gently, cutting it off mid-squeal. The sun was peeking through her curtains in a gentle, yellow-orange light. Dawn had always been her favourite time to wake up.

 

As she lay in bed, allowing herself a few extra moments of comfort, she could hear her houseguests already milling about. They always woke so early, especially when there was a newcomer among them. She spared a thought for the poor doll who’d drawn the short straw the night before; spending the night in the stables with all those stallions. It would be a miracle if it ever walked straight again.

 

A scream echoed through the halls, pulling the Dollmaker from her thoughts. The new guest was awake, it seemed.

 

— 

 

Evelyn drew her robe tight in the cool morning air, her slippers padding gently on the polished wooden floors. As she suspected, the door to her new guest’s quarters was ajar, and several of her dolls were already inside, their black hands molesting the poor girl.

 

“Children, enough.”

 

Four black, featureless faces whipped round to look at her. She stared at them each a moment, admiring her warped reflection in what had once been their faces. She clicked her fingers and they stood upright.

 

“I said enough . Get out.”

 

They were leaving the room, single file, before the last word had left her lips. Before her, the girl strapped to the bed broke down sobbing, gratitude pouring from her mouth as freely as the tears from her eyes.

 

“You can’t fault your future siblings for wanting to play with you, darling. They’re only hu- well. They’re not quite human anymore, are they?”

 

The girl looked on in fear and confusion, her eyes going wide.

 

“Come now, you had to know I wouldn’t let you leave here.” Evelyn stepped forward, leaning over her captive. Her hand reached out, long fingers gently caressing the heavy metal collar encircling the poor girl’s neck. “Not after you accepted my gift. And I have so many more gifts for you.”

 

She smiled, a cold, hollow thing. If there was any emotion behind it, it could only be malice. Few things worked up the Dollmaker’s appetite quite like toying with a new doll.

 

“I’m going to feed you and water you, because I’m a gracious host. But if you ever shriek like that again? I’ll throw you into the catacombs and let the beasts have their way with you. It’s a crude and inefficient way to make a doll, but… I do love to hear the moaning.”

 

She clicked her finger and a doll appeared at her side. She remembered this one. It had been an MP’s daughter once. Now, it was just a doll, eager to serve its maker however it could. Evelyn stroked its cool, black cheek. 

 

“Be a dear for mummy and get this one cleaned up, yes?” She leaned in close, her lips close enough to brush its cheek. “I know you love to bathe them. Enjoy yourself.”

 

There was an imperceptible squeak, the faintest of human sounds from beneath the latex, the only sign that there was a human being somewhere in there. Without a moment’s pause, it took the key from the hook by the door, and set upon the girl’s restraints.

 

She never struggled or protested, her eyes remaining fixed on the Dollmaker’s cold gaze as she was led away. As the girl disappeared down a corridor, pulled along by its reflective tormentor, Evelyn let a shiver go through her.

 

All this excitement, and the sun wasn’t even up yet.

 

This would be a hell of a day.

Chapter 2: 7:00

Breakfast was always simple for Evelyn. Cereal, toast, fresh fruit. A steaming cup of tea beside, the wispy tendrils of steam dancing in the cool morning air.

 

A Doll stood at the door, waiting for her. Left to their own devices, they found ways to spend their time. This one followed her around like a lost little puppy. That, of course, provided no clue to its former identity; they all did that at one point or another.

 

The room was silent but for the clatter of Evelyn’s cutlery and the subtle wheeze of the Doll’s mask. Breakfast was a rare moment of quiet in the manor. There was, of course, still activity, but they’d all learned to keep it far away from the kitchens while their owner ate.

 

“Darling…”

 

She heard the Doll’s latex squeak as its head snapped to the sound of her voice.

 

“Be a dear for mummy and run out to the stables. Tell them that one can go free, but it has to walk back inside itself. If it falls, it gets strapped back up again.”

 

She took a slow sip of her tea. The Doll was gone by the time she set it down.

 

Evelyn rose from her seat, leaving her dishes where they sat. A Doll would be along to clean, shortly. 

 

Her heels clicked on the hardwood floors of the old manor house, carrying longer than they might otherwise thanks to the abnormal silence of her children. She walked through a doorway, a Doll hanging above it, vacuumed tight into a sack, its breath coming in short gasps. What was that punishment for, again? It didn’t matter.

 

As she strode down the hallway towards the Dolls’ showers, she heard the wailing of her new guest. Rounding the corner, she spotted the girl being held up by two Dolls, water running off their skin in perfect droplets. The girl was lobster pink, scoured clean and lightly scalded by the scorching water. 

 

“Remember what I told you about shrieking? It still applies. I’ve just freed one from the stables and I’m more than happy to have you take its place. Bucephalus is always hungry for new toys, you know.”

 

The girl’s eyes went wide with fear, a sight Evelyn privately admitted she’d miss when she was finally enclosed, but obediently closed her mouth.

 

“Please, I’m… I’m hungry…”

 

Evelyn stepped forward, the steam bringing her out in a light sweat, and stroked the girl’s rosy cheek. “I know, darling. Should we get you some food? Would you like that?”

 

The girl nodded briskly, tears forming in her eyes at the sudden kindness. Evelyn took her hand, reaching for a towel. “Come on then, let’s get you dried off and fed, yes?”

 

The girl stood fast, her eyes fixed on the Dolls who had bathed her. “I- I don’t want to be dressed like that.”

 

“Of course not,” the Dollmaker cooed. “Regular clothes. People clothes. I know all this is a lot to take in, but I promise I’m going to look after you as long as you follow the very simple rules here, okay?” She gave the girl’s hand a gentle squeeze. “What’s your name, darling.?”

 

“Ch-Chloe.”

 

“Chloe! That’s beautiful. My name is Alice.” A barefaced, practiced lie. She glanced briefly at the two Dolls. Had one of them been Alice? It didn’t matter.

 

“Come, it gets cold quickly here. What do you like for breakfast?”

 

She wrapped the towel around the girl, already shivering, stroking the damp blonde locks out of her face.

 

“P-porridge. With honey. And apple slices.”

 

“That’s lovely. Is that what you’d like?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Evelyn looked back at the Dolls, the steam condensing on their skin as they stood there, and gave a curt nod. They turned and walked away, disappearing into the steamy mist.

 

“We’ll get you some porridge and apples brought up. I have a guest room for you, right next to mine. You’d like that, right?”

 

The girl nodded vigorously, Evelyn’s earlier threats all but forgotten. That’s how she worked. Keep them on their toes. Threaten them. Flatter them. Overwhelm them with fear and pleasure and pain until their minds slowly began to snap for her. This was a routine she’d perfected over countless dolls, every beat perfectly rehearsed and set out. Yet, no matter how many times it played out, no matter how many times she comforted a shivering guest and offered them food and warmth, it never failed to make her shiver with anticipation.

 

This one would be no different, in the end.

Chapter 3: 8:00

“Alice” cooed over the girl, happy to have her comfortably under her thumb. She’d arranged for some sweatpants and a shirt to be brought up for her, both plain black cotton. The guest room was less well-appointed than her own quarters, but still more than comfortable, especially when the guest in question wouldn’t even be spending the night.

 

Chloe’s dish of porridge and apple slices sat by the door, completely cleaned out. The poor girl had been absolutely starved by her ordeal, and her gratitude at being fed showed with every spoonful and crisp crunch as she smiled at Evelyn.

 

“Do- do you live here?”

 

The girl’s timid voice broke the silence, bringing Evelyn back into the moment.

 

“Mm? Of course I do, darling. My father left me this whole house and all the grounds when he passed away.”

 

“Oh. And… what are those things?”

 

They always asked about the Dolls, in the end.

 

“Those things? The Dolls?”

 

“The black latex things.”

 

Evelyn smiled, that hollow thing, all teeth and predation. “The Dolls are my… pets? Children. Playthings. Whatever term you prefer. They’re mine. Would you like to meet one?”

 

She almost asked if the girl would like to be one. Chloe would be, whether she wanted it or not.

 

“No… I’ve seen them enough already. They’re creepy.”

 

“They’re not so bad, once you get to know them.”

 

Chloe lay down on the bed, curling into herself. Evelyn slid up, reclining next to her. She placed a reassuring hand on the girl’s shoulder, a gesture that made her flinch briefly, before relaxing.

 

“Don’t worry. Everything will be just fine.”

 

They sat like that for a few minutes, Evelyn tracing gentle circles on the girl’s sweater, listening to her breathing slow as the girl calmed down.

 

“Chloe, darling?”

 

“Mm?” The girl stirred somewhat, as though pulled back from the edge of sleep. Just where Evelyn wanted her.

 

“You remember I said you had to follow the rules here, yes?”

 

The girl nodded.

 

“One of those rules is that every guest here has to be wearing something latex. Even just a simple pair of gloves or stockings. Can you do that for me?”

 

Evelyn held her breath as the girl lay there. This point was always a coin toss. Half the Dolls had to be forcibly broken. The other half accepted the rules and willingly donned the first of their new skin. Either option excited her, but it was always slightly more thrilling when they accepted it themselves.

 

“The stockings. I’ll wear the stockings. I have a pair at home and- and these sweatpants will cover them up so…”

 

The stockings it was. Evelyn knew that’s what she’d pick if she’d accepted, having followed the girl for almost two months. She could rattle off the exact contents of Chloe’s wardrobe, her dietary habits, which of her friends had pets, and the ages of all three of her illicit liaisons. 

 

“Good girl.” The Dollmaker rose from the bed, the girl opening her eyes to watch her cross the room. Opening a set of drawers, Evelyn pulled out a pristine pair of black latex stockings, neatly folded, as though they’d been waiting there the entire time.

 

“Here you go, darling. You’ll need to take those off, though, just to get these on.”

 

Chloe sat up, looking apprehensively at the Dollmaker’s outstretched offerings. “I don’t know…”

 

“You did promise to follow the rules. Besides… you haven’t asked to leave once since you showered. Aren’t you just a little bit curious what all this is about?”

 

Chloe snatched the offered latex, her eyes fixed firmly on the floor. “I need lube. To get them on.”

 

Evelyn retreated to the doorway, offering the girl space. “Bedside table drawer, right next to you.” She reached down behind herself, locking the door. “It’s just us in here. No uninvited guests.”

 

Chloe stood, still refusing to meet the Dollmaker’s gaze, and slid down the sweatpants. She kicked them to the side, watching them fall in a crumpled heap, before sitting back down on the bed and opening the drawer beside her. Sure enough, inside was a plain, unmarked pump bottle of what was unmistakably lubricant. 

 

She pumped out a generous portion, slathering it over her long legs, right up to the thigh. In the morning light that streamed through the windows, those legs glistened spectacularly. The Dollmaker maintained her composure, but her eyes were fixed on that glisten.

 

The girl perched herself on the edge of the bed, bunching up a single stocking, her face screwed up at the telltale, almost lewd, sound of loose latex. Chloe slipped one foot in, as far as it would go, gently sliding and tugging that shiny black material up her leg, moving it past every curve and dip of her skin as it fought to remain glued fast.

 

The Dollmaker stared, unblinking, at the show unfolding before her. Dozens, if not hundreds, of Dolls had voluntarily taken this step before Chloe, but every time was as erotic as the first. The way some Dolls were happily complicit in their own conversion made parts of her tingle.

 

Minutes passed by, the only sound coming from the latex, the occasional pump of a little extra lubricant, or Chloe’s minute grunts and sighs as she fought with the material. Eventually, she stood, admiring her handiwork, one arm holding up her sweater to show off her newly shiny legs.

 

“Okay… they’re on.”

 

“Oh, I see that. I very much see that. Good girl.” The flush on Chloe’s cheeks didn’t go unnoticed. “Now, you can either put those back on,” she gestured at the sweatpants in their crumpled pile, “or… that sweater should be long enough to cover your modesty. This one, truly, is your choice.”

 

Chloe looked down at her legs, and over to her forgotten sweatpants. “Well… my legs do look good… maybe… maybe I’ll just leave them. Yeah.”

 

Already willing to show it off? The Dollmaker was pleased at Chloe’s progress. At this rate, she’d be in a full suit by noon.

 

“Well then, Chloe. Do you want to take a little look around? I can give you the tour. I think you’ll really love the gardens.” Evelyn held out her arms, beckoning the small blonde to link arms. “Don’t worry, we’ll get your hands washed off first. Can’t have you feeling sticky all day.”

 

Chloe let out a small giggle, stepping over to slip her arm through “Alice’s”. 

 

“A tour sounds nice.”