Page 2

Chapter two

Pineo

My awareness opens as a rooster calls in the distance. Something flutters against my face, startling me, but the thought dulls in comparison to the view before me. Was I moved in the night? The room doesn’t look like it did when I fell asleep. Everything is smaller—the proportions way off.

My beautiful Clara still sleeps on the chair near the window, calming my initial nerves for her safety.

Her chest rises and falls, and a soft smile splays over her face as the early morning sunlight illuminates her features.

Her brown wavy hair hangs off the cushion along with her outstretched arm.

Ever since my creation twenty years ago, Clara has been the reason for my existence.

I’m just a wooden doll—a plaything, but every fiber of my being buzzes for her attention.

I often wonder if the other wooden dolls around me feel the same.

We can’t communicate. I can’t open my eyes or mouth or move, but the thought that Sam or Emily might feel the same way I feel fills me with rage.

Sometimes, I wish Clara would get rid of all the other puppets so that I could consume her attention.

Whenever I think the thought though, I reprimand myself.

The other puppets bring Clara joy. I’d never want to take any ounce of happiness away from her.

The flutter happens again, and I startle—actually startle, my body shaking and hitting the wall behind me.

I bring up my hand to my face, feeling my eyelashes flick against my palm.

Wait. I brought my hand up to my face? I scream, the deep sound startling me even more and making me tumble off my shelf and onto the floor below me.

I’m in a heap on the ground as Clara’s screams ring around me. I jump to my feet. “My Clara, what is wrong? I will protect you?” These are words I’ve always wanted to say. Clara’s sweet name whisps across my lips, and I want to bite my tongue just to taste the word again.

“Who are you? Get out of my house!” she yells .

I look around, ready to attack whoever she is referring to. I’m not registering that I can talk, stand, or move; I’m thinking about how to protect my love.

A pillow hits my head, and I turn back to Clara.

She’s jumped onto the chair, another plush pillow coiled back in her arm, ready to be thrown.

I capture her eyes with mine—her rich brown irises sucking me in.

My shoulders sag, and something twitches in my pants as I gaze at her, making me forget my mission of protecting.

“What are you looking at?” she barks, fear strewn across her face. “What do you want from me?”

It’s me. She’s afraid of me. I don’t understand. She’s always told me I’m her favorite, given me the most attention, and watched me as her fingers dived beneath her skirts and moans bellowed from her mouth. What has changed?

As if she can read my thoughts, she asks, “Why do you look confused? Did you stumble into the wrong house or something?” Her expression changes from petrified to concerned. My sweet girl, always caring for others first.

I look down, shocked to find my body has changed. Well, actually, I’m shocked I can even look down. I raise my arm, bringing it to my line of vision. “I can move,” I say in awe. “And I’ve grown.” My voice startles me again, strong and deep. I cover my mouth with my hands .

Clara squints at me, dropping her pillow and stepping closer. She examines me slowly before her eyes widen, and she snaps her attention to the shelves behind me. She runs to the empty spot in the middle before turning to me. “Pineo? Is that you?”

“Yes, it’s me.” I place my hand on my chest, stepping toward her—my drive to get closer overtaking the shakiness of my legs.

“How is this possible?” Her eyes dart to every inch of me.

I don’t waste a second, removing the space between us and wrapping her into my arms. Her arms connect around my neck, and my hands scoop under her, lifting her from the ground and spinning her softly.

Her heart hammers against my chest. “Am I dreaming? What’s going on?

” She’s trying to put the pieces together when I couldn’t care less.

All I care about is that she’s in my arms, and I can finally communicate with her.

She pushes away and makes herself heavier as an indication to place her back on the floor.

I do, but my face droops that she already needs her space.

Her hands remain on my chest, feeling up my green vest. “Your clothes, they grew too.” Her hands travel to my neck and to my jawline.

“But you’re still made of wood. You’re a wooden person. How is this possible? ”

I wrap my fingers around her wrists, staring into her brown eyes, catching my reflection.

I look the same: wooden features, green eyes, and wavy blonde horsehair adhered to my head, but I’m much bigger, towering over my Clara.

I study her face. She wants answers, and she’s looking to me to give them to her.

I clear my throat. “Maybe it was your wish last night. You wished on a star to make me real,” I offer.

Clara nods, brightness filling her expression. “Yes, I did wish on a star. It’s just like the storybooks.” She smiles. “And you’re my prince charming come to life.”

My wooden heart elates at her words. “You’ve always been my princess.

” An urge takes over me, something natural but foreign.

I lean in, wanting her mouth against mine.

She startles at first, but her lips part, and she rises on her tip-toes, closing the distance between us and bringing her soft lips to my wooden ones.

Electricity zips through my body, and my knees grow weak.

I press in deep, and her tongue reaches into my mouth.

I open wide, letting her explore, as I match her languid movements.

A soft moan escapes her as she holds onto me tightly, her body rubbing against my front.

She pulls back, her eyes wide as if a thought just popped into her mind. “Did you watch me all those nights when…you know? ”

I study her, not sure what she means.

Her cheeks redden, and her eyes dart nervously. “When I…touched myself, down there.” She motions with her eyes. “And I would cry out in pleasure. Did you watch?”

My heart beats thunderously. I always watched Clara, no matter what she did, but my favorite time of all was when she touched herself between her legs.

She would glue her eyes to me, not breaking her gaze even as her body convulsed under her touch.

I didn’t know exactly what was happening, but it stirred something in me.

She never touched herself like that when anyone else was home.

She always closed the blinds and double-checked to ensure no one was watching her.

Obviously, this was a private act she didn’t want anyone to see.

I don’t want to scare her away. “No,” I lie, immediately regretting my choice.

Something like disappointment flashes across her face. I don’t have time to ponder it because my body grabs my attention. My plaid pants tent, growing tighter until something bursts through the seam.

Clara gasps, looking down at the strange wooden rod protruding through my pants. “Is that your…?”

I look back and forth between her and my strange body part.

“I think it’s my penis,” I say. I’ve never had a penis before, but I guess now that I’m a human, I do.

New information rushes through my brain.

No one has ever told me the purpose of this body part, but some new instinct rests inside of me.

“Do they usually grow when you tell a lie?” Maybe I don’t know everything about my penis.

She giggles, covering her mouth with her hand. “Did you just lie?” My long penis separates us now. I hate the thing. Why is it creating distance between my sweet Clara? It also throbs and makes my body feel strange.

I nod. “Yes. I’m sorry. I said I haven’t watched you touch yourself, but I always watch you. It’s one of my favorite things you do.”

Her smile fades, and her lips part. I must have upset her. Now I hate my penis and my mouth. Maybe I’m not cut out for my new body.

“Why did you lie to me?” Her voice is heavy and shaky.

“I didn’t want to upset you. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have watched you all these years.”

“Don’t say that.” She moves around my penis and places her hand on my chest. My body ignites under her touch, and my penis twitches. Stupid penis.

“I want you to watch me.” She stands on her tip-toes and nuzzles into the crook of my neck.

My shoulders sag at her heavy breath on my wooden skin, and my penis aches even more.

Something drips from the tip. My eyes widened as I look at the amber-colored gel from afar.

Great, now my penis is also disgusting .

Clara must notice my sudden shock from the stiffness of my body.

Her eyes follow my gaze, and she leaves my side, stepping in front of my very long wooden member.

She swipes her finger in the substance, bringing it to her lips.

The small contact from her finger elicits a rush of pleasure from the base of my spine. Okay, maybe my penis isn’t so bad.

Her eyes grow wide in delight. “It tastes like maple syrup.” She licks her finger again as if to get off every last drop. I have half a mind to let her know that the heavy feeling in my wooden testicles might indicate there’s a lot more where that came from.

Oh yeah. I guess I have testicles now. That’s new.

I don’t know what they do or how they work, but I feel it won’t be too hard to find out.

I thank the Maker for the sprinkles of knowledge about my new body encoded in my wooden brain.

I’m confused about a lot of things, but I'm grateful I at least know some things about my genitals.

“I’ve heard girls at the market talk about their husbands’ cum and say it tastes horrible. Yours doesn’t taste bad at all. It’s delicious.” Clara lowers to her knees, eye level with my rod.