Page 2 of The Doll Factory (Horror Hotel)

THE DOLL

“W hat is your name?”

An intense fog clouds my thoughts as I swim through the ether of the unknown. Flying through clouds like I’m on an airplane with pink horizons in the distance. If only I could reach it, everything would feel right as rain.

“What is your name?”

A strange disharmonious chord wallows like a whale deep beneath the ocean’s surface, bouncing off coral rocks and shark heads slinking by my torso. One bite and I’m gone, sinking to the trenches beyond gravity.

“What is your name?”

Breathe. Straight and thin. Through my lungs and out. “Mm. Member.”

It’s me. I’m the creature causing that sound and the knowledge of that, that I am an entity, makes my eyes snap open and everything in me wishes I hadn’t allowed that freedom to exist.

“I don’t remember!” Violent retches tear up my throat as I startle awake, unable to move effectively. My limbs tied in suspended harnesses hung from the ceiling. Even when I tug and jostle and sway, my body moves like a boat through the tsunami of air.

When my vision settles in my brain, a silent and still seizure captures the breath in my ribs.

I’m surrounded by girls still as statues, their heads lolling about in various positions, as if held on only by shards of skin.

Big orbs float where their human eyes once were.

Now replaced with glass toys that dangle in spaces whenever I shift my movements.

“Where are you?”

One of the life-sized dolls opens its mouth in a robotic manner like a marionette as a voice comes through, but it doesn’t seem to protrude from the lifelike creature itself, but somewhere else in this strange room.

“Where are you?”

Tears flow freely down my cheeks, splashing onto my bare breasts. I shiver, realizing how very naked, exposed, and alone I am. And when I sniffle, a harsh smell of astringent, chemicals, and something pleasantly meaty like bacon filters through.

Now, I’m sobbing with whimpers. These aren’t just girls… they’re dead girls.

“Where are you?”

“I don’t know!”

Into the blue hue of light in the room cuts a sharp band of white as a door is thrown open and I try to swing out of its path. Black shadows haunt the doorway until they merge as one figure, who strolls into the frigid space to stand in front of me.

Oversized clear frames focus in my vision and behind them, kind brown eyes, a heavy black mustache, and rich umber skin, wrinkled with a broad smile.

“Hello, Doll. You need another dose.”

A hiccup escapes as I pause my cries. The man wears a long blue lab coat that wafts around my face as he unbinds my arms, which fall to my sides as if they weigh more than the Earth itself.

After loosening my legs, my body is tossed onto a metal cart like a pile of mashed potatoes at a cafeteria line.

Part of me wonders where the image of such a food would come from, but I can almost taste it so vividly, my mouth waters. “Doll.” I repeat, because I don’t know what else to say.

Screeches cut through the atmosphere like knives as the man wheels my transportation through a glaring hall, then another. And a series of white halls until I can roll over onto my side and purge everything that has settled in my belly onto the floor beneath me.

It looks like mashed potatoes.

“Mr. Corbund, the vials are not ready. They still need to be chilled for another thirty minutes.” A harsh, disgruntled voice greets us as my new friend pauses his steps outside of a white door, almost indistinguishable from the surrounding structure.

“Thank you, Miss Watson. I will proceed with the injections.”

“But Dr. Miles says–”

“Dr. Miles understands the necessity of this and I will prepare the doll myself. Not to worry. Please clean lab two and prepare it for another specimen.”

Mr. Corbund’s voice almost lulls me into another trance, especially when a wayward finger brushes against my bare calf as he grips the handle of my cart and wheels me inside the room he unlocks with a blue card.

“Beep!” he says in time with the keypad as his sparkling eyes smile at me.

I give a small chuckle, my body oozing onto the gurney like pumpkin pie. Still formed, but wobbly.

Inside is a bright room surrounded by long tables covered with cloths, hiding something beneath the drapes of starched fabric. In the center is a table like one I’ve recognized before from where…I am not sure. It has places for one’s legs with stirrups and straps to hold them in place.

In a span of some time, Mr. Corbund situates my floppy figure in it and I meld into one with the cream pleather until my skin peels off with a pop whenever I move.

As he works around me, strapping me in and positioning a bright light above my head, Mr. Corbund hums a high-pitched tune, his head bobbing while his temple fade to a textured top haircut stays in perfect rhythm with him.

He sits on a stool between my spread knees and pumps it up several times until his face is at my core. An odd, tingling sensation hits me there, especially with every heated breath he exhales.

“Hello, Doll,” he says again with a wide grin, dimples flashing in both cheeks.

“Hell–”

“Don’t speak.” Even when he corrects me, it’s with a kind blink and a warm expression.

I close my lips and wait.

“You may feel disoriented, but that is to be expected. Miss Watson typically leads the breaking in, but I was told by Dr. Miles himself that you are a special case, my dear.” He swivels around and flips over the tablecloth, revealing a row of silver instruments of various shapes and sizes.

My heart pounds in my chest, threatening to leap up my throat with a scream, but when he wheels back to face me again, I feel some comfort in those coffee colored eyes.

“Dolls don’t speak, as I’ve told you. And…

soon…” He gets a look of pure bliss on his face as he prepares me for his next words.

“You’ll learn not to think. Your body will go through changes, may experience certain sensations , but really you are only there to be a body used to pleasure others.

What an absolute honor has been bestowed upon you! ”

A tiny smile forms on my lips at his enthusiasm. “Pleasure. Not think,” I whisper.

He nods and lifts a syringe filled with blue fluid. Flicking it once, he squirts a little into the air. “Your doses will help you achieve everything you desire.”

It’s difficult to breathe. Somewhere, in a corner of my mind, a screaming voice tells me I should shirk away from the sharp needle in his hand. But I can’t move. “Desire?”

Mr. Corbund stands and plunges the needle into my thigh as I gasp at the piercing intrusion. “To be a perfect dolly for men to use all your holes, dear.”

Heat floods through my body as the liquid floods my arteries like battery fluid.

Mr. Corbund doesn’t seem to notice and only tosses the used instrument in an orange box on the wall, then turns to me with a pair of nitrile gloves that he snaps over his large hands.

My bottom lifts off the table at the burning surging through me, but as soon as it comes, it leaves an area and once it goes… I’m numb. Numb and tingly.

“Now. You need your pre-procedure test.”

“P-procedure.” I form the words in my mouth, but it is quickly becoming nigh impossible to move of my own accord.

“Dr. Miles will take over your surgeries. Waist whittling. Breast implants… He likes the largest possible. Facial restructuring. Body contorting. Dimples. Then, of course, his own designed frontal lobe implant. And, lucky girl, you’ll get to be the first to try the latest model.

Hopefully, then you won’t need any more doses after that. ”

He says it in such a way I feel privileged to receive such an honor, but when I glance down at my figure, my modest sized breasts, lengthy legs, and generous belly, I wonder if he means I’ll look like a doll when they’re through with me.

This is a nightmare. Fight!

The screaming voice in the padded cell attempts to break through the recesses of my mind.

I nod and smile as Mr. Corbund presses a button on the wall, then grabs a small green packet, rips it open and spreads a glob of clear colored goo all over his fingers. “Number Six-One-Five-Four. Orgasm pre-procedure test now recording.”

Dark lashes shield me from a globe hanging from the ceiling that blinks at me with a mechanical eye, whirring in a monotone hum as it captures the footage of my naked figure, lying on an examination table as Mr. Corbund steps between my spread legs.

Chill makes me convulse when he dips his large digits between my dry folds, spreading the wet goop all over my pussy. “Do you enjoy music while you orgasm?”

“I don’t remember…”

“Play erotic bossa nova.”

A loud wailing saxophone interrupts the clinical sounds within the room as it blares through a screened speaker next to the eye above me.

Mr. Corbund’s thumb presses against my clit, rubbing it gently at first as his finger dips into the entrance beneath it. “Or your ass played with? Your breasts? Nipples?”

My back arches as he delves his finger deeper, then curls to the front wall while his thumb pulses in sync. The lubricant seems unnecessary as wetness floods the table, seeping between my butt cheeks.

“Subject enjoys pulsing maneuvers.”

Fingers grasp at air when he adds a second finger to the mix, and his piercing gaze never leaves my face, other than to monitor my breasts rising and falling with each breath.

“Oh.” I murmur when he slides one finger out and edges it to my taint, then lower to my asshole.

“Subject enjoys light anal touching.”

When his eyes flick to the wall above my head, I squirm to look with him and notice a wall of monitors filled with lines that jump in rhythm to his touches and my heart beats.

“Relax, please doll. Focus on the orgasm I will give you.”

As the words leave his mustached lips, a large finger delves into my ass with force and I jump in my restraints. “Subject does not enjoy rectal intrusion.” Instead of stopping, he adds a second finger to the first, pumping my ass rapidly while keeping his thumb on my clit.

“Ouch!”

“Subject does not enjoy rectal fucking.”

My pussy pulses against the emptiness while my clit sings in response to his timed strokes, but my ass feels violated, like I need to squeeze everything out.

Shifting my hips, I scoot away from his thrusting hand, but he follows the movements.

Then, he leans over my torso until the shortened hairs of his clipped mustache tickle my sensitive pink nipple.

Glancing at my face, he lets his tongue ease out of parted lips before he strokes it across one of the pebbled peaks and I arch into him.

Seizing it like a lost treasure, his mouth devours my breast in a languid suck.

A wailing cry surges from my chest at the torrid of pleasure that combats the pain in my backside.

When he backs up, he looks at the ceiling and says, “Subject does not enjoy rectal intrusion, unless accompanied by nipple sucking. Possible test subject for Hucow.”

Mr. Corbund removes all his fingers, leaving me needy, wanton, and a sopping wreck on the table. Where is my orgasm? Where is the bliss I was promised? I want to demand, but my mouth has stopped functioning like an instrument of communication.

Turning his back to me, he wheels a box between my legs where he once stood and undrapes it. A large, black dildo jettisons from the white box and he aligns it with my entrance.

“Now, you belong to Dr. Miles after the procedure. So only his cock is allowed to enter until you’re perfected, then shipped to The Doll Factory for pleasure.

But, for your pre-procedure test, you may have this.

” Clapping his hands loudly, his star winning grin resumes.

“Also, you are lucky because today we have a group of students visiting that will get to observe your orgasm. Student!” He opens the door and a trail of young men pile into the room, most wearing glasses and short white coats, all holding clipboards and wide-eyed stares at my naked body.

You should feel ashamed .

“Students, this is lot number Six-One-Five-Four. She enjoys light anal touching and pulsing clitoris maneuvers. Feel free to latch onto a nipple as the machine brings her to the height of orgasm for the cameras. Make notes of her body’s reaction to every sensation and see how many you can identify on your checklist. Ready? ”

The boys surround my body like I’m a specimen of science, pens held tightly in their grasps.

I can’t even say I’m ready before the black dildo surges into me with a loud hum, even over the erotic bossa nova music filtering through the room.

Their innocent eyes watch as I writhe as much as I can against the thickness delving deep inside of me, thrusting in violently and hitting every spot that Mr. Corbund found earlier.

Tingles erupt over my skin as they rake their gazes over my skin.

One man bends, hovering over my breast and holds there as if waiting for permission.

Another on the other side of the table joins and they stare at one another until they both pull a nipple into their mouths and suck with force.

It’s all too much. Ecstasy tears through my nerves in a warring pattern of destruction down my spine, ripping like wildfire through my pussy as it pulses around the machine.

“Oh!” is all I can breathe out, a flood of wetness coating my inner thighs.

If I had movement in my arms, I’d hold the boys' heads to my tits as I rode out the pleasurable pulses deep inside me.

Instead, it feels like a violation, causing my body to become overly sensitive and I thrash against my binds, hoping everyone stops touching me.

“Good. Number Six-One-Five-Four has orgasmed to multiple sensations from distinct figures. She’ll make a great dolly for the boys.

” Mr. Corbund stops the thick cock from thrusting and I can relax again.

He reaches over my body to bop my nose while the students scribble furiously against their clipboards.

“ And she’ll make an excellent subject for Dr. Miles.”

Run!