Dolls

Hi y'all! This is an introduction of an updated template that allows us to grow a little more into our captions and allow for more spacious layouts with a lot of verticality for ease of scrolling, This is also a longer form caption with a lot more background, and I'd love to know what you think.

~Pudz

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It was a service that was needed, wholly necessary and ultimately unpleasant and impolite to talk about at family occasions: but adult men and women alike clamored for the service. In a world where seventy hour work weeks were common, where children were a product of a purchase and not a ritual, there was need for companionship that came equally as easily and far more reliably - that was where YourDolly came in. To say that the dolls were lifelike was a disservice: they weren't just lifelike, they were very much alive. But... different. Altered. Programmed. Compliant. Purchasers liked to assuage their consciences in the idea of vat grown product people, but it didn't take too much imagination to consider the countless millions below the poverty line and how little they might be missed. 

"Let me go! We didn't do anything wrong!" Maya and I were sisters, we grew up poor, we had nothing and asked for so little. What did the uniformed men want with us? Was it a bribe? Is that what they wanted? Before I could reach into my purse, they tossed us both into the back of a van with a dozen other women around our age; one or two I recognized, and then everything went black.

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I felt heat on my cheeks.  Requests like this always made me blush, but I couldn't say no to him.  I looked at my sister with shy eyes, hidden beneath my pink bangs.  Then, I looked down at my matching pink pajamas.

With very little effort, the front of my pajamas grew warm and wet.  The pale pink turned dark as the pee dribbled down my thighs.  I knew Mallory was watching... it was so much more embarrassing when she watched.

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"It looks like you're just not ready to be left alone, are you, Maya?" The man - their owner, as it literally were - was a pleasant man in his early thirties with hair grey enough to be twice that age and a career that obviously was going to kill him before he caught up with his stress levels. He pushed up his glasses and sipped from the expensive wine in his glass, gently rocking his chair. "What do you think, Mallory?" It was such a trick question, and the answer tumbled from my lips without my even considering the answer. "I think what you tell me to think, Daddy." I could see Maya shiver. She loved that word now. She hated that she did. We couldn't talk about what had been done to us, but we both knew what we knew. She wet a little more, smiling, blushing.

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I felt things as strongly as ever.  Happy.  Sad.  Love.  Hate.  Anger.  Embarrassment.  But there was something missing.  Want.  I couldn't want something unless Daddy wanted it.  And whatever he wanted, I would want just as strongly.  I bit my lip and looked shamefully at my bare toes as a puddle formed on the carpet around them. "Mallory, what do we do with little girls who can't keep their pajamas dry?" I knew what was coming.  I didn't want it!  "Please, Daddy, no!" Fresh tears welled up in my eyes.  Daddy told me a girl my age should never want a diaper, and so I never did.

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"Little girls who can't keep their pajamas dry get a diaper, Daddy, an' then they get lap time." Lap time was one of the worst things about all of this, it was so innocent to look at and so perverse to experience. A woman, a grown woman, on a gr-... a gro-... on Daddy's lap, held and stroked and preened over, cooed to, and bounced upon his knee until the sound of the crinkling diaper was all we could hear. He could have made us want it. He could have said we wanted to wear diapers. But he didn't... he wanted us to be embarrassed. And he wanted us to love lap time... even though it only happened when diapered. It ran us around in circles. It kept us needy and confused. And it meant we'd never ever escape the programming.

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Mallory took me by the hand and helped me lie down on the carpet in front of Daddy.  I looked up at my sister with humiliation burning in my eyes.  No matter how many times she put me in diapers, I never forgot that I was once upon a time her big sister.  Tears dripped down my cheeks as she stripped me of my wet pajamas and unfolded one of Daddy's special nighttime diapers.  I knew in that moment that I would be wearing it for at least a day, if not longer.  When she had finished taping it on my hips, I could hardly stand upright.  I couldn't walk without waddling.  Every movement, every moment, brought more shame and embarrassment to the forefront of my mind.  And then, when Daddy pulled me onto his lap, it was all drowned out by my love and adoration.  The magical, intimate feelings of being on Daddy's lap... I knew, no matter how he treated me, I could never leave.  My sister and I would be everything he wanted.