House of Dolls

by Harmon Cooper

  Roman laughed bitterly. For just a second, he thought about sending a message to Harper and asking her if she was interested in visiting him tonight. But he knew better; he knew he was in a vulnerable state, the cusp of his wife’s inevitable passing. And besides that, he had enough entertainment with the two living sex dolls taking a tour of his apartment. No need to add another person to the mix.

  “The place seems spacious enough,” said Celia. “Do you ever go out and explore? I like to explore.”

  “No, Roman doesn’t let me explore. ‘Maybe later,’ he said. You like to explore, too? So do I. That is probably part of Roman’s personality, then. I don’t know. I’m still figuring out which of my preferences and thoughts belong to me and which belong to him.”

  Roman considered what Coma had just said, amazed that her cognizance and understanding of this world had grown so much since he’d first animated her. It truly was remarkable, and if she evolved this quickly, there was no telling when she would be a semi-autonomous being similar to him.

  “Can I try to wear your mask?”

  “Only if I can try to wear the bandanna around your neck.”

  Roman moved to his bedroom to find Coma taking off her mask and Celia removing her bandanna. It was entirely odd to watch: two petite women in sexy cosplay outfits exchanging clothing, one with red eyes and one with purple eyes, one in gothic Lolita clothing and one in a mock exemplar outfit, Coma helping Celia attach the mask she’d made out of Roman’s ties to the back of her head.

  Seeing this made him question his existence, what his life had become and where it could possibly go from here. Ava would eventually approve his exemplar status, which would create an entirely new series of questions. What type of job would he have then? What would the future hold? Would he animate more dolls?

  Could he eventually build an army?

  This last thought resonated within him. If he continued to decrease the amount of power it took to make one of these dolls, where would that leave him?

  “Are you tired?” Celia turned to Roman and approached him slowly, her hips swaying. She stopped before him and looked up at him, her face partially hidden by Coma’s mask. There was a glittery nature to her purple eyes, something he found himself lost in as she looked him over.

  As Coma had done earlier, Celia extended her hand towards Roman, and he readily took it. She led him over to the bed and told him to sit at the end of the mattress.

  She moved between his legs and smiled down at him. Celia removed his jacket and began unbuttoning his shirt. Coma stood nearby, smiling as it all took place. Oddly enough, it was the type of smile Roman would have on his face if he were to see something like this happening—the exact same slightly crooked smile.

  Once he was shirtless and feeling a little exposed, Celia instructed him to stand. She undid his belt, giggled to herself when she realized she had to take off his shoes first, did that, and then removed his pants.

  “What are you doing?” Roman asked, a question he should’ve asked a few minutes earlier.

  “I’m getting you ready for bed. You’ve had a very long and difficult day. I think it’s time you rest.”

  Roman yawned, suddenly feeling tired.

  He saw Coma taking her dress off, and he lowered his guard enough for Celia to help him lie down.

  Coma unclipped her bra and folded it, then placed it on top of her dress, which sat on a chair pressed against the wall. Her heels off, but still wearing a pair of dainty socks, she walked over to the bed and got in next to Roman.

  On the other side, Celia was doing the same, removing her superhero getup, folding it, unzipping the front of her sports bra, then crouching and arranging everything neatly against the wall, nude, her high heels keeping her ass several inches off the ground.

  Celia got into the bed and moved closer to Roman, her large breasts brushing against the side of his chest.

  One of the things that was strange about the two animated dolls was that they had no real scent. They didn’t wear the lotions or perfumes a typical Centralian woman might wear. Nor, from what he had noticed, did they have any scent to their skin.

  Their skin was particularly remarkable to Roman. It was so soft and perfect, a fact that he was keenly aware of as he lay between them, one arm around Celia. He moved his hand up and down the side of her body, still surprised that he’d been able to bring life to something entirely dead.

  “Sleep, Roman,” Celia told him, her voice a shade above a whisper. “Sleep for us.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven: Cat-Scratch Fever

  Kevin crawled on the ground, Obsidian riding him and smacking his ass with a little whip. He was nude, and she was partially nude, still in a bra but missing her panties.

  A feeling of euphoria moved through him. This was exactly what he wanted, what he needed, what he liked. He was panting just like she had asked, and with every whip came the light touch of her tail, smoothing over the spot she’d just hit.

  They had moved to a different space, and after noticing a few similarities in their surroundings, Kevin believed they were now in the same warehouse where he had met Paris Renara.

  Turquoise had gone out to pick up some better clothing for Kevin, clothes an exemplar would wear, and somehow, a little flirty behavior from Obsidian had led to what was happening now.

  “You like when I ride you?” Obsidian purred.

  Kevin was also gagged, which was his idea; rather than tell her anything, he just mumbled incoherently, nodding as he did so.

  For the entirety of his previous life, Kevin had been a man who’d known three sexual positions: missionary, cowgirl, and doggystyle. Because of the size of his cock, this usually sufficed with the two lovers Kevin had had—his first girlfriend and then Susan, the woman who would later become his wife. The cheating bitch who had hooked up with an exemplar in their living room.

  And while Kevin could think these words, cheating bitch, he still couldn’t verbalize them.

  Kevin knew that people were multifaceted creatures, with desires and secrets that could define any number of personas they showed to the outside world. He also knew that while perhaps he was a decent husband, he wasn’t adventurous or exciting in any way, nor was he all that good of a listener. A mediocre husband at best.

  And even though his mind was spinning at the moment, his nerves firing, his knees hurting from crawling on the hardwood floor, he wondered if any of this would’ve happened if he had been a better listener.

  If the stars hadn’t aligned, he never would’ve been on the rooftop; he never would’ve jumped, only to be saved by the goddamn super who had been fucking his wife; he wouldn’t have ended up in the hospital where he’d been kidnapped; he would never have decided to join his kidnappers after they mistook him for his brother; and he currently wouldn’t be crawling on the floor while a sexy cat girl whipped him.

  “Do you want me to whip you harder?”

  “Actually,” Kevin said, now out of breath, his heart slamming against his chest. He spit out his gag. “I need to relax a second. This is fun, but my knees are starting to hurt.”

  Without a word, Obsidian stepped off his body and pushed him onto his side.

  “Hey!”

  She rolled him onto his back and took a seat on the tops of his thighs, showing him an incredible view of her ass. She began massaging his knees, and as she did so, Kevin watched her tail flicker, her puckered asshole twitching ever so slightly, the bottom of her vagina so close to the base of his penis.

  With little concentrated effort, mostly due to his girth, Kevin used his hands to aim his penis forward like it was a torpedo, where it brushed against her wet pussy.

  Noticing his erection, Obsidian scooted back just a little bit, so the tip could slip inside. Her hands still on his knees, she began moving her hips up and down, Kevin practically crying out in ecstasy.

  He didn’t know how long he could last like this, especially seeing her ass, and her tail flicking at the air, and with Obsidian now lookin
g over her shoulder at him, her black ears perked, a wicked smile on her face.

  This was the life Kevin had been born for.

  He knew in that moment, he knew as he orgasmed, and he knew as he gasped out: all the bullshit in his life had led him to this moment. He would do whatever he had to do to stay with the two cat girls. It didn’t matter if he had to lie, cheat, steal, or even kill. No one had cared about Kevin before. No one gave a shit about him at all.

  And hell, the two cat girls probably didn’t give a shit about him either.

  Then again, he sensed that they had an affinity for him, that they liked being around him. Would they simply be hanging out in safe houses and getting into weird sexual things forever? Probably not, but if that was his future, Kevin didn’t mind.

  Obsidian continued massaging his knees with her back to him, his member still inside her slowly losing its girth.

  “Want to go again?”

  Kevin placed his hands behind his head and lay back. “Let’s just see how it plays out.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight: Administrative Retreat

  The next morning came a little too fast for Roman. After getting dressed, without the assistance of Celia and Coma, he would have normally gone to the hospital before work. Since this was no longer a possibility, he got to work earlier than usual.

  A definite bad start to a shitty next couple of hours.

  Rather than go to the next floor up to help set up today’s administrative retreat, because Roman knew better than to put himself in that position, he took a seat at the bench on the side of the building, which offered a nice view of a small pond that had been constructed the year before he’d started there.

  He needed to get some paper money. He normally just transferred money out of his bank account via a telepath, like he’d done at the sex-doll shop last night, but that wouldn’t work for the plan he was cooking up.

  Roman wanted Celia and Coma to find some new clothing, which meant he needed to go to a clothing market, and most only accepted cash. With his ability to modify documents, Roman’s plan was self-evident: get low denomination notes and convert them to high.

  Easy.

  As he sat on the bench watching a pair of ducks land in the pond near his office, their wings slapping against the surface of the pond, the smell of morning dew tinging the air, Roman thought of Celia, the real Celia, whom he hoped to see later today after his Heroes Anonymous meeting.

  Maybe he shouldn’t have trusted Nadine, but he’d been desperate last night, and the hospital had already had a plan to put her in the hospice.

  He’d just sped up the process.

  And what would he say if it worked? If he was actually able to meet her, what could he possibly say? Would he ask for forgiveness? What would Celia say? How would this play out?

  Memories of their time together flashed across his mind’s eye. He recalled her soft features, her reddish hair, how she affected any room she walked into, her kindness, her soft voice.

  How she’d tamed him.

  He had put a lot of these ideas into Celia the doll, and he was keenly aware that it would never be the same—but there was something there. Something that reminded him of her. And he assumed it was the part of himself he’d put in the doll when he’d animated her.

  With a glance down at his power dial, he saw the red bar had retreated just a little bit. Roman was calmer now, used to this type of energy expenditure.

  “You ready for today?”

  Roman looked up to see Phil Pott, the twenty-two-year-old senior advisor that had gotten the position through contacts. He wore a light-gray suit, a white shirt, and a lime-green cravat—cool, expensive clothing that would only be available to someone who had deep pockets.

  Now that he had the ability to manipulate paper money, Roman would probably also get some new clothing, stuff that would rival Phil’s.

  “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,” Roman finally told him. “The retreat we had six months ago was brutal as fuck.”

  “Yeah, I hate these damn things too.”

  “If it weren’t being run by Selena and her lackeys, I wouldn’t worry.”

  “Agreed. But what can we do?” The young advisor shrugged.

  “I guess we can just suck it up and wait for five o’clock to roll around.”

  “We actually get out a little early today.”

  “Even better.

  “Shall we get in there?”

  Roman sighed audibly. “Five more minutes. Let me pass on to you something I learned long ago: The early bird gets the worm, sure, but he’s usually exhausted by the time the party starts.”

  “I want to remind everybody that the importance of our data is paramount. You should be tracking everything you do, from meetings to processing times. If you sneeze, I want you to note it. If you take a bite from a candy bar while sitting at your desk, I want you to note the time. If you meet with a client randomly in the hallway, I want you to note it down to the minute.”

  Selena stood at the front of the conference room, her administrative assistant behind her, arms crossed over her chest. Everyone in their division was there, including Coco, the lead security for their floor. The shorthaired Type I Class D stood by the door, her hands on her hips as she pivoted from foot to foot.

  “Today will be about our development as a team, and your development as individual team players. We will meet with the Immigration Inspection for Fast Travel Powers Department for a group activity, lunch, and then move into breakout spaces so we can practice our collaboration. A few of you lack the performance of your peers. You lack the speed, attention to detail, and one might even argue you lack the ability to do this job. Today, you will be joined by people you can learn from, peer mentors who can help you improve upon yourself. Without further ado, let’s begin.”

  “We’re going to start with an icebreaker,” Selena’s administrative assistant said as she came forward. Her assistant, either named Sally or Sammy (Roman could never get it right), handed out slips of paper. “I want you to write three things about yourself on the sheet of paper. Once you’ve written these three things, I want you to write a fourth thing that is a lie.”

  A few of the employees to Roman’s right chuckled, fake laughter if he’d ever heard it. The smarter ones groaned, but they did so in a way that was masked by the chuckles.

  “We will then read these details aloud, and we will all guess which detail is the lie! Sound like fun? So make your details interesting, don’t just write ‘I’m a woman, I live in a house, I can play piano, I ate a snorkel for breakfast,’ because we’ll all know which one is the lie.”

  A snorkel? Roman gave the administrative assistant a funny look as she handed him his piece of paper. He glanced down at it for a moment, trying to swallow the bitterness he felt as an adult male who had to do these types of things and somehow call it “work.”

  “Remember,” Sally or Sammy said, “three things need to be true, and one thing needs to be a lie. Please don’t make it too obvious.”

  A grin stretched across Roman’s face as his pen hit the paper. Once he’d finished, he turned the paper over and waited for the others.

  Phil, who sat next to Roman, was the first to go. “As you all know, my name is Phil Pott, and I am a senior immigration advisor. Okay, so here are my four sentences. I like to go hiking on weekends. I was in the Southern Alliance last weekend skiing. I have relatives that live in the Southern Alliance. I once killed a snow tiger that was twice my size with my bare hands.”

  “Snow tiger,” Roman said to the murmur of the others in the room.

  “Really? You guys got it that quickly?”

  “Thank you, Phil,” Sally or Sammy said as Phil sat down. “Remember to make your lie difficult, and don’t make your lie the last sentence of your four sentences. Hint: that makes it easier to decipher.”

  Roman heard a few pens scribbling on paper as people made adjustments and renumbered their sentences.

  “Are you ready?”

&nb
sp; “Yeah,” said Roman, avoiding eye contact with the woman. “Here goes. I am an exemplar, and I have the ability to animate inanimate objects. I can swim. I usually don’t eat breakfast. I was born and raised in Centralia.”

  “What part about ‘make this difficult’ do you not understand?” Selena asked him. She had the power position at the front of the room, which only made the fact that she was calling him out more uncomfortable.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  Phil snorted. “It’s clearly the first one! You aren’t an exemplar.”

  Even Coco, who was standing in front of the door looking like hired muscle, cracked a grin. The others in the room started to snicker.

  “You got me,” Roman told them as he quickly sat down. One day, when they all found out the truth, they would remember this moment. “Guilty as charged.”

  Roman tuned out the rest of the icebreaker, focusing instead on thoughts centering around Celia, and how tragic she’d looked in that hospital bed. He suddenly felt like shit, and rightly so. He’d been a terrible husband; there was no doubt about it.

  It was when Selena said there would be another icebreaker that his ears perked up.

  Why they needed to have an icebreaker in a room full of people who already knew each other was beyond him, and the second one seemed like it had the potential to actually do some damage.

  As she had done before, Selena started with Phil. “Okay, Phil, before I ask you the next icebreaker question, I want to remind everyone this exercise is supposed to bring us closer together. Sometimes sharing in each other’s sorrows is one way that we can feel closer. Now, this is a little bit experimental, and something I came up with on the trolley ride over here this morning, so bear with me. That said, I think it will help us all grow closer. And we need to be close, because the closer we are, the better our metrics will be.”

  “Great,” said Phil. “I’m ready.”

  “What was the worst day of your life thus far?”