Chapter 4: Plastic Perfection

“Oh, look at you, dolly!” Bronwen’s voice didn’t bring Catherine back to herself. She mewled, but the way she was addressed was the way Bronwen spoke when she didn’t care what Catherine had to say.

Though Bronwen was very much a woman, she had a manner that made her sound not unlike a child talking to her possessions as though she fully expected them to talk back—but inside of her own mind, not in the real world. Were Catherine to speak there was no possible way that she could choose the proper words that would please Bronwen more than what she imagined Catherine might say instead. It was better for her owner’s fantasy if she remained silent, so Catherine said nothing.

She thought very little, simply smiling as she drifted in a feeling of submissive warmth.

Bronwen is here with me… She’s so pretty… Ohh… and her eyes are red… I wonder if that means something…

“You look so cute like that… sitting on your bed! Oh, but your dress is all disheveled… let me help!” Bronwen dropped down to the floor, grasping at the hem of Catherine’s skirts. Though at first she was simply trying to right the shape of her dress, her fingers brushed the lace of Catherine’s panties and Bronwen let out a loud gasp. “Your panties! Were you being a naughty dolly, Catherine?”

Giggles filled the air. Though she was asking her dolly such a question, her eyes remained red, red as her hair with its black undertones. There was no sound of frustration or displeasure in Bronwen’s voice, only amusement and delight.

“I’m a good dolly!”

“That’s right!” Bronwen sighed, slowly lifting up the lacy panties until they were flush between Catherine’s thighs again. “You’re a good dolly… you’re my good dolly! And if I say that, it must be right, becauuuuse…”

Bronwen waited patiently, a warm yet impish smile spread across her face. The delight she took in every moment of her time with Catherine was audible.

“Bronwen is always correct!”

Purring, Bronwen nodded as she reached her hands up along Catherine’s body to squeeze at her breasts through the texture of her dress. Catherine moaned, but barely even shifted to arch her body into Bronwen’s grasp. It felt good, so good, but she was a dolly and she lacked even the desire to feel more. She was too heavy, too weak, and too ready to accept simply sitting limply until she was moved. Dollies didn’t need more than to be positioned how their owners wanted, or felt how their owners desired.

Catherine was a good dolly, and she knew she didn’t need to worry about anything at all as long as Bronwen was there. She was correct. She was the one that mattered.

It was nicer, better, to drift and feel mindlessly happy being the doll Bronwen wanted her to be. Easier than being a good girlfriend, more natural than any job she’d ever had while being so much more rewarding, being a dolly was such a simple task to perform optimally.

“Mm… These are nice, but… you know, as nice as soft is… I don’t think it’s quite… perfect…” Bronwen rose, kissing her dolly’s forehead before she stepped away. “I think I’d like to brush your hair, Dolly… I’d like to brush your hair, and make you a little… smoother? Firmer? Hmm… Yes, definitely firmer…”

Grasping up an ornate brush, Bronwen returned and knelt on the bed behind Catherine. Though she was on her knees, nothing about Bronwen as she moved the comb through Catherine’s hair seemed the least bit submissive. She was sitting the way she was to enjoy her position over Catherine, not out of some obedient urge. If she’d wanted Catherine to be the one kneeling while she sat on the edge of the bed she would have ordered it.

The glee in her red eyes showed how impatient she was to wait for even such a quick event.

“Your hair is so pretty, dolly… but I think we can make it… better…” Bronwen sighed, kissing her dolly’s cheek as her brush’s bristles smoothed Catherine’s hair. “Wouldn’t you like better? Wouldn’t you like to be perfect for me, to be the prettiest little dolly for me…?”

“The shape of my body is for you to decide! Bronwen is always correct! I’m a good dolly!”

The three expressions came one after another without a moment’s hesitation.

It wasn’t a matter of Catherine knowing what Bronwen wanted her to say and doing her best to obey. Bronwen’s control made saying those words the only choice Catherine could make—scarcely a choice at all.

Like a simple computer with only one set of punch cards, Catherine fulfilled the tasks set forth by Bronwen’s irresistible enchantments.

“Good…! Then here… You know, blonde is a classic look for dollies? But I just… No. Not for mine.” Bronwen sighed, pulling her brush back to kiss at the ornate golden filigree that decorated its back. “I’ve always been a fan of brown. Not too dark, not too bright… Well… I suppose darker than bright—who can describe colors flawlessly? No one! Isn’t that right, dolly?”

“Bronwen is always correct!”

Bronwen grinned.

When the brush returned to Catherine’s hair, the strands it smoothed also shifted in hue. It was a slow process, gradually becoming closer and closer to the final effect with each pass. The brush didn’t make Catherine’s hair wet, nor did it dye the strands. As it moved from the middle of her head down, the color began at Catherine’s roots and moved down the strands of hair.

As the brush moved to the side of Catherine’s face, the movements also began to change the arrangement of the smooth, browner locks. No longer hanging straight, they instead began to tighten and coil together.

Without the slightest strand out of place, Catherine’s hair, at least on either side of her face, were becoming voluminous, gorgeous ringlets.

“See… Now this is a look befitting a doll…!” Bronwen wiggled against Catherine’s back, her red eyes shifting to yellow and then hooding low after a particularly slow blink. “This makes it much more obvious that you aren’t a person, that you aren’t just someone to go about your own day…

“Dollies like you are supposed to sit around, looking pretty, being pretty, waiting patiently to be played with…” Lips pressed to the top of Catherine’s head. She was so lost in her floaty bliss that she didn’t make a sound. She didn’t even quiver. “Good dollies are there for their owners to play with, and you are a very good dolly, aren’t you…?”

“I’m a good dolly…! Bronwen is always correct!”

Bronwen’s grin stretched her lips even further across her face, her eyes shifting to red with another blink. “Oh you’re such a jewel—no, you’re a dolly! But I know what I mean, and I’m the one who matters!”

“You’re the one that matters!”

Catherine echoed Bronwen’s thought, sounding just as excited and cheerful to reinforce Bronwen as the strange, red-and-black haired woman herself. Lost in her dreamlike state of doll obedience, Catherine existed as little more than a function of Bronwen’s commands. She didn’t react to the change of her hair, and if she understood Bronwen’s words she showed no sign of it.

“Mm. I like your voice. Maybe I’ll leave that… but… I said I’d make you… firmer, not just make your hair prettier, so…” Bronwen stood, dropping the brush down beside Catherine before she stepped slowly across the bed. Lowering to gather her own skirts, Bronwen shifted up to sit atop Catherine’s legs. “This is going to feel good. This is going to feel incredibly good. And what am I always?”

“Bronwen is always correct!”

“Exactly!” Bronwen’s hands grasped either side of Catherine’s face, and her eyes hooded low. “Then let’s give you a kiss that will change how you feel forever. Mmm. You’re going to give the best kisses after this… doll kisses are the best kisses…!”

Clutching her doll tight and possessive, sparing no effort or thought to Catherine’s comfort, Bronwen pulled her in quick and close for a deep kiss. Not only did their lips mash together roughly and passionately, but when Catherine’s lips parted as did Bronwen’s, the fae woman’s tongue darted in to stroke lavishly along Catherine’s tongue.

Still the doll did little to react, not moaning or arching, not moving her tongue to meet Bronwen’s, more allowing her mouth to open and contort as Bronwen needed it to for her own actions to proceed.

Catherine did nothing to fight the advance of Bronwen’s tongue, but she did nothing to welcome it. She was a dolly, a good dolly, and a polite dolly didn’t act on its own. She didn’t know how she knew that, or all of what that meant, but deep inside of her hazy feelings Catherine was certain the best thing she could do was offer a warm mouth to whatever ends Bronwen wished to use it.

Nothing she could do would possibly make it better.

The kiss wasn’t a short one, but Catherine didn’t need to breathe and Bronwen didn’t seem to need that, either. Something tingled from Bronwen’s lips, from her tongue, from the way her body mashed against Catherine’s own. It was warm and hot, but something about it made Catherine feel so much cooler, but not in a way that was unpleasant—not in a way that hurt at all.

Feels… cool… soft… feels…

Smoooooooth… mmmm… she wants me to be smooth… smooth is nice… nice is pretty… want to be a pretty dolly… yesss…

As the tingling spread out from every place their bodies met, Catherine could feel herself tingle as all of the imperfections in her skin smoothed away. The body hair across her face, along her arms, her legs, even the smallest, smoothest of hairs that were hardly unpleasant or unfeminine simply fell from her body as the hair that emerged from her skin was cut by the hardening texture of her skin itself.

The color was shifting itself, or more it was taking on a bright sheen. Without the same pores, without the same suppleness of skin, Catherine looked that much less like a human, and that much more like a doll.

Even her eyebrows fell away, until only the hair atop Catherine’s head and her eyelashes remained.

As the kiss broke, Bronwen pulled away, and stepped away to grab up a large plastic case before setting it down beside her dolly. Grasping a brush, she painted a pair of gorgeous, perfectly shaped brown eyebrows just above her dolly’s eyes. She unscrewed a brush of mascara, carefully darkening her dolly’s lashes.

Much like the way her more ornate brush changed Catherine’s hair, this smaller brush changed her lashes. They grew longer, thicker, shining not unlike Catherine’s skin.

“Oh… Oh dolly, you’re gorgeous like this…!”

“I’m a good dolly!”

“You are!” Bronwen giggled, sealing the makeup back away before she tapped a finger to her own lips. “But something is missing… something isn’t perfect, and you deserve to be a perfect dolly…!” Red eyes blinked, shifting to deep, emerald greens. “What do we do to fix this, how do we—!”

Bronwen blinked again, her eyes shifting to red as she grinned and grabbed a tube of lipstick.

“How could I forget…?!”

Laughing to herself, Bronwen slowly twisted the tube, pushing the smooth shape that emerged against Catherine’s lips that were no longer as supple as they’d once been. When the tube pulled back away, Catherine’s lips were now the very same color as her dress—a royal red.

Catherine was herself hardly royalty, but she was a doll fit for a princess.

Bronwen sighed. “Now, I think you’re very nearly perfect—definitely perfect for now. Making the perfect dolly is a process… and we wouldn’t want to rush that, would we?”

“Bronwen is always correct!”

Grinning wider than before, Bronwen nodded, and kissed her doll’s smooth, firm lips that could no longer even yield to her affections.