Dollstories.net

(Story devised with help from Kentwolf.)

The Acme Doll Company, located in a sprawling industrial park in Western Long Island, received an unusual visitor one autumn Monday morning at 11:00 am sharp. The woman who approached the receptionist was blonde, lovely, and dressed in an attractive white blouse and charcoal-gray skirt that were just barely conservative enough to be business attire. And she was surely not more than three feet tall. She had to stand well back from the front desk for the receptionist to see her at all.

"I have an appointment with Mr. Kittredge," said the miniature woman, so nervous that her high-pitched voice cracked. The receptionist stared at her, but the young woman was accustomed to that reaction.

"Mr. Kittredge Sr. or Jr.?" asked the receptionist. "Oh, I'm not sure," said the little blonde, suddenly worried. "Maybe I should come back another time?" She involuntarily started backing toward the door, even though she had traveled all the way from the city.

"Is your name Caroline Parker?" asked the receptionist, looking at her schedule. "Have a seat, please. Mr. Kittredge will be with you shortly."

Still looking uneasy, the tiny but perfectly formed woman walked to the far side of the waiting room and stood waiting. Climbing into a chair was a project she didn't feel like undertaking at the moment.

Charles Kittredge Jr. was all of 23 years old, a shy, socially awkward boy who was the operating manager of his family business. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw little Caroline Parker, whose black high-heels did little to compensate for her freakish shortness. Charles' mouth fell open, and he couldn't summon the social grace even to greet his visitor.

The blonde took the initiative and stepped forward. "Mr. Kittredge?" she said.

"Yes," said the manager.

"We spoke on the phone on Friday," said the lovely blonde.

"Yes, I remember," said the boy, finally beginning to recover his composure.

"If this is a bad time..." said Caroline, whose anxiety was gradually turning to terror.

"No, no, please," said Charles, pointing the way to his office. Once there, Caroline took a pile of books from a shelf and used them to climb into a chair, with surprising poise. Charles stupidly stared at her instead of offering to help, then sat behind his desk.

"I never would have come here, except that you seemed so nice on the phone," said Caroline, her eyes darting nervously around the room.

"I *am* nice. I mean...I'm really sorry if I seem rude. I didn't think you'd be so..." Charles stopped.

"So short?," said Caroline.

"So beautiful," said Charles.

Caroline smiled a little. Charles had accidentally said the right thing to ease her anxiety. "So I don't really know how to say this," she started. "I'm sorry I pretended during our phone conversation. I'm not a buyer or anything like I said I was."

"I know, you told me," said Charles. "What line of business are you in?"

"I'm an assistant branch manager for Chase," said Caroline. "49th and 6th in Manhattan."

"Oh," said Charles. His eyes wandered to Caroline's breasts, which looked wonderfully full under her proper white blouse. Looking up again, he saw that Caroline had totally caught him looking. He quickly glanced at the ceiling, then resumed a business-like posture. "So...do you just have a personal interest in dolls?" he asked awkwardly.

Caroline had other things on her mind besides Charles peeking at her boobs. "Okay, listen, I'm going to blurt this out," she said. "Usually I'm not shy at all, but this is probably the weirdest thing that I've ever done in my life." She took a deep breath. "The fact is that I have no personal interest in dolls whatsoever."

"Okay," said Charles.

"But I have a boyfriend, a very nice man. We've been dating for six months now, and it's going really well."

"Okay. I mean, that's really nice," said Charles.

"And his birthday is coming up next Saturday. And I want to do something really special for him. And I know that he has this fantasy. About me."

Charles sat very still.

"*He's* the one who has a personal interest in dolls. And so I need to pretend I'm a doll for his birthday."

"You need to?" said Charles.

"I mean, he'll be very disappointed if I don't," said Caroline, visibly nervous. "And I know how much he likes your company's dolls."

Caroline stopped, as if waiting for a response. But Charles didn't help her out.

"As you can see, I'm the same size as the dolls you make here," she continued.

"Yes, I noticed," said Charles.

"Exactly the same size," said Caroline. "I thought about buying one of your dolls and trying to get into the box. In fact, I bought one and tried."

"That won't work," said Charles.

"No, that didn't work at all," said Caroline. "I don't know how you manage to attach those dolls and seal the box, but..."

"It's all done by machines," Charles said. "Once the box is open, you can't reuse it."

"Yes, that's what I found out," said Caroline.

"The box is actually 100% recyclable," said Charles. "Even the plastic."

"That's nice," said Caroline. "What I'm trying to say is that I need some help with this. In fact, even if your box was a normal box with a flap that opened and closed, I would certainly need some help. And I don't know anyone who could help me with this particular project, except for the person who is getting the surprise present."

"Would you excuse me for a second?" said Charles.

"Of course," said the tiny woman, perched precariously on the edge of her chair. Charles rose, left the office, walked straight to the men's room, entered a stall, and started jerking off furiously. Within ten seconds his jizz hit the wall, still rising, like a Babe Ruth homer in Yankee Stadium. He slouched against the stall door, breathing heavily. His impossible fantasy was sitting right in front of him in his office! A fantasy so crazy he never dared dream it could come true! Looking down, he saw that he hadn't lost his erection at all, and immediately started masturbating again.

In the fullness of time he returned to his office. "Sorry about the delay," he said awkwardly.

"That's okay," said the beautiful little woman.

"Nature calls," he said. 'Shut up, you asshole,' he thought to himself.

Charles sat down. "What surprises me," he said, "is that someone with no personal interest in dolls would go to such great trouble."

"How old are you, Mr. Kittredge?" said Caroline, tossing her hair back prettily. "Early twenties?"

"Yes, more or less," said Charles.

"I'm only a few years older than you, but women learn the facts of life earlier than men. You might think that some man out there might love me for myself and overlook my size. But the world doesn't work that way. There are men who think I'm a freak and wouldn't come near me, and there are men who are turned on by the idea of a very small girl. And that's all there are. There's no one in the middle. Every man I will ever be with in my life is going to be a bit of a pervert. And every long-term partner I will have is going to be a total pervert."

"Yes, I see," said Charles.

"And that's okay," said Caroline. "Perverts are like anyone else, no better or worse. I've made a study of it. What I'm trying to say is that a girl like me is in no position to ignore her man's interests, no matter how she might personally feel about them."

Charles nodded.

"I've made my peace with it," added Caroline.

"But you don't personally enjoy that sort of thing?" said Charles.

"Mr. Kittredge, I receive quite a lot of doll-like treatment in everyday life," she said. "It's a bit of a sore point."

"I see," he said.

"So can you help me?" she asked.

Charles thought for a second. "You want me to put you in a box?" he said.

"Yes, at my boyfriend's apartment on Saturday morning. It would need to be done before noon."

"That won't work," Charles said. "I might be able to do what you want, but I'll need to do it here."

Caroline looked unhappy.

"What I might be able to do is package you here, and then take you to the apartment after you're packaged," he said.

"I wish you wouldn't talk about packaging me as if I were a doll," said the tiny blonde.

"Sorry," said Charles.

"That's okay," said Caroline. "Take me to the apartment how?"

"In our delivery truck, with a handcart."

"Good lord," said Caroline. "This is crazy, isn't it."

"The delivery is the normal part," said Charles. "We make early morning delivery runs every day. I'll just go along on this trip to make sure everything comes off properly."

"A handcart..." said Caroline, frowning.

"It's the rest that's kind of crazy. But I'll do it."

"You will?" said Caroline. "Thank you so much. Can you tell me what this will cost?"

"It won't cost anything," said Charles.

"Oh, my God, really?" said Caroline. "That's so nice of you."

"There's one thing I have to warn you about, though," said Charles. "I'll have to do a lot of things manually that a machine normally does. Fitting you into the box, and such."

"Yes?"

"So I'll have to...I mean..."

"Touch me?"

"Well, yes."

"That's okay."

"A lot," said Charles, fidgeting in his chair.

"I don't know who's more embarrassed, me or you," said Caroline.

Charles' face was beet-red. "I won't be able to be polite about it."

"I think I trust you, Mr. Kittredge," said Caroline, smiling.

Charles sighed in relief. "Call me Charles, please," he said.

----

On the fateful Saturday morning at 3 am, little Caroline clambered out of her taxi and rang the Acme warehouse doorbell. Under her trenchcoat, she was wearing a tight-fitting leotard, as Charles had requested.

A woman who worked at the factory answered the door. After the usual surprise at Caroline's stature, the factory girl led her to the machine room, where Charles was waiting. The room was the size of an airplane hangar, and was filled with strange equipment and conveyor belts.

"Thank you, Gina," said Charles. Looking suspiciously at the little blonde, Gina exited.

"I wish you had answered the door yourself," said Caroline. She was more even more nervous than on her last visit.

"Sorry," said Charles. "I didn't think it mattered."

"She suspects something," said Caroline.

"We're not breaking the law or anything. She'll be in the inspection area for the rest of the night, and you'll never see her again."

"What is she inspecting?"

"We'll be filling orders all night. The process is entirely automated, but a human inspector has to check all the dolls before they leave the factory."

"Charles, I'm having second thoughts about this," said Caroline.

Charles looked down at Caroline, forgetting to hide his disappointment. "Well...it's up to you, of course," he said.

"I don't know what to do," said Caroline, putting her head in her hand. She paced prettily back and forth, barely covering any ground.

Charles was at a loss for words. "You must like this boyfriend a lot to do something like this for him."

"He's okay," said Caroline.

"You mean..." Charles stopped awkwardly in mid-sentence.

"I mean, I *do* like him a lot. Let's do this thing," said Caroline, suddenly making up her mind. "It's no big deal."

"Okay," said Charles, relieved.

"This place is scary," said Caroline, looking around.

"Let me show you the system," said Charles. He strode off into the vast space, too excited to realize that poor little Caroline had to trot along like a dog to keep up with him.

They walked to a machine that was twelve feet tall and thirty feet long, a Rube Goldberg device with belts, pipes, and vents entering and exiting it everywhere. "This is where the dolls are shaped," said Charles.

Caroline got up on tiptoes to peer into the insides of the machine. "Do you want a boost?" said Charles, a little too casually.

"Please," she said. Charles picked the tiny girl up by the waist and lifted her into mid-air, showing her the conveyor belt that carried materials into the depths of the system. Caroline seemed to him to weigh nothing at all. Charles hoped that the system would fascinate her so much that she wouldn't notice his sudden erection.

"Do the dolls come out the other end all boxed up and ready to go?" asked Caroline.

"No, that's a separate system," said Charles. "There's a second system for clothing and accessories, and a third for packaging.'

Charles put Caroline down and walked her to the other side of the conveyor belt, where he lifted a puppet-like object out of a rolling bin. It was a human figure, exactly Caroline's size, with facial and body features but no fine detail. He held the object up next to Caroline, its limbs dangling.

"That's a doll?" she asked.

"It will be," he said. He dropped the figure at Caroline's feet: it collapsed in a tiny pile, its limbs and joints folding loosely on top of each other.

"Why is it so floppy?" she asked.

"It has to be shaped into various different positions, and it has to be partially posable," said Charles. "The first thing that happens is that this template is covered in a thin coat of rubber, the density of which we can control, square centimeter by square centimeter. The coat is hardened where we want the doll to be immovable, and softened where we want the doll to be posable."

"Why is it so anatomically correct?" Caroline asked, suspiciously.

"Uh...different countries want..." Charles, faltered, embarrassed.

"Different countries?"

"Japan, especially," said Charles, looking at the ground.

"These aren't sex dolls, are they?" said Caroline.

"No, they're perfectly normal children's dolls," said Charles, vehemently.

"They're pretty sexy for children's dolls," said Caroline.

"Let me show you," said Charles. They walked to the far end of the system, where a row of naked dolls were lying in a row on a rolling platform, waiting to be fed into the clothing system, their eyes closed as if sleeping. The formerly featureless dolls had emerged from the shaping system with surprisingly lifelike features and a great deal of bodily detail. All the dolls were in the same posture, arms open in a welcoming gesture.

Charles pulled a doll down off the platform to show to Caroline. The doll's eyes snapped open as he placed it upright.

"How does that work?" said Caroline.

"Magnets," said Charles. "The eyelashes are magnetized. It's much better than the old weight-based technology, but it doesn't work in areas that are too close to the earth's magnetic poles. We can't ship these models to the Scandinavian market, for instance."

"These are even sexier now that they're painted," said Caroline. The doll's nipples and nails were painted a light pink, in contrast to the more garish makeup painted onto the face.

"But they aren't sex dolls," said Charles. "Go ahead and check it out if you want."

"No, thank you," said Caroline.

"Well, we'd better get started," said Charles nervously.

They returned to the intake area of the first system. Caroline seemed resigned to what she was about to do, and was in an odd, almost light-hearted mood.

"So, now..." said Charles, and stopped.

"Yes?"

"I have to measure you."

"Okay. Should I take this off?"

"Yes, please," said Charles.

Caroline took off her tiny trenchcoat and threw it aside. She stood in a black leotard that revealed her miniature but perfect figure. Caroline's proportions were lavish: if she were a normal height, her bust and hip measurements would probably be about 40 inches each. But the extra flesh fore and aft looked just right on someone her size.

Charles tried to keep his composure. "I'm sorry there are no chairs for you here," he said.

"I can sit up there, if you'll help me," said Caroline. Charles gingerly lifted the adorable leotard-clad girl and placed her on the edge of the conveyor belt, where she sat dangling her legs carelessly and watching him as he entered data into the system's computer.

"Why are you even using this system?" she asked idly. "You're not putting me in this machine, are you?"

"Oh, no," said Charles.

"What would happen to me in there?" Caroline asked, peering into the mouth of the system.

"I have no idea," said Charles. "We really don't want to try it. It wasn't built for people."

"I'm certainly glad to hear that," said Caroline. "Then why are you using the system?"

"The packaging has to be custom made for your size," he said. "And the packaging system gets its data from this system. If you were a real doll, you'd be measured automatically. But I can't send you through there, so I have to measure you manually and fill in these fields manually, then share the data on the network. And the clothing system also pulls data from here."

"I brought my own clothing," said Caroline.

"Oh," said Charles, looking up.

"There's a see-through nightie folded up in the pocket of that trenchcoat," she said.

"Okay," he said, seeming disappointed. "You don't want to use our doll clothing? I assumed that that was what your boyfriend was interested in."

"He'll be happy enough just getting me into a doll box," she said. "I haven't had any complaints about this nightie."

Charles went back to his work. Caroline eyed him with amusement, swinging her little leotard-clad legs like a child.

"You enjoy your work, don't you?" said Caroline.

"Sure," Charles said. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean," she said.

Charles stared down at the computer screen in embarrassment. "Any woman in the world would notice when she has the effect on a man that I'm having on you," Caroline said. "And definitely a woman whose eyes are at your crotch level."

Blood was pounding in Charles' ears. But Caroline didn't seem offended. "You didn't found this business, did you?"

"My father did," murmured Charles. "But he's semi-retired."

"Does he enjoy his work too?"

"I think dolls are just a way of making a living for him," said Charles. "But I grew up here."

"I see. You have fond memories?"

"The first time I remember walking around this floor, I wasn't even as tall as..." Charles stopped.

"As me?" said Caroline.

"As the dolls," said Charles.

He left the computer console and looked at Caroline. "If we're going to make the morning delivery, we'd better get going," he said hastily.

"I'm ready," said Caroline.

"Wait, the tape measure! I left it in my office," said Charles, distressed.

"Go get it then," said Caroline. "I thought you did this for a living."

"I never measured a doll manually in my life!" said Charles. "Wait a minute, I'll be right back."

He ran out of the warehouse. Caroline smiled to herself. The boy was pretty, though way too young for her. But the attention she was getting was nice. She stretched and leaned back, right into the electric-eye sensors of the system's intake unit. Before she could even scream, she was twenty feet inside the shaping system, held down by robotic arms and half-peeled out of her leotard.

When Charles returned, Caroline was nowhere to be seen. He yelled her name several times, but received no answer. Why would she wander around? It couldn't have been that easy for her to get down from her perch. Did she have another attack of cold feet, and decide to abort her crazy plan? But her trenchcoat was still where she threw it: she wouldn't have left it behind, would she? He called her name again, walking the length of the system.

Five feet from where he was standing, Charles' new friend had been crammed into a small heating unit, the shape of a doll's body. Caroline had already been stripped naked and doused in a hot, thick rubbery substance that clung to her tiny curves. The lid of the heating unit had been closed, and a coat of rubber doll skin was being baked onto her with infrared radiation, at the precise temperature appropriate for each part of her. Charles heard the machinery working, but it was the most familiar sound in the world to him, and Caroline's muffled cries were inaudible inside the doll oven.

The panicky Charles made a quick tour of the entire machine room, checking in every corner. Exhausted, he came to rest at the rolling platform he had shown Caroline, where two newly shaped dolls were waiting to be fed into the clothing system. Thanks to the speed of the shaping system, Caroline was one of them. If Charles had been alert to all possibilities, he might have noticed that he was standing next to a doll with a hefty set of tits, not an item that his company specialized in.

Interestingly, Caroline's lush figure was the only obvious way she could be clearly distinguished from any other product of the factory. Her face had been molded into an adorable doll-like pout, with O-shaped red lips and arched eyebrows, and painted in bright skin tones. And her natural blonde hair had been pasted to her scalp by her rubber coating, and covered with a luxurious head of flowing, tight whitish-yellow curls. Caroline's legs were slightly parted, and a sharp observer could have noted that, even covered in hardened rubber, she made the most anatomically correct doll in Acme's history.

The doll next to Caroline was suddenly flipped over onto an adjoinng belt and sucked into the clothing system. Another doll zipped out of the shaping system and was deposited by Caroline's side. Unable to move a muscle, in a pose identical to all the other dolls in this batch - arms at her side, open palms pointed forward, in a gesture of welcome to the little girl who would be her new owner - the naked, rubber-coated assistant branch manager was mentally screaming for Charles to rescue her. He came so close to her that his hand brushed against her tiny pink-tipped rubberized toes. But her face looked so adorable and happy, and so identical to the inviting faces of the other dolls, that no one would have guessed her mental anguish. She might have been able to gesture with her eyes, but she had been laid flat on the belt, and her glued-on, butterfly-like artificial eyelashes were magnetically sealed as long as she remained supine. In a few more seconds, the clothing system was ready for Caroline: she was flipped onto the belt, her protuberant little ass facing up, and was whisked quickly away to be enveloped in lace and taffeta.

After hours of searching, Charles headed wearily home, not knowing what to do next. He had Caroline's phone number, but she wasn't answering. Thinking about whether to report a missing person, he arrived at his apartment as the sun was rising.

In his living room, flat on the floor, was a familiar site: an Acme doll box. It wasn't the first time that the morning delivery truck had deposited packages in his apartment: the front desk kept a copy of his keys. But he hadn't been expecting a delivery, and there were currently no new product lines that required his approval.

Amazed, he walked over and peered into the box. It took him a while to be sure, but the beautiful little doll inside simply had to be Caroline.

The tiny bank manager had expected to be in a doll box by this time, but she had never dreamed that she would have been turned into an actual doll before being placed in it. She had been done up with all the trimmings. The hard rubber skin that held her perfectly still gleamed brightly with the reflected light of the sun coming through the window. Her eyebrows had been painted black and full; her black eyelashes were so long that they brushed against the clear plastic window of her packaging. Her cheeks had been painted a rosy pink; her lips were colored a dark, shiny red, and curved into a perfect circle. Her new head of flowing, curly hair filled the upper half of her box and framed her perfect and blissful features.

She was wearing a frilly gingham dress covered with bows and lace, not designed to contain the bulge of her heavy breasts, which pushed threateningly against the fabric. The skirt of her dress dissolved into a cascade of lace that stopped short enough to reveal the crotch of her little white panties, adorned with a row of tiny pink bows down the middle. The curves of her shiny naked thighs and calves were startling and provocative emerging from so many layers of girlish undergarments. They tapered to white socks with multiple rows of frills and tiny black patent-leather slippers on her diminutive feet. Plastic zip ties that had been sealed by heat fastened her tight to a durable pink and blue cardboard sheet against the rear wall of her container.

Charles picked up the card attached to the box. It said, "I believe this belongs to you. Gina." Charles wasn't surprised: there was only one human intelligence on the night shift who could have shipped Caroline to him. Even if he hasn't seen the slight fog of Caroline's breath on the box's plastic window, Charles knew that Caroline had to be okay if Gina had inspected her and concluded that her boss was going in for kinky sex games.

There was absolutely no expression on Charles' face as he grabbed the box and placed it on its end, so that Caroline was head up. The little doll's eyes popped open. Unlike the rest of her, they looked human: blue, pleading, with tears in the corners. Yet the rest of Caroline's face was happy, inviting and adorable. Charles sat on the floor in front of the box and met Caroline's desperate eyes, which she was unable to close against the magnetic field that held them wide open. He looked down at her lacy panties. There was an unmistakable patch of dampness right at the bottom. He looked back at Caroline's doll face, which returned his stare helplessly. She had followed his glance, and there was a new trace of alarm in her eyes.

"This is too much," said Charles, quietly. The little Caroline doll looked back at him, lips prettily rounded and open. Charles had a strange expression on his face that she had never seen, and his voice was getting louder with each word he spoke. "I'm not a criminal," he said, "I've never done anything wrong in my life, but every man has his breaking point, and I've just hit mine!"

Jumping to his feet, Charles unzipped his pants, whipped out his erect dick, and started masturbating feverishly, inches from Caroline's rubber-coated face. He seemed to be casting aside 23 years of inhibition. "Ohhh, God!," he yelled. "You and that damned boyfriend of yours...Well, he's not the only one who has ideas about what to do with a doll! I've been piling up those ideas all my life! Later on, you can visit me in jail and tell me which one of us had the better imagination! Oh, Jesus!" Charles came hard all over the plastic window of Caroline's box. Her face was invisible until Charles retrieved a tissue and wiped the jizz away. The Caroline doll was still looking innocently and happily at him.

"Okay, little doll. Here we go," said Charles.

Caroline's eyes snapped involuntarily shut as her box was placed flat again. "Well, at least I was all ready for this to happen today," she thought. "My legs are shaved, I took my birth control pill. I hope my breath is okay..." She felt herself being pulled out of her box by her lace-covered ankles.

21.11.11