Parallax Tide — Part 5 — Dolls
Kylie Heisenberg was in the Coppelia, her garden, in the arms of her true love, Alyssa. She smiled and snuggled to her. Her golden-haired beloved’s eyes fluttered open, and she stretched a bit before cuddling back. The pretty lovers embraced, kissing, grinding their moist pussies and shaking in melodious extasy.
After the orgasm, the assassin notices everyone is around. Christina, Emily, Selena and Terri...All so beautiful, so loving.
“I’m...so glad to be back...” Pretty Kylie answered in a wavery, husky tone.
“We’re glad you’re back too, little sister.”
The reunion was interrupted by the arrival of a group of people in the Coppelia. As per the rules, they each had a claim to a night of flirting, loving, sexing, or all of the above with any of the Pretties, and thus they stood at attention, waiting to be chosen. To their dismay...none of them were. She tweaked Emily’s little nipples as Selena was eating her out with her expert tongue. She herself slid two -no, make that three- fingers up Terri’s crying snatch, and soon, all the Coppelia was moaning in sexed-up unison.
Just then, their creator, Lawrence Setton, stepped into the sacred garden, followed by four men in impeccable suits. Kylie could swear she recognized them from somewhere...The news, perhaps?
“Girls”, said Setton with a warm smile, “You have been offered a chance no love doll would bask at. Become mothers to a new world order of Pretties. Just step into the machines right there, we’ll do the rest.
There were brainwashing machines right where the snack bar normally is. There is five, even. No...Seven. Ten? They keep popping up! And each invites her, so sweetly.
“What is going to...happen?” Slurred Kylie.
“You will regress to infancy, and relearn everything from a slave’s perspective, my dear. You won’t even fathom a woman having any freedom. You’ll be a pure-bred slave, and once you are pregnant with these gentlemen of blue blood, you will educate your daughters in the same adoration of malekind. Toward a wonderful future. A Prettier fu...
Then she woke up. She heaved a sigh, and groaned “...Fuck.”
Kylie begrudgingly swept the wonderful dream out of her mind, and crept out of the Captain’s king-sized bed. Señor Fuckmunch’s galleon gala was seriously getting on her tits. She needed to get back to her Sisters now. It has only been two nights and she was already going crazy. Not because she was that impatient—she could manage the regular five days with her husband just fine—but because she knew she was somewhere in fucking Indonesia with no realistic perspective on how to fucking move in any foreseeable future. She could calm her luscious tits and get back to work on translating that damn library, or she could vent and kill something. Luckily, the captain had a rack of very nice, gold-decorated flintlock rifles. She imagined it could have served to shoot up a few Aztecs in Tenochtitlan.
“But if that the case, you could at least be in the gulf of Mexico, pendejo! Indonesia? Fuck’s this shit?!”
She grabbed one of the rifles. She wasn’t the best with antique stuff, understandably, but she had fired a few shots before. A bitch to reload, sure, but she only needed to fire once to calm her nerves. She stormed onto the deck, saw a bird ing overhead, and BLAM! Seconds later, a large, black bird with a massive red sac covering its breast came crashing on board. At the other side of the deck, near the helm, came a
“What the FUCK was that?!”
Ah, right, the biologist. Who then came up from a rope ladder on the ships side, coming to check.
“Holy...did you just shoot down a Great Frigatebird?”
“Yeah, had to vent. Why, protected species?”
Ashley looked at the large bird’s lifeless body. He hadn’t suffered. A single bullet from a flintlock rifle, right through the brain of a bird in high flight. That the claim of being an “Assassin” wasn’t mere bluster. Beneath that flighty looking demeanor hid one hell of a markswoman.
“Not particularly, they’re Least Concern, but they’re pretty rare in the Indian Ocean. That one was probably more of a straggler than a breeding male.”
“How do you know it’s a male? Usually can’t tell shit with birdbrains...”
“Did you miss the huge red throat sack? Can’t get much more gender dimorphic than the Frigatebirds.”
“Hmpf. Point taken. Well, in any case, we’re eating sea chicken tonight!”
“I’m not sure a bird that spends all of its life flying is any good for poultry, but I confess I’m curious about the darker side of the Darwinian method...”
“What, like beak comparing?”
“That’s the lighter side. He also had an ironclad habit of eating every animal he came across.”
“Huh. Well, we’re in the same Age of Sail boat then, I guess.”
“I’ll prepare the fire.” Said Ashley before departing.
Heisenberg absent-mindedly plucked the frigate’s strikingly black feathers, staring into the horizon. That dream weighed upon heart and mind in equal measure. Sure, they were more extreme in nature compared to her current reality—the Prettier World Foundation was staunchly against remolding their flock’s entire memories for instance—but one shameful side of her always had longed for such a radical treatment.
Being entirely submissive to the will of humans, to the point the very idea of resistance having basically been bred out of you...Being just a absolutely content, and supremely available sex doll. Would that really be so bad a fate? She wished she could surrender conscious thought to dream on, and on, forever. Didn’t that Shakespeare guy write about this exact subject? To die, to sleep, perchance to dream, she believed it went. “No, bad Pretty, you’re supposed to think happy thoughts, not bloody Hamlet!” Would surely chide Sir Setton. And he would be right. No point in wallowing in the darkness of the mind.
It was about 17:00 when the frigate was ready for the cooking. The coals were hot, the bird was plucked; and the weather was clear. It would have been better if Heisenberg and Dharen had been on a fresh lawn, but nothing can be perfect, can it? Kylie fantasized, on and on, above the deep blue sea.
“What’s in the bucket over there?” Inquired the biologist.
“Oh, I drained the blood. You know, make it easy for Draculina. The less she’s tempted to drink our blood the better.”
“You ain’t wrong about that, sister.”
Once the bird is roasted, they enjoy the crispy skin, but, much like Ashley expected, the meat is much too lean and tough to be enjoyed the way a chicken wing could. The flavor is here though.
“Hmm...I think it might have been better to prepare it in a slow boil. Barbequeuing was the wrong method.”
“Yeah, I see what you mean. Not that it’s bad, but it’s not serve the Coppelia’s customers material.”
“You keep bringing out this Coppelia, even in your sleep...” Observed Ashley, gnawing at a wing. “What is it exactly?”
Heisenberg sighed.
“My home. The place where I can be just a happy sex doll and not worry about anything else. A dream I’m forced to wake up from. Once I thought getting my freedom back, even for just the week being an assassin, was enough, but...I just want to be back to being a Pretty. It was just so warmer.”
“Wow, so, was it...some sort of cult?” Asked Ashley, concerned.
“In a way you could say that. A cult devoted to bring the beauty in our world and smother the hatred. I was the case subject, as it were. We aren’t slaves, we’re paid quite handsomely for every client we fuck. It’s more like our emotions are severely skewed towards love. In the end, I straddled the line, reclaimed my freedom as a psychopath, but still need that line to that beautiful, loving garden...And each day it gets increasingly difficult to choose whether I want to be the sadistic assassin or the doe-eyed lover.”
Suddenly, a loud “THUD” sounded behind the dining pair. Ashley merely jolted a bit, but Heisenberg jumped right on her feet, musket at the ready. No obvious enemy attack seemed forthcoming, however. All that was new was...a sort of life-sized human puppet. It was clad in an extremely skimpy denim miniskirt and electric blue bikini. Her elbows and knees were obvious robotic articulations, while the rest seemed human. Her eyes were wide open.
“Okay, what NOW?!” Swore Ashley in a forceful sigh.
“Let me check and hope that thing doesn’t look like us...” She turned the thing over. “She looks like us. Shit.”
“What, I already have a hard time buying into this parallel universe kukae, but now we’ve got dolls?”
Kylie Heisenberg prodded the doll, and made her lay supine. The thing bore no expression, and just stared into the distance. The Pretty pressed her fingers against her neck.
“Well, she has a pulse. Somehow.”
Ashley groaned.
“Jesus, can I just go back to my lethally venomous jellyfish, please?”
“Yeah, we both want off Señor Fuckface’s Wild Cruise, but one thing at a time, right? Sun’s still up, but we’ll ask the vampire what she thinks of this sitch once she wakes up. For now, let’s inspect that, yeah?”
“Without my help. I’m done with this irrational crap. I’ll just go fish.”
“Don’t let the mast clap your ass on the way out.”
Thus, the Pretty proceeded to inspect the strange new “Kylie” as best she could. The first thing that jumped at her was how warm she felt. The ts classified her without a doubt as mechanical, but there was definitely something organic there. She rolled the thing over, and found a tatoo on her lower back. Right where you might expect a tramp stamp, but...it wasn’t a tramp stamp. It was a barcode, over what looked to be a serial number, and under that... KA-I-111-ξ.
“Greek letter, huh? Was that one Epsilon, Sigma or Xi? Shit, no matter...Parallel dimension where we’re a robot. Got it.”
But something about it bugged the Pretty. A sense something was wrong. She caressed the doll’s inanimate yet invitingly warm flesh again, and again, from cheek to calves. She only realized it then. Much like herself, KA-I-111-ξ did not have any body hair left. This meant -well, maybe not outright meant, let’s go with “strongly indicated”— it was not only a robot, but a sex robot. A visit with her fingers to the inanimate’s pussy confirmed it. It was wet, quivering, inviting...Accompanied by a slight movement in its vacant eyes. That was a fuckdoll ready to be used.
And that made the Pretty’s blood boil.
She went back to the captain’s cabin and translated irately, until the sun sunk beneath the horizon. Down in the crew quarters, Wade awoke from her torpor...A bit shocked to see Heisenberg, sat on a chair right across her bed glaring at her.
“About time your undead ass woke up. Come on deck, you’ve got a bucket of blood and shit to do.”
Wow, immediately thought the cainite after emerging, forget ‘what got her panties in a twist’, this dollified version of her had an entire department store in a continental drift. She could have decked her in the face to cool her down a tad, but the vampire had to it she was intrigued, so she followed the Pretty as she stormed back onto the deck. There, she saw the puppet, still supine, eyes still wide open. Wade sighed.
“Okay, so another parallel universe sends us a realdoll of ourselves. Any further reason why you look ready to punch the Empire State Building?”
“Scan her with your speccy or whatever. I think you’ll be surprised.”
“For what? No life energies there, that’s a thing, not a human.”
“Open your eye and look better, then, princess fang. I know sex dolls. There’s a human in there.”
“Doubt it, but alright, alright, nothing better to do anyway...”
The vampire then knelt beside the immobile doll, opened her third eye and began to touch its skin.
“Okay...First, that’s not flesh.”
“It’s warm though, no way that’s silicone.”
“No, for sure, it’s something very lifelike...But there isn’t anything natural about it. One Power vampires have is fleshcrafting. I myself have only notions, like I can change skin tone at most, but everything I do have tells me that’s not human skin. There’s...some traces of it, but like 95% is synthetized in some way. Scanning a bit deeper...Muscles do seem more organic in nature, about a third.”
“What about the organs?”
“Not well versed enough in fleshcrafting to go that deep. Sorry, that’s expert shit.”
“What about the mind? You’re an expert at that, aren’t you?”
“Yeah. Lesse...”
Wade took a deep breath, and put her index and middle finger on the doll’s forehead.
“Alright, that is strange.”
“Go on...?”
“There is definitely a human mind there, or at least the structure of one. It’s just...an empty wasteland. Scoured clean. Where there should be an obnoxiously impenetrable jungle, I see only salt flats.”
“Mind erasure? That’s not...”
The Pretty grumbled, lost in thought, and the bloodsucker frowned.
“Okay, you’re clearly thinking about something personal, I don’t know what, and that irks me. Don’t make me scan your assassin mind, girl, I’ve got enough violence on the brain as is. Out with it!”
Heisenberg sighed.
“This version of us has been turned into a sex slave. Just like I nearly was. You’re goddamn right it’s personal.”
“Aight, I can respect that.” Abonded Wade.
“Is there...really nothing in her noggin’? There have to be at least some remnants, right?”
“Yeeeaaah, there are, but...It’ll take me some time to unearth them. It’s like...She’s forgotten how to even fucking think.”
“Dammit, it’s not like any slave ring I know in my world. CreaMinds would have filled her with a new identity, Biohack would rather be caught in a nuclear blast than replace her ts with actual machinery. Paradise Island could have done something like that but I personally put a grim bloody end to their tale...Nope, can’t function in of my world, this obviously comes from another reality and another set of rules...”
“Hey!” Shouted the vampire. “Stop biting your fingers over there, will ya? I think I can recover her...Given enough time. What remnants of her identity are there, screaming for release...But they’re facing a cliff of barren oblivion, and I can’t help her climb it that in a single night.”
Heisenberg glanced at the Captain’s cabin. Yeah...Not much else to do but translate this damn library. Again.
“I’ll leave you to it then. Oh, and the bucket o’blood is yours. Frigatebird, if miss Science over there is to be believed.”
“The ones with the huge red sack under the beak? Huh, why not. Thanks.”
After a warm drink and a few heaves—this animal was a damn sight better than the rats- but still nearing vomit comet, Wade took it upon herself to announce...
“Okay, who’s who of evil mind controlling enterprises! I’ll be your host, Kylie Wade. And for our next question, we’ve goooot!”
Wade turned the doll around, thus revealing the barcode.
“What doth thine depressingly dual eyes spy of meaning on this trampest of stamps, O contender?”
“I could do without the theatrical show host.”
“Well, tough, HARLOT. Now is the time for answers!”
“Alright, so what that tells me is the enslaving outfit has zero fear of operating out in the open. Which only matches Paradise Island, which, I insist, massacred myself. So...In that reality, brainwashing facilities are...official?”
“Oooh, the plot thickens! Might they be a little CIA or a lot KGB? Perhaps both! Either way, no way for our contestants to make sure! Parallel Universes bullshit GooOooOO!”
Heisenberg was about to show that vampire bitch just what kind of guns she had, when a door appeared out of thin air. And out came a bearded gentleman in a brown, impeccable suit.
“We would like to recover our asset, without violence should you not mind.”