Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

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Paul sighed and collapsed into his chair after dismissing his students, not caring if they noticed his distress. Waking up that morning, Paul knew that day was going to be one of those life-draining Mondays the moment he forgot to throw his clothes into the dryer, and went to work with his clothes sticking to his skin in an unpleasant way. Despite his most enthusiastic efforts, today was tiring as it was disappointing. And it wasn’t even over. He was free of lectures but there were papers to be graded and projects to assign. Why he ever decided to become an Music History professor, he still doesn’t know. Suppose that’s what he got for following his dreams strictly based on his father’s wishes.

His eyes naturally fell onto his desk before settling on the framed photo of his mother. His late mother. With her chestnut brown hair and eyes that seemed to smile even when she wasn’t. Beautiful Mary. Life wasn’t so bad when she was around. He remembered the joy that would greet his heart first thing in the morning, and the smiles that greeted him second. The grief that assaulted him everyday after her death was unbearable at best, but was now replaced (or collaborating) with his crippling loneliness. Nearly everyone knew about his string of failed partners, specifically his most recent one with the sweet and talented Jane Asher. Starting as high school sweethearts and fizzling out of love in an unremarkable whirlwind of awkward glances and fleeting touches. 

As time went by he discovered that he just craved a warm body to sleep with, but had little to no motivation to go out and meet someone. Besides, he was convinced that no one would be able to keep up with his busy life and dubious moods. He wouldn’t even try to find someone that could. Just a single night with someone. That’s all he needed. Maybe even someone he could spend his money on. Paul won’t admit it aloud but he had too much money to deal with, thanks to his rigorous work ethic (and celebrity father).

Paul’s hands ran over his clammy face when George Martin entered- or Professor Martin, Paul felt obligated to correct. He was smiling that usually handsome smile of his, swinging his keys on his finger. Paul smiled tightly.

“Afternoon, George.”

“Evening, professor.” Martin corrected as he stopped at Paul’s desk. Paul froze and looked at the watch wrapped around his wrist. Jesus. He could have sworn it was just two.

“Well. Evening, then.”

“Richard and I are having drinks at mine, if you want to join.”

Paul’s head was shaking even before Martin finished his proposal. “Can’t, George. I’ve got these papers to grade, and projects that need…” Paul trailed off upon noticing Martin’s irritated look, the man dropping his keys onto Paul’s desk as though they suddenly weighed a ton.

“Paul.” Martin sighed. “You can’t keep doing this.”

Paul sat up, on the defense. “Doing what?”

“Wasting your life away grading papers and handing out assignments. You’re 25 years old, don’t you think you should live your life before it’s too late?”

Paul laughed, though he didn't find anything amusing. “You’re starting to sound like my students.” Martin’s expression told Paul that he didn’t find anything funny either.

“Just one drink, Paul. You said so yourself, that you wish to not be cooped up inside all the time, grading papers.”

Paul hated it when Martin was right, because he got that smug and knowing look on his face that drove Paul up the wall. But he was right. Paul was a hypocrite in the way he expressed his desire to meet someone, only to trap himself in the confines of his lonely house doing work. A six year old could point out the inconsistencies there. His shoulders slumped in defeat as well as acceptance and he stood. 

“Alright I’ll join you. But only for tonight!”

Martin’s grin was contagious. “Whatever you say. I’m just glad to have you back.”

*******

Paul’s palms were damp with sweat by the time he pulled up to Martin’s house, and he didn’t know why. He saw Martin almost every day at the University, what was so different about his house? Paul use to be a frequent visitor to Martin’s before he became a hermit, so he knew what it was like to spend time with him in a more intimate environment. That fact alone made Paul know that he was being irrational. Plus, Richard was there. He wasn’t as close as Paul and Martin were, but he was a kind enough bloke to soothe Paul’s irrational nerves.

Judging by the extra cars outside, Paul could safely assume that Richard had already joined Martin. Great, not only was he unnecessarily nervous, but he was late as well. He sighed and climbed out of the car and made his way to Martin’s front door. After knocking once, he waited a few moments and was shocked to see it answered so fast, and was taken aback to see someone other than Martin or Richard answer the door.

“Oh. Hello.”

“Hi...” Standing in Martin’s doorway was a man who looked to be around the same age as Martin maybe a little younger, with pale skin and dark hair. He was beautiful, Paul couldn’t help but notice. His light eyes widened as he stared at Paul in morbid curiosity, making Paul feel like he had twelve heads. Paul opened his mouth to greet him again but was cut off by Martin rushing forward and pulling the man away, chuckling nervously.

“Brian! I told you not to answer the door. Paul, come in.”

Paul shook off the strange interaction and entered. He peeled off his shoes as he watched Martin close the door, whispering something to the shorter man. He cleared his throat slightly, enough to make it seem organic while also gaining their attention. Martin looked to Paul and placed his hand on Brian’s shoulder.

“Paul. This is Brian. He’s my...husband.”

Paul’s face fell completely. Did Martin say what he thought he said? Husband?

“Husband?”

Martin smiled warmly and lowered his hand to wrap around Brian’s waist before pulling the man closer. “Yes.” He snapped out of his smile to suddenly bring his hand to his face with a frown. “God, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

Paul couldn’t say anything as he just stared at Martin. 

“Don’t worry! We haven’t been married for that long. Only for...two months?”

“I didn’t know you were seeing anyone at all.” Paul finally managed to get out. “Let alone long enough to marry them.”

Martin chuckled awkwardly and rubbed at his neck. “It’s the 21st Century. Who’s to dictate how soon you can marry someone?”

 Meanwhile Brian stood close to his husband, smiling almost blankly. Paul didn’t care. He was waiting for an explanation.

It appeared that he wouldn’t be getting that explanation when Richard’s heavy hand clasped his shoulder, startling Paul. Paul nearly screamed and turned around to face the shorter man. His blue eyes already glossed over in inebriation.

“God, you nearly scared me shitless, mate.”

Richard laughed a bit too loudly. “Sorry, Paul!”

Paul smiled nervously down at the man. “It’s alright. Say- where can I drink what you’ve obviously been sipping on?”

Martin snorted as Richard aimed a clumsy punch at Paul’s shoulder. “This way, my friend.” Martin whispered into Brian’s ear again, which made the man jolt ever so slightly before hurriedly making his way upstairs. Paul thought his reaction was strange, but ignored his suspicions to follow Martin to the kitchen. He didn’t realize how much he was craving a drink until he smelled the whiskey on Richard’s  breath. “Richard you ought to have a seat somewhere before you go crashing into something of mine.”

“Bah.” Richard waved him off but fell into the bar stool anyway, sluggishly climbing into the seat and nearly tipping it over. Paul shook his head at the man before turning to watch Martin pour him a drink. He made a mental note to not get too drunk, seeing that he had a lecture tomorrow. Paul’s never missed a class and he doesn’t want to let his students down, even though they probably wish he would. It was just difficult for Paul to break consistent trends. Just one glass. That’s all he needed anyways.

Martin slid the glass Paul’s way and he downed it quickly. Martin raised his brows.

“Wow. Someone needed that.”

Paul only nodded as he let the burning liquid glide down his throat, leaving a fiery trail in its path. Footsteps could be heard descending the stairs, something Paul was going to ignore as he just assumed it was Brian making a return, but that was before he realized it was two pairs of feet this time. He halfway turned and saw Brian walk into the kitchen, only to be followed by another man. Or a boy- what he looked like to Paul. Not exactly a child, but younger than Martin and Richard were. He was also pretty stunning, with his pale skin and thick dark hair, and eyes that were just as dark. Paul didn’t say anything as he watched the boy make his way towards Richard, throwing his arms around his shoulders before pressing a kiss to his flushed cheek.

“Hiya, Georgie.” Richard slurred, stroking a thumb against the boy’s cheek, who purred and slinked into his lap. Paul blinked at the couple before turning back to Martin and Brian, who were also glued to one another. And it was in that moment when Paul realized:

He was the only single man in that room.

It’s been established that Paul didn’t remember Martin ever meeting anyone to marry, but Richard? If Paul had any hope that someone would stay single for the sake of his mental stability, that it would be Richard. He was starting to feel attacked. Did they purposely hide their relationships from him for this moment? To embarrass and make him feel ostracized from the group more than he already did? He wanted to say aloud everything he was feeling, but didn’t want to be responsible for the night getting ruined. So he awkwardly cleared his throat. Again.

“So, Rich. Who’s- er, your lad?”

“My lad?” Richard slurred. He placed a hand on the boys hip to pull him further up his lap. “‘S George. Ain’t he sweet?”

George giggled and ducked his face into Richard’s neck when his cheek was pinched. Paul smiled tightly and nodded, but didn’t want to say anything else. He looked to Martin who’s eyes shot away from him as soon as he turned. He rubbed at Brian’s shoulder as he sipped his glass despite it being nearly empty. Paul pursed his lips.

“George.”

“Hm?”

“Pour me another.”

A few shots later and Paul was absolutely plastered. Every glance at Brian squeezing on Martin’s hand or George cuddled to Richard’s side only made him want another shot. Martin had to cut him off knowing that Paul was the one who drove himself there. 

“I used to think you acted geriatric for your age, but I see you’ve got that 25 year old liver.”

Of course Paul was annoyed, but realized that he was drunk enough to make it through the rest of the night.

The friends were gathered in the living room, Paul lounging in the recliner and the couples on the couch. They were having a conversation amongst each other, and even tried to engage Paul in their discussion but gave up when he gave short, choppy, utterances as responses. Paul found that he could only watch them enjoy themselves for so long, though, but didn’t want to truly partake in their conversation.

“So.” He started loudly. “What is this about?”

Martin blinked. “What’s what about, Paul?”

“All of this.” Paul motioned vaguely at them. “One day, you’re all single, and now you’re not? Martin, you’re married for fucks sake!”

Martin raised his hands. “Paul. Lower your voice, please.” Martin shot a nervous look to George and Brian, who were starting to tense up and...shake? Paul slouched in his seat, realizing that shouting hurt his head anyways.

“I...I think we should go.” Richard said as he rose to his feet. “What do you think, Geo?”

“I’m comfortable with doing whatever you want to, Richard.” Was George’s obedient response as he took Richard’s hand. Paul frowned as he watched the couple leave, it dawning on him that that was his first time hearing George’s voice. Something other than him giggling or humming vapidly against Richard. When the front door slammed shut, Paul’s head whipped towards Martin.

“You’ve got some fuckin’ human traffickin’ bullshite going on here-“

“God- Paul do you hear yourself!” Martin finally snapped before running his hand over his face and resting the same hand on Brian’s shoulder. “Go upstairs for me, love. Please?”

Brian, whose eyes were wide and fearful nodded numbly before standing and pacing upstairs. Paul’s scowl remained glued to Martin, who was massaging his forehead with his fingers, clearly distressed. Paul went to speak but Martin stopped him, holding up a hand. 

“This isn’t human trafficking. It isn’t anything like that.” Martin opened his eyes to look deeply into Paul’s. “You know what- this was all my fault. Honestly. I should have told you we would be having company.”

Paul slowly felt himself starting to sober as guilt crept up his chest. “George...no, don’t blame yourself-“

“Nope.” Martin shook his head and waved him off. “I should have told you. I was aware how you’ve been lately with your...loneliness and all. I-I shouldn't haven’t done that.”

For the nth time that night, Paul didn’t know what to say. He was torn between agreeing that Martin should have told him that he and Richard would be bringing a plus one, and not wanting his pathetic melancholy to ruin his friends’ night. Not to mention he desperately didn’t want to come off as the whiny younger friend, not anymore than he already had. 

“I just...I can’t believe you got married, George.” He decided on saying. “And without telling me, too? I thought that- that we were closer than that.”

Martin chewed on his lower lip as he stared at Paul, his brows tightening together. Paul swallowed. The expression on his friend’s face was otherwise unreadable, but Paul felt as though there was some deep consideration going on in his mind. Paul coughed, even though he didn’t have to clear his throat, and shifted in his seat, folding his hands into his lap. Martin lifted a hand to swipe it through his light hair, his eyes darkening further as he looked to his left, a deep sigh escaping his parting lips. Paul felt his hands freeze when Martin looked back at him with cold, calculating eyes.

“Paul. I’m going to tell you something, and I’m going to need you to be as mature as you can with the information I’m giving you.”

Swallowing the offense he felt at Martin telling him, a grown man, to be mature, Paul sat up straight. “Er...okay. What’s wrong?” God, there was a human trafficking thing going on was there? And Martin was about to wrap Paul in his mess. It was Paul’s turn to chew on his bottom lip.

Martin rubbed his hands together, the toughness of the skin creating a grating sound that irritated Paul’s sensitive ears. “I’m...God, I already know you’re not going to believe this unless I show you…”

Paul’s eyes widened when Martin simply stood. “What?” He stood to follow his friend as he made his way upstairs. “What’s going on, George?”

Martin said nothing as he silently ascended the stairs, not doing anything to stop Paul who was close on his heels. Martin stopped at the master’s bedroom, pausing before opening the door. As each moment passed, Paul’s confusion became more intense. He followed Martin into the room where Brian was sitting on the bed- doing just that. Sitting there, staring at the wall as if Martin didn’t even enter. Paul thought Brian was a weird bloke the entire night, but didn’t want to linger on those thoughts for long in fear of appearing rude. Maybe Brian was from a different country and didn’t know how to make his way around them, maybe he was suffering from some sort of mental illness. The possibilities were endless.

“Brian. Brian, sweetheart.” Martin called. Brian gave a little stir, blinked, before looking up at his husband with a patient smile. 

“Yes, dear?”

Martin sat next to him on the bed while Paul remained where he stood, his hands holding onto each other. “Paul. This is Brian.”

Paul slowly nodded. “Yes...you told me.”

“Also known as M-1530. He isn’t real.”

Paul’s face went to his hands where he ran them over his face. “George. I’m not really in the mood for any tricks right now-“

“This isn’t a-“ Martin snapped but quickly gained his composure, though he was still breathing heavily. “Sorry. Sorry, you- you have every right to not believe me. It does sound ridiculous but- let me just...show you.”

At those words, Brian jolted sharply. “George. No! Please, I don’t want him to-“

Martin gathered him into his arms and shushed him, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. Paul felt like he was being pranked, yet he still remained in his friend’s room to see the outcome. Maybe it was the whiskey, but there was a part of Paul that wanted to believe Martin, that’s how boring his life was recently. He was willing to believe that his friend’s spouse wasn’t even real, despite being more than present in front of Paul.

After some hissed back and forth that Paul couldn’t bring himself to listen to, it appeared that Martin finally convinced Brian to do whatever it was Martin wanted. Martin glanced at Paul, as though checking to see if he was still there, before urging Brian to lay on his stomach. Paul paled when Martin began to pull up Brian’s shirt, then pull down his pajama bottoms…

“No.” Paul shook his head and began to back out. “George, no. I-I’m uncomfortable with this. It’s upsetting.”

“Paul-“

“It’s upsettin’!”

“Paul!” Martin stood tall before advancing on him, making Paul shrink into himself. “I’m trying to help you out here!”

“How is this helping me?! I-“ Paul peered over Martin’s shoulder to look at Brian, who lied motionless. It chilled Paul. “This is fucked. So fucked, George. And you know it!”

Paul turned to march towards the door but Martin had beat him to it, slamming it in his face. Paul gasped and reeled back, looking up at his friend in disbelief. Martin was going to kill him. He was either going to kill him, or do whatever he did to Brian to make him that… strange. Paul braced himself for a fight, tensing up when Martin started to speak.

“Paul, watch me. I’m not going to hurt you, and I’m not going to hurt Brian. Just- watch. Me.”

Paul’s breath was audibly shaky when Martin stared at him, making his way back to the limp and nearly lifeless Brian. It looked like the smaller man had given up. Presenting himself in a way he knew would please Martin, no matter how mortifying it may have been. Martin hiked his shirt up further, revealing a pink, silk band tied around the man’s slim waist. Martin beckoned Paul over with the bend of his finger. There was some hesitance, but Paul found him shuffling closer to the man, his eyes glued on Brian. When Paul was close, Martin’s hands slowly landed on Brian’s sides where he started to loosen the wide ribbon.

“George…” Brian whimpered, his soft voice startling Paul as it broke through the thick silence.

“Shh, love. It’s okay. It’s only for a moment.” Martin tried to comfort. Brian quieted down, but only for a moment as he was still whimpering to himself, his small frame vibrating with his trembling. Martin pulled off the silk and placed his hands on Brian’s sides before pressing his thumbs down. Paul’s breath hitched.

“George, I-“

There was a soft click and Brian deflated, his form more limp and lifeless than before. Paul’s jaw fell open as he watched Martin twist Brian’s upper torso and detach him from his lower half.

“Holy SHIT!” Paul stumbled back in terror, slamming into the wall but unable to tear his eyes away from the scene. His blood rushed to his ears in a loud, rumbling wave, and he was at risk of passing out. Martin didn’t seem phased by his reaction, and just arranged Brian’s naked lower half into a sitting position; or rather, what he could make of a sitting position when the upper half of Brian’s torso was missing. 

Paul didn’t remember sitting himself on the ground, so it was safe to assume that his legs gave out. Martin was talking to him but Paul wasn’t listening. Even if he strained his ears to hear Martin, he wouldn’t be able to make out the words with the thunder that rolled in his head. He was waiting to wake up. He was probably passed out on Martin’s couch and was having some bizarre dream brought on by the whiskey. He would soon wake up to Martin reprimanding him for drinking so much on a school night.

This couldn’t be real.

His vision was swimming in and out, along with his senses, so he didn’t notice Martin making his way towards him until he was grabbed by the arm and yanked to his feet. Martin’s strong hands gripped his shoulders to steady him. Paul’s eyes accidentally landed on Brian’s dismembered torso and legs and he almost fainted again. That was until Martin gave him a firm shake.

“Get a hold of yourself, Paul! Snap out of it!”

Paul’s eyes suddenly grew large when he realized who was gripping his shoulder. The man who split Brian apart. Brian, who was begging him not to. Letting out a savage scream, Paul raised a fist and aimed at Martin’s face, but was quickly intercepted by Martin’s own hand that wrapped around his wrist and yanked him forward. Paul struggled, but it was to no avail seeing that some influence from the whiskey mingled in his system, making his limbs heavy and coordination clumsy. Not to mention his initial shock still left him disoriented. Martin’s grip on Paul’s shoulders were painful when he forced him to stand in front of the bed.

“Stay. Still.” Hissed Martin in his ear. So Paul obeyed. He didn’t know why he was compelled to listen, but he did. Maybe it was because he couldn’t look away from Brian’s- corpse? God it was too much for him to think too deeply on. At the end (or top, for his lower half) of Brian’s body, no blood could be found. Paul couldn’t even see where Brian’s bones would be, but he wasn’t hollow. Brian looked like he was stuffed with...velvet pillows? Paul couldn’t assess what exactly it looked like Brian was filled with. Whatever it was, was moving inside of him. Swimming. And it wasn’t normal to the human anatomy. Still, the image of Brian’s upper half lifeless and his naked lower half was a chilling sight.

“You see this, Paul?” Martin’s husky voice ripped him from his ruminations. “This is real. Now, are you going to accept it and let me show you, or am I going to have to escort you home?”

There was no way this was actually happening.

Show me…

“I…”

Martin must have been playing a cruel joke on him. 

Brian…

“I-I…”

“Paul?” Martin’s voice was laced with concern the first time that night, and Paul clung to it. At least he did for as long as he could.

Before he fainted.

************

Paul awoke minutes later, and was lying on Martin’s bed. This time, Brian was put back together and was being caressed by Martin, right next to Paul. He frowned. Was that a dream? Had he been passed out on Martin’s bed this whole time? The couple didn’t seem to notice his waking, so he opened his ears to hear what they were whispering.

“I...I didn’t like it. At all.”

“I know. I know, and I’m sorry, love. I shouldn’t have done that. Your comfort means more to me than being proven right.”

“I hate being turned off...I...I-I hate it and-“

Martin pulled Brian further up his lap, shushing him softly. That’s when Paul shot up, startling the couple as they sharply looked towards him.

“What the hell is going on here?”

Brian whimpered which made Martin pull his head down to his chest, caressing his hair. “Please cut the shit, Paul. I just showed you what’s going on.”

Paul opened his mouth to speak, but chose not to, resting his head into his hands.

He really had no choice but to believe it, didn’t he?

Paul tried to justify it in his head. It was bizarre, most certainly. Martin disesembled Brian in front of him as if he had been some kind of toy. Which...what were Martin’s words again? Brian wasn’t real?  Paul had to consider the worst that could happen if he believed Martin and went along with this entire situation. He felt that he’d be in more danger if he denied Martin, and treated him like he was crazy. A part of his brain wanted to convince that maybe Brian being some sort of...robot wasn’t the most unbelievable thing there was. But he didn’t want to get into those possibilities. Not yet.

Martin was his best mate. And if he was going to be crazy, then Paul would have to be too.

“Okay…” Paul lifted his head from his hands to look at Martin and Brian, who were watching him closely. “So…If Brian isn’t human.” Brian winced at his words. “Then what is he?”

Martin’s lips pulled the tiniest smile as his shoulder slumped in relief, seemingly relaxed at Paul finally accepting Brian’s bizarre existence. “Well, Paul. He’s a doll.”

Paul closed his eyes and sighed. Martin was making it harder than it needed to be. He wanted to believe in his friend for the sake of convenience but it was difficult to. How was Paul supposed to believe that?

“A doll.” 

“A doll.” Martin repeated. “I...purchased him. Online.”

“You purchased him online.” Paul repeated slowly. He tried to muffle the doubt screaming in his head.

“He’s a ‘Live Doll’ to be specific. That’s the name of the manufacturer. Brian was made to be a sex doll, but over time I guess you could say...I fell in love with him.”

Paul gaped at Martin as he titled Brian’s chin up to kiss him gently, much to...the doll’s satisfaction. The doll that his friend was in love with. As time went on, Paul found himself not even that scared of the situation anymore, just morbidly curious.

“So...how does it work?” Paul asked quietly. “Is he a robot? A-An android of some kind?”

Martin pulled away from Brian, his hand still caressing his chin. “I would say so. What else could he be?”

Paul looked back to Brian, who was smiling that soft, blank smile again. The smile slowly morphed into a frown the longer Paul stared at him. Brian squirmed in Martin’s lap.

“Is he legal?”

Martin froze at that, looking at Brian. “No. I don’t think so. Some forbidden science was used to make him. If the- say, military or government got a hold of him, then we’d both be in trouble.”

“Was Richard’s boyfriend a doll, too?”

“I think he is. It’s honestly hard to tell.” Martin answered. “Richard didn’t say anything about having a doll, so I didn’t want to push it.”

“George...I’m...tired.” Brian spoke up, curling into Martin’s lap even further. Paul’s eyes ran down his body in an attempt to find any incongruences on his human like form. Everything looked normal. Perfect even. Brian’s skin was free of blemishes and looked soft to the touch. Softer than even most women Paul’s seen. His eyes landed on Brian’s foot, which had some sort of marking on it. Paul narrowed his eyes and leaned forward.

M-1530. 

Like a tattoo going down the side of Brian’s bare foot. Paul leaned back when Martin stood, lifting Brian off the bed before settling him under the covers. Paul took that as a cue to stand.

“I should...go.” Paul swayed slightly on his feet but tried to hide it.

“Then goodnight, Paul.” Martin said, Brian’s hand in his. “Wait- Paul.”

Paul paused his leaving to look at his friend. “Hm?”

“I can send you a link- if you want.”

“George, I don’t know if I wanna buy a-“

“I’m not urging you to buy one.” Martin interrupted, raising his hand. “I just...I figured you were curious.”

Paul didn’t say anything, and only stared at his mate.

“Are you not?”

“Not...what…?”

“Curious.”

Paul chewed on his lip, his brows furrowing deep in thought. There was no solid answer to that question. And if there was one, then he didn’t want to accept it.

Paul left, slamming the door behind him.

_______

When Paul arrived home, he slammed the door and instantly made his way to the kitchen where he fixed him a drink. This time it was rum and coke. He really wanted to forget about tonight. His head swam with thoughts that he was sure to drown in if he allowed them to exist any longer. A part of him told him that he was overreacting, and that Martin owning a living sex doll wasn’t the craziest thing that could happen to him. The other part of him was urgently begging him to move far away. Far away from London. Far from Britain. Both thoughts were too extreme and were battling each other in the cramped space of his head. Paul just needed another drink, then all will be well.

He downed his second glass that night and slammed the cup down, wondering what time it was. The digital clock on the stove told him that it was 3:00am, which blew his mind. He didn’t think it was that late, but that would explain how tired he was. His exhaustion paired with the drunken sensation that dripped through his skull like melted honey prepared him for the awful sleep he would be getting that night, if he got to sleep at all.

Paul stumbled his way through the dark house until he reached his room, the bright screen of his PC being the only source of light to illuminate the dark room. He squinted at it, wondering why it would be on...unless.

Upon walking closer to it, Paul noticed the little red ‘1’ that lit up next to the opened email tab. Oh, it was only an email. Maybe one of his students had a question for him, as it wasn’t out of place for one of them to ask for help at such a late hour. He groaned and pulled himself down into the computer chair before clicking on the notification. He frowned.

George Martin? Why would he be sending him mail so late-

Oh.

How could Paul have forgotten so quickly? The events of that night were strange enough to leave an impactful impression for the rest of his life. Martin sent him that link, and Paul’s fingers were itching with the want to open it, but he couldn’t bring himself to. As much as he hated to admit it, he was scared. Terrified of what would happen if he opened the strange link sent to him.

The only thing stopping him from throwing his computer out the window was the fact that it was Martin who sent the link. Martin, his trusted best friend for years. Surely he had no reason to sabotage Paul, did he? Besides, Martin did more than open the strange link himself, he purchased something from the website, and he was fine. Was he? Paul did notice that Martin was happier than he normally was. Even if the happiness stemmed from...a sex doll.

Paul shook his head and opened the message entirely. He was going to check out ‘Live Dolls’ or whatever it was Martin called it. What could go wrong? A quick scroll through, that’s all he was going to do. He wasn’t planning on buying anything. Just a quick scroll, that was all.

Paul grabbed his mouse and slowly hovered it over the link. Paul wasn’t stupid. He knew that there would be something he would surely regret in the morning if not the next few days. His senses were fogged by whiskey and rum, and he couldn’t bring himself to fret too much about his decision making. 

He clicked the link.

Paul chewed on his finger as he watched the page load. His computer wasn’t out of date or anything, but the page took quite a few minutes to open. Paul’s brows furrowed, text popping up onto the screen one by one as an outdated website layout slowly appeared. Strange. The website looked to be made in 1995 with its plain black and white screen. There were no photos either. Until…

Paul would have missed it if he blinked. The page seemed to jump to life as photos of beautiful men and women appeared on the screen, as well as cursive texts. It was starting to look less shady. The words LIVE DOLL appeared on top of the screen, while a tagline of a smaller font read:

We have beautiful dolls...make them yours.

Right after Paul read the line, his speakers blared an old timey song loud enough to almost send him flying out of his chair.

“Fuckin’ hell!”

Oh! You beautiful doll! You great, big, beautiful doll!

Paul fumbled with his computer as he turned the music down. The song sounded over 100 years old, it’s scratchy quality sure to damage his speakers, but Paul wasn’t worried about that. He was too busy staring closely at his computer screen. His eyes (among other parts of his body) were certain to be sore tomorrow with how close he was looking at the bright screen. Paul mindlessly clicked on the menu button, still familiar with the website’s layout with all the online shopping he’s done. There was only one tab available.

Dolls

Well, then. He clicked out of it to continue observing the home screen. ‘NEW ARRIVALS’ was the other enticing banner across the top of the screen, its large pink text over peaks of bare legs, chests, and arses. Paul clicked it.

“Jesus Christ.” He didn’t know what he was expecting, but he wasn’t prepared for anything he was about to see. 

Photos of people- well, dolls were listed on the screen like a shopping catalog. All female. Their smiling faces pictured above names Paul would have to assume were given to them. One of them that caught his eye was ‘Pattie/F-1623’, a gorgeous blonde with large blue eyes similar to an angel’s. She was gorgeous. Which would explain the 400+ visitors waiting in the auction room to win her.

Bidding?!

Martin attended an online auction to win Brian? And here Paul thought that it was a normal purchase. Well, as normal as one can get when buying a living sex doll.

Paul’s curiosity spiked dangerously. He opened the room. 

‘Are you a spectator or participant?’

Paul frowned, not liking that he was actually considering. He clicked ‘spectator’.

A few seconds later and a chat room was revealed. Messages swam up the screen as all the visitors were actively waiting for the auction to start.

‘I can’t wait to fuck that bitch silly’

‘I’m going to ruin it’

‘Just look at those lips...imagine what you can do with them’

Paul clicked out of the chat room. He knew that Pattie wasn’t technically human, and was designed to please men, but he couldn’t stand to see that language being used, even if it meant him being a prude. He didn’t want to witness it. He scrolled through the other news arrivals’ mindlessly, taking note of how they varied in size, body type, and color. The only thing they all had in common was that they were all female. Paul scrolled to the top of the screen where he just noticed a small blue tab on the right labeled ‘boys’. Why not, he thought. He’s gone this far. He might as well take a look at the male models as well.

So he clicked the tab.

The boys were just as beautiful as the girls were and varied just as much. Paul ignored the way his interest peaked more at the men than it did the women, excusing it as general curiosity. There was already an auction taking place for a doll named ‘Toby’, a male with black hair and perfect olive skin. The names ‘Michael K.’ And ‘Rick B.’ were taking turns flashing under the doll’s photo making Paul assume that they were fighting for the number one spot. The entire experience was strange, but Paul didn’t want to linger on that. Not anymore. After some more scrolling, Paul found the doll that was next up for bidding.

‘John’

Paul opened his photos and- wow. John, just like everyone else on the site, was beautiful. But so much emphasis was put on the beauty of his body. Soft skin, beautiful curves with freckles dotted across his perfect complexion. His headshots were something to marvel at, but Paul found himself the most drawn to the photos of John’s full body photos. Lounging on a couch in nothing but a thin lingerie slip. Upon reading the descriptions beneath the photos, Paul quickly realized that John’s most prized feature was his arse, which explained how most of his photos were focused squarely on that area.

John is a playful young man ready and willing to let anyone play with his body, especially his tight not-so-little ass.

Paul shivered at the sentence before looking back at the graphics. It was odd. John’s full body photos were different from his headshots in that he looked to be unconscious, which made Paul feel uncomfortable to ogle at an unconscious person. Doll. Paul couldn’t help but see these playthings as people. John especially. And he didn’t know why.

The auction was about to start in twenty minutes, and a chat room was opened to allow visitors, which was already growing close to 100. 

Paul joined as a spectator. 

When John was purchased, he would be off the website for good. And Paul wasn’t ready to see him go. Not yet. God, the attachment he felt towards a doll was mortifying! But in his heart, it felt justified. John was beautiful. His body was beautiful. His eyes beckoned Paul over where Paul would gladly welcome him into his heart. Maybe it was the rum talking, but all that mattered was that Paul felt those emotions ring true in his heart.

More people started to join the chat room until the number was a little above 300. Paul wiped the sweat off his forehead. Knowing that there were others that probably felt that strong about John was worrying. Paul frowned when a familiar name joined the chat.

Rick B.

Paul assumed that he lost the last auction, and made his way to John. 

‘Im gonna win this one’  Rick’s message was almost missed by Paul. So his suspicions were correct. Rick lost Toby and was determined to win John.

‘That bitch is mine’

Paul frowned at the possessive message. Why did this Rick character want a doll so badly? And why did Rick’s proclamations anger Paul? There was a voice screaming at Paul to not let Rick win John. That John simply could not go home to Rick. He couldn’t be Rick’s.

He had to be Paul’s.

That was the only way. Paul couldn’t interfere with Rick’s purchase, nor could he ensure that anyone else won besides the man. Paul would have to buy John on his own. Not just to see Rick lose. 

But because he wanted John to himself.

Paul changed his spectator role to participant, and when the website asked for his credit card information and location, Paul knew that he was in too deep to pull out. He hastily typed it in, the auction ready to start in a couple minutes. 

Paul was going to regret this. Big time. But he couldn’t ignore the voice in his head that was telling him he was doing the right thing. David thought that this whole ordeal was a game, so why couldn’t Paul?

And when the auction started, Paul knew that he was ready to play.

John’s starting price was 500, an amount that a couple of members didn’t want to pay and dropped out. Paul shook his head at them, wondering what kind of numbers they were expecting. Paul had quick fingers and was the first to make the highest bid every time, Rick tight in his heels. He didn’t realize he was sweating until he felt a droplet land on his thick lashes. Living alone was a blessing during moments like these. Paul couldn’t afford someone walking in on him clicking frantically away at his computer, a photo of John bent over a couch, his round arse pointing towards the camera. In a way, it had been Paul’s driving form of motivation. That and the powerful desire to beat Rick at his lame game.

It didn’t take long until Paul and Rick were the only ones left. The price had rose, and Rick was more hesitant with his bids, slowing down.

John was going to be Paul’s.

At a certain point Rick decided it was too much, and the auction was over. Paul slumped back into his chair, a cloak of relief with bitter snitching draped over his form as he groaned. He can’t believe it did that. John was his. Rick lost. He ran his hand over his face and scratched at his beard as he leaned towards the computer screen. He got another email notification but before he opened it, a message from Rick popped up on the screen.

‘Fuck you, Paul. Fuck you and fuck everyone on this platform. John was MINE. That doll was MINE.’

A few seconds later. 

‘I will find you’

Paul shook his head and finally exited the website, wanting to forget about it. As well as forget about Rick. It was over. He lost. Rick was a grown man, Paul assumed, he’ll get over it eventually. He opened the email, raising his eyebrows when he realized it was from Live Doll. Jacques Lavigne to be specific, John’s ‘maker’.

Hi Paul.

Thank you for your purchase. Congratulations. I hope that you find John lovely and fitting your standards. I made him with great care and attention. It is sad to see my beautiful boy go but I know he is in good hands. Love him as I did. 

xo,

Jacques Lavigne

Below Jacques’s weird letter were more photos of John, photos that weren’t listed on the sight. Pictures of John’s smiling face under the sun, John in nothing but lace knickers with his arse once again facing the camera. Paul’s jaw fell open at the nude photos. John on his knees and elbows, his sultry brown eyes gazing towards the camera as he displayed his moistened, tight hole. Paul’s tongue darted out to lick his lips at the sight as an erection grew in his pants. It was the first time Paul got truly turned on that night. John was alluring to the eye to begin with, but these explicit photos stirred something deep inside Paul, making him feel hot. They represented victory. John was his doll. He won John.

John was his.

*************

Paul went to bed that night (or day, seeing that it was 5:00 when he finally went to bed) after sending his class a hasty email about how there would be no class that day. He woke up with a splitting headache and a straining erection. He woke up with a  strange tightness in his chest, a sensation he often experienced after a night of wrongdoings. Only he hadn’t felt that way since he was a teenager. Paul doesn’t even go out anymore, why would he get that feeling in his gut-

Then it hit him.

Brian’s body being split in half.

That website that had living sex dolls for sale.

Rick.

John.

John being his.

“Awww, FUCK!” Paul swore as he ran his hands over his face. He spent a lot of his money on a shady website as well as giving them his address. How could he have been so stupid?! A prime example of him thinking with his other head. God he- he doesn’t even remember what John looked like! Paul’s head whipped to his computer. He remembered seeing an email with pictures. Paul climbed out of bed, not knowing why he was so determined to see what John looked like, but going along with his random urges anyways. Paul turned on his computer, thanking God when he didn’t see a virus alert or anything like that. Though he knew that relief wouldn’t last long.

Paul opened the email Jacques sent to him, and sure enough- those photos of John were there. His thick ruddy hair, inviting, almond-shaped eyes, thin smirking lips. Paul nearly forgot about the photos of John naked, getting startled by John’s arse suddenly taking up his screen. His erection twitched with interest. Paul sighed. Was he that lonely? A photo of a doll was turning him on, and Paul found it sad, no matter how realistic the doll may have looked. But Paul didn’t know what else to do other than reach into his trousers and grip his cock, pumping it. His hands were clammy enough for the contact with his prick to not feel incredibly dry. Paul’s eyes were glued to the screen, to John’s wet hole and soft arsecheeks until his eyes closed. His imagination would surely supply better images than the ones presented on his screen. As arousal fogged his brain, Paul’s shame faded out so that vivid images of John riding his cock could take its place. Paul eventually started to pump furiously, breathy groans escaping his lips as he squeezed his dick tighter. He imagined John slamming his arse onto his cock, expelling moans in a sweet voice Paul created. Paul could hear the sounds echo in his head, could feel the smooth skin of John’s ghosting his palms. Paul didn’t have to touch John to know his skin was soft to the touch. John was made to be perfect, and that’s exactly what he was to Paul. 

Perfect.

When Paul came, the shame washed over him tenfold. He did that. God, he was pathetic. Paul’s eyes landed on a framed photo of Mary hung near his bed. He felt like she was watching him, and Paul knew that if she saw what he had just done, then she’d be disgusted and disappointed. Nothing could match the disappointment he felt towards himself, though.

Paul fixed his trousers and shuffled back to his bed before flopping down on it and closing his eyes. The longer he slept, the longer he could be without the feeling of regret and shame.

Two months later

As each day passed, Paul’s anticipation for his incoming “package” grew more intense. Paul never had to wait months for something to arrive before, and it was driving him crazy. He knew that ordering what he couldn’t help but see as a human was much different from the clothes, electronics, and books he usually ordered offline, which usually arrived in two weeks at most. Even the items he ordered from different countries didn’t take that long. Paul couldn’t help but wonder what they were doing to John. Assembling him? Cleaning him? Finishing touches? Whatever it was, it must have required acute attention to detail and meticulous care. 

He couldn’t stand the wait. Not for any eagerness he felt to have John, but the weight of his decisions just grew heavier and heavier on his shoulders. A dreadful feeling was taking up his gut. The anxiety was so intense, like having a gun pointed at you and not knowing when it would go off. He had to reverse his actions and soon. 

Paul slammed down in front of his computer one night and started frantically typing. His body jerked with his attempts to calm down. 

Hello, Jacques

Sorry for the bizarre question and I apologize for any inconveniences. But what is the return policy for Dolls? 

Thank you. 

Paul pushed away from his computer and bit his nails as he stared at the screen. What a weird way to ask that question, but it was done. He internally slapped himself for asking something so important so late, but he couldn’t risk not asking. Paul couldn’t miss an opportunity to make things right. 

A little red ‘1’ popped up on screen, and Paul tried not to read it so hastily. 

Hi Paul,

There is no return policy, all sales are final as stated on the website. 

Paul felt a sack of grief land heavily in his gut. How could he miss such an important detail? He continued reading.

Is there a reason why you want to reverse your purchase? That's never been done before. At least not for any of my Dolls. Do you not like John anymore?

Paul sighed heavily out his nose, not expecting the question to hit him like it did. John was Jacques’s creation, there was no doubt about it, and there also was no denying the hurt radiating off the screen from Paul’s rejection of John. This must have been what Martin felt when he told a student their performance wasn’t good enough. Briefly, Paul wondered if Jacques was the only one to feel rejected before he quickly extinguished that thought. Paul lifted his hands to type a response, hesitating before finally acting. 

I do like John. I was just wondering. Sorry for disturbing you. 

Jacques’s response took time to send, startling Paul when he got the ding! since he wasn’t expecting the man to say anything. Paul opened it, his bemused expression reflecting off the screen. 

Paul,

You are having doubts about your purchase. I completely understand. It is clear to me that this is your first time doing anything like this, your regret and confusion tell me everything. But trust: keep your mind open. John will come to you as a companion, and he won’t give you a reason to be afraid. I created him with care and I hope you see that represented in his essence. He’s beautiful and waiting for you. Don’t let your scruples get in the way of having something many people are killing for. 

Paul stared at the screen, his frown deepening and eyes widening. Well, he wasn’t expecting Jacques to go there. He felt something tug at his heart warmly and tightly. Paul bit his lip. 

I’m just afraid it isn’t going to be like anything I’ve experienced before. 

Ding!

It won’t be. But at the same time it will be. Having John won’t be terribly different from having a regular boyfriend. The main disparity would be John’s little humanity. 

Little? So he isn’t completely unhuman? 

There was a long moment before his computer dinged again, and Paul didn’t care about the way he lept at his desk to see. 

You will see when you have him. 

Paul’s father, Jim, called Paul on his way to work. Paul fumbled to answer his phone, trembling hands threatening to spill his coffee. 

“Hi, dad.”

“Paul, it’s been some time since we’ve spoken.”

Paul chewed his lip as he bustled out the door. He was still too groggy for this. 

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry about that. Been busy with work.”

“I see,” Paul could practically hear Jim narrowing his eyes on the other end. “Too busy to come over next weekend?”

Paul blinked as he fumbled with his keys. 

“For what?” He answered so quickly that as soon as the words left his lips, Paul knew he made a mistake. 

“Your Aunt is coming over,” Jim’s words carried a dark truth, and Paul felt his heart squeeze with guilt. “You didn’t completely forget, did you?”

“No, dad, ‘course not—“

“Need I remind you once more how out of shape she’s been since—“

“Dad,” Paul paused at his car, his remorse bolting him to the ground. “I’ll try and make it over, but don’t tell her it’s certain I’ll be there.” Paul winced at his words. “But…know that I’ll try to come.”

There was a silence on the other end, and Paul found himself able to move, climbing into his car and beginning to drive. He didn’t forget about his aunt, of course not. But amidst the endless storms cycling through his brain, her upcoming visit was buried beneath the rubble of his collapsing psyche. 

“She misses you.”

“And I miss her.” Paul chewed on his lip. “I’ll be over.”

Paul could have swerved off the road. He could have ripped the skin off his finger with his teeth. He could have thrown his phone out the window and scream his head off. 

Jim seldom smiled, but Paul could hear the hint of mirth in his voice. 

“Good. Good. I’ll let her know.”

Paul squeezed his eyes shut, but only for a moment as he focused his sight back on the road. 

“Paul.”

“Y-Yes?”

“Are you okay?”

Paul’s nostrils flared as the tension he held in his body released itself into a fetid discharge of frustration. A mad laugh bubbled out of him. 

Let’s see, father. I’ve been processing my last break up poorly. I can't seem to stop missing Jane, even though I truly never want to be with her again. Not to any fault of hers, of course. Being in a relationship means being a spectator to my constant blunders and mishandling of her issues and mine. I’m not a good partner because I don’t think I’m a good person. Not that I’d ever delve deep into that possibility, lest I want to start spiraling and drowning myself in booze and loose birds. So as a distraction I bury myself in work until I’m drowning in responsibilities and barely making it out alive. This of course garnered the pity of my best mate who happens to be married to a living sex doll. Of course I got plastered and purchased one for myself in a drunken dance lead by my cock, and this doll is to be delivered to my doorstep at any bloody moment. And you want me to come over for tea with an aunt who thinks I’m undeserving of what I have. What I’ve worked hard for. So no, dad, I’m not fuckin’ okay. 

Paul swallowed. No, he couldn’t say that. Too verbose. 

“Yeah, dad. Of course I’m okay.”

The package arrived on a Friday, at midnight. 

There was a sharp knock on Paul’s door, startling him from where he sat on the couch watching television. Paul probably sat still for ten minutes, half off the couch. There was nothing else it could be, right? Paul wasn’t expecting anything to be dropped off on his doorstep so it had to be...him. Paul took a deep breath and rose to shaky feet before shuffling towards the door. His hand landed on the doorknob and that’s when doubts swarm his brain. What if it was a gunman? What if he spent all of that money just to get shot in the face? Or worse- stabbed? Would it have all been worth it? The obvious answer was no, but Paul knew there was only one way to find out what was on the other side. He also had no idea how the company decided to package John and didn’t want whatever was outside just sitting suspiciously at his doorstep. He couldn’t avoid it forever.

“Well. Here goes…” Paul turned the doorknob and pulled the door open. He initially didn’t see anything, but his eyes eventually landed on the long, rectangular box at his doorstep. It was a soft pink with brown trimming, ‘Daniel’s Sweets’ written in large cursive letters on the top of it. Paul didn’t know if that was simply another name Live Dolls went by or a cover-up name. As Martin said, Paul’s purchase couldn’t have been legal. Paul glanced around briefly, ensuring that no one was around before bending down to grip the box and dragging it inside. He expected the box to be heavier but was surprised when it weighed about 41 kilos. Maybe it made sense that this doll wouldn’t weigh as much as a normal human being, seeing it wasn’t filled with the same internal makings as one.

The whole time, Paul’s heart was pounding in his chest. He closed the door and placed the box in the middle of the living area before standing up straight and staring down at it. It’s been two months, two months Paul should have used to prepare himself for this exact moment. But he wasn’t ready. John was a part of his life now. Paul couldn’t believe that he was initially thrilled to have John be his, because now he was nervous. He was terrified. The unknown had always intrigued Paul, but now he discovered that’s all changed. 

Maybe he would feel different once he opened the box?

Paul dug through the kitchen drawer until he found a small knife before marching back to the living room, another sigh escaping him when he got onto the knees. He had to lift the box slightly to get to the tape that sealed it and promptly dragged his knife across the bottom of it, popping sounds echoing through the room as he cut through the thick tape. It was really like getting into the box of a Barbie or something. Not wanting to ruminate on his fears and apprehension any longer, Paul placed his hands on either side of the lid and pulled up. The lid didn’t give in too easily causing Paul to give the cardboard a firm shake. That’s when Paul noticed the bottom half of the box sliding down slowly, separating from the lid. Paul wanted to drop the whole thing, closing it before kicking it back outside to never see it again. But he’d be lying if he said his curiosity didn’t have him by the balls.

Paul finally slid the entire lid off and threw it to the side. The box was stuffed with pink tissue paper, but it was clear that a human-shaped body lay beneath it. There was no denying its presence.

“Jesus fuckin’ shit.” Paul said as his shaky hands reached out to lift the paper. He screwed his eyes shut but continued to move his hands, pulling the paper away from the form. He jumped when he felt his fingers brush against what felt like skin. God, this was so fucked. But he couldn’t stop. He had to see.

Paul cracked one eye open, the sight of bare legs urging both eyes to snap open. Those were John’s legs. He knew those legs. It’s been a while since he last looked at a photo of John, but the man’s face and body had glued itself to Paul’s memory and made itself at home.

And now he was in Paul’s home.

Paul’s hands moved further up the box, peeling back the paper. John’s torso was revealed next, and Paul could see he was wearing a light pink babydoll slip. At least Jacques had the decency to send him dressed. 

It was a strange detail to notice, but Paul could smell John. He smelled like perfumes of lilac and roses and vanilla. Making Paul want to dip his head in closer and get a stronger whiff of the tantalizing scents. He was half expecting John to just smell like plastic and silicone, so that was a pleasant surprise.

 It soon came time to reveal John’s face, and Paul froze. He put forth the image of John’s beautiful visage to prepare himself for what he was about to see. It was a bit too late to try to brace himself, but Paul needed all the help he could get.

He ripped back the paper.

“Oh…” 

John was even more beautiful in person than on the website, which didn’t do him justice. The skin was smoother, his face was softer, and even though they were closed, Paul could tell that John’s eyes were more shapely and bigger than in the photos. Paul felt like he was looking at an angel. At something that was crafted specifically for him, John was perfect. And he was his. Paul wasn’t afraid anymore.

The babydoll looked perfect on John, the light pink flattering to his smooth pale skin. God, Paul needed to touch so bad. He needed to feel John.

“Okay, okay-“ Paul stood to his knees and scooted closer, reaching in the box to gingerly grab John’s arms. The touch was electric. Paul had to let go, dropping John’s arms back to his sides, so he could pull him out better. He made his way to the side and slid his arms beneath John’s back and legs, and lifted him out. Wow. John was very light. Despite looking like a full grown man (save for the lack of body hair that came with being an adult male), John couldn’t have weighed more than 90 pounds. It gave Paul chills. Paul knew that everything he was doing was incredibly creepy, but he didn’t care. He looked down at John in his arms, his limbs hanging limply at his sides, his head thrown back with his lips slightly parted. Paul placed him on the couch where he adjusted his body into a ‘comfortable’ pose. His legs resting against the cushions and his back against the arm of the couch, his hands folded in his lap. It admittedly didn’t look very comfortable since John was slumped over his legs, which spawned a question in Paul’s head:

How in the hell was he going to turn on John?

Paul looked back toward the box he took him out of, and there it was. He bent over and pulled out the rest of the tissue paper and was shocked to find what looked to be plastic wrapped clothes. Small lace outfits that came with John. Just like an actual doll would. It wasn’t what Paul was looking for, but he was intrigued. He lowered himself onto his knees to see what else came with John. A vibrator, as well as other accessories and sex toys. That was really...generous of Jacques to send him the extra stuff. He moved the items to the side to grab the pale yellow card stock, congratulating him on his win. He shook his head. That wasn’t what he was looking for. Then Paul remembered. Normally, when he ordered something offline, another email was sent to him. Could the answers lie there?

He stood to his feet and grabbed his phone off the couch. Sure enough, there was an email from Jacques. He opened it.

Thank you and congratulations- again, for your win! I hope that you enjoy the gifts I sent with John. Other makers will not do that. I think you are very special, Paul. I think John will like you very much.

Paul’s breath hitched at the message. So Jacques was being generous to send the extra items with John. He scrolled further down the email until he saw the instructions on how to ‘turn on’ John.

You can’t turn on your doll without turning him on first!

Paul rolled his eyes at the joke.

It is really simple. Just turn him onto his back, and you will find a small heart (just like the ones on his sides). Press and hold onto the heart and be ready to hear your dolly sing! 

Paul blinked. Was that it? He assumed that any other setting up was done before John was sent to him, to save him some time. He distantly wondered how Martin knew how to detach Brian the way he did.

“Right.” He whispered as he made his way over to John, who obviously didn’t move an inch. Paul pulled him by the legs until he was lying flat on his back, and made no hesitation in turning him over. He pushed up John’s dress, briefly acknowledging his lilac knickers before the small heart at the bottom of his spine. It was a heart indeed, but it looked natural. A bit like a faded tattoo or a birthmark.

Paul’s hesitation returned. He had to turn John on. After doing so, John would be walking and talking just like Brian was. He would be living.

Beautiful.

Paul pressed his thumb over the ‘button’ and pressed down. He didn’t let go until he felt John’s skin start to buzz softly. Paul gasped, jumping back. John wasn’t moving, but Paul knew he was alive. He couldn’t explain how- but he just knew. Even as John just laid there.

Then he heard music.

Paul couldn’t tell if he was just hearing things or if the music was coming from...John. A music box tune of a familiar melody twinkled in the air and Paul felt like he was on drugs. This was all so strange. But he couldn’t look away. He couldn’t look away from John and he wanted to be involved in any way he could. This was scary and strange, indeed. But Paul wanted to be involved. 

Paul soon recognized the tune as ‘Oh, You Beautiful Doll’, a music box version of the website’s theme. Paul would have been terrified if he wasn’t so invested in John. 

Then John started to move.

Paul’s eyes widened and he backed up, holding his breath. It started with John’s arm twitching, before slowly lifting and placing his hand onto the couch to raise the upper part of his body. The music box playing the melody the whole time. A small whine escaped John’s lips as he stretched, followed by a couple hums as he turned over to sit properly on the couch, legs crossed. Paul was probably white as a sheet by then. No amount of preparation could equip him for that moment. To see John move. To hear his voice. It was sweeter than Paul imagined it to be. 

“Holy…”

John blinked once. Paul froze. He took another step back as John’s head slowly turned towards him, his wide eyes landing on Paul. A small smile broke out on John’s face, and he lifted a hand to his mouth and giggled. He fucking giggled. He giggled and it was the cutest sound Paul’s ever heard. Paul felt comfortable enough to move forward, but he was still unable to speak. John stared up at Paul until he stopped right in front of him.

Then he spoke.

“Salut! Je m’appelle John. Comment tu t’appelle?”