Real Doll (3)
Beginning modification of Real Doll Number 77
“Guh... guh... eeegh!”
A bizarre sound no human throat could produce squeezed from her neck. Electricity surged from the helmet connected to her head.
> Rewiring brain for absolute obedience to master's commands
“Geee... guh... kig... guk!”
Nosebleed erupted, foam filling her mouth. Isia couldn't resist at all.
> Beep. Vagina usage history check complete. Never used. Modifying into a vagina optimized for sexual service to master.
“Geggeggek!”
A tentacle-like mechanical arm coiled around her clitoris. The tense nub stiffened rigidly, and a tiny needle sprang from the arm, piercing it. Special drugs injected through the needle.
“Ngggegegegegek!”
> Clitoral sensitivity increased by 100x
The mechanical arm plunged into her pussy, spraying drugs like a disinfectant. Her vaginal walls quivered in excitement, clamping down on it. Once the arm swiftly withdrew after completing its task, the walls clenched sadly at the empty void.
Beginning coating process for Real Doll Number 77
“Geh... gegh... hegegh...”
A square radiator descended from the ceiling, projecting lasers. A transparent, thin film formed over Isia's skin surface. Invisible to the eye, but touch revealed a texture different from skin.
> Coating applied to prevent sexual sensation from anyone but master. Touch from non-master blocked by coating. No effect on master.
“………………”
Isia had already passed out, unconscious.
> Beginning final adjustment to self-identify as Real Doll. Human Isia no longer exists.
“…………….”
Goggles strapped over her eyes injected educational videos directly into her brain. While asleep, Isia became a Real Doll.
“Kyaaaah!!”
At the end of a long nightmare, Isia finally opened her eyes. It had been a week since her Real Doll modification—she'd slept the whole time, waking at last.
She hoped it was all a dream, but the surroundings dashed her hopes once more. Hundreds of capsules filled the vast, sterile white room.
“What... is this...”
Chills ran through her at the sight of the device she lay in. Not a bed. More like an... incubator, a warming chamber. Over a hundred similar ones dotted the room, each holding women deep in slumber. Like a capsule hotel.
“Haa... We really do feel like managed property.”
“We are property, actually.”
“Eek!”
She wasn't the only one awake. A sharp-eyed redhead, two rows over, gnashed her teeth from her incubator.
“These bastards treat us like Real Dolls. Know what this room's called? New Product Storage. Fuck... We're merchandise right before sale.”
New Product Storage
“Y-You were kidnapped and brought here too?”
“Obviously! Who'd come to a shithole like this otherwise?”
Finding a fellow victim eased her a bit. Though... did she seem familiar somehow?
“I'm Isia. A Korean exchange student.”
“Yeah? Came all the way from that far-off country just to get turned into a Real Doll. Tough break for you.”
“Your name...?”
“...Angelina.”
“Ange—ah! No way! The actress?!”
“You know me.”
Angelina, the high-teen drama queen. She'd played the popular girl, winning fans across genders, but scandals with drugs and diva antics tanked her career.
A celeb like her, turned Real Doll? Unbelievable.
“Angelina... what happens to us now?”
“Awakened ones get sold or kicked out. Right now, they're probably wiping our human rights socially, resetting our status to Real Dolls. Like registering a pet before buying it. Fuck.”
“But we're humans! How can they do this? I won't take it lying down!”
“And if you don't?”
“My dad's a chaebol chairman! Connections in media, politics... He won't overlook me becoming a Real Doll!”
“For real?”
“Of course! Know Trauma Confectionery?”
“Heard of it. So you've got real status.”
Hope flickered on Angelina's face. She didn't want to end up a Real Doll either. They had to reclaim their lives.
“Good. Once we get out, we team up—”
Suddenly, Angelina's collar glowed red, displaying Purchase Complete.
Refusing Real Doll fate, ready to expose Blackstars' crimes—yet Angelina's face melted into a whore's leer, her voice robotic, soulless.
“—Let's serve Master sexually. We're Real Dolls, after all.”
“...Huh? What? A-Angelina? What's wrong?”
“Thank you for purchasing me, Master. Real Doll Number 76 Angelina is thrilled at the honor of being used as Master's Real Doll. I won't rebel, I'll do anything you command—discard me if I bore you.”
“Angelina! Stop! You're scaring me!”
“Real Doll Number 77. I obey only Master's orders. Don't command me.”
Her collar blazed like a billboard: Purchase Complete. Like a soldier saluting a superior, Angelina stood at attention unbidden. Isia begged why, but silence. No more communication.
Eerily, BGM tinkled from the collar: pam-para-pam~. Like fanfare for a bar game's Golden Bell winner.
“Scary... what is this...”
The music chilled her to the bone. Angelina stood rigid for over an hour, unmoving, unblinking. Beyond normal endurance—like an emotionless robot.
“Yes, sir. Just take her. We can package too.”
The door opened. A salesman-type entered chatting with a short, greedy-looking old man.
The geezer gawked, awed at nude Angelina's sleek form.
“Ooh...! Angelina! That haughty bitch really a Real Doll?”
“Yes, sir. Certified through our fair process. Guaranteed.”
“No running or rebelling? I spent a fortune.”
“Impossible. System prevents any defiance to owner. Wanna test?”
“Hey, Angelina. Recognize me?”
Smooth—her head turned mannequin-stiff to her master. A smile.
“Yes, Master. You called?”
“Ooh! That Angelina calling me Master!”
“Told you. Quality guaranteed.”
“That insolent cunt ruined my drama, massive losses. Swore I'd get revenge someday. It's here!”
He'd invested in her show. Her scandals tanked the pure-image role, birthing grudge.
“Thanks. Package her. Taking home now.”
“Thank you, sir~”
Angelina taped up like cargo, handed to delivery. True object treatment. No complaint.
Watching a person's dignity erased terrified Isia; she bit her hand. But it wasn't skin—coated plastic crunched.
“Whew~ Celebs always sell first. Pricey, but buyers appear~.”
Salesman returned post-sale, eyeing Isia.
“Real Doll Number 77. No buyer yet. If sane, get out.”
“Pardon...? You're freeing me?”
“Internet public sale for you. Program auto-ships on payment, wherever you are. Stop hogging space.”
“……….”
Auto-delivery? Whatever—freedom!
“Really letting me go?”
“Yes.”
Before he changed mind, she slipped from incubator, sneaking out. No grab. Freedom! She bolted full speed.
Hot tears trailed, lost to wind.
“Tsk tsk. Still thinks she's human. Whatever... reality bites soon.”
Salesman's mutter unheard. She'd escaped Blackstars, checked no tail, pulled phone. To call Dad.
Deactivated Phone
“Huh...? What?”
Already airwave-dead. No carrier for non-human Real Dolls. Standard procedure.
“Never canceled? Huh?”
Scanning for payphone, she finally felt contemptuous stares. Passersby sneered at her collar's fluorescent Real Doll. No Current Owner.
Real Doll. No Current Owner
This cursed collar outed her to all.
“Eww, a Real Doll.”
“Gross. Makes me wanna puke.”
“Why's it wandering streets alone?”
“Kid! Don't look!”
Parents shielded eyes; women spat disgust at sharing space; men leered hungrily. Even cops interrogated.
“Hey, citizen report. Give your number.”
“Number...? I'm Isia.”
“? Real Doll number.”
“......Number 77.”
“Real Doll Number 77... No owner yet. Fine hunting, but stay out of busy areas. Bad for kids' education. Stir trouble again, might dispose you.”
“S-Sorry.”
She fled prying eyes. Later, picking up an abandoned paper, she read: Trauma Confectionery Chairman Lee Beom-su Sues Blackstars, Bankrupted.
To reclaim his daughter, he'd sued—lost, countersued for defamation, drowned in damages, lost everything to shareholders, despaired, then died in mysterious accident.
Isia's life plummeted from heaven to hell. No longer human. A Real Doll's life awaited.