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When Gerard told Ray they bought something they wanted to try, they said it like someone who had just made an impulse purchase at a sex shop. Which was slightly concerning, because they'd been at an estate sale. Ray's fears were somewhat abated when they'd pulled a book from their bag, what looked like a hardcover journal with a lot of tabs poking out. A recipe book, maybe?
It was kind of a recipe book. It was also still definitely a sex thing. Some old lady who'd thought she was a witch had died, and Gerard had picked up her spell book. Which made sense, because Gerard was also an old(ish) lady who thought they were a witch. And maybe they were—Ray didn't not believe in that stuff, but he preferred to keep some distance from it. He approached hesitantly as Gerard flipped through, looking for a particular page.
"There's some real exciting stuff in here. Like, check this out. Tips on hypnotism." They glanced up, eyebrows raised, and Ray was not at all surprised to learn that Gerard found the idea of having complete control over someone enticing. Or that they'd like to be hypnotized, come to think of it, but Ray would leave that for Lindsey.
Ray's hair (long, the way Gerard liked it) was hanging in his face, and he swept it back to get a better look at the cramped but precise handwriting. It was too dense to easily skim, but what he could read at a glance seemed harmless enough. "What are you thinking?"
Gerard shrugged, smiling secretively, giving Ray a look that made the back of his neck tingle. A few weeks later, perched on the edge of the bed, he began to wonder if he should have asked more questions. Gerard moved around the room confidently, setting up an odd assortment of objects—aside from the regular sex stuff like lube, there was a metronome, and a small serving tray with a teapot and teacup. Once again, Ray's mind returned to the first and only question he'd asked. "What are you thinking?"
Gerard was dressed in a plain white nightgown, straight with a little lace at the top. It had thin straps, the kind that always slid off of their left shoulder; this phenomenon, they suspected, was caused by their scoliosis, and it seemed annoying, but Ray found it endearing. His fingers itched to fix it, to pull the strap back onto their shoulder and press a kiss to the back of their neck, but he'd been told to sit still and wait. Finally, preparations apparently complete, Gerard came to stand in front of Ray. Immediately they began fiddling with his hair. "You don't need to know what I'm planning."
Ray held back a sigh, exasperation at war with what he couldn't deny was excitement. "Just don't make me do anything….." He shrugged helplessly. He'd almost said weird, but weird wasn't really what he objected to, in general.
Gerard didn't give him the chance to find the correct words. "I'm not gonna make you do anything at all."
Ray blinked. "Well damn, G, then what's the point of hypnotizing me?"
Gerard shut him up with a kiss. "Just play with me." They giggled. "Let me play with you."
Ray still didn't get it, but he could do that.
They began with the tea. An aphrodisiac, Gerard said, to make Ray more open to Gerard's commands. That made sense—Ray couldn't deny that the hornier he was, the more eager he'd be to do whatever Gerard asked. The only thing giving him pause was the fact that this recipe had also come from the witch's book, but Gerard swore it didn't have anything too weird in it. And to be fair, it didn't look like any kind of potion. First of all, it was in a teacup. Ray had never even seen these teacups—another estate sale purchase, maybe, which meant they were probably haunted—but they were pretty, the yellow rose pattern complimenting the dark pink of the liquid inside.
"What makes it pink?" Ray asked, picking up the saucer carefully.
"I think that comes from the hibiscus." Gerard watched Ray take an experimental sip. The potion, as Gerard was still insisting on calling it, was tart and vaguely fruity, and Ray was surprised to find he liked it. He hadn't known what to expect from a recipe Gerard had gotten from a spell book, but a perfectly serviceable hibiscus tea wasn't it.
Ray drained his cup, leaving nothing but a ring of fuchsia dregs at the bottom, and put it down to see Gerard still staring at him.
"Aren't you gonna have some?" Ray asked, noticing for the first time that they'd only poured one cup.
Gerard shook their head, smiling slightly. "Not yet. Need to keep my wits about me for now. Well? Is it working?"
Ray was prepared to humor Gerard, to play up whatever vague biochemical or placebo effect this "potion" might have on him, in the same way he planned to follow Gerard's orders even if the hypnotism didn't work. People claimed oysters and chocolate were aphrodisiacs too, and he'd never felt particularly horny after eating those things. He didn't have high expectations of some old tea recipe. But before he could say anything, Gerard reached out to take the cup. Their hand brushed his, Ray's skin tingling at the contact.
His brows furrowed. "Wait. Maybe, yeah." Almost without thinking, he snagged Gerard's hand and pulled it to his cheek. Pleasure bloomed in the back of his skull and trickled down his spine, triggering a full-body shiver that made him curl in on himself a little. When it passed he looked up, astonished, to find Gerard was staring back at him with a devious gleam in their eyes, like this was going even better than they'd planned. Of fucking course they'd find a real spell book with a real, working aphrodisiac recipe.
Something in Ray's gut had been ignited, and he could feel it burning, a small but steady flame warming him from the inside. Gerard looked beautiful, confident and comfortable in their nightgown with one wayward strap still hanging off their freckled shoulder, mousy brown hair framing their round face. They pulled their hand back when he reached for it again, and the rejection stung like a slap across the wrist. Ray whined in protest, squirming in his seat. In less than a minute, he'd gone from being aroused in a vague, anticipatory way, to being able to feel his heartbeat in his dick.
"Patience," Gerard tsked. "If you can sit very still and listen, you'll get all the attention you can stand. I promise."
It was a hard ask when Ray was already feeling so tingly, so twitchy, but that had sounded almost like their stage voice. They were slipping into character, and commands from that voice were already hard to disobey. Something about it made him desperate to please, maybe because Gerard was so good at suggesting, with their teasing tone, that obeying them was in your best interest.
Gerard went to the dresser and set the metronome ticking. Tck. Tck. Tck. "Alright, honey. You're being so good already, I know it's hard. Just sit still, and listen close."
The swish and click of the metronome filled the room. Gerard came back and slipped Ray's glasses off, then cupped his face in their warm hands. His stomach was full of hornets, hands balled into fists on top of his thighs, but he didn't move.
"Good," Gerard praised, kissing his forehead. "I can tell there's already nothing going on in your empty little head. Keep it that way, mkay?" Their hands brushed along his jaw, planting their thumbs by either ear with their fingers meeting at the back of his neck, tangling in his hair. The metronome ticked away as Gerard held Ray like that for what felt like a long time, long enough that their wide eyes were all he could see. It was easy, to sync his breathing with theirs, his heart beating in time with the metronome, a little fast with arousal. It was almost too easy—every time a new thought tried to break through, the swinging arm of the metronome pushed it back out of his head. The force of Gerard's will bore down on him. He could feel the intrusion, like wedges being pushed into his brain, hammering in deeper with each tck that crashed against his ears.
"Still," Gerard said finally, voice soft. "You hear me, Ray? You're very still. You know, you can't move unless I move you."
Ray didn't want to move, so he didn't try, but he felt the truth of the statement as soon as it left Gerard's lips. He was too entranced by Gerard's eyes and voice to be alarmed, or surprised that the hypnotism was working. But it definitely was—suddenly, instead of feeling at one with his body, he was peering out at the world through the eye holes. It seemed absurd that he'd be able to move this shell that housed his mind.
"If I put you on your feet, you'd fall," Gerard continued. "Your body is not under your control. Your body is a dead thing." The back of Ray's neck, where Gerard's fingers rested, began to feel deadened to the sensation. "Your body has never been alive."
Ray slumped like a puppet with its strings cut, and Gerard nudged him, guiding him to sprawl backward across the bed. Staring at the ceiling, he felt the bed shift as they crawled up to lie next to him, propping up on their elbow and turning his head to keep staring into his eyes. They trailed one finger across his skin as they spoke. "You're empty inside. Your head is hollow. Your body is cloth, stuffed with cotton. If I lifted you, you'd weigh practically nothing at all."
The deadened sensation was spreading, along with a curious lightness. Ray's head and limbs felt cool, smooth, his torso soft and pliable. He could feel cotton batting pressing against him from the inside. His dick was just…..gone. He couldn't feel it anymore, though the ache of arousal still sat heavily between his legs. It might have been distressing without the reassuring weight of Gerard's attention. The warm glow of the potion filled him up, now diffused all throughout his body.
"This is my new doll," Gerard said, finally, and Ray's new role in the world fell gently into his head, slotting snugly into place where his brain should have been. He was so grateful to be their doll. It felt so right.
"She has painted pink lips," Gerard continued, and Ray's lips tingled as they brushed a thumb across. "Big, brown, glass eyes, thick lashes." Gently, they swept along his bottom lids. "Smooth porcelain skin. Nothing inside of her but cotton. Nothing real but her hair." Gerard twirled a curl around their finger and giggled slightly. "I always wanted a doll with pretty curls like this."
Distantly, Ray's eyes began to feel dry. How long had it been since he blinked? When he tried, his lids moved slowly, mechanically. Close. He thought he could feel his lashes brushing his skin. Open. He was staring into Gerard's eyes again, their brackish hazel swallowing him up.
"Her eyes even follow me," Gerard whispered to themself, nose scrunching with delight. Ray felt warm at having made them so happy by doing so little.
The metronome ticked on.
"You're my pretty little doll," Gerard said. "And you will be as long as this metronome ticks. Understand?"
Ray had no way of showing understanding, but Gerard was making a little joke to themself—they tilted his chin up and down, making him nod.
"When your eyes close," Gerard said, and then Ray's mind went fuzzy, the next few words lost in distortion. Their hand swept his lids gently. When they opened again, Ray was a doll. She had always been a doll.
What was this burning feeling inside of her?
"Do you like your new clothes?" Gerard asked, their voice high and sweet. "You look so pretty." They pulled her to lean against the headboard, where she sat limply with her legs splayed, hands in her lap. From this angle Ray could see a little of what she was wearing—white ruffled shorts peeking out from beneath something sheer and blush-pink, lightly embroidered with flowers. It was pretty. She preened internally. For a doll, being good and being pretty were one and the same. She was being so pretty for Gerard, and maybe that meant they would touch her, hold her, satisfy whatever it was that was making her feel weird and warm inside.
The bed shifted as Gerard got up, and Ray tracked their movement around the room as best she could with her big glass eyes. They went to the dresser and poured a cup of tea, drained most of it in one gulp, and then returned to sit between her splayed legs, teacup in hand.
"Finish this off for me," they said softly, then, almost sing-song, "Another cup of tea for my doll." They lifted the cup to her painted lips, tilting her head with their other hand. There must have been a crack in her porcelain, because Ray felt the liquid rush in at her mouth and drip down her hollow neck. With growing distress, she felt the excess leaking at the corners at her mouth, the dark pink liquid rushing down her cheeks on its way to stain her pretty new clothes. Thankfully, Gerard caught it just in time, wiping at her with a tissue from the bedside table.
"Can't have that," they murmured. Ray stared up at their creased brows as they licked their thumb and rubbed at the corner of her mouth. The warmth of the tea was filling her, spreading through her stomach, her chest, all the way to the tips of her fingers and her toes. A dull ache bloomed between her legs, much stronger and more pointed than before, an overwhelming craving for friction and pressure.
She saw the moment it hit Gerard, too. Right in front of Ray's eyes, they began to flush, their pupils expanding and cheeks turning the same delicate pink as Ray's dress.
"Oh," they said unsteadily, and put the cup down on the bedside table. "Oh, wow."
Suddenly they were straddling her, grinding down against her plush body, hard cock digging into the softness of her lap. "Dolly," they gasped, eyes fluttering shut, gripping the headboard for dear life. "Mh, that's so—do you feel that too?"
She did. The ache between her legs was unbearable, and there was no way to relieve it. Gerard was shakily rolling their hips, rutting against her soft center, the front of their nightgown bunched between them. It did nothing but tease Ray, her need growing and unfulfillable. The glancing pressure of Gerard rocking in her lap just wasn't enough.
Gerard's mouth was on hers, leaving messy, open-mouth kisses against her painted lips. Ray thought people usually closed their eyes for kissing, but Gerard's were open, wide and frantic, desperate like the little whimpers she was making. Ray wished she could do the same; she blinked slowly, batting her lashes, wishing for some way to tell them what she was feeling. She wanted to believe they'd care for her.
Gerard squirmed back and pulled their skirt up. With her head slumped forward, Ray could see the hard outline of their cock, the flushed tip poking past the lace waistband of their underwear, already soaked dark with precum. With one hand on their cock and the other in a vise grip on her hip, Gerard nestled their head against Ray's shoulder, burying their face in her hair and neck as they stroked frantically. It was over nearly instantly, Gerard quivering against Ray as they came only a few seconds later.
"Oh," they panted, pulling back and straightening Ray's dress. Drops of cum dotted the pink lace like pearls. "I got her new dress all dirty." A hand fussed with Ray's curls, straightening something—a bow?
"I'm sorry." Gerard said it with a regretful pout, but Ray thought she sensed a devious edge, even more so when they added, "Poor dolly," and slid off her lap to sit between her legs again. Then their hand was in her bloomers, like they knew exactly where to touch. Finally. Ray could have cried with relief at the perfect feeling of their hand gliding right over the sore spot and rubbing. "Right there, huh?" Gerard sighed, eyebrows raised. It wasn't really a question.
They pulled Ray forward by the hips, and she was left staring at the ceiling, feeling her skirt bunch up, her shorts go down around her knees. Gerard rubbed at that spot again, their fingers slick and sticky. First the tea and the cum, and now this—she was Gerard's to ruin, but would they still want a ruined doll? Before Ray could get too upset at how messy they were getting her, she felt the tip of their finger dip past the seam between her legs. Was that a hole?
Their finger prodded deeper. That was a hole, right in the center of her seam. Gerard shouldn't have been messing with it like that, and they really shouldn't have slid their entire finger in to prod at her stuffing, but Ray's panic disappeared as the ache inside of her gave way to sharp, raw pleasure.
"My poor dolly is falling apart," Gerard teased, as they wormed a second finger in alongside the first; Ray could feel the thread unraveling, stitches popping as the hole widened. "I'm sorry," Gerard said, voice soft and strained. "I need it. Need inside you. Gotta make room." Now that Ray was being stretched open, she didn't care. She needed more too, even if Gerard had to rip her in half to give it to her. Their fingers were thrusting deeper, worming a path through her dense stuffing, stroking her internally. Something inside of her was shaking, dying to escape past her molded lips.
"I sure hope this feels good." Again, it wasn't really a question. Gerard sounded anxious, even regretful. "I want you to feel good. You've never even been touched like this. Not from the inside." A third finger, fabric straining tight as thread dug in and snapped. Ray wanted to believe that Gerard wanted to make her feel good, and to an extent, she did—but Ray also knew her purpose, and that was to make Gerard happy. She was a toy, and all else was secondary. As if to prove her point, Gerard's flushed face came into view as they leaned over her, panting, practically drooling, hair wild. "I hope you're ready, dolly, cause I can't wait any longer."
They wriggled around, shifting the doll half onto her side, clutched in their arms. Their face was buried in her hair, nuzzling between her shoulders. She felt them fumbling around between her legs, then gentle pressure as they slipped their cock in, slowly, deeper than their fingers had been able to reach. They groaned.
"You feel so good inside. You're so soft, baby doll."
If it weren't for their cock buried deep in her stuffing, it could have been any ordinary night, a girl cuddling their doll as they drifted off to sleep. But the girl's hands were wandering, squeezing the doll's plush body, her hips, her chest, her tummy, even sliding appreciatively along the smooth porcelain of her thighs. Their legs were tangled together, the heat of Gerard's body warming her doll like the summer sun until she felt like she might be alive.
But she wasn't. Gerard was sweet to her, but she wasn't a human lover with needs and opinions. And Gerard wasn't fucking her like one; they'd found a convenient hole, had torn it wider to shove their cock in, and were grinding into it mindlessly, holding the doll's soft body between their legs and chasing sensation with no further regard.
Gerard's breath was hot and humid on the back of her neck. "My—my dolly loves me," they whined into her hair.
Of course, Ray would have said back, if she could.
"I love my dolly." Despite her fears, she knew that—she could feel in their feverish warmth, every little rut of their hips, she felt it dripping it to her now, her stuffing going all wet and tacky—
"Gonna make a mess," Gerard whined, squeezing her tight as they could. One hand moved to her lower torso, just on the other side of the fabric where they were buried in her. They pressed, fingers splayed, compressing Ray's insides so that she clenched tighter around their cock. "Squeezing me," they panted. "Feels so good, baby doll, fuck." It felt good for Ray too, finally bringing real relief to the ache inside of her. She wondered if Gerard could feel their dick through her fabric and stuffing as it jerked with their final, twitchy movements. "I—I'm gonna, I'm gonna—" they babbled, then, "I'm sorry," at the explosion of wet, sticky warmth. She felt every pulse of their cock as it filled the space they'd carved for themself inside of her.
She was ruined, torn open and stuffed full and dirtied inside and out. She could only hope Gerard would still want to keep her, but as she lay with them, basking in the glow of their warmth and affection, it didn't feel impossible.
"I'm sorry," Gerard said again, squeezing her doll gently. But they didn't pull out. Ray kept waiting to feel them go soft, but the hardness stretching her open never relaxed, and soon she was aching around them with need once again. Throughout the night it became a cycle. Cuddling became gentle grinding, which became desperate humping, all while Ray lay limp, glass eyes staring at the wall.
Finally, the stillness that settled over Gerard seemed final, true satisfaction sinking in for both of them. Gerard fell asleep almost immediately, still clutching Ray as she lay in the dark listening to the metronome tick, content in the knowledge that she'd taken it well. Something like sleep must have come over her as well, because soon she was coming to awareness at Gerard stirring in the morning light, slipping out of bed to take the metronome from the dresser. The silence that followed created a vacuum in Ray's head that her thoughts rushed back in to fill.
"How are you doing?" Gerard asked, lacing their fingers with hers, voice raw from sleep. They looked like they could drop off again as soon as their head hit the pillow. "Sorry. I didn't mean to leave you like that all fuckin' night."
Ray was struggling to orient to the strange newness of this fleshy body. She was meat and blood. She could move; her hip ached from laying on her right side all night, and she experimented by shifting her weight. She wasn't ruined, but, fuck was she messy. Suddenly she was aware of how sticky the inside of her shorts were—her dick must have been working as normal, even as she'd been unable to feel it. Her hole was sore and leaking, unsurprising considering she had no idea how many times Gerard had finished inside of her.
"Good," she croaked. And it was true. Almost-pleasantly sore and wrung-out, empty and satisfied, mind quiet. "I could use a shower."
Gerard relaxed, and Ray saw that they had been nervous. "Good. That pink stuff was a lot stronger than I expected, man. That was crazy. But you feel good? Back to normal?"
Man rang in Ray's ears, and it took her a moment to realize why that statement had bothered her.
"Yeah, mostly," she said.
"Mostly?" Gerard's eyes were wide. "What does that mean?"
Ray sat up, joints creaking after lying still for so long. "Just come with me. We can talk about it in the shower."