#horror babe

It seems after all that time together now, you finally understand. He couldn’t be any happier. You’re such a good girl and a lot of fun. He especially loves how far you’ve come along during roleplaying.

Here in the dollhouse Dale built for the two of you to play pretend in, most things were made out of plastic. In the earlier days of your homecoming, you used to throw and break things in rebellion, insulting your playtime together. But now he gets to adoringly watch you fake a bite into a toy fruit from a plastic edible arrangement display.

Dale enters the kitchen, wagging a finger. “Honey, you shouldn’t eat those. The guests will be here any minute and our beautiful display will be all gone if you continue to eat those fruits.”

“Sorry, mommy,” You say, shamefully popping the toy peach slice back in its place. “They’re just so delicious.”

He softly laughs, kissing your hand. “I know you can’t help yourself when it comes to things that are as sweet as you. You can have just one more fruit.”

“You mean it?” You beam.

“Go for it.”

Your nose scrunches with how hard you smile before you end up picking a plastic blueberry from the display. You fake eat it, rubbing your belly as if it were the most delicious thing you’ve tasted.

“This makes me want a blueberry pie.” You say.

A ding from the “oven” surprises a delighted Dale as he rushes over to it, preparing to remove the pie of from the oven after putting on some oven mitts. The pie is obviously not hot or real, plastic with a slice already cut into it. And the oven is just a part of the plastic life-sized kitchen, the light within acting as heating coils.

“You’re in luck.” He says resting the dish on the table.

“Smells delicious. Bet it tastes delicious, too. May I please have a piece?”

“Well, normally I’d wait until company arrived but since you asked so nicely, you may.”

You reach for the slice with your hand and Dale’s smile drops. You’d made a mistake during your roleplaying. The pie was meant to be hot and yet you touched it with your bare hand. Dale hated when you broke character. He’d given you the benefit of the doubt when you’d first arrived but now you should be an expert plaything by now. You’ll be punished for this!

Trembling, you think of a quick way to save this. “Ow!” You scream, tossing the slice onto the ground and nursing your hand. “It’s really hot!”

His hardened face softens as he goes to your side, holding your hand in his. “Oh, you poor thing, you should be very careful. Remember slow and steady wins the race.”

You whimper, sniffling a little. “I wasn’t thinking. Now I’ve ruined my nice dress and your floor. You’ve just cleaned these floors and now it’s all messy with your yummy blueberry pie,” You lower your head in defeat. “I’ll accept whatever punishment you give me.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, little angel,” Dale says, placing a puffy-lipped kiss on your open palm. “I’ll worry about this mess later. Let’s patch you up and then find you a new dress to impress.”

“Sounds wonderful.” You reply excitedly.

After retrieving a toy medical supply bag from the pantry, Dale attends to your “wounds” and you play up your act for him. You can’t help but to shudder at his depravity even after all this time; the way his face lights up in pleasure at your pained whines and moans.

“All done!” He sing-songs and you raise your bandage-wrapped hand up to examine it.

“That feels a lot better, mommy. Thank you.”

“Of course, angel. Now let’s get you out of this messy dress. We’ve got plenty of dresses for you to choose from.” He says, clapping his hands eagerly.

You both enter the manually-cranked elevator that leads to the second floor of the dollhouse, where your bedroom is.

You enter the room going towards your plastic closet, a large button in the wall you could press that revolves to reveal each dress you owned one by one.

“That blue dress would look lovely on you.” Dale says, reaching it and placing it over in front of you. He walks you over to the “mirror” which was just a piece of reflective tape over a pink plastic mirror frame. Did you mention everything was fucking plastic?! It’s enough to drive you nuts but you hold on for some reason. Was it because of him or were there others outside of this plastic world that you stayed sane for?

“You seem distant, little angel,” Dale says in a heavy breath beside your ear. “Could it be more important than dress up?”

“Nothing’s more important than my time with you, mommy.” You smile, shaking off your strange thoughts.

“Go on and try on this beauty.” He says before facing away to give you privacy.

You pull the strings from the corset of your dress. A low whisper within you tempts you to do the unthinkable and use the rope-like laces to wrap around his pale neck and squeeze. To…hurt him. No! You could never. Not to your mommy.

But why did it sound like the right thing to do? As if he’d been the barrier to your freedom.

You let the dress pool around your feet, quickly shrugging on a new dress. You could tell he’d personally made it himself. It was made of a cheap satin fabric with a kind of tulle material that crunched every time you moved.

“I’m ready.” You whisper

He turns around and gasps with joy, voice pitched high. “Oh. There she is…the almost birthday girl.”

Is that right? Your birthday’s approaching? Goodness, you couldn’t tell how long it’s been since you’ve seen a calendar.

“You look stunning,” He says, hands clasped together over his mouth as he watches his creation worn by the doll he loves so very much. “You pull it off. Better than myself I’d say. I’m quite jealous.”

“You flatter me,” You wave off. “I bet it’d look even more beautiful on you than me, mommy.”

“Oh, hogwash.” He says bashfully, looking down and fiddling with the belt of his robe.

“I really mean it,” You say, walking up to him. “I’d bet if you’d pamper yourself as much as you’ve done for me…you’d see how beautiful you truly are. The way I see you.”

You place a hand on his pale filler-plumped cheek and he melts against it despite feeling as if he should cut off this kind of contact. Believe it or not, Dale liked keeping things wholesome to uphold the friendly environment. So no sexual contact whatsoever has ever been exchanged. But the way you caressed his cheek, hand on his chest made him weak at the knees.

“Mommy, could I maybe pamper you instead?” You ask.

“The guests will be here any—”

“I’d really like to brush your pretty hair,” You insist. “Maybe apply your makeup for you, help you into this lovely dress you’ve made. We won’t be too long. Indulge in this with me just once, mommy.”

“W-well, I guess we can have a little bit of fun before the dinner party.” He pulls out a small pocket watch from his sweatpants pocket, setting a timer. “35 minutes on the dot and then we’ll clean that mess you made in the kitchen before our guests come to the tea party.”

You jump up and down, excitedly. “Yes, mommy.”

You drag him to the vanity table, sitting him on the unstable seat that looked like it’d give out under his weight. He looked much too big and tall in the tiny chair but you trekked on, taking the large brush from the table and brushing through his hair.

“Do you have a style in mind?” You ask, picking up fake scissors to snip away at his hair.

“I’d like to look like the new rockstars in the magazines.” He chuckles. “Hang on, I think I’ve got a page folded up in my pocket here that you could use for reference. My hairdresser Polly was meant to do this for me but then you drove a hard bargain.”

He rummages through his pocket, pulling out the folded up page. You open it up and, instead of it being a photo of the rockstar, it’s a page that only had half of its lettering: missing agent…last…pale man…longlegs.

Too afraid to read into it, you flip the page around to the right side and resume your character. “You have the perfect cheekbones for this look.”

“Why thank you,” He smiles, eyes closed in contentment. “You sure they aren’t too much?”

“There’s no such thing as too much,” You lean beside his face, placing a wet open-mouthed kiss on his cheek that makes him gasp. “See? Full cheeks; the better to pepper kisses all over them.”

“All done with your hair. May I please do your makeup?”

“Yes, angel.”

You take the toy lipstick, smearing the tip over his already crimson-painted lips. You take an eyeshadow brush, hovering over the faded blue eyeshadow on his eyelids so as not to remove it from his face. Then, you pat a powder sponge over his face, smoothing over the white powder along his lumpy face.

“Gorgeous,” You whisper. “And last but not least, the dress.”

You work the laces of the dress and Dale stands quickly to turn and look away. It’s not as if you’d be fully naked. You’d be in your undergarments which were practically modest on their own.

Dale expects you to turn away but instead you walk over to him, pushing his robe down his shoulders. You place his hands in position to hook his fingers beneath his shirt, silently instructing him to worry about that task while you tug down his sweatpants and underwear.

“Not those!” He says wanting to retrieve his underwear but you stop him.

“You can wear mine, mommy.” You whisper, placing a wet kiss on his now-exposed hairy chest.

Dale shrugs the dress onto his body before you can take a glance at his stirring cock. His tall frame makes the dress hard to reach the ground but it is covered enough. You go into your drawers, retrieving cute cotton underwear with a frilly bow in the front, pulling them up his legs for him.

“So pretty, mommy.” You say in awe.

He beams, a tear streaming down his face as he felt as pretty as you said he is.

“So, so pretty,” You whisper, hand gliding up his inner thigh from beneath the frilly skirt of his dress. “Can I play with you now?”

Dale finds himself on your plastic bed not a moment later being ridden hard and rough by you. You bounce eagerly on his thick cock, after pushing the panties to the side and taking him raw inside of you. Every now and then, you’d pull him up by his dress and force him deeper into you. Whenever he’d try to pull back from being so overwhelmed by the intense feelings of pleasure, you slam down hard on him.

The wet sounds of squelching and skin slapping fill the room as you leave no room for him to breathe from your constricting walls. Your whines and pleas were like a beautiful symphony he’d love to hear on repeat. He was the loudest with his cries especially when he’s close and when he’d spurt rope after rope of his hot cum into your pussy.

His makeup is smeared and sloppy by your frequent kisses, your tongue basically slivering down his throat as if to consume him from within. You take his air each time as he gasps like a fish out of water from the prolonged make-out session, chest rising and falling rapidly to take in oxygen. You quickly steal it away from him with yet another pornographic kiss that he surrenders himself to.

And then there’s that pesky timer he’d set that rang long ago. Too far gone and drunk with lust and your tight pussy, he didn’t have the capacity to notice such a break in the schedule and you weren’t stopping to obey this order either.

You broke most of your rules yet consistently you continued to call him “mommy” in character even as you’d cream his cock for the 4th time that evening.