FIC: Dollface
“Come here, doll face.”
I sashayed towards him, dressed in her slinky red dress, hugging me at the appropriate curves. My long raven hair was tied in a neat little bun, held by a pair of bejeweled chopsticks; her mother’s. The corset I wore underneath brought out once non-existence curves. The make-up I liberally applied on my face was my only form of defense; it was my physical mask to the outside world.
Sometimes, I wonder what would happen if I stopped the endless charades, this useless game. But I knew the answer to that - I would then join the ranks of the dead. Another forgotten soul, lying in some drain or worse, stripped naked of all valuables.
Perhaps…perhaps he would be kind and just slash my throat or something but all of us knew what happened. He would be our last before we return back from whence we came. No one would be any wiser. After all, who cared about us creatures of the night?
The drunken blond haired asshole whistled, his friends laughing. Amidst the atmosphere of merriment, one of them said it.
“Fucking faggot.”
I held back the tears that threatened to spill. This was nothing new after all- everyone who saw us knew. No matter how hard we mimicked the real thing, we could never come close to being the real thing. Sometimes, I wondered if this was all one big joke being played by some Supreme Being.
“Honey, if I was a faggot, I wouldn’t have my puppies, wouldn’t I?” I winked slyly as I squeezed my protruding breasts, silicone implants really.
The rest of the rowdy sailors laughed at the inebriated sailor, now cussing and sputtering words I could barely comprehend. No matter the language, I knew what he meant, forcing memories to resurface.
He tried his best to stand up but in his inebriated state, he was in no condition to do so. He lost his footing and landed flat on his face, eliciting howls of laughter from his buddies. I almost pitied the poor fool but then again, why should I? It was something that I had grown accustomed to.
The muscled blonde grabbed me roughly, pulling me down onto his lap, claiming me as his. He caressed my face, remarking about my beauty, before he laughed, his breath a noxious mix of cigarettes and lager. I forced back down the bile as his large, rough hands started to move downwards towards my exposed waxed thighs. I put on my best seductive smile; after all this was business. If this wasn’t, I think I would have conked him on his head.
He suddenly grabbed my face and forcefully shoved his tongue down my throat. His invading member probed around. As disgusted as I was, I had no choice but to reciprocate. I let out a moan; after all I was merely an instrument to him; a tool to heighten his masculinity.
All the world’s a stage and the men and women merely players…
I knew the whole game like the back of my hand; he, like so many others before him would have his way with me later. I would be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it. I needed release too.
Perched precariously on his lap, trying to feign interest in him; essentially sweet-talking him into spending more, I felt a presence around us. The tiny hairs on my back rose as goose bumps formed over my milky white skin. I turned around, trying to figure out the source of this discomfort. And then I saw him.
I didn’t know if I wanted to laugh or cry.
There he sat, trying his best to hide from me; really, a futile effort. After all, who reads papers in the dark? As I plied the pompous jerks before me, I toyed with the idea that he was here to take me back. I knew it was a ridiculous notion - He had already declared to the world that I was dead; I still have that clipping of my own obituary.
It was a reminder really, that I was dead or rather the old me. I was no longer the shy little boy that smiled at me from the yellowed paper; I was now a voluptuous woman, incomplete but a woman nevertheless appearance-wise. And yet, a part of me isn’t so sure. But then again, I had nothing to lose anyways. My life was worth nothing; I was indeed society’s trash, just like what he predicted.
He noticed my staring and he stood up, straightened that ugly print shirt of his and left. And I swore I glimpsed on his face a wet trail or two.
I wondered how he was coping alone in the dirty cramped apartment. Was he eating right? Did he ever visit the doctor for his heart ailment? I wanted to chase after him, to ask about his well-being and also to beg for his forgiveness for doing it behind his back.
“What the hell are you doing in your mother’s things?! And is that…”
“Pa…I…”
“Don’t you touch me, you sick shit!”
“Get the hell out of my house now! Oh Merciful Heavens, what did I ever do to deserve this?! Is this punishment for my previous lifetime’s sins? Oh Merciful Heavens…”
“Pa. Stop it. I…”
“Do you NOT understand the words coming out of my lips you worthless piece of trash! Get OUT! I never had such a shameful son!”
“Fine! I never had you as a father anyways!”
Yet of what use would that be? Was it wrong to show the world who I was on the inside? In fact, it should have been him who should have apologized. What right had he to control my life? And I silently bid farewell to the old man who used to be my father. I watched as the figure retreated silently into the shadows.
And then I heard a loud screech.
I sashayed towards him, dressed in her slinky red dress, hugging me at the appropriate curves. My long raven hair was tied in a neat little bun, held by a pair of bejeweled chopsticks; her mother’s. The corset I wore underneath brought out once non-existence curves. The make-up I liberally applied on my face was my only form of defense; it was my physical mask to the outside world.
Sometimes, I wonder what would happen if I stopped the endless charades, this useless game. But I knew the answer to that - I would then join the ranks of the dead. Another forgotten soul, lying in some drain or worse, stripped naked of all valuables.
Perhaps…perhaps he would be kind and just slash my throat or something but all of us knew what happened. He would be our last before we return back from whence we came. No one would be any wiser. After all, who cared about us creatures of the night?
The drunken blond haired asshole whistled, his friends laughing. Amidst the atmosphere of merriment, one of them said it.
“Fucking faggot.”
I held back the tears that threatened to spill. This was nothing new after all- everyone who saw us knew. No matter how hard we mimicked the real thing, we could never come close to being the real thing. Sometimes, I wondered if this was all one big joke being played by some Supreme Being.
“Honey, if I was a faggot, I wouldn’t have my puppies, wouldn’t I?” I winked slyly as I squeezed my protruding breasts, silicone implants really.
The rest of the rowdy sailors laughed at the inebriated sailor, now cussing and sputtering words I could barely comprehend. No matter the language, I knew what he meant, forcing memories to resurface.
He tried his best to stand up but in his inebriated state, he was in no condition to do so. He lost his footing and landed flat on his face, eliciting howls of laughter from his buddies. I almost pitied the poor fool but then again, why should I? It was something that I had grown accustomed to.
The muscled blonde grabbed me roughly, pulling me down onto his lap, claiming me as his. He caressed my face, remarking about my beauty, before he laughed, his breath a noxious mix of cigarettes and lager. I forced back down the bile as his large, rough hands started to move downwards towards my exposed waxed thighs. I put on my best seductive smile; after all this was business. If this wasn’t, I think I would have conked him on his head.
He suddenly grabbed my face and forcefully shoved his tongue down my throat. His invading member probed around. As disgusted as I was, I had no choice but to reciprocate. I let out a moan; after all I was merely an instrument to him; a tool to heighten his masculinity.
All the world’s a stage and the men and women merely players…
I knew the whole game like the back of my hand; he, like so many others before him would have his way with me later. I would be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it. I needed release too.
Perched precariously on his lap, trying to feign interest in him; essentially sweet-talking him into spending more, I felt a presence around us. The tiny hairs on my back rose as goose bumps formed over my milky white skin. I turned around, trying to figure out the source of this discomfort. And then I saw him.
I didn’t know if I wanted to laugh or cry.
There he sat, trying his best to hide from me; really, a futile effort. After all, who reads papers in the dark? As I plied the pompous jerks before me, I toyed with the idea that he was here to take me back. I knew it was a ridiculous notion - He had already declared to the world that I was dead; I still have that clipping of my own obituary.
It was a reminder really, that I was dead or rather the old me. I was no longer the shy little boy that smiled at me from the yellowed paper; I was now a voluptuous woman, incomplete but a woman nevertheless appearance-wise. And yet, a part of me isn’t so sure. But then again, I had nothing to lose anyways. My life was worth nothing; I was indeed society’s trash, just like what he predicted.
He noticed my staring and he stood up, straightened that ugly print shirt of his and left. And I swore I glimpsed on his face a wet trail or two.
I wondered how he was coping alone in the dirty cramped apartment. Was he eating right? Did he ever visit the doctor for his heart ailment? I wanted to chase after him, to ask about his well-being and also to beg for his forgiveness for doing it behind his back.
“What the hell are you doing in your mother’s things?! And is that…”
“Pa…I…”
“Don’t you touch me, you sick shit!”
“Get the hell out of my house now! Oh Merciful Heavens, what did I ever do to deserve this?! Is this punishment for my previous lifetime’s sins? Oh Merciful Heavens…”
“Pa. Stop it. I…”
“Do you NOT understand the words coming out of my lips you worthless piece of trash! Get OUT! I never had such a shameful son!”
“Fine! I never had you as a father anyways!”
Yet of what use would that be? Was it wrong to show the world who I was on the inside? In fact, it should have been him who should have apologized. What right had he to control my life? And I silently bid farewell to the old man who used to be my father. I watched as the figure retreated silently into the shadows.
And then I heard a loud screech.