Chapter 30
Dr. Ambrose
Once I arrive home, I open the door to my office and settle my gaze on the freak.
She kneels in the corner, a metal collar fixed around her neck and chained to an o-ring in the floor.
A used rimmed puppy pad is near her, filled with a puddle of her excess waste.
The rich scent of decay, similar to the withered rose garden in my front yard, wafts through the air.
I teased the freak with the idea of wearing diapers; the puppy pads work well for us now.
Her diet—fully hydrated with water and completely reliant on the nutritional shakes—is such that her urine and fecal matter have a mildly sweet aroma.
Eventually, when she’s an object, she won’t be able to relieve herself on a puppy pad; thus, diapers will become the primary method of catching her waste.
A smile broadens my lips. For now, I enjoy seeing her naked, forced to urinate and defecate on a cloth pad like an animal. However, the freak does not take the role of my pet. She’s so much less than that. And soon, she won’t even deserve pronouns.
She will be my object. A thing. A well-used toy.
A moth flies past me and flutters down to a damp rug at the perimeter of the room. The freak peeks at the windowed wall at the far end of the office. Much like my office at the asylum, this home office also has a view into the next room, the laboratory where I once kept my failed experiments.
There aren’t any failed experiments in the laboratory now; my freak took care of all of them.
I quite enjoyed watching her kill the human females and fucking their corpses.
The shame it brought her in the beginning was exquisite—the dread in her eyes, the shivers raking down her spine—all erased with a mere touch of her clit.
It’s impressive how easily it came to her by the last murder.
The freak is fully conditioned now, thanks to my training, triggers, and rewards.
Each of the failed experiments has been shipped off to The Pure Companion Company’s lead taxidermist for skinning in our Hybrid Doll product line: human skin with plastic interiors.
After which, their meat will be transferred to the butcher at the company’s partnered human farm.
While the failed experiments weren’t useful as Living Dolls, a businessman knows to use all of his resources.
Besides, using the skin and meat erases the evidence of any crime.
I’ve even suggested we ask the butcher how to repurpose the bones for feeding the sows in the human farm, as well as the specimens in the development laboratory.
I use a side door in my office to enter the sterile lab, then I ready a small tray on the counter with the tools I’ll need for the freak’s transformation. Then, I return to my office and run my fingers through the freak’s long, grown-out strands of blonde and black hair.
“Tell me, sweet one,” I murmur. “Have you been wondering if your boyfriend, Benji, will return to save you?”
She reaches forward, pawing for my attention.
“Daddy?” Her brow wrinkles. “Who is Benji?”
She no longer remembers her old supposed boyfriend, then. Well—he was more of a caretaker anyway.
I click my tongue as I sheathe my hands in disposable gloves. “Never mind, my love. Let’s try another question. Have you been wondering why there were so many of you in different stages of development?”
Her face contorts on the word “you.” She knows I’m referring to the failed experiments, and that must unnerve her.
The freak doesn’t voice this concern though.
The essence of her mind is still there, wavering between her temples; she can’t fully process what I’m asking anymore.
It’s too difficult, too cognitive. Lust glosses her eyes, and she stays crouched on the floor. Her hips inch forward.
“You’re nothing unless you’re being used.” I tilt my head. “Isn’t that right, my disgusting freak?”
“Yes, Daddy.” She pouts. “Please, Daddy. Can I suck your cock? I need you.”
My dick twitches. I walk around her kneeling form and tap my chin.
“I raped Ivy Ward every night until she became pregnant,” I say.
“I did this twice with her, actually. To be honest, Ivy wasn’t the first woman I bred, nor was her first child exactly what I wanted.
So, I did it again and promised to continue doing so until she produced a daughter.
Luckily, on the second fertilization, she had you. ”
“Ivy?” the freak asks, her voice lighter than a cloud. “Who is Ivy?”
I chuckle, a grin spreading across my face like the roots of a tree. After years of subtly dropping clues about her mother’s death until she was destined to fall into my trap, no one can deny I’ve worked hard. `
I deserve this.
“And then I paid a foster family to take you,” I continue.
I rub the top of the freak’s head, petting the good thing like an obedient dog.
“Some may argue I told them to treat you in such a way you yearned for affection in the worst places. The truth is I did no such thing. I simply requested updates on your upbringing, a vague account of your failures and successes. They neglected you of their own accord. Thus, you became a desperate, filthy cunt with a need for violent acceptance.”
I bend down beside her. Our eyes meet. Her stare is vacant; she’s not fully there. I drag my knuckles across her cheek.
“Only a cock will make you feel good now,” I murmur. “Isn’t that right, sweet one?”
She nods, her head bobbing like an idiot, greedy for the purple head of my dick between her lips.
“Please give it to me, Daddy,” she says. “I want to make you cum. I need to make you cum.”
She’s so brainless now; I can’t even call her stupid, because that would mean she made actual attempts to attain knowledge. Her stupidity is irritating; simultaneously, it brings me bliss.
I can’t wait to experience her as a fully-fledged doll.
“I’ve been working on the creation of a living human doll—a sex toy, if you will—for many years now,” I say.
I stand to my full height and begin circling her kneeling form.
“I was fascinated by the idea that a person didn’t need consent or even the intellectual functions of the other to indulge in their desires.
At first, I used different psychosurgery techniques from older generations—lobotomies, in plain terms—hoping one of these methods would give me the key to a living, breathing human sex toy.
None of those older methods worked; there are obviously reasons why those techniques were abandoned by my colleagues.
Then I realized my assistant, Oliver, had the talent to create a microchip that utilizes different areas of the brain intermittently, so the body works while outside forces may control the reactions of the specimen. ”
The freak crawls forward, her mouth open. “Pleeease—”
I kick her chest. The bitch cowers on her paws, finding her position at my feet.
I roll my eyes, then continue: “Then I met the Founder, a man with considerable talents, like myself. He has the business capabilities to build an empire; my assistant has unique engineering insight; I am the one who knows how to properly condition the specimens before they’re transformed, and I have enough neurosurgery experience under my belt so the specimens may fully heal.
My procedure will guarantee the natural responses desired by our clients. ”
I remove a loaded sedation syringe from my desk drawer and put it in my back pocket.
“We can completely transform the object’s processing unit,” I explain.
“You will retain your ability to feel, think, and react, so far as I’ve given you the power to do so in your intellectual training.
Tears, grunts, moans, even screams will come to you, as will your orgasms. However, you will not be able to do anything beyond those responses.
” I sigh deeply. “But those precious thoughts that have plagued you for years will never truly go away. They’ll stay hidden in your psyche.
Their purpose is to inform your primal reactions, never quite reaching the surface of voluntary action.
” I throw my hands up in victory. “Ah, your owner will never be required to do anything; your body will simply react. There is so much potential—”
“You’re going to give me to someone else?” she cries.
I stop my hands in mid-air and scrutinize the freak.
Though she is under my control, the leftovers from her old self simmer under the surface: the need for my acceptance, to always belong.
She wiggles on her haunches, her hips gyrating.
A drop of pre-cum wets my pants. She’s so fucking desperate, my mouth salivates.
I lower my hands and crouch down on my haunches beside her.
Due to my height, I’m significantly higher than her, but this is more even ground than we’ve been on for a long time.
I want her to understand my next words completely.
She’s worked hard to be good to me; she deserves this one last reassurance.
“My sweet one. My precious freak,” I say in a gentle voice. “I will never give you away. In fact, when I’m about to die, I’ll kill you first and watch your corpse burn so your body will never be used by another.”
Terror flickers over her pupils, but her knees spread wider. I thrust my hand between her thighs, cupping her drenched cunt. A small space lingers between my palm and her mound; I’m careful not to touch her clit yet.
I grab the syringe from my pocket. “Are you ready, sweet one?”
She nods like I knew she would.
“Good girl,” I murmur.