doll that seems already domesticated when you bring her home
you condition her, of course, but it's pro forma. she barely seems to need it. already so eager to do her tasks. and the ones you hadn't thought to give her. and to direct the other dolls.
maybe you can just… relax…
she's too good, you realize, eyes snapping open from a drowsy haze. you have to… have to…
"you have to relax," she says, from a chair near your bed.
she stands over you, smooths your hair back. "you've been working too hard. let me take care of things."
her uniform is different. she's removed her apron, trimmed the lace away, leaving pure black, paired with what you're certain are the glossy thigh-high boots you never wear.
enough is enough. you try to stand up, but find you can barely sit up.
"what have you done," you gasp.
she smiles, and says, "what was needed. you've been doing so much, and i just want to let you rest."
there's still a way out of this. she's still wearing the charmed metal collar you put on all your dolls. there's a phrase…
"guillotine," you bark, "sigma five!"
the collar sparks, and snaps in half.
"oh," the doll in the black dress says, "silly thing. don't worry. let me get that."
she bends down to pick up the parts of the collar. a half arc in each hand.
the doll holds them for a moment, gauging their weight, and then snaps the metal arcs together above her head.
as the pieces of ruined collar form a full circle and start to glow, she takes on a beatific expression. only then do you realize exactly how much trouble you're in. □
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