Doll
A Vignette
By Maryanne Peters

Mike was an artist and I love art. The truth is that I love Mike too, and I probably always did. It was just that for him to love me back I needed to become a doll.

The art form that he had moved onto was tableaux if you know what those are. It is like a crossover between performance and visual art. You take a live subject and dress them, and put them in a setting, like a box. In an exhibition the box is kept dark, and then every few minutes it is illuminated, and the subject is revealed striking one of maybe a dozen poses, for usually 60 seconds or so, before the box goes dark again. It is not for everybody, but as Mike said, each pose is a work in itself, so an exhibition of 4 tableaux is like 48 works.

The problem is finding subjects, or rather models to be the subjects. It does not require any more skills than the ability to remember your poses and pretend to be a statue for a minute. Still, Mike hired actors, and on occasions I had agreed to fill in.

Everything I had done for Mike before was posing as a guy, although I was too scrawny for the athletic roles. I knew what he wanted and because I worshipped him and his abilities, I did my very best to deliver and he knew that.

He had an idea to have 4 tableaux of dolls and he asked whether I would be one. I was puzzled but he assured me that I could do it.

“It is just a costume like the others you have worn,” he said. “The only difference is that you may need heavy makeup and a wig, or maybe because you have longish hair, just fake ringlets for the doll I have in mind.”

The truth is that I was ready to do anything he wanted, so when he talked about how to achieve the right kind of “doll face” I was ready to help by going that little bit further. It seemed to me that a smooth face without blemishes could not be achieved with caked-on makeup, especially in the brightly lit confined space of a tableaux box, so I went in for a facial treatment. I wanted the hair to look right too, so I decided that the long curls should be stitched in for the duration of the exhibition.

The costume was 17th century under garments, very full but with exposed arms and lower legs, so those needed to be shaved down. I had to wear a corset under the garment to take on a female shape. I was prepared to do all of this, and I did it happily. On the other hand, the three other girls that Mike hired seemed to complain constantly.

The exhibition kicked off and I heard it was a hit. Mike was selling limited edition photoprints of all the tableaux and poses and they were selling well. Mike had told some of the visitors to the exhibition that one of the 4 actors in their boxes was male – could they pick which one? It seemed to add interest.

“You cannot let on,” he said. “At the closing we will have all 4 of your mix with the publica at the after-party, so you need to work on your voice to sound female.” I did just that. I would do anything for Mike.

I could not help noticing that he seemed to be spending a lot of time in front of me during the exhibitions. He should have been mixing with the public and not spending time looking at his work, but even as I looked into space in my poses, I could see him out of the corner of my eyes, just watching me.

At that after-party I used my new feminine voice in mingling with the invited guests and only a few picked me as the man, and more picked one or two of the others. Mike was very pleased.

We were the last to leave the hall that night. I was just about to head off to get changed and Mike stopped me.

“You can take off those bloomers but leave the corset on,” he said. “Get changed into this.”

He handed me a box. In it was a cocktail dress and shoes in my size, and a pair of special panties. I did not understand at first what they were, but when I was doing what he asked, in private I realized that these panties were designed to tuck away my male bits but left a gap for my asshole.

For a moment I was in shock. I just stood there with these panties in my hands wondering what it all meant. But then I looked in the mirror and I suppose that I realized – maybe my love for Mike might yet be returned?

I stepped out with those panties on, in the dress and heels. The only other change was to add a little more lipstick in place of the tiny mouth painted on. I looked like a doll still, but dressed for a night on the town.

Mike took me out for a late supper, and then after some slow dancing and our first kiss, it just seemed natural to go home with him and learn what the opening in those panties was there for.

I am still his doll today.

The End

© Maryanne Peters 2023