Category Archives: Horror/Sci Fi

Number 12/13

Daddy, I want new dolls.

I say. My home doll

collection is lacking.




Dominatus gave me one.

He loves me.


He told me so.


He gave his adsero two.

I love them.

Thank you, Master.


They’re twins.

Long, blond hair

and silver eyes.


They’re beautiful.

These girls are frightened.


One pants.


I start the drip.


Don’t forget to wear

your scrubs.

Yes, Dominatus.


I wear them.

I don’t like it.


I dress one

like a Geisha,

her hair up

in intricate knots.


The obi‘s tied

in a knot of prostitution.


I like the other

one more. She’s

a fashionista.


I pose them together

and I take their picture.


My lovely twins.


Its time to throw

your bride away.


He’s giving me

My own one.

My own doll

To dress up.

Waiting is overrated.


When I went in

A girl in the nude

Waited for me.

Her hair was long

And red, bright.


Her waist was thin,

Like a Barbie’s. Perfect

Breasts. Pouty lips.

I caressed her long,

Luxious legs.


I’ll use you for my first.

I stared down at her

Frightened face.

Dominatus approached me.

She’s your first, so she’s your


Slave and Master


She’s had plastic surgery,

I mutter it again and again.

Dominatus ignored me.

Let’s get this hair done right.

His voice was shrill.

Get the white blouse, Adsero.

I do. It sits beside

one of the other dolls.

She’s one of the older ones.

Here, Dominatus.

I say, giving him the blouse.

He’s ripped her old one off.

She’s perfect, Adsero.

I agree. He carressed

her body like it was his wife’s.

He misses her.

My wife was like a doll.

I say nothing.

There are police sirens


Prepare that one.

Yes, Dominatus.

Its a School Scene

With desks from high school

and textbooks that we

cannot touch.  Three of us

stuck in a pose.


I can’t see my companions,

but I know they are from

my high school. My hands are stuck

and we have been frozen.


There is an IV in every

right arm. He comes in.

Hello, my dolls. Let me just

check on you here.


Ah, very good. Very very good.

His breath is hot and rank.

I feel him pull back my hair

from my shoulder.


Your make up needs to be fix,

my love. He brushes something

onto my face. You are too old,



There is a ripping sound

and the camera is splattered

with blood.  Someone drags

them away, their shoes squeaking


The floor. Just another one

of his victims.

Doll to be Prepared

I was prepared.

My hair was permed,

extensions added in for length.

Make up everywhere needed.

He made sure I was perfect.


He put a red dress

on my body. Black evening

gloves on my hands and arms.

I haven’t seen myself

in the mirror, yet.


Gently, He put on

a silver necklace.  I feel

my skin breaking out.  He positioned

a pose between my fingers.

It was red.


His hands were gentle

as He caressed my throat.

My skin opened up and like a faucet,

something poured over my



It all went black.

Number Six

She sits pretty,

pink wig on. White

top, tank.

The sleeves off

her shoulders.


He had adorned

her hair with flowers,

creating pigtails.

Her eyes were glazed,



Her mouth was partially

open, as if she were exhaling.

Blood poured

from her throat, cut.

He only did that


to the ones he loved.

New Doll

Knees together

Eyes open

Her head-tilted

Not moving


She’s his new one

His favorite.

I hate her.

She’s taken him.


Both hands

On couch

Feet in heels



I want his attention

I can’t move.

He’s brushing her hair.

Its my fault.


Yellow skirt flowers

White top

Puffed sleeves

Knee-high socks


I’m used, dirty.

That doll is his favorite.

He’ll do it to her, too.

She’s lucky.


Perfectly straight

Blonde hair

Wide eyes

Pouty lips


She’s perfect.

I’m not.

I’m broken, she’s whole.

I want him to love me again.


She’s scared.

I’m trash.



Dressed to the nines

Posed at the gate

Can’t move can’t move

Why can’t I move?


Just passed the gate

Are cupcakes

I’m so hungry

My arm hurts


Under my skin

The hard metal moves

and my nerves stand on end.


He’s come back.

His voice echos in my head

and gives me a headache.


“Here you go, beautiful doll,”

he whispered in my ear. “I’ll

let you wear a different dress.”


I try to beg

“Just let me go!”

His hands are cold.


I’ve been repositioned.

One arm up, one down.

Will this—