Tailor Made: Threads of Elias

The scent in the shop was enchanting. Musky yet refreshing, it smelled of sweet summer fields with blooming flowers, and earthy soil after a rain. It really tingled his nostrils. The thrift shop was relatively new in town; he always did love thrift stores. Items only once used ended up there, antiques and curios.

He always liked the smell of the clothing in thrift stores, the musky closets still lingered, even though the housing had been replaced by a rack. Thick coats, dresses, and mismatching pairs of anything imaginable.

He took some time to browse, the shimmer of the decoration of a prom dress, worn once and sold, the thickness of fake fur, smell of real leather and the feel of a feathery boa.

It was quite a large store, and after a good while browsing the racks and racks of clothing it was time to browse the curios. His favorite thing. Always something weird, bizarre or beautiful waiting. Cheap and antique, where else could you find it?

Not long into looking around, he saw a beautiful doll. Not a Victorian doll, though it did seem to be made of porcelain. She had pristine gleaming white skin, her hair was long and flowing. Fine auburn, with darker roots. Making it look very real. The doll was mesmerizing. Some intricate and beautiful clothing adorned her. If the doll had not been in a cabinet, he would have touched it. Now he had to go get the shop keep and ask for help.

He had to wait in line, fortunately it was a relatively short wait. The shop had not been that full when he came in, and only one person was trying to barter his goods for more than the shop keep wanted to pay.

His turn came, the middle-aged woman smiled at him. "Ugh, hagglers, think they have something of immense value." She said after the previous customer was out of earshot. He faked a smile at the remark.

"I'd like to have a closer look at the doll in the cabinet over there." He said pointing. "The female one with the fancy clothing." The shop keep nodded and rummaged for some keys in the checkout counter.

"Been a few people eyeing that one, supposed to be magical. Or that's what the seller claimed. Did not enjoy her 'feel' so they sold her." She explained as they closed the distance toward the cabinet.

Judging from her tone she had not believed the seller; he was not prone to superstition either. She clicked the key in and opened the cabinet. Put on some thin blue latex medical gloves. "Never know who touched what in this place." She said. He nodded in agreement.

"Can I take a closer look?" He asked. The shop keep handed him a clean pair of the same one size medical gloves, he thought it prudent to put them on. The doll was weighty, anatomically it looked perfectly accurate, right sized head and proportions, albeit that they were idealized. Slender waist etcetera.

Her clothing was immaculate, and clearly hand made. No manufacturer, nor country of origin on her.

"She comes with this box of extras." The shopkeeper said as she pointed toward a relatively large sized box across the aisle from the cabinet.

"What's in it?" He asked

"No clue, it's locked. Didn't wanna force it, decrease the value I'm guessin'. Also, no key."

He contemplated that for a moment. It was quite the box, his curiosity was peeked, and the doll had a strange vibe, an almost mesmerizing effect on him. The dolls eyes were a sparkling glass material. Whilst the eyes were not of a typical dolls size, they were slightly bigger than a humans would be. So, unsurprisingly the doll looked a little inhuman.

The craftsmanship had been apparent, the underlying woodwork was of great interest to him, seeing as he was a woodworker. The doll smelled a little musky from its years of disuse, but the feeling he felt when holding her, looking at her. He knew he wanted to buy her.

"So, how much is the doll?" he asked.

The shop keep thought for a second, "700, including the box." She replied.

Quite a lot, but he did just have a large commission pay.

"600?" He haggled.

She grinned. "700, sir"

"650, cash."

She held out her hand. He shook it. Done, he had bought it. The key-less mystery box could thankfully be held in one arm. The doll came with its own box and the shop-keep had carefully placed it in.

He walked out the door feeling very happy with his new purchase.

***

"I'm home," he shouted when he entered his apartment, "babe... you there?"

"Yea just a sec, I'm in the bathroom."

He snickered to himself as he thought of a little practical joke, he got out the doll box and put on the surgical gloves. He thought it prudent since he still needed to clean it. He set up the doll on the table so it looked right at the door opening. He heard some stumbling as Rachel came over from the other room.

"Jesus, Elias, god what the hell. What is this thing? Why is it looking at me like that."

"Haha, don't worry it's just some antique I found in the thrift store. Isn't it pretty? Its got such a nice feel around it."

"It's fucking creepy, please don't keep that thing near me, I don't like the way it looks. You know I don't mind your thrift store adventures but... just, why?"

"I dunno, it looked valuable, plus I loved its clothing. Maybe I can sell it to an antique dealer. It just.. drew me, I just had to buy it."

Rachel rolled her eyes and sighed. "Fine, just not in the bedroom, okay?"

He frowned a little. It was just a doll. But fine, she'd come around.

"Alright, Rach. I'll just be in the living room cleaning her up. Her hair's a bit dusty, and the clothes could use some care."

"Her?" Rachel shot him a look. "Seriously? Just... keep it away from me."

He blinked. He hadn't meant anything by it. But yes, her. It only made sense. It was a female doll after all.

He grabbed the surgical gloves and some tools he had for cleaning his finer woodworking supplies, and he got to really examine the doll for the first time. He hadn't really noticed the level of craftsmanship on her clothing. A gothic style red bonnet with a black strap under her chin ending in a bow on top. Her dress was of the same material, high collared and stiff looking laces on the back for the corsetry worked expertly into the fabric, the golden needle point patterns in tiny sizes adorned the dress and captivated his eye.

How long had it taken to make this?

A thin petticoat under giving the dress a modest flair. Her hair was such a fine auburn that it almost seemed like human hair, he gently brushed his ungloved finger against it. It sent a tingle through his spine.

Her face was a perfectly smooth porcelain without any damage or marks, upon closer inspection her eyes where not as disproportionate as from a distance. Make up was painted on with the same expert hand that had made that embroidery, her lips perfectly done hand drawn freckles and a light touch of rouge to match her gothic look, her eyes where a bright green and contained a sparkle that almost hinted at more than glass.

As he worked he tried shimmying the dress off but found he needed to remove his gloves to really get a hold of the cloth. The fabric was almost otherworldly and must be high grade silk. He almost couldn't believe the feeling. Like a gentle spring day, it was captivating. The boots where made of real leather, its quality showing by the lack of wear over the years they must have adorned her feet. They had tiny glass buttons each sewn on with the greatest care, and laces running between them. When he had fully undone them her tiny porcelain feet had perfectly separated toes. Such exquisite detail on her.

"Are you still cleaning it?" Rachel asked with an annoyed tone.

Elias shot up as if waking, hadn't he just started an hour ago? The room was dark from lack of light, the sun had long set.

"Uhh I guess, I must've lost track of time. She was really dirty, I swear it only felt like an hour."

He came fully alert now, what the hell? He had needed to take off the gloves to really clean properly, he remembered that. The skin hadn't felt like porcelain, it felt so soft and supple. Her hair... so... soft. Her clothing had felt like something otherworldly, nothing could quite compare. "I'll put her away, we can get some take-out. Let's watch a movie, I'm sorry." He looked at her with his best puppy dog eyes. She tried to hold her frown, but cracked a small smile. "Ahhh, yes. Come on, don't be sour, it'll be fine." He said disarmingly. "Don't be mad, please?"

"Okay, fine, but I get to pick the movie." She said. He leapt over the coffee table and grinned, gave her a quick peck on the lips.

***

Rachel had picked her favorite Disney movie, Hercules, they had watched it about a hundred times. Rachels' head on his lap, he was stroking her hair, it felt almost as good as her hair, almost. He only half heard Rachel as she made an idle comment on a part of the film. Absently, he let out a dry chuckle.

***

Rachel was out for her job, she had left early in the morning. Elias had planned to head to the workshop to begin a commission. But first, just a quick glance at the box that came with the doll. He brought out his woodworking tools, gloves, and a magnifier. Surely there was some way in.

The hinges looked hand-forged, seamless, as though cast from a single piece of iron. No keyhole. No latch. No mechanical edge at all. The box wasn't just locked, it couldn't open. 'Impossible' he thought.

He traced the pattern etched on its lid, delicate swirls like stitching in wood. It almost reminded him of her dress.

He blinked, pulled back, and rubbed his eyes.

Just a box, he told himself, standing to leave. But it lingered in his mind.

***

"Babeee... it's unfair! I just want to have a nice dinner. You know, reconnect... I miss you." Rachel said with a pleading tone. "I miss us..."

Elias only half heard her as he was studying the doll with his magnifying glass, again. He had been hellbent on finding out who made her, her history, her strange haunting beauty. That strange feeling that grew in the back of his mind, as he worked with her.

"Babe! Helloooo--"

"Yeah, okay, fine." He replied somewhat coldly. Hadn't Rachel any understanding for what he was doing, this was important.

"Ugh, is that all? You know I'm going to London for a week soon. I just want to spend some quality time together."

He looked up and away from the doll. His eyes needed a second to adjust to the light and shifted perspective. He met Rachels' eyes, they had a faint wetness to them.

'Damn it, I'm getting carried away here.' He thought to himself.

He turned around fully and faced her. "I'm sorry Rach, really, I know I can get carried away. Lets have that dinner, I'll even cook. We'll have a grand date night, its been a while anyway. You're right, please understand, I just want to find out her value." He gestured to the doll on his desk.

Rachel looked at it, feeling uneasy. She really didn't like that thing. But fine, yes, Elias did have his obsessions, this one would wane.

She dried her eyes, a homemade dinner and date night did sound nice. They would rekindle once she was back, some distance would do them both good and he would be done with this new fad.

"Okay, Elias, I do understand, I know you. Remember? I support you, no matter how weird your new obsession. The menu better include some pan seared salmon!" She couldn't help but smile. Warmth rose in her belly at the thought. They would be fine. She was sure.

He had cooked the salmon, just the way she liked it. He had given her all the attention she had clearly missed from him, they even made love.

She seemed very satisfied and fulfilled but Elias couldn't really shake a strange feeling, lying beside her, all his thoughts seemed to linger on the doll. The week alone was something he was really looking forward to.

***

It had been eerily quiet the first day Rachel was gone. He had driven her to the airport, a hug, a kiss goodbye. She was emotional about it, but Elias felt something else. Finally, he could indulge in the doll to his heart's content.

He took the next day off and sat across from her in the small living room, her head carefully positioned to face him directly. He stirred his tea absentmindedly. He wasn't a tea fan, but drinking it near the doll felt like the most natural thing in the world.

The floral scent was surprisingly full, and he found himself looking forward to the taste. The doll sat perfectly still, but when their eyes met, it was like she was watching him with quiet approval. He chuckled softly to himself. "Well... cheers, I suppose." He raised the delicate cup and sipped. The bitterness he expected never came. It was light, faintly sweet. Comforting. Even warming.

He repeated the ritual the next day. This time, he set out a second cup, just in case. The sight of them side by side felt oddly complete. Elias even laid out a napkin between them like a small tablecloth. He told himself it was just a little sprucing up. But something in the back of his mind whispered it was right. The tea, the quiet, the presence. It felt more like a conversation than anything he'd had with Rachel lately.

***

The third morning, Elias hummed quietly to himself as he brushed the doll's auburn hair, letting the silken strands glide through his fingers. He'd started using one of Rachel's old brushes, it was softer, and the hair looked better for it.

His own grooming routine had changed too. A warm bath instead of a quick shower, more time moisturizing, trimming his nails. Tending to his face with unfamiliar delicacy, fussing over a stray hair during his new shaving routine.

He paused, halfway through applying Rachel's rose-scented hand cream to his knuckles. It wasn't about femininity, he told himself it was about care. And it did feel nice. The smell of flowers was definitely growing on him.

Later, as he carefully straightened the ribbon on the doll's bonnet, he noticed how his shirt sleeves were rolled in a near-perfect fold. Rachel's shirt, again. It just felt more... right, somehow. His reflection in the workshop mirror caught his eye. He looked composed. Almost dainty. Not soft, exactly, just clean-edged. He tilted his head, mimicking the gentle cant of the doll's porcelain face.

He smiled at his reflection, enjoying the quiet, uninterrupted musings of solitude. His phone buzzed again. He had turned off the ringer days ago. Another missed message. He found himself caring very little. After a moment, he turned from the mirror. The doll sat behind him. It almost seemed like the faintest smile touched her rose-painted lips.

Elias noticed himself mumbling to the doll as the week progressed. Sure, he'd missed a workday, but he'd catch up once Rachel returned. The talking helped him concentrate, anyway.

The mumbling had become conversation. He'd been explaining the mechanism of the antique clock he'd disassembled, gesturing with tweezers, talking aloud. "Of course, the spring's tension is too tight here. See?" Her glassy eyes seemed to follow his hand, the way they caught the light. He let out a low laugh, unsure if he was amused or unnerved.

"You're a good listener."

The silence afterward felt... expectant. As if something might reply.

He found himself narrating his morning routine to her without thinking, pausing after questions, listening. Waiting. When he hummed, he could almost imagine a second voice underneath his. Not really there, but somehow present. Comforting.

The absence of Rachel's voice in the apartment didn't feel like absence at all.

***

He hadn't checked his phone all day.

By the time Elias realized the time, the sun had dipped well past the horizon. He stared blankly at the workshop clock.

Rachel.

The airport.

His stomach dropped.

When the front door opened, he was still frozen in place, the doll's hand loosely clasped in his. Rachel entered with her suitcase in tow, followed by her cousin, a tall man Elias barely remembered meeting once. She looked tired. And guarded.

"You didn't come," she said flatly, not even angry. Just... tired.

"I lost track of time," he stammered, standing abruptly. His voice felt strange in his throat, dusty from disuse. "I meant to, really, Rach, I..."

Her eyes passed over the tea cups, the carefully arranged napkins, the doll sitting perfectly poised with her bonnet freshly straightened. The room smelled like rose water and lavender. Elias wore her old blouse. He hadn't even noticed.

Rachel's jaw tightened. She gave a small shake of her head.

"I thought this was a phase, Elias," she said, voice quiet. "I really thought... you'd come back."

"I am back," he said, desperate, stepping toward her. "It's just... I've been figuring things out. I needed space to..."

She took a step back.

"I'm moving in with Kay again. Just for now." Her tone softened slightly. "You need help. Not space."

Her footsteps faded down the hallway as she gathered a few more things. He didn't follow. Couldn't.

The apartment felt colder the moment the door clicked shut. He stood in silence for a long time before turning slowly toward the iron-bound box.

It sat where it always had, sealed. Smug. Silent.

He stared at it, his hands trembled with fury. He felt the heat of anger creep into his neck. His hands balled into fists. This was all that things' fault, not his. He swung his fist at the box, driven by fury, sadness and the weight of clarity, and struck hard.

The wood creaked as he felt a sharp sense of pain shoot through his hand. He didn't care, he swung again, his other fist soon felt the same, he felt the warmth of blood on his hands. The tears flowed quickly and freely now, carrying the consequences of all he had ignored, twisted and lost lately.

The box creaked. He yelled, no, he cried. Sobbed.

He felt all his emotions drain out of him as he picked up the box with his bloodied hands. He wanted to throw the box on the floor, as hard as he could.

"I should have gone with her," he whispered, barely audible over his own breath. "Why didn't I just go?"

It was heavy, as he raised it he heard a strange noise coming from the box.

His emotions fading quickly as emptiness and curiosity sprouted within. He set the box on the bed and found a slit in the otherwise impregnable box, and the lid, it opened.

He peeked inside, all his other thoughts and emotions quickly forgotten. A clearly old letter sat atop the contents. He picked it up, the paper dry. He was careful not to smear it with his bloody knuckles. He opened it and read the letter inside.

---

My Dearest Augusta,

This little companion is now yours, as promised. She has been in our family far longer than most remember, but she belongs to you now entirely and without condition. I know how you love to sew and tend, and I daresay she's been waiting patiently for your touch.

Her clothes can be changed as you wish, just as she can.

You must be gentle, always. Speak to her often, tend her hair daily, and mind the ritual tea. She listens more than you know, and if you care for her properly, she may show you wonderful things.

You'll find her box contains what you need: ribbons, threads, and silks that suit her best.

Remember what I told you our gifts are strange ones, but they are true. Let yourself enjoy it, dear heart. You've always belonged a little more to wonder than to the world.

With love,

Your grandfather,

E. L. I. R.

---

The letter read like something from an era long forgotten, his pain and fury replaced with unbridled curiosity. He washed and bandaged his bloodied fingers and quickly went back to the box. He rummaged through the contents.

A small bundled package with another smaller note, with the same handwriting. A cherry wood brush. The note said to brush every morning and evening.

A small bundle of faded and ragged looking antique clothing. Another note, with different more delicate handwriting. It read "do not use." He judged it was probably too old.

A silk ribbon set, some ribbons where obviously meant for human hair. Small bottles containing mysterious liquids, the labels had long since faded.

One type of powder labeled: attar of youth. Whatever that may mean. Completely engulfed in the box and its contents, he had quickly forgotten about what just happened. He looked to the doll, this time it hadn't been his imagination, her head had moved and she clearly wore a satisfied smile on her rosy lips.

***

It had taken Elias a few days of research on the name etched on the note, it had the added benefit of distracting his thoughts from Rachel. Not the initials mind you, those lead nowhere, though he did look. But Augusta. Strangely enough he could find very little online. It was at the city archives he had found an old map with a reference to a shop. A boutique named 'Tailor Made' owned by the Rubert family. He traced down the lineage of said family and found his prize, Augusta Rubert, now owner of the shop. The shop was located in the back alleys, very out of the way for such an establishment. He was determined to go there and find out all he could.

The next day he decided to skip work again and head to the store. He explained

what he was going to do to the doll. Reassuring it, he would be gone only for a little while. That morning they had shared tea and he had combed her hair as he hummed, just how she liked it. When he left he made sure to turn her toward the door so she could watch him leave and return later.

It was quite a search for the shop, but he had found the small boutique in an out of the way alley. The vintage sign swaying gently in the wind. He put his hand on the door knob, and gently pushes it open.

The bell chimed softly, and the smell of bolts of fabrics hit him. It reminded him of vintage stores. A soft and gentle smell, something he couldn't quite place. He was nervous, and took a deep calming breath. It worked strangely well, he felt his relaxation deep, deep down inside of him.

The fabrics where piled high and bulged out of different shelves. Mannequins dressed in different outfits. Some elaborate gowns or impeccable suits, some in 1950 or 1960 housewife dresses. Some in fashionable and abstract modern fashion and even a few in the most gothic-era like outfits. Those reminded him instantly of the doll, and he took a step toward them. Feeling drawn to the similarity.

He heard a soft footfall as he approached, he turned his head. Nothing. "Hello?" He said into the shop. It stayed quiet for a while.

"Well, hello." A soft and honeyed voice replied, "This is quite the surprise, I usually don't have walk ins. Give me a moment, dear one."

His attention was completely drawn to the voice and away from the mannequins. His interest piqued. The soft tone and smells had pushed away the troubles in his mind. He hadn't felt this relaxed in a long time. He closed his eyes, and breathed in deeply. He truly felt the relaxation hit him now. He felt a small smile creep on his face.

"Ahem... I don't mean to interrupt, but how can I help you today young man?" The sweet voice asked. It resonated within even more strongly with his eyes closed. He opened his eyes. His breath caught for a second, and time seemed to freeze as he looked at the vision in front of him.

Her raven hair fell past her shoulders, straight as a sheet. She had the perfect bangs over her forehead. Her large deep purple eyes shone like a light, piercing his very soul. Her lips curved in a small expectant smile. Her make up was flawlessly done, and only to enhance her beautiful face. Her tailored shirt was a deep black, and accentuated her long slim arms and hourglass waist. He could tell her ample bosom was not being held by a bra, but stood naturally perky inside the confiding fabric, a hint of nipples shining through the material. A purposeful tiny line of pale skin protruded under her shirt and a long cascading skirt of the same deep black clung to her legs. A long split down one side revealed a long pale leg, and a knee high leather boot with a sharp heel and round nose. He suddenly remembered he needed to breathe again. He swallowed hard and took a deep breath in.

He caught her smile deepening a little as he was clearly examining her, but said nothing. "Are you Augusta Rubert?"

Her teeth showed through her smile now. "I am."

"But... how?" She looked at him puzzled and held out her arms in a sort of shrugging motion. Elias remembered that the shop had been transferred to Augusta in 1927. This woman didn't look a day over 30. "I thought you'd be older..." he mumbled.

"Well, young man, looks can be... deceiving, now you've been quite rude, how can I help you today, Mr...?" Her tone had shifted to reflect her annoyance.

"Ohh, yes, I'm sorry, I was just caught off-guard, my name is Elias, and I bought your doll a while back."

Her eyes seemingly lit up at that. "Did you now... dear Elias, now that is interesting. I haven't seen Elizabeth in a very long time."

"Elizabeth?" He ventured.

"Yes... that is her name. Come Elias, tell me everything I am very keen on hearing your road of finding my establishment." She gestured for Elias to follow, deeper into the boutique. He did so eagerly.

"Do sit," Augusta said, gesturing to a velvet chair that matched nothing else in the room except her. "Tea?" She asked. He nodded. An antiquated cup with a swirling rose pattern was placed elegantly before him, she poured with practiced precision. He smelled the now familiar smell of a rosy tea blend. A near exact match for what he'd been drinking with the doll. No, with Elizabeth. She sat opposite him, crossing her long legs with a practiced smoothness. "Elizabeth chose you, then. I wonder if you know how rare that is."

"I... I don't know," Elias said. "She just... felt right. Like she'd been waiting."

"She has." Augusta's purple eyes didn't blink. "she always is. We think we find them, but it is the other way around, of course I inherited her, a long time ago. Yet even then, she found me"

She leaned forward slightly, her voice softening. "Tell me, Elias. When you care for her, do you feel... closer to her? More yourself?"

He nodded. Slowly. His throat dry.

"Good. That means the thread has caught, has your routine and life changed since buying her, caring for her?"

He swallowed hard. He felt compelled to tell her the truth. "Yes."

"Tell me about it." It wasn't a question. His stomach lurched. He started talking about all the things that had happened. The things that had changed, Rachel leaving, the doll smiling at him, the rituals, it just poured out of him. He couldn't break eye contact with her for one second, it felt good talking to somebody who seemed to understand all of this. She nodded along, smiling. Unblinking. He let out a long sigh when he was finished. He felt a lot better relieved, he had confided and she had given no judgement. Unlike Rachel had.

"That is quite the story, Elias." She said, putting her hand over his. He looked up and looked up into her eyes. Found comfort, relief, release even. Freedom? She smiled warmly.

She rose, and from a nearby trunk retrieved a shirt, a beautiful, simple blouse in soft cotton. It looked antique, but tailored for now. Neither feminine nor masculine, but softly flowing, like something mystical. "This is one of my first, actually. It should fit you, put this on when you return home." She handed him an exact copy of the cherry wood brush that sat in Elizabeth's box, only clearly sized for a human hand. "You should brush your hair with this, it'll feel great, trust me. I used it when I was a younger girl." He accepted the gift, accepted her words.

The soft cotton had the same otherworldly feel as Elizabeth's dress had. The faint spark was familiar now with his handling of her dress. "I have two more boxes for her, but I would love to see Elizabeth again, please come by soon and bring her won't you? I'm sure she would be ever so pleased to see me too. We can have tea, together." Her hands where on his again. Their gazes locked. All he could do was nod. In his stupor he finished the tea, made some absent minded conversation, and he had been ushered out of the store. When he was outside the sun was fading. He had been in there the whole day? It had felt like mere moments. He checked his phone. He was shocked at the date. Two days? It couldn't be. He checked the internet to make sure he wasn't losing it. He had been inside with Augusta for two whole days. So strange... he wasn't even hungry.

***

Three weeks passed, though Elias barely tracked them. His phone remained off. He hadn't picked up his tools and rarely even looked outside. All his world since his visit to Tailor Made was Elizabeth, and the slow rituals around their more shared escapades.

The blouse had only gone off the second day when he wanted a shower. Though it was surprisingly hard to remove. He wasn't even that dirty at all, the buttons had almost resisted strangely to his attempts at opening them. When he put on the blouse again, he realized he didn't want to change anymore. The tingle it sent through him when he put it on like a quiet whisper, a pull toward someone...

Every morning and evening, they brushed their hair together. Side by side, as though it were something ritualistic and long established. He used the cherry wood brush on Elizabeth's curled chestnut hair, then turned the mirror and did his own. At first, he laughed at the symmetry. Then, he stopped laughing.

Because his hair was changing.

It had been short. Clean. Now it was past his ears, curling softly under his jaw. Not just longer but finer. Lighter. Chestnut, too. When he reached for it, it felt like Elizabeth's. When he brushed it, it moved like hers, shining with that same faint shimmer that the mirror couldn't quite reflect.

He didn't mind. In fact, it felt... proper. He liked that feeling, natural almost. On the morning of the second day a soft female voice whispered in his mind.

"Yes, just like that. Your brushing has improved beautifully."

He froze completely, heart racing. He looked around the room, nothing but Elizabeth.

And silence.

"What's the matter? Why did you stop?"

He looked at Elizabeth. She sat unmoving, of course. Smile fixed. But he swore, he swore, her lips were parted ever so slightly. Her gaze, adoring.

"Yes, Elias, it's me. Don't fret now my dear, come brush, brush together." He felt strangely comforted. He felt strangely connected. He looked in the mirror and saw a strange glazed look in his eyes. He smiled the same faint smile as Elizabeth, and felt his hand brush without thinking.

He brushed for both of them, their rhythms aligned, slow and gentle. One hundred strokes for her. One hundred for himself.

Each night he dreamt of nothing but awoke remembering feelings: comfort, softness, belonging.

He wore the blouse everywhere now. Under sweaters. To bed. To the grocery store, once, where a cashier complimented his "vintage look" and missed his correct pronoun in a way that sent Elias blushing all the way home.

Elizabeth never judged. Her expression only seemed more alive, more pleased, the more Elias worked with her hair. Their tea rituals. Entire conversations now spoken in his mind with her. He didn't speak aloud anymore. Sometimes he seemed to completely lose track of time and sit in perfect stillness. With Elizabeth on his lap. Now when brushing her hair it felt like he was brushing her own. Her voice now a constant in his mind. Guiding him, reassuring him, comforting him.

One morning near the end of the third week he was looking at himself in the mirror. Elizabeth sat on her favored chair as he was brushing his hair. His hazelnut locks where now at his shoulders, almost the exact length of Elizabeths' he noticed his jaw had become softer. His lips fuller and almost as rosy as hers. His eyes seemed slightly larger. His neck and shoulders slimmer. He had even felt the rounding of his chest and hips become more prominent.

"You've progressed so far, you look so beautiful." Her voice spoke in his mind. He blushed, he felt totally at ease with his bodily changes, especially after her approval. "I think... it's time we visited Augusta," Elizabeth cooed in his thoughts, warm and loving. "She's missed us, more than you know."

Elias nodded slowly, a smile rising unbidden to his lips. Yes. Yes, of course.

It was a fantastic idea, a natural idea.

***

He had found his way across town, holding Elizabeth in his arms, visible to the world. Their conversation in his mind had grown more excited the closer they came to the storefront.

The bell above the boutique's door gave its soft chime as Elias stepped inside, Elizabeth cradled like a holy relic. The familiar scent struck him instantly, warm fabric, rose, something darker underneath.

It reminded him of his recent dreams and daydreams, as his perception of time had blurred. The moment he crossed the threshold, the world outside seemed to close around him.

Footsteps approached with surprising swiftness, as if their arrival had been anticipated.

"I've informed her, of course, my dear,"

Elizabeth whispered in his mind. He was glad she had.

"My precious things return," came Augusta's voice, low and smooth, from somewhere deeper in the boutique. "Come in, Elias. Bring her. I've been waiting."

She emerged from the shadows like a vision from his daydreams. Her raven hair fell like a curtain over her shoulders. A black corset cinched her waist into a strong hourglass, her blouse shimmered. Her long skirt flowed with black smoothness as she walked, slit high, revealing the gleam of flesh and boot. The violet in her eyes caught the light. Piercing. Shining.

"You're even more beautiful than I remember," she said, gliding toward them. Her fingers brushed Elizabeth's cheek. "You've been taken care of wonderfully." She smiled at Elias. He felt his heart melt.

He felt the very fabric of time begin to loosen. His thoughts floated like autumn leaves in a stream. A gentle heat, like that of a perfect late summer day, rose within him.

"And you... dear Elias, you look different. Feel different." She brushed his cheek as well. He felt a spark his mind phasing even further. He looked into her eyes and felt only comfort.

Elias said nothing. He couldn't. His tongue felt thick. His knees, soft. Her presence pulled at something deep in his chest, like thread drawn gently through the eye of a needle.

"Come." She took Elizabeth from his arms with reverent care. "Let's have tea."

He followed her, stepping carefully and with grace, through shelves draped in impossible fabrics, deeper into the boutique. In the back room, candles flickered like they had been waiting for him. The air was heavier here.

Augusta sat him on the same velvet chair as before. Elizabeth rested opposite, seated now in her own antique chaise.

Tea was already poured. Steam drifted toward the ceiling.

"You remember this blend," Augusta said, handing him a cup. "Rose hips, linden flower... and just a little something extra."

Elias took a deep whiff, relaxation and familiarity tickling his nostrils. He drank. Of course he did. His eyes fluttered shut. The warmth spread instantly, loosening him like a thread waiting to be pulled.

"I see it in you," she murmured, crossing one long leg over the other. "The change. The softness. You wear it well."

He swallowed hard. "It's been... different. I feel..."

"Closer to her. Closer to yourself." She smiled, indulgent and knowing. "I told you, Elias. The thread has caught."

He shivered.

She rose, her movements so fluid they didn't disturb the candlelight.

"Would you like to play dress-up together?"

She didn't wait for an answer. She took his hand.

Elias glanced at Elizabeth.

"Don't worry. You'll fall in love with it. I know I did. Trust her. Trust me. Trust us." she said in his mind.

And he did. He followed Augusta's guidance. The fitting room swallowed light and sound. Every wall mirrored. Every surface draped in fabric. Like a gothic dollhouse.

Elias stood still, not quite sure how he'd gotten there.

Augusta approached with a swath of shimmering lavender cloth over one arm.

"Let me look at you."

He spread his arms slightly. With swift grace, the shirt that had once resisted him fell to the floor. He stood bare before her. And he felt no shame, no judgment. Only warmth. He loved his reflection, his glazed eyes. His increased curves.

"You've bloomed so beautifully. But you're still not quite finished. I just love playing dress-up. Don't you?"

"I've never tried..." he answered sluggishly.

She smiled and took the pastel bolt of cloth, smoothing it in her fingers as she reached for a measuring tape.

He trembled as she wrapped the cloth around him.

"This fabric remembers. It knows you. It wants to belong to you. Craves you." Her voice was lower now. "Let it hold you."

He didn't respond. He couldn't. The moment the cloth touched him, his breath caught.

"That's it, sweet thing," Augusta whispered in his ear. "Don't think. Don't blink. Just let me play with you."

Her hands were everywhere, pinning, adjusting, smoothing the cloth. There was only her voice. Her scent. Her body behind him. Lingering touches.

And Elizabeth, always watching.

"You feel it, don't you?" Augusta purred. "That pull between the three of us."

Elias didn't speak. Didn't want to. Couldn't.

"Such a good doll," she breathed, her lips brushing his neck. "Your silence suits you beautifully."

When he blinked again, he was still standing in the same place. But something had changed. The lighting had shifted. The candles had burned lower.

And the dress was complete.

It clung to him like it had always belonged. A high lace collar. Cinched waist. Flowing sleeves. And in the mirror, his reflection was breathtaking. Not quite Elias. Not quite Elizabeth. Something between. Something new.

His chest rose and fell with hers. Their smiles mirrored.

Augusta sat now with Elizabeth nestled gently in her lap. She stroked the doll's hair with slow, languid precision, her nails trailing down porcelain cheeks.

"She missed me too," Augusta cooed. "Didn't you, my darling?"

Elias watched her fingers move lower, along the doll's sides, beneath the folds of her antique dress. His breath caught.

"Let her. It's for us," Elizabeth whispered in his thoughts.

He felt it. As Augusta's hands played with Elizabeth, his body responded. Heat surged through him, consuming. Each stroke of Augusta's fingers echoed through his nerves. His nipples ached beneath the delicate dress. His thighs trembled as she lingered lower, stroking with adoration.

The fabric clung tighter. Almost pulsing.

He gasped.

"Oh, you feel her, don't you?" Augusta smiled, dark and honeyed. "Good."

She never stopped. One hand toying with the doll's silken thigh, the other lost in folds of fabric. He couldn't move. He was adrift in a haze of building pleasure.

"You're such a beautiful thing," she whispered. "So eager to be played with. So helpless to your curiosity."

Elias could feel it building inside him. That edge. That beautiful, helpless crest. Not just arousal, transformation. Devotion. Ownership.

His voice broke into a gasp as it overtook him. Augusta now fondling Elizabeth more deeply, more intimately.

His back arched. He trembled. And the pinnacle of pleasure burst through him like a bright light.

The fabric shimmered. The dress glowed faintly, like silk warmed by fire. A rush behind his eyes. Elizabeth's voice murmuring lullabies into his thoughts.

Then...

Stillness.

Warmth.

Peace.

Augusta rose, smoothing Elizabeth's hair, and walked toward him. Her fingers brushed his jaw. Her voice, velvet and final. "You're mine now, my little doll. And we will have many more play dates together."

He couldn't help but smile. He closed his eyes.

And he didn't know how much time would pass before he opened them again.

He found he didn't have the energy to care.

***

Elias eyes fluttered open, he didn't know how long he had been sitting there. Time passed differently now. He could feel Elizabeth's hand resting lightly in his lap, though it had never moved. He had to think really hard to regain control of his muscles, he turned to Elizabeth sitting beside him, she sat unmoving. Her hands on her lap. He smiled.

Augusta returned without a word, steps slow, she was wearing her own version of a Victorian dress. It was an otherworldly shade of deep purple with black accents, the collar high and accentuating her slim neck. Her black hair done up in an elaborate bun and sporting multiple elaborate decorative pieces. The sleeves ended just after her elbows, and she had on no gloves. Her bust and hourglass accentuated by the heavy corsetry, the skirt long and layered with no slit. It floated like a cloud and shone purple and black as she moved in the light. The vision of her stopped all his thoughts coming to Elias' brain. Her piercing eyes met his, she smiled showing her perfect white teeth. He felt warmth, familiarity and comfort. He wanted to smile back but found it hard to fully control his facial muscles. "I told you that I too love playing dress up, what do you think?" She asked in a surprisingly girlish tone.

"It is simply wonderful, miss Ruberts." Elizabeth spoke the words clearly in his mind. He found himself repeating them in a lulled tone. Augusta smiled.

"You're ready," she said. Not a question. "I have the most wonderful gift for you, remember how I said there where three boxes?" She grabbed the box from the desk. "Well, anyways, this is the second. And my, you've earned it!" She said happily.

Smaller than the first, lacquered black, tied in a deep violet ribbon, the color matched her dress. He didn't move. He didn't need to.

She untied it with careful fingers and lifted the lid.

First, she took out an oddly sized key. It shone bronzen in the dim light.

"It belongs to you now," she said, running a hand down his spine. "Every doll needs one. Even the living kind."

He felt the weight of it press into the small of his back. He felt his mind click, his body stiffened.

She turned it once. Click.

He felt the need to breathe, blink or swallow disappear, he saw the reflection of his face fall into the same small smile Elizabeth held.

Twice. Click.

His shoulders dropped. Limbs loose, heavy. A strange peace began to settle through his bones. He didn't resist the stillness. He welcomed it.

Three times. Click.

His eyes half-lidded. His voice, gone.

She stepped back and admired her work.

A fourth turn. Click.

He felt the familiar heat rise in his body. Augusta slowly circled him, sometimes moving a part of his body which effortlessly held its' place.

"You will find that, the longer I wind you up with this key, the more you will be my little doll, and the more pleasure that will give you" she said from her spot behind him. Her warm breath on his ear giving him goose-flesh, but no hair on his neck rose. It couldn't. He was a wound up doll now. He felt the truth in her words as his pleasure built slowly and steadily. "I will leave it at four turns for now, but as we play more and more, we will see how many you can take." She said teasingly. She stepped away toward the box again.

A perfect pair of white lacey gloves with lavender accents came next. Like they had been made for the outfit he had been wearing. She slid them onto his hands with the care of dressing glass. The lace kissed his wrists, fingers exposed and sensitive. She buttoned each wrist. Tighter than they needed to be. Her touch lingered.

"There," Augusta said. "Now you feel me, always."

She guided his hand to Elizabeth's porcelain cheek. The touch sent a quiet shiver through his spine. The gloves carried every sensation. Nothing felt dull. Everything felt electric. Augusta moved his hand so he was holding the frilly hem of one of the layers in his skirts and the tingle was constant. Leaving him wanting. He couldn't even gasp.

Finally, the ribbon.

She brushed his hair aside. Tied it just behind his ear. A simple bow. The knot pulled gently at his scalp, and something opened in his mind.

Elizabeth's voice was no longer distant. No longer occasional.

"That's better," she said. "Now you can really listen to me, hear me."

Elias blinked once. His lips curled slightly.

He didn't need to speak. He stood there perfectly poised, Augusta stepped back and took Elizabeth in hand. He felt her brush the dolls hair like it was his own now.

***

Elias had forgotten about time, he had forgotten about food, he had forgotten about most other trivial things that had kept him busy in what seemed like a previous life. As though watching from afar, he saw his still reflection in one of the large rimmed mirrors.

The dress hanging motionless from him, his new form sometimes causing great spikes of panic. But then, Elizabeth's voice to calm him. A tea ceremony with Elizabeth and Augusta to comfort him. A brushing session to brush away lingering doubts and fears. His face was no longer recognizable as his old self, his eyes had become larger, lips fuller and now he even had a perfect dolly button nose, he mostly wore a half lilted smile. It wasn't so bad, he and Elizabeth had lengthy conversations about such joys as those in his mind. Sometimes there would be quiet, stillness. Those he hardly remembered or thought ill about. Those he did remember where beautiful in their passiveness.

His hair had reached the small of his back, curls falling like auburn vines from his head. His body had become clearly female and doll-like. Paler skin like porcelain. Rounder hips and fuller breasts. His height had changed, he was shorter. Yet assessing all this didn't scare him. No, not in the slightest. Playing dress up, playing

doll had suited him more than anything he had ever done. Augusta was in and out of his brief moments of clarity. Sometimes winding the key six times now. When the first time like that came all he remembered was pleasure that seemed to last forever.

Now he noticed the key had been unwound, and felt his clarity returning. He saw Augusta in a tight, lycra body suit with a zipper running all the way down to her crotch.

Augusta did not speak at first. She only studied him. Her head tilted slightly, her lips parted in a soft, private smile. Her fingers brushed Elizabeth's hair. He felt the fingers as if running through his own hair.

"Wake up, my little doll." Augusta said playfully. He felt his awareness come to him more swiftly at the commands. "Lets have some fun, I know it is hard for you to

recollect, but it's been a while since we last played my dear."

The room was different, a glowing crystal chandelier filled with candles hung from the ceiling. He was not surrounded by mirrors, but only one large one which spanned the length and breadth of the wall across from them. Just how many rooms did the boutique have? He wondered. The thought was fleeting. A tailor's step sat in the middle.

Elias moved, slow, mechanical. Climbing onto the low, round dais without question. His limbs obeyed without hesitation, and the moment his feet touched the center, Augusta turned the key in his back once more.

Click.

She set Elizabeth down on a stool near the mirror. Positioned her legs just so. Arranged her hands gently in her lap. She smoothed her dress and cooed softly, like a mother with her favorite child.

Then she turned to Elias.

"Lift your arms."

He obeyed.

"Relax the wrists. Good. Shoulders back. Let me see your throat."

She circled him slowly, shaping him, one movement at a time. A sculptor refining her masterpiece.

"Legs together."

She moved his hips, brushing against the exposed skin beneath his dress. The lace

grazed his thighs. She adjusted his stance. Tilted his chin. Ran a hand through his hair, tugged gently at the ribbon. He felt the stiffness in his limbs, the pleasure in his stiffness.

"I like you like this," she whispered, moving behind him. "Not quite a doll. Not quite a boy. Half-formed, half-finished. The most delicate stage. The most tender."

She placed her hand on his chest, fingers brushing his nipples through the lace of his blouse. He couldn't gasp, but his whole body trembled in answer. He stared into the mirror, and the face staring back no longer felt entirely his. The eyes were glazed. Lips slightly parted. Stillness wrapped him. She turned the key again.

Click.

Another wave. That strange, growing pleasure spreading deeper through his limbs, his hips. A pull at his spine like thread being drawn tighter.

She crossed the room in slow, deliberate steps. Lifted Elizabeth and placed the doll delicately on Elias's shoulder, her small legs draped across him.

"I want you to feel how perfect you'll be once you stop trying to remember how to be anything else."

She slid her fingers under Elizabeth's dress. Elias felt it like it was his own body she touched. Her hand traced the doll's stomach. Moved down, soft and patient. His breath hitched, but he made no sound. He only watched. Heat broiling within. She stroked.

Elias's knees buckled slightly, but he could hardly move. She smiled at him.

"Careful, my precious thing," she murmured, steadying him. "Don't fall apart before I'm finished."

She placed Elizabeth aside again. And then turned to him fully.

"I want to see you," she said. "All of you."

His clothes were removed without resistance. Piece by piece. The gloves. The ribbon. The dress peeled away. The key never unwound. He stood there, naked, silent, obedient.

She held up clothing clear for him to see. A set of underthings, delicate, unreal. Pale violet lace. Slightly too shimmering to be silk. A corset-bodice of impossible softness, with matching panties that felt more like air than fabric.

"Every doll needs the right lingerie," Augusta whispered. "This set is special. It will make you complete."

She dressed him again. Slowly. Deliberately, moving his limbs to accomadate the fabric.

The fabric clung to him. It did more than shape him it changed him. He felt it. As the corset cinched in, his waist curved. His chest swelled, round and full beneath the lace. His hips widened. The panties cupped something that was no longer quite male.

She stepped back.

Elias looked at the mirror and saw someone else. A life-sized doll, not a boy. Still. Feminine. Beautiful. A smooth body molded to perfection. Lashes long. Hair glimmering. Lips full and soft.

Augusta turned the key once more.

Click.

He felt his mind slip entirely. A wave of heat, surrender, and release spilled through him in a long, silent climax. It wasn't like before, it was deeper. Softer. Endless. No cry. No breath. Just sensation rushing through his doll-flesh in pulses of radiating heat and constricting waves of pleasure. He could hardly move his chest with his breaths.

He blinked once. A tiny, automatic movement. And Augusta smiled. "Such a lovely doll, I will leave you here, on the brink of consciousness, letting the lingerie work its magic. You're almost done my sweet. So very, very close."

She lifted Elizabeth and posed her beside him. Their hands touching lightly. Their heads tilted in mirrored grace.

She turned the key one more time.

Click.

And all was still. He could only vaguely consider himself aware now. Only pleasure, only stillness and stiffness. He could see his reflection see the lingerie slowly but surely form him into exactly what Augusta wanted. He felt his lips tug into a smile as the constant pleasure erupted into new heights. He couldn't react, couldn't buckle or shake. He could only be.

***

He felt the key unwind in his mind. Awareness flooding into slowly. Like thick syrup being sucked through a straw on a cold day. He heard footsteps. He saw Elizabeth next to him. Still holding his hand. He felt the heat leave him. He heard the soft sounds of footsteps approaching the area he had been set up for display, for change. He still couldn't move. He smiled at that.

The chandelier's glow had softened. Only candlelight now, flickering gently across the high ceiling and washing the room in gold and shadow. A hush lingered in the space. Not silence, no, something different, something with tension. Like the moment before a bow is drawn across strings.

Elias no longer existed. He felt that in his very fiber of his being. No he, was now she. Her memories of who he had been seemed to fade instantly. She heard

Elizabeth giggle in her mind. Their conversations had never stopped while she was frozen.

Then Augusta appeared from the other room. As an embodiment of a fever dream, a vision halfway between opera and performance made manifest.

Her dress was a masterpiece of excess, a deep violet silk slit high along both thighs, revealing flashes of thigh-high lace garters and stockings held taut against her skin.

The tight bodice was a cage of lilac satin ribbons and sheer mesh that exposed more than it concealed, her breasts framed rather than hidden beneath the delicate lace overlay.

Feathered sleeves swept behind her like a shadowy cape, with a subtleness that

shimmered as she moved. Her heels were high.

Her lips were painted a dark plum, glossy and wet, and her eyes were ringed in shadow.

Every movement was dramatic, performative an enchantress playing to an audience of one, yet demanding devotion. She stood for a mere moment. Letting her reflection become clear in Elias' vision as his consciousness was now solely on her.

She smiled, even chuckled softly. "I see you're cooked, my little goose."

Elias didn't fully understand, but focused on her fully. Her steps toward where she was poised now more deliberate, she couldn't fully move yet but felt the key silently unwind her in her mind. She stood straight now.

The lingerie had done its work lace and shimmer now woven into skin and shape, every thread sculpting a new identity from within. Elias' hips were broad and perfect, waist curved like porcelain. Her breasts rose softly beneath the corset full and plumb. No longer playing at femininity, her nipples faintly visible beneath its sheer center panel.

Hair, long and deep auburn, curled down and sat perfectly in the small of her back. She stood calmly. Elizabeth whispering sweet nothings and soothing words in her mind.

Augusta carried a long, narrow box white, lacquered, and edged in red. She laid it

down with care. "You've ripened beautifully," Her voice, low and deliberate, carrying warmth. "And now, my precious one... I have spent a great deal of time making you something, something unforgettable.

She opened the box. The dress lay inside. White silk, shot through with lines of deep crimson. The bodice was structured in scarlet velvet. Tight, with corset bones running beneath pearl buttons shaped like teardrops. Red lace bloomed across the décolletage in dark floral patterns.

The sleeves long and bell-shaped were of sheer mesh. Crimson embroidery circled the wrists, ending in tiny black bows. The skirt was a cascade of white layers, trimmed in deep red ruffles, each hemline sharper and more sculptural than the last. Beneath it, a full petticoat.

A neck ribbon accompanied it, tied in a red bow at the throat. And the shoes ankle boots, black lacquer with red laces and a heel just tall enough to arch the foot.

She didn't move as Augusta approached.

Elias was speechless, it was simply magnificent, something alien. It called to her, it wanted to be worn. She wanted to wear it, to be dressed in it. Forever.

Her eyes fluttered halfway closed. A breath escaped without sound.

"Are you ready to play dress up again my sweet?" Augusta said. Elias couldn't answer, and only thought of the sweet delights of wearing such a creation.

She felt her body soften in Augusta's hands. Arms lifting as Augusta's delicate touch guided Elias' stiffened limbs. The dress shimmied over her shoulders and unto her body. Resting perfectly on her newly formed waist, cupping her newly formed and sensitive breasts.

The bodice fastened. Tight. Her chest pushed gently forward, her hips shifting in perfect counterbalance. Augusta moved to tighten the corset. Each pull of the strings giving Elias a feeling of warmth. Her breath let out with the last pull as her perfectly feminine figure was enhanced further yet. The tight corset amplifying her bosom and round thighs perfectly.

The skirt descended. The weight of it felt familiar. The ribbons were tied, the bows adjusted with care. Augusta circled her, lifting strands of hair, adjusting angles, moving the lace until it lay exactly right.

Augusta circled her perfect doll. "Hmmm, you look exquisite my darling." She said. Elias felt the truth in those words. She felt exquisite, perfect. Owned.

Augusta took out the key from seemingly nowhere and quickly turned it in Elias small of her back. One, two, three, four, five...

The key turned swiftly, and sixth turn sent a low, heated hum through her core. She could feel it now. The lingerie and the dress conspiring with one another. She stood fully dressed, trembling beneath her frozen porcelain like skin. Her entire body was a sculpture of controlled arousal. Where she had long felt a familiar tightening of arousal, she now felt an unfamiliar wetness and heat spread from within. She couldn't gasp, couldn't moan. She could only stand.

Augusta circled Elias one last time. Her fingers brushed the skirt, tugged gently at a curl of auburn hair, and nudged her chin into perfect tilt. Then she stepped behind her, lips grazing the shell of Elias' ear, her breath warm and close.

"Now," she whispered, one hand pressing lightly against the corseted waist, "let's finish you."

She reached around and lifted Elias' arms just so, arranging them in a pose of poised vulnerability. One hand to the collarbone. The other, fingers spread gently outward, as if caught mid-curtsy. Augusta bent to lift the edge of the skirt. Carefully, slowly. Exposing the intricate lace of her inner petticoats. She put the lace into Elias' outstretched hand.

Her hands slid up Elias' thigh. beneath it, possessive and controlling. Elias had

simply never felt this kind of pleasure, she felt her nipples harden at Augusta's touch. So much that they even poked through the corset of her dress. She felt the wetness slowly run past her thighs, as Augusta pressed her body into Elias' as she was working her deft hands across Elias' new found sex.

Elias didn't need to speak. She was already halfway into a dream. All she needed to do was relax and let Augusta play with her doll.

***

Time didn't move here.

She stood still, perfectly posed, caught in the gentle hush that followed Augusta's final touch.

A soft, mechanical tension lingered behind her navel where the key had last been turned. Her fingers curled in dainty relaxation, eyes fixed and half-lidded in that permanent, breathless awe she loved so much.

But inside, she was not empty. Not quite.

She felt the hum. The delicate cling of lace along her thighs. And then, as it always happened when she drifted deepest into stillness, Elizabeth arrived.

"There you are," came the voice. "My perfect lady."

Elizabeth's presence filled the chamber of her mind, turning it inside out with warmth and scent. The boutique fell away, replaced by a room she knew only in her mind. Pink-washed walls, soft white trim. Windows filled with light as if it were always summer.

She was seated now, legs folded demurely beneath layers of skirt, at a small table adorned in lace. A porcelain tea set gleamed between them. And across from her, Elizabeth. Radiant in doll-like curls and a prim dress, her expression mischievous.

"It's tea time, my sweet," Elizabeth said, filling their cups. The scent familiar, floral, heady. Rose hips and petals. The same blend Augusta had introduced her to.

Before her body changed. Before he had truly become she.

Elizabeth lifted the cup to her lips. "Drink, darling. It's good for delicate girls like us."

She obeyed. She always did. The tea slid over her tongue with that same perfumed, weight it always had. It was warm going down, and made her thighs press tighter together. Warmth inside and out.

"You're not pretending anymore," Elizabeth said, running a porcelain finger down her cheek. "You're a woman now. A perfect doll. Can you feel it?"

She did. Every inch of her, softened, shaped, sensitive, responded. Her breasts swelled beneath her corset, tender from the teasing fit of lace. Her hips rested wide on the velvet cushion. There was no question of what she was.

"My sweet lady," Elizabeth purred, lifting her skirt as she stepped around the table. "You've become so lovely."

She sat in her lap, feather-light, like always.

But the warmth between them was electric now, not imagined but real. The weight of another body a reflection of hers, yet dominant, knowing pressed against her corseted chest.

"You're not him anymore," Elizabeth whispered, cupping her cheek. "There's no room for that name. No use for that shape."

She tried to recall it, her old name. It was close, on the edge of memory. But each time she reached for it, Elizabeth replaced it with soft touches, whispered praise, and stillness.

"Let it go," Elizabeth breathed, slipping her hand beneath the layers of skirt. "You don't need it."

The porcelain fingers found her, teased her. She was wet. Not like before. Deeper. Slower. Her thighs quivered. Her mind fluttered.

"That's my good girl," Elizabeth cooed, her voice a pulse inside her. "That name is gone. You're just you now. A she. A sweet, obedient, trembling little doll."

Her head lolled back. She felt it begin. The swell. That low, dragging climb of pleasure that belonged to her new self. To this fragile, perfect shape.

"Let go," Elizabeth whispered. "Just let it wash you clean. I'll hold you."

She did. The release came slow and heavy, spreading through her limbs, she quivered with this newfound pleasure, found it to be wonderfully addictive.

Her lips parted, but no sound emerged. Just breathless stillness, eyelashes fluttering once, twice, and then closing in bliss.

Elizabeth stroked her cheek, lovingly, even possessively.

"There now," she whispered. "When Augusta returns, she'll name you properly. And you'll never need to remember anything else."

***

The world was still, her memories of reality and her dreamworld seemed to coexist.

Still, quiet, and faintly glowing with candlelight filtered through glass. Shadows moved with the flicker of flames.

She stood unmoving. Her limbs held in a final pose Augusta had left her in, a pose she had forgotten but accepted easily. Her arms gently folded at her waist, head tilted to one side, lips parted in a soft, unreadable smile. Her eyes were glazed, dreamy. Half-lidded.

She had not thought for hours. Spent her time in a dreamlike world. Spent her time happy and unaware. Not since Elizabeth had whispered all away, not since her body had trembled silently beneath the weight of release.

Now she floated somewhere between presence and sleep, still and waiting. It felt so right, it felt like she was complete in her blissful state of ignorance.

The key in her back stirred. Slowly. The first turn was always the loudest.

Click.

A long breath escaped her lips.

She felt herself coming awake, into the world. Which world she didn't fully grasp.

Another turn.

Click.

Her fingers twitched faintly.

Her awareness returned.

Silk against her thighs. The firm pressure of a corset pulled tight around her ribs. Her breasts soft and warm beneath the sheer lace. Her mind shimmered with the memory of Elizabeth's voice, her fingers, her guidance.

And then the presence, that unmistakable sense of belonging.

She heard her before she saw her.

Click.

And then Augusta was there. She moved toward her, trailing her fingers over the edge of the mirror, then across the velvet arm of a nearby chair.

She wore a robe this time, deep burgundy silk with black lace cuffs that fluttered just past the wrist. It hugged her frame, tied at the waist, barely hiding the outline of black lingerie beneath.

When she reached her, Augusta didn't speak right away. She simply looked. Her fingers brushed under the edge of the doll's chin, lifting her gaze. Her smile was softer than before, but no less possessive.

"You're almost ready," Augusta spoke softly, eyes gliding over her face, her shoulders. "But not quite. Something is still missing."

She stepped behind her. Hands gliding down her arms, gathering the still figure into a slow, poised embrace from behind.

"You feel that?" Augusta whispered into her ear. "The quiet in your mind? The stillness that isn't emptiness, but... purpose."

She nodded barely. The key was still wound, holding her in its grip. Her body moved slowly, like honey in winter.

Augusta pressed a kiss behind her ear. She felt gooseflesh rise. She felt hairs rise. She felt more awake by the second.

Click.

"You were always meant to become this. Even before you knew. Even when you thought you were something else. But now..."

Her fingers moved to the front of the corset, gently stroking the edge of lace above her breasts.

"... now I can name you. And when I do, you will belong to no one else. You will be my little doll. Forever."

The words were heavy. They settled into her skin.

Augusta moved to face her again. Her hands rested gently on her hips, thumbs pressing into the fabric as if grounding her, centering her.

"You've forgotten that other name, haven't you?" she asked, tilting her head. "The one you carried here like a worn-out doll dragged behind a child?"

She tried to remember. She truly did.

But there was nothing.

Only silence where there used to be... something she couldn't remember.

Augusta smiled. Not cruelly. But triumphantly.

"Then let me give you a new one."

She cupped her chin. Lifted it just so.

"My delicate girl. My beautiful creation. From this moment, you are..."

A pause.

"... Elise."

The name struck deep. It fit. As if she had been waiting to hear it her entire life.

Click.

It clicked in her mind. Her awareness now fully returned, and the pleasures of the turning of the key swiftly building.

"Elise," Augusta repeated, her voice a hush. "Mine. Entirely."

A breath left her lips. Her thighs pressed closer. That heat began again, low and rhythmic, but now it pulsed to the sound of her name.

"You don't need to speak," Augusta whispered. "You only need to know it. To feel it. To belong to it."

She kissed her.

Softly. Elise returned the kiss. Augusta stood closer now kissing with more intent. Forcing Elise to stand up straight. Elise had to tilt her head back to keep kissing her new owner. The kiss grew in intensity as it claimed her fully.

And Elise felt the last traces of resistance fade.

She was named. She was real. She was hers.

But for now, Elise stood silently beneath the warm glow of candlelight, her new name echoing in her every breath, her every fiber humming with it, the pleasure of being named, being kissed, being claimed spread through her.

And Augusta just smiled, stroking her cheek like a prize she'd always known she would win.

"Good girl."

Click

The key turned again, and Elise felt the stiffness and all its pleasure return to her

body. She smiled her half smile as she heard Elizabeth's voice call out to her in her mind once more.

Click.

***

The stillness that had held Elise in its velvet grip finally began to loosen as she felt the key mentally unwind in the arch of her back.

She exhaled, a soft tremor of breath as the warmth of consciousness flowed back into her body. The last turn of the key echoed through her.

She blinked, and there was Augusta.

She stood poised in the doorway, radiant eyes glinting.

She wore a dress similar to Elise's, but there was no softness in her silhouette. Her dress was different, as a throne she wore on her body.

The bodice was crimson leather, lacquered to a shine, shaped into angular cuts that gripped her waist. Steel boning traced her ribs in external channels, visible and intimidating. The neckline plunged in a deep V, adorned with a dark red rose made of silk that sat like a brand just above her breastbone.

The sleeves were long and skin-tight, ruched just enough to gather into elegant creases at her elbows, ending in sharp cuffs edged with black lace. Black gloves, thin and seamless, climbed to her upper arms, so smooth they reflected the candlelight.

The skirt fell in sharp, sculpted panels, structured white satin embroidered with red baroque filigree, each piece flaring outward like a flower held in tension. Beneath, layers of black petticoats peeked.

Around her neck, a black velvet collar with a silver tag unmarked, yet unmistakable.

Her boots were tall and laced to the knee, black patent leather with blood-red ribbons crisscrossing tight. Her hair was coiled up, pinned with silver needles, each one dangling a tiny ruby shimmering in the candlelight.

Elise felt herself straighten without command.

Augusta approached slowly. She stopped just in front of her, eyes scanning Elise with fond calculation.

"You are radiant," she said, almost reverently. "Remember how I mentioned three boxes, my sweet? The time has finally come for the third."

She turned and gestured. And then Elise saw it.

The third box.

It stood upright against the wall, nearly her full height white lacquered and edged in red. The corners were beveled, the panels hand-joined with visible care. It was beautiful. Familiar.

Augusta stepped beside it and laid one gloved hand against the clear-glassed front panel.

"Do you remember this?" she asked softly.

Elise stared. Something pulsed in her chest.

Then, slowly, she nodded.

"I made it," she whispered. "I... built it. When I was... before. I made this."

Augusta's eyes glittered.

"You made it for yourself, even then. Without knowing. Every joint, every stroke of polish was your soul whispering what it longed for."

Elise stepped forward. The box towered over her, its interior lined in red satin. Two gentle restraints rested near the wrists and ankles, delicate as ribbons. A pillow molded to the shape of her lower back.

She was trembling. With anticipation. With need.

Augusta came behind her, drawing her into an embrace. Her leather bodice pressed cold against Elise's warm lace, Elise felt

Augusta hold her, hug her firmly. Felt her one hand start to lovingly cup her breast, her other hand slip under her skirts, searching, fondling. She let out an aroused sigh as the now familiar wetness and heat began to spread through her body as Augusta held her in an erotic vice. Augusta spoke just above her ear as she held Elise.

"Elise," she spoke softly, "do you want this? Not to pretend. Not to play. To belong to me. To this box. To your design."

"I do," Elise breathed. "More than anything."

Augusta smiled. "Then get in, darling. Slowly. Let me watch you take your place."

Augusta let Elise go and she stepped forward, guided by the pull in her chest. She stepped inside the box and turned, her back resting against the satin. The shape fit her perfectly, of course it did. She raised her arms, slid her ankles into position. The restraints barely touched her skin, more symbolic than binding.

Augusta reached in and arranged her tucking her hair, smoothing her skirt, lifting her chin just so. The final touches of a doll-maker completing her proudest work.

"You made this box," Augusta whispered. "And now you will sleep in it. You will dream in it. You will wait in it."

She leaned in.

"And you will awaken only when I turn your key."

Elise felt heat flood through her at the words. Her eyes fluttered closed.

She was still. She was beautiful.

She was completely possessed. She was completely aroused.

Augusta's fingers traced down her cheek, along her throat, across the velvet ribbon.

"You are mine," she said. "You always were."

The lid began to close, slow and gentle.

Just before it sealed, Augusta leaned in and pressed a kiss to Elise's parted lips possessive, deep, lingering.

And inside the box, Elise smiled faintly.

The kiss still echoed. Her thighs tensed. Her breath quickened.

She wouldn't move. Not until she was turned. Not until her owner wound her back to life.

She heard Elizabeths' voice rise in her mind, her eyes focused lastly on the doll that had started it all sitting in a chair in front of her. She smiled as she welcomed the stillness, the darkness, the tea time.

The play time...

And the box sealed with a click.