Ted's Dolls 14: Beverly (Patreon)

If you haven't read any of the Ted's Dolls stories before, you should start with Ted's Dolls 1: Jane before reading this one. Most of the characters in this part are new to Ted's Dolls Universe.

The last Wednesday of September, Beverly was standing outside Ted's room when another woman approached the door.

“Don't tell me he's not in?” Gillian said.

“I- I don't know. I haven't knocked,” Beverly said.

“First time?”

“Yeah, I'm not sure I should be here.”

“Where should you be?”

“At home with my boyfriend, studying.”

“And he's not there?”

“No, he's out with friends.”

“Then why shouldn't you be here?” Gillian said. She knocked on the door.

The door opened. “Gillian. Did you bring a friend?”

“We've only just met. But she's feeling a bit shy.”

“Well, do come in. I'm Ted. You've met Gillian. Whom do I have the pleasure of meeting?”

“Beverly. I'm Beverly.”

“I think I know just whom to pair you with, Beverly. But let me get Gillian situated so you can see how things work.”

“I'll grab a crate,” Gillian said. She did so and disappeared into the bathroom.

“Gilian is placing all her clothes and other belongings into the crate. Once she's...”

“I'm ready.”

“3... 2... 1... Once she's ready. I turn her into a doll with that countdown mnemonic. And in about three minutes, she will be a sex doll.”

“That's it?”

“That's it. Then I park the doll on the sofa there until someone comes along to rent it.”

“It? You mean she or her.”

“I prefer to distance myself from that. Dolls are its. They aren't living beings. They are objects. Thinking of them as people leads to weird ethics questions. But as objects, they have no autonomy, no way to initiate actions, no way to alter their fate. They are just possessions to be admired, tools to be used.”

After a few more minutes, Ted went into the bathroom and carried the anonymous doll that had been Gillian over to the sofa and sat it down.

“And as you can see, the doll is unrecognizable as the person who walked in here with you. So? Your turn?”

* * *

Eight weeks later, Beverly was in the cafeteria eating lunch with her friend Trish on a Thursday afternoon.

“You did it again last night, didn't you, Bev?”

“Every Wednesday.”

“Poker night?”

“Yes. Rob goes out every Wednesday and stays out playing cards with his buddies till after two or three in the morning,” Beverly said. “I've tried to stay home. Use the night for studying but in the back of my mind we could be studying together.”

“You sound controlling.”

“No. We do separate stuff all the time. He goes out drinking on Friday's and that doesn't bother me. I think I grew up thinking Wednesday nights were school nights and it bothers me that he stays out all hours on a school night.”

“Are you eight years old?”

“I know it's stupid, Trish. I just. It burns me up every Wednesday. So I go to Ted's and be a doll every Poker night. It mellows me out. And I don't end up getting in a fight with Rob every Thursday morning like I did most of September.”

“How does it mellow you out? Don't you feel weird being used by some rando when you have a boyfriend.”

“It's funny. When you're a doll, those kinds of concerns just don't exist. The first time, when the night was over, it did feel like I had been cheating on Rob. But Ted reminded me that dolls have no agency. And if you have no agency, you can't be cheating.”

“That sounds convenient.”

“Maybe it is. But at this point, it doesn't bother me.”

“So, Rob knows?”

Beverly did not respond.

“Why not tell him if it doesn't matter?” Trish said.

“Maybe I should.”

“Don't do it because I said anything. I don't want you coming to me sobbing because I caused you two to break up.”

“I doubt he'd want to break up. There have been some interesting side effects.”

“Side effects?”

“Well, I don't know if this is true. But since I started being a doll every week, things in bed have been better.”

“How so?”

“When we first started dating, he never finished me off when we did it. Sometimes I would tell him this and he'd try to finish me orally. But, he's terrible at oral. It just didn't help. I stopped telling him and would finish myself off after he fell asleep.

“The last couple weeks, I get off before he does most times. And I don't mean some little moan of relief. I mean toe-curling, heart pounding, back folding itself in half backwards, mind-blowing orgasms. The first time it happened he almost accused me of faking it.”

“He must know he isn't that good in bed.”

“You hush. The other weird thing is I've started to like giving him head.”

“Really?”

“Having him in my mouth feels good and is even starting to taste good. And he isn't complaining about it. I woke him up this morning that way. His morning wood was almost irresistible.”

“Are you saying being a sex doll has turned you into a sexaholic?”

“Maybe. I don't know. I don't crave it and we don't really do it more often. I'm just enjoying it more when we do it.”

“So you could stop?”

“Sure.”

* * *

“You have that look, Bev,” Rob said.

“What look?”

“You want to tell me something I don't want to discuss. Is this about poker night?”

“I haven't complained about poker night in over a month if you haven't noticed.”

“True. Sorry. What is it?”

“You know those dolls.”

“Ted's dolls? I find the real thing is much better.”

“So you wouldn't want to see me as a doll. Just laying here waiting for you to do as you please?”

“That sounds like a trap. But I'll accept the challenge. You--”

“It isn't a trap.”

“Are you saying you want to be a doll?”

“I'm asking if it would bother you if I were a doll?”

“If that's what you want we could try it. But I've never wanted you to be a doll.”

She sighed. “Have you ever wondered why I stopped complaining about poker night?”

“I was too happy you did to question it. What does that have to do with... Have you been...?”

“I have. You're not mad, are you?”

“I feel like I should be. But I'm not. Have you been doing it since the last time you complained?”

“Basically.”

“I need to process this.”

“What's there to process?”

“You complain I ignore you on Wednesdays and then I find out that to cope with it you sell yourself to others for sex. It's a lot.”

“Are you calling me a whore?”

“What? No. I-- I need time to think,” he said and left their apartment.

“Rob!”

* * *

“He walked out. I haven't seen him at all today.”

“He'll come back,” Trish said, biting her tongue about having to pick up the pieces.

“What if he doesn't?”

“He'll come back. He would be crazy to leave you. You're the best thing in his life. And he certainly knows it. He asked for time. Give him time.”

“How much time?”

“More than a day, Girl.”

Beverly wiped the tears from her eyes.

They sat in silence. Beverly's head rested on Trish's shoulder.

“I have an idea.”

“What?”

* * *

Rob returned to the room that evening. “Bev?” he called.

No one answered.

He found the bedroom door closed with an envelope taped to it labeled, “Rob.” Opening it, he found a letter written in Beverly's hand.

“Fuck. Did she leave?” he said before reading it.

It read:

Rob, I don't know if this was a good idea. But if you are reading this, I've done it. I'm in the bedroom. If you want to talk to me without interruption, I'll listen. If you want to ignore me, I won't complain. If you want to tell me off, I won't rebuke you. If you want to fuck me, I'll enjoy it. But please come in.

Love, Bev

He opened the door. Sitting at the end of the bed was Beverly, unclothed and motionless. It was a doll.

“This has Trish written all over it,” he said. He sat on the bed next to her and ran the back of his index finger down her cheek. “Bev, I want to be mad that you were being used by other guys behind my back. I know now you weren't doing it for the sex. You were doing it to cope with me being a shitty boyfriend. You wanted to spend time with me and I blew you off.  I could have tried moving the game to Saturday. Simon and Richard would probably prefer the game to be on the weekend. But instead, I put my foot down. Complained about you being controlling.

“I'm sure you think I haven't noticed a change in you. You don't sneak off after sex to finish. You volunteer to give blow jobs. I thought you might have been cheating on me and that's why your libido was so heightened. But now I suppose its because you've been turning into a doll every week. I can't say I'm not happy with these changes. The fact that you went back to Ted to do it a second time implies that you get something beneficial from your time as a doll.

“I'm not mad. I'm actually quite glad you're happy. We can talk about changing poker night when you're yourself. Or we can leave it as is if you like.

“But, that's enough talk. You were right. Seeing you here, submitting yourself to me in this way, it's kind of hot.”

* * *

Beverly was nude in Ted's bathroom. She got dressed and stepped out.

Rob was saying, “I can't believe the appeal is so great that an A personality like hers would allow herself to be your plaything.”

“Well, proof is right there,” Ted said, pointing at the sex doll that resembled Paris Chaplain.

Beverly laughed, “Oh, yeah, Rob, she's been her twice when I've been here. What shocked me is she doesn't become one of the anonymous dolls.”

“I gave her a choice after the first time she became a doll,” Ted said. “She says she enjoys it more when anybody can walk in here a find her like this.”

Beverly returned the empty crate to the stack of empty crates. “Ready?”

“Let's go,” Rob said. “Nice meeting you Ted.”

“Any time.”

As they walked back to their room, hand in hand, Beverly said, “She isn't wrong.”

“Who isn't wrong?”

“Paris. Being myself as a doll instead of one of the anonymous ones was more enjoyable.”

“How so?”

“I don't know. Being anonymous makes the doll feel more doll-like. You have no personality. No one can guess what you are thinking. You're just a thing. But you saw the doll of Paris. It was still her. There was still her personality radiating from the doll. That doll is president of a sorority. You can imagine the sound of her voice if you imagine the doll speaking.” She squeezed his hand.

“I know that look,” he said and stopped, pulling her arm so she swung around to face him.

A mischievous smile crossed her face and they leaned in to kiss one another.

“What do you have planned?”

* * *

“Is that really Beverly?” Richard said.

“It is,” Rob said.

Rob and his poker buddies were sitting at the table setting up for the game about to start. A doll of Beverly was standing in front of the door to their bedroom. The doll was wearing a lacy green demi-bra and matching garter and hosiery. The doll was essentially half-naked. It held a sign that read, “Rub tits for luck.”

“And you're okay with that.”

“It was all her idea. Besides. We all know poker isn't just luck. It's skill. Only the weak among you would need luck.”

Most of them got up to touch the doll.

Except Earl who said, “Is this why you're hosting this week?”

“Of course, he'll probably want us to stop early so he can hit that as soon as possible,” said Murat.

“No, she'll wait till poker ends at the normal time.”

“That was her idea, too, right?” Earl said.

“It was.”

“Rhana ever do something like that?” Simon said.

“Yes, something like that.”

“Really?” Rob said.

“What about Whitney, Burke?”

“Like I know what I have with Whitney.”

“You gotta talk to her. Find out where you stand,” Richard said.

“He's worried he'll ruin what he's got,” Simon said.

Burke nodded.

“Rob, we can compare notes when the horndogs leave,” Earl said.

“Hey!”

“Tell me my use of 'horndogs' was wrong.”

“It wasn't.”

Simon started dealing the cards and the table talk drifted into other subjects. Hours later, Rob was closing the door behind the last of them leaving. The doll's bra was on the floor. Probably from the streak of luck Richard had winning fifteen hands in a row with a tit rub between each hand.

Rob stepped up to the doll and kissed it. “Sorry, Babe, I'm really tired. Maybe in the morning.” He walked past it into the bedroom.

A moment passed. Two. Suddenly, hands were on the doll's shoulder and inner thigh. It was whisked into the bedroom to receive what it had waited for all night.