Broomi and Brocken are talked into it

"I dunno... Using a doll seems somehow even lamer than fapping with a girl's panties," Brocken complained, wearing an even more sour variant of his usual frown as Mikkel smiled over the creative invention. "I mean, wouldn't the sense of shame kind of get in the way of... you know...?" He questioned, jerking his cupped hand up and down meaningfully. It was hard for him to imagine a situation in which an artificial version of a real woman made him feel anything other than embarrassment at being **** to resort to using it, let alone genuine arousal.

"You might be surprised. For some people, arousal and shame go hand in hand!" the inventor responded in a glib retort, eagerly pantomiming the hand motion as Broomi awkwardly watched the pair of boys giving mid-air hand jobs to invisible dicks. "That said, assuming your case is different, I assure you, there are plenty throughout this fine city who utilize sexual toys-- such as dolls-- to get their sweet release. The only difference between the one I've designed and the ones they use is that mine is of a far superior quality, blessed with divine enlightenment from Geod himself. You won't find a finer pedigree on a sex toy anywhere in Merridan!"

Brocken raised an eyebrow and grumbled. "You sound like you're trying to sell me on something," he pointed out.

"In a sense, I am, although it's actually a gift, free of charge. I only want you and your sister to be happy," the smiling man replied, clasping both hands together beneath his angular chin. "There's no commitment, of course. If you try it and it doesn't do the trick-- or if you find, I don't know, something else lying around the house that does a superior job-- then feel free to return it or burn it out in your mom's vegetable patch. I won't shed a tear. Well, maybe a small one. Artfully."

It seemed like Brocken could stew upon the answer with that sullen look on his face forever, or perhaps he was just waiting for Broomi to make the call for him. Finally, she did so, grabbing the toy from Mikkel and stowing it under one arm. "We'll take it! This'd better not be some weird scheme of yours, though," she warned the suspicious inventor, pointing one finger threateningly. "If it is, you should confess now instead of waiting for the booth, because there might be another kick in the nuts waiting for you."

"My schemes are all pleasant in the eyes of our lord," Mikkel reassured the two, forming a cross playfully with two of his fingers across his bare chest. "Cross my heart, hope to die."

Once they'd departed from the workshop, Broomi's spirits seemed to raise back up to their usual level, while Brocken continued to sulk. With the sun shining overhead and their house just next door, with beds waiting and light coming in the windows, the day seemed to beg them to take it easy and take a nap. Broomi knew that they couldn't afford to, not when a solution to her brother's problems was so close at hand; when he began to make his way towards his bedroom, she caught him by the shoulder, spun him around, and thrust the doll into his chest. He returned a dumbfounded expression as she absolved herself of the problem. "You've got what you need now! How you handle it from here on out seems like a 'you' thing. I'm going to go check what the rest of the town's like right now," the confessor finished with her brother, trying to look as aloof about the whole thing as she could.

Before she could even turn around, the boy's hand clasped her wrist and held her facing forward. "Broomi, c'mon. You know this is a 'you' thing, in some ways. The test just this morning proved that, right?" he questioned, entreating her for some sympathy. "I think we both know who this doll has got to take the form of. Unless you want me to go grab some of your hair out of the tub, you ought to do the honors of picking what we shove into the back of the doll."

"Yuck! I don't leave hair in the tub," Broomi protested indignantly. "That's you!"

"Uh, no offense, Broomi, but you and mom both kinda shed like dogs sometimes," the brother answered, rolling his eyes. His hair was long, but the frizzy hair of the Jean Bromides was a curse he missed by way of not sharing their blood. That earned him a kick in the shin, causing him to hop on one foot irritably for a moment. "Fuck! Just take the doll and put something in it, alright?!"

The girl nodded, trying her best to wear an annoyed expression instead of an embarrassed one. It had been one thing to dance around the subject when Mikkel was prodding with his innuendos and jokes, but it was another thing to acknowledge that the doll was going to take on her own appearance for the sake of her brother's sexual satisfaction. Without arguing back, she took the doll into her own modest, closet-sized room, then sat down upon her bed with a creak of the springs. "This is so goofy..." she murmured to herself, then lay back down against the bed, hesitating to act on what she and Brocken had decided.

If this doll did magically turn into an exact replica of herself, Brocken's problem would be solved! He wouldn't have to keep humping all of her clothes and ruining them. He might even be able to keep his demon erection down long enough to focus on his career as a knight, which would change his life entirely. Imagining a world where her brother could accomplish his dreams without moping around the house would seem to make utilizing this creepy doll a necessary evil.

It was definitely better than helping him take care of it herself on a daily basis, anyway... Certainly.

Whatever the case, the first thing she needed to do was make sure it worked. Mikkel hadn't been real clear on what was going to happen once the doll was "activated." Would it immediately transform into her, like something out of a fairy tale? Would she wake up to find it staring down creepily at her as it stood over her bed? Would the doll act like a real human being, or would it just kind of... stand there and get humped? Was her brother going to hump it, or would it be enough to just masturbate while it watched? Thinking about that question started to make her face go red again and she began to feel spiteful towards the inventor, who'd left all of this so unexplained just for his love of erotic mystique.

"Well, no. The guy would have gone on and on about it. I'm the one who rushed us out," she remembered. "Whatever! I'm getting this over with right now, then, I'm going out on the town! I'm gonna drink so much at Hattler's place, I might just kiss him!" Those words she shouted to pump herself up instead of merely thinking them. Brocken's joke about how to fill up the doll was pretty gross, but her idea was about as bad; with a lout "hoooock" noise, she gathered up saliva, then chucked a spit-ball into the slot at the back of the doll. Thankfully, the back closed up, so at least it wasn't going to drip out afterward.

Determined not to think about it any more, Broomi threw the doll face down on her bed, then threw her door open, nearly smacking Brocken in the face. Unapologetic, she slammed it back just as hard. "Okay, brother of mine, the dark deed is done," she announced, placing her hands on the hips of her nun's frock.

"Really? Can I see it?" he questioned dumbly.

"No, dummy," Broomi sighed. "Nothing happened yet. The guy's freaky voodoo or whatever probably takes some time to power up. Just leave it there for now and we'll check back on it later. For now, make sure your room is clean... there's no way you cleaned all that mess up already."

"What are you gonna do?" Brocken asked, staring back at the door as if debating whether he should open it up to check on the doll as soon as she left.

"Get drunk and maybe fuck," the sister boasted, puffing out her modest chest and tilting her nose up. Ordinarily, she loved boasting about her ability to do those two things, but for some reason, talking about fucking around her brother was making her feel a little weird. "Uh, you should do that too! These are exciting times in Merridan!"

"I should fuck while you're out? Who...?" Brocken questioned, his narrow eyes now glued upon the door.

"It doesn't matter! Whoever you want!" she answered, doing her best to laugh off her brother's obvious desire to screw a 1:1 replica of herself as soon as it was done shaping itself. "Byeee!" Long days as the church's hardest worker tended to make Broomi crave a beer, but right this moment she felt like she legitimately needed the brain-crashing buzz of ****.

The weird feeling of "wrongness," or perhaps guilt at leaving Brocken alone to stew instead of supporting him in this strange time, weighed heavily upon Broomi. She managed to get a few drinks down, but felt herself becoming a grumpy drunk instead of a happy drunk. The town had certainly jumped down the rabbit hole with both feet. Hattler's tavern had become a booby bar, a bunch of weirdos were preparing some sort of suspiciously pagan-looking church-sponsored parade for the night's festivities, and she'd even seen one of the noble women dancing around town in the nude. It was chaos, but the fun kind of chaos!

"So why am I not having fun?" she grumbled out loud to herself. Even with so many opportunities surrounding her, she felt like the sense of responsibility to help her brother out was preventing her from really enjoying her time with anything she tried. Helping him was really more important than any of that, anyway... but, somehow, she felt she hadn't really accomplished her job yet.

When she returned home, she announced herself, just like she had earlier that day. No one answered this time either... judging by the shoes, Bonnie must have gone out this time. At least Brocken was still home. Curiously, she walked quietly to his door, then tipped it open ever so gently, wondering what she'd see. To her surprise, the big lug was asleep in his bed, barely snoring. Perhaps he was taking advantage of the one night he'd managed to climb into bed without a huge boner? Or perhaps it had come back and he'd been **** to sleep to get some relief from it?

Whatever the case, it gave her a nice excuse to go check on the doll's progress, privately. The result was certainly uncanny-- and very fresh, judging by the fact that her brother hadn't stayed awake to talk about it with her. In the place of the doll, a life-like doppelganger of herself now lay upon the bed, face down, with its cute, lightly freckled bottom pointed towards the ceiling. The magic doll was now her, clad in its birthday suit. Oddly, it seemed to have fallen asleep.

"Do magic dolls sleep?" Broomi questioned under her breath, while flipping the doll over to fully inspect it. In every way, it was her, down to that trademark Jean-Bromide bush between the legs and that Broomi-specific lack of breast mass. Right now, it was wearing a dopey, sleeping smile. "How do you activate it, anyway? I doubt that you're supposed to just go to town on it while it's asleep... I wish I could figure out the right way to make it do something!"

As if on command, the doll slowly awoke, then grabbed one of Broomi's hands, placing it over her breast and slowly circling the palm against it. The inviting, comfortable smile it wore even made the face's original owner feel a little hot and bothered. It seemed that the doll could receive commands just from simple expressions of intent. As for the small, palm-sized breast in her hand, the magically generated flesh felt so lifelike, it was as though Broomi was massaging her own body. If Brocken had sex with this... "Oh crap. It really is just like he's doing it with me," she thought out loud, pressing her fist to her mouth nervously.

The confessor was experiencing some major reservations in terms of delivering the doll to Brocken now... Maybe it'd be better to just lose it somewhere? Then they'd be back to square one, with her having to find some other way of curing his big Incuboner every day. She acknowledged the foolishness of that outcome.

She decided to do what any good nun would do in such a situation: she knelt at her bedside in her modest habit and started praying. "Alright, Geod, I've been scratching your back all my life. Help me out this time! What should I do in a situation like this?" she questioned, staring angrily at the ceiling and waiting for the big man upstairs to give her the answer.