The Owner of the Toy chooses the Game

I pulled them into the living room, brushing aside Roman and Miss Gilda, who were deeply kissing and making out by the staircase.

“It isn’t affecting him” Roman said.

“Why would it,” I answered back, the evil grin still firmly affixed to my face. “You’re all doing this because of me. I made this all happen. All of it.”

“Shut up!” said my wife. “What do you mean?”

“Which is it,” I asked, still grinning, “do you want me to tell you or do you want me to stop talking--”

“Tell me, be quiet-- both, I don’t know,” she broke down and began weeping. I guided everyone into the living room. There was the dollhouse, still resting on the coffee table. I looked the door and bid everyone sit down. Here was another moment of silence. I looked from person to person, the strange mix of fear and hatred on their faces, and then I looked at their dolls, all assembled just right in correspondence to where they were standing or sitting in the living room.

They all looked at me. Even in their anger they understood that I still paid for them. I still did indeed control them. I was the one who needed to speak first. Not just because I was the leader, but also because I was the one in the middle of what they must have supposed was a nervous breakdown from watching a close colleague and my wife enjoying a rather well-performed blowjob.

“Make yourself comfortable,” I turned to Robert, “I understand you’re fucking my wife.”

Robert looked at me without comprehending the question. There was another moment of silence that swelled up and seemed to swallow the whole room in its uncomfort. Everything seemed like a stage scene from some poorly written play or soap opera dramatization of what was indeed really happening right there. I crossed to the mantle with purpose, perhaps too much like a character in any of those overly dramatic fictions, and then nodded back to Robert.

“I’m sorry, ever since seeing Sleuth, I’ve wanted to say that.”

“The fuck does that--” he began. But I held my hand out, indicating that it was not his turn to be speaking. The floor was mine and I held it as long as I desired. It was a sort of household filibuster, where I procedurally held the floor until my own words, thoughts, and opinions had fully formed and I relented to allow the others a chance for their own expression. I chose my words with care, smiling the whole time, that weird, possessed smile, knowing that no matter what they did I could use the dollhouse against them. I had not since that first time, but since their attempt to rebel against me, the clear god of that household, I knew I would now wield that power with no regard for their feelings or even human nature. I felt like an Old Testament God revelling in the punishment I was about to mete out.

“I am in control in this household. Total and complete control. Whatever I want to happen can and will happen. Before you protest, look at that dollhouse you gave me. I do not know what the quality is, but that dollhouse is a living thing. It is the control center for this entire house. Those notes, those things written in my journal are indeed twofold. The notes are exactly what was happening.”

“Is that why there were real things that happened written down there?” Miss GIlda asked. I picked up her doll and tipped it upside down. Then, I disrobed it, and began to spank it with my finger.

“It is not your turn to speak,” I said, rather grimly. Each member of the party watched as she was indeed suspended in air, flipped upside down, and something, some spectral **** tore off all her clothes. she began to cry as that **** then began, as I had, to spank her rather forcefully. I set the doll down.

“Do not interrupt me when I speak, any of you,” I warned the assembled household, “or something worse shall happen to you. I will continue to demonstrate.” Both of the men looked like they wanted to say something, but a quick movement of my hand over towards their dolls persuaded them that they should remain silent, at least during the soliloquy which I began again in earnest to deliver.

“Whatever this property is, it allows me to make the dolls do whatever I want. That is why I-- I have been carefully recording the actions of the house. I was the one that made you explore each others bodies, Jacinta Florez and Gilda Venturas.” I said their names as a parent would, using their full appellations to scold them, to control them. “I took your dolls and pressed them together and made them speak to each other. I don’t remember the exact words, but I could hear you. I could hear you. And everything I had you say I heard you saying upstairs. It was me speaking through you that made you fall in what you call love. It isn’t love, it’s just the results of my playing.”

Robert eyed the door. I noticed this, but paid no mind. Instead, I simply made sure the lock within the little dollhouse held tight. When he did try to run, he found he was stuck in the room. I picked up his doll and inspected it.

“Most of me wants to smash this against the mantelpiece. But **** solves nothing. No, I think instead I should put you in the place you put my wife--”

“You don’t mean--” Roman spoke up now, and tried to reach towards the dollhouse. I grabbed his doll as well.

“Try to interfere and I will leave your heads bashed in.” I was by now completing possessed over the power. It didn’t matter what that power was or what I did with it. Instead it mattered to me that I could control them. I was that God, I was their God and provider. And I could make them play for me. “Now watch closely,” I said, as I sat down and began to play with the Roman and Robert dolls.

“It’s never occurred to me before now how similar your names are. It’s like you could be the same person. Interchangeable. I wonder if it would matter if I change the parts--” I was thinking now of my erotic story. But I shook my head. “No time, and those tools are elsewhere. But you are so similar. Both muscular, in your ways. Both protectors of my life. No wonder you two are in love with each other.”

“What do you mean?” asked Robert. “I love your wife!”

“I don’t think so, I said,” then picked up his doll. I played his voice: “I’m not in love with your wife, I’ve just been lying to myself. I want Roman as my husband.”

“That’s ridiculous,” said Robert. “I would never--I’m not in love with your wife, I’ve just been lying to myself. I want Roman as my husband. What, how are you--”

I picked up the Roman doll, and played his voice as well: I suppose it’s all been coming to this.” Then I unzipped the dolls pants, and placed both dolls in the sexual position I had just witnessed Robert and my wife performing. Miss GIlda began crying, looked like she was about to say or do something, but a quick glance from me at her doll-- which had now redressed, as she had-- assured her that I would not allow any action other than those I had preordained. I rather cruelly instructed her and her lover, that is, Florez, to console each other and watch.

“I would never, never,” Roman said.

“That’s just what Robert said. You really are the same. Then my script broke into Roman’s mind, and he unzipped his pants, while standing over Robert.

“I suppose it’s all been coming to this,” Roman said, and thrust his penis into Robert’s mouth. With the dolls in the house I motioned for them to keep at it. Robert continued to suck Roman’s cock, while I turned my attention to the women.

“I can control anything. I can even make you hate each other again. I’ll even make each watch when you fuck me--”

But the girls, in tears, pleaded, begged me to let them still love each other. I relented, but then thought back to the erotic story I had written.