Descent Ch. 01: Steps

"OK, we're there," he said as the limo pulled up in front of the glass and steel skyscraper. "Get ready."

Emma started to reach for her dress, the glittering little black party garment a pile on the floor of the stretch limo. He halted her movement before his cock fully slipped out of her sex. Pulling her back down onto his lap, he grinned at the resulting grunt from her. Her face flushed at how obediently she'd let him move her.

"No. Like you are," he said, teasing his hand over her bare skin, playing with her tit. "Just a few steps across the curb and then through the lobby to the elevators."

"What, in only my heels?! You're crazy!" She giggled at the outrageous suggestion, looking back at him over her shoulder. Then she found herself actually getting ready to do it. It was late at night, the curb and lobby almost deserted. Just a few seconds in the open...

Feeling the cool night air flowing over her skin as she rushed to the glass doors, the sound of her heels a rapid tap-tap-tap-tap against the pavement of the sidewalk, Emma thought about how she hadn't been expecting quite this kind of exhilaration when she entered the nightclub earlier.

-

They were in! The queue to the nightclub went on for a block outside, and the pointer had picked them out from the line and waved them in almost immediately! Emma looked up to her redheaded friend next to her, the two coeds surveying the crowded club from the entrance. "We're actually in!" she screamed happily over the loud music. Holding her friend's arm in her excitement, she was almost bouncing in place with energy.

"Any other place and I wouldn't be surprised! We'd be the two best-looking girls there," the redhead said, only half-joking. "Any club should be honored to have us. But this is a doll place!"

"And we got picked right away!" Emma cheered.

Her taller friend laughed at her exuberance. "You know it will only give us impossible competition, right? All the cute guys will just be chasing the dolls." She moved her head to indicate two dolls standing together at the bar. Men were surrounding them, shuffling at each other, trying to chat the girls up.

Emma made an impish "Pfft!" sound in the direction of the two absurdly perfect-looking young women. "Don't sell yourself short, Amelia" she laughed. "You can compete with any of them!"

Doll Making was sometimes referred to as Photoshopping for people, and when remade by undisciplined Makers the subjects tended to end up genuinely looking a bit like dolls. Their faces and bodies uncannily perfect, too much like someone's fantasy. Depending on how extreme the doll Maker's desires, sometimes even cartoonish. It was generally quite easy to tell if someone had been dolled.

Most men found the exaggerated look incredibly enticing on young women.

So naturally, it dominated fashion completely. Both Emma and Amelia were currently made up in a way to make them seem more doll-like, the makeup style popular - even obligatory, if you wanted to signal that you took good care of yourself. For day and night looks alike. Tonight, Emma had gone all in for her party look. Amelia was barely any more toned down.

"Anyway," Emma continued, "for a guy to have a chance with me he shouldn't care that I'm not dolled." She grinned, pausing for effect. "He should just doll me up himself!"

Amelia looked down at her in surprise. "Really? You're up for being a doll Maker's toy?" she said, giggling at the scandalous revelation. "I'd never guessed you were stock! Why are you even studying for a degree if you're up for being dolled? The moment a Maker picks up on it, he'll just slut you up and keep you in his bed forever!"

Emma shrugged, winked to her friend.

Amelia giggled again. "Just a stupid little sex-doll-to-be! You're so intelligent - I never thought you were into that! Maybe if you beg nicely, he'll let you finish your degree before he bimbos you completely!" She pulled Emma to her playfully. "Well, I guess someone's in the right place!"

Emma laughed, couldn't disagree. She'd wanted to go to this club the moment she'd heard about it. This wasn't just a doll place - this was a doll Maker place. Emma could pick out several of them. They were like little islands in the crowd below, dolls and wannabes staying close to them, others keeping their distance. Every time someone else made contact with a Maker's group they jumped as if shocked by static electricity, looking surprised, and then retreated to a safe distance.

Making needed two things; physical contact and permission. A Maker could desire to change you as much as he wanted, but unless the physical connection was there, nothing could happen. Most Makers never bothered to get any formal training, and their changes were uncontrolled, wild. If they touched you, all the random things they might want for you at that moment would tickle at the back of your mind, the magic demanding permission for each change. For your subconscious mind to accept or deny.

The night club packed, Emma could see it happening several times while she was watching. Someone mistakenly touching a person that was in contact with a Maker and reeling back as they felt their mind deny the desired changes. Or at least probably most were denials.

Making was odd. It didn't just alter the affected person - it twisted the entire world around them. Didn't matter if the alteration was a hidden mental one, or visible and corporeal, people would generally feel like nothing had changed at all. Memories, old pictures, the person's clothes, all would adjust with the alteration. Almost as if things had always been that way. Some noticed it more. There was often at least an inkling of a feeling that something had changed, some awareness of things being different, but it went away with time.

Emma couldn't be sure that none of those people had been remade just now.

She saw another person flinch as he managed to get pushed into a Maker's entourage. She had never experienced it herself. In her small town, there had been no Makers, no dolls. Just people like her. She would never have been homecoming queen otherwise.

No matter what she or anyone else said; mundanes couldn't compete with dolls. Hollywood movies and fashion magazines made that obvious - dolls, dolls, and more dolls. Everywhere. Actresses, models, singers - all undeniably dolls. Always seeing that unattainable beauty on posters and screens could make anyone feel insufficient. Emma certainly knew the feeling.

She wondered if she really was stock. Just raw material for a doll some Maker wanted to make. She'd thought a lot about it. Touched herself and daydreamed. Fantasies of submission and lost control fueled her nights.

Thoughts like that were dangerous if you wanted to stay you. But the risk of losing herself somehow only made it hotter.

"You're sure you've not been dolled up a bit already?" her friend continued teasing. "That tight little body, that long, blonde hair. You're too pretty to be natural," she added with a laugh.

"Mmm, flattery, flattery," Emma said with a giggle. "I work hard for this body! Hours and hours in the gym!" She poked her friend in the side with her elbow. "You're as likely to have been dolled up as me," she teased. "You know you're absolutely gorgeous!"

"Mmmm, yeah... about that..." Amelia said.

Emma shrieked, and then laughed. "Really?! You're made?! But you look natural! Oh, wow!"

"I begged my parents for sooo long! Then finally, for my 16th birthday! Dad put down the money for it. Said if it's going to happen it's going to be done by the very best."

"I know your family is well-off, but... That must have cost a small fortune!" Emma was on a scholarship, but with the prominence of the university she'd been accepted to, most of her classmates were from wealthy families. Some of the rich kids weren't very nice to her. But some, like Amelia, treated her like an equal. She was starting to realize just how much money some of those families had, though. Hiring a professional Maker like that could have easily cost as much as letting Emma study at the university for 50 years.

"Yeah, but I turned out well, didn't I?" Amelia gave a little twirl.

Amelia was altogether just too kind and awesome for Emma to be envious, even though Amelia had already sort of experienced what Emma so often dreamed about. Emma smiled with her friend as she finished her little spin. "You are indeed splendid!" she said, affectionately. "Did you have any hidden changes done? Anything kinky, just for you?"

"What? Nooo!" Amelia answered, blushing. "I'm not that kind of girl!" She bit her lip. "And the reason my parents paid so much was to get a Maker that wasn't into that stuff," she said, playfully pretending to pout.

"Well, it's never too late!" Emma giggled. "We'll find some nice Maker to sex you up yet!"

Amelia's blush deepened. "I... think I'll just stick to normal... uhm... boys for now."

"Pfft! Your loss," Emma teased, winking at her friend. "I'm going for the dance floor! Coming along?"

"I'll join you later! I think I need to gather some courage before I'll dare the floor. Besides, that guy over by the bar looks cute!"

"Go for it!" Emma grinned. "With you being a doll and all, I'm sure he'll be offering to play with you in no time!"

"I'm not a doll!" she heard behind her. Emma giggled and headed for the dance floor.

-

She hit the dance floor in a fantastic mood. There was a reason they were out celebrating, after all. She'd done well on her midterms. Having seen the posted results, she'd finally dared to feel that maybe she'd be able to do this after all.

The pressure had been horrendous. Moving away from her parents and sister to this big city. The money situation. Her school trying to make sure underperforming students were weeded out early. It was even worse for her. She couldn't get away with just OK grades - her scholarship conditions demanded academic excellence. She needed to do well. And with the first midterms, she'd proven it to herself. She had a shot at this.

She'd just gotten out of that rabbit hole of angst. Let's not go back into it again. She shook her head, grinning. She could do it! Her results had been fantastic! No more worrying! She was here to get a break from all that!

The lyrics of the song was telling her to be a bad little girl, to work her body hard, and she enthusiastically complied. Feeling the base of the music deep in her body, she let herself get into it, playfully imagining submitting to the male vocalist's sung wishes, to his demands for her to give it all up.

The stress of the last weeks was finally running off her. Emma lifted her arms, spun around, jumping to the music, felt her long hair twisting around her. Arching her back as she got out of her twirl, pushing her ass out like an indecent proposal, the short skater's dress lifted. The air moved over her thighs and bared buttocks as the fabric rustled.

She became aware she'd ended up next to one of those islands of a Maker and his dolls. As crowded as the dance floor was, there was free space right next to her. She took it. Let her moves take up more room, adding more footwork, fancier steps.

Danced like nobody was watching.

But somebody was watching, she became aware. That Maker had slowed down, letting his young dolls do the work as they moved around him. All three of them were teasing their bodies against his, making him look good with the way they showed themselves off against him, the Maker at the center of their orbit.

And he was looking great. Emma glanced at him, coyly trying to not look too hungry. The age she liked, the body type she liked, the face she liked. And, judging from the way he watched her, the self-confidence she loved. As opposed to her, he wasn't shy at letting her see that he was watching her.

And he seemed to have a thing for blondes.

His dolls where all blondes. Tall with the looks of supermodels. Suddenly she realized the three dolls all looked the same. Identical triplets?! Or did he just have a singular fondness for that look, making all his toys conform to it?

The thought of individuals being made identical like that touched too close to one of her recurring, objectifying fantasies. She couldn't keep a straight face anymore - she broke out into a big, guilty smile and met his eyes. He had those three amazing, identical girls at his beck and call, the three all grinding themselves against him as they were dancing, but he was watching her!

He grinned back, making a little circling gesture with his finger. "Spin around," she realized. Thrilled at him giving her direction, she eagerly obliged. She arched her back as she turned for inspection. Her rear towards him, she bent forward at the waist - her short skirt lifting slightly with the move, offering a playful, quick look-see of her buttocks above the entire length of her toned legs - then rose fast, whipping her long hair behind her, letting it swat over her derriere. Grinding her ass out, feeling her skirt teasing over it, she preened to the music. She was on display for him, and she liked it.

She wasn't a cheerleader any longer, or even in a dance squad - she still wanted to but didn't have time for it with the need to do well in school - but that didn't mean she'd forgotten how to dance like one. Though these kinds of moves would never have been allowed during the games in high school, she thought with a grin. Of course, that didn't mean she and her squad friends had never practiced them.

All the times they had played around and brought up lap-dancing and stripping videos on their phones, mimicking them, disobediently practicing the moves while still in their cheerleading uniforms... It had just been for fun, but she applied it now. Her face reddened - she couldn't believe she was actually doing these moves in public - but she kept dancing, looking back at him over her shoulder. She held nothing back, offering all of herself in her anxious desire to be found pleasing. He was still watching! Feeling a Maker's eyes on her was exhilarating.

He turned to one of his dolls, whispered something in her ear. The tall blonde threw a quick, delighted look in Emma's direction, then turned her face up towards her Maker and let him kiss her. Emma liked seeing how possessively the Maker's tongue went into the beautiful girl's mouth. When he let her go, the blonde's face was very flushed. The young doll staggered briefly, then extracted herself from her two copies, moving towards Emma with a mischievous smile, still grinding her body to the rhythm of the music. Her breasts bounced as she approached.

The astonishing blonde gave Emma another smile, snuggled up close and started dancing with her. Both of them were looking at him, Emma eager, self-conscious but full of hope, the other blonde playful, giggling. He sent the doll a nod, and she nuzzled her mouth down to Emma's and kissed her. Emma's face went red. She looked towards the man from the corner off her eye, the blonde kissing her intensely, tongue and all. He was paying attention.

The situation was turning her on, and she found herself leaning into the kiss, fully responding. They kissed. The absurdly attractive blonde doll - the first girl she'd ever kissed - made herself more familiar with the insides of Emma's mouth than most men she'd been with. When the blonde eventually pulled back, Emma was as flushed and weak in her knees as the doll had been earlier. She could see a string of saliva hanging between their tongues for just a moment in the strobe lights before it broke. The tall blonde laughed, her stunning face as impish as ever.

Looking into her eyes, the man winked at Emma. He pointed a finger to his mouth, then to her. He'd sent her a kiss, she realized! From his mouth, to the blonde's, into Emma's. The blonde, young doll had obediently, happily let herself be turned into a messenger, a sexy vehicle to transport a deep kiss.

Emma thought about how she probably had his saliva in her mouth.

Her arousal flared at the connotations of what had just happened. She broke the eye contact, looked down with her face burning, but she was also cracking into a smile as bright as the one on the beautiful, blonde delivery vehicle that she'd been allowed to dance with.

She got her bashfulness under control, renewed her efforts, ground herself against the other blonde. The two of them were seemingly focused on each other, hands teasing and exploring, but all three of them knew it was to give him an enticing show.

Emma peeked at him again, her glance shy despite the lesbian treat they were giving him. She tried to hide any manifestation of timidity - she so wanted to be enjoyable for him. As inexperienced as she was with girls, she hoped she at least delighted him with her attitude.

When the song ended, the man and the two blondes he'd kept close started moving off the dance floor. Emma's playful dance partner nibbled at her earlobe one last time, leaving a wet impression, then took her hand and led her off to follow them.

Emma thought of how it must look to the others in the club. A young, naive girl, effortlessly picked up by an older Maker? She didn't stand a chance! She wondered if they had also figured out how that was precisely what she wanted.

Like a lamb to the slaughter, blithely letting herself be led by the hand towards who knew what, she followed her blonde guide.

She saw Amelia at the bar, two guys chatting her up. The redhead grinned at Emma, waving at her. The gesture of goodbye had a playful and teasing finality to it as if she didn't expect to see Emma more that night.

With that pleasant heat in her belly, the eager excitement as she tottered after the taller blonde, Emma dared feeling hopeful that her friend was right.