Male! Doll X GN Reader
A/N: Ahhh I got many requests both from on here and other sites of which asked for a doll yandere! To be fair, I really had... no idea how to write this one? Even possessed dolls, I genuinely had no idea how to write them to fit the obsessive trait. But it still took me mf dayS to write this so I hope its alright!!
TW: possessed items, violence, touching, open mechanical anatomy, cringe
“Oh and before I forget, don’t leave him alone. He doesn’t like to be left alone.”
“Don’t….leave the doll alone?” You chuckled, looking at the small envelope hole your customer insisted on talking through.
“Yes.” They replied, shutting the small latch. You were left in silence, holding a small box filled with metal parts and porcelain pieces.
The materials clinked against one another as you shifted the box. Your business was open for walk-ins, but this wasn’t your everyday unscheduled fix-up. Customers often walked in leisurely or tripping over themselves, requiring you to fix a machine or child’s doll.
This fellow however, preferred to stay outside of your shop, sliding the box in through the makeshift gap and latch at the bottom of your door. They were ominous, strangely demanding you to fix this, well, nearly lost cause. In the box was the tattered pieces of a doll. One of those life-size, porcelain and silicone models . They don’t make such beautiful creatures anymore, but how mesmerizing it is to see one up close. People in your craft hardly ever got to see a real antique; usually just like yourself, they’d be stuck with the same old machines that were popular at the time. But you have been given the chance to touch a real piece of hand-made craftsmanship!
“Let’s see..” You mumbled to yourself, trying to shake the eerie feeling you got from that stranger. Weaving in and out of the shelves of your home, you made it to a cluttered table full of metal parts and tiny gears. Shoving away some materials, you placed the box down: this was going to be your most important job yet. Not just because of the very polite pay, but because it was up to you to bring this shattered doll back to a whole. Its metal skeleton was nearly fully exposed, save for the cracked porcelain covering its limbs and face.
Taped to the disaster's open chest was a small note. A Short set of rules and a message was covered in grime as you gripped it. The note was scribbled with fervor, cursive letters giving you vague instructions:
‘Do not look him in the eye
Do not intentionally break him
IF you leave the room: TELL HIM
Treat him like any other human being. Do not underestimate his strength.’
Treat him like a human? Don't look in HIS eyes? You knew the person that dropped him off must have been some weirdo, but this was a bit beyond. These rules were both unnecessary and ridiculous. Perhaps the client was another collector; a strange elderly doll obsessor living on a pension, using their last pennies and dimes to keep antiques like this. At least, you assumed as much. If they weren’t, then you’d really be confused.
You bounced with excitement, tossing the note on the ground. Digging in the box, you found the several broken parts crushed at the bottom. Small fragments of porcelain scraped your fingers; sharp metal bands jabbed out of the doll’s ribcage, showing that someone must have previously opened it up. You decided to take another thought to those ‘rules’; was it just because the person was obsessed with the doll, or was ‘something’ ingrained into it?
Spirits of dead loved ones and evil demons possessing dolls wasn’t unheard of; but you had thankfully never come across anything like that. The rules seemed ridiculous, but you decided to take them into consideration. Besides, the thing’s eyes were spooky, and you tended to talk to yourself. This wouldn’t be so hard!
You were prepared to take on the challenge of fixing this figure, in any manner possible. Grabbing the box, you moved over to your work desk. It was as cluttered as the previous one, but you shoved all materials to the floor once more. Taking out each part, you delicately set down the mostly assembled part of the doll. It was nearly unrecognizable; the porcelain face was cracked, wispy pieces of long and split hair covered its face, allowing an even darker aura to fall upon the doll. Despite the missing pieces of its internal makeup, it was heavy. The mass of material took a great deal of strength for you to pick up and set down without destroying it further. Even as you set it down, the figure seemed to make cracked and scraping noises against the chair.
It was a masterpiece though: the silicone was scraped but not as badly as it should have been for its age. The doll’s face was painted to the last detail, with beauty marks under its left eye and lip; the eyes were sunken in with cloud white scleras. Its body was thin, but not in a human way--It was thin due to the lack of stuffing and insides. The rib cage was incredibly wide, and split open to show a gaping hole of its endoskeleton.
“Woah..” You could hardly keep the gasp from leaving your mouth, the intensity of the doll’s appearance surprising you.
The thing seemed to be made out of steel or aluminum, the heaviness of it making you assume a thick material. It’s skin was silicone, soft but clearly inhuman. And something about its face... That made you question. It was fragile, made out of porcelain unlike its body, but it had an eeriness to it. The dolls eyes were lifeless, as they should be, but the unnatural blue opal color made you on edge. The boyish appearance though, helped put a more ‘human’ feel to the object.
You didn’t even need to avoid its face because of the note-- the freakiness was enough to make you cast your gaze. Propping it up, you tried to make its back sit straight, with no avail. No matter how hard you pushed, its spine wouldn’t straighten; it was clear something was wrong. Instead of messing with the back any further, you huffed frustratedly, and turned to grab more tools.
It was going to take a long time to fix this guy, but you were determined. Even with the faux ribs sticking out, and the scratches in its “skin,” you were prepared to disregard all other jobs. It was purely out of your own satisfaction to see this thing grow into the beautiful creation it once was. You were unable to look away from the gaping hole in its chest.
Spending hours on your knees grew to hurt greatly, though it was worth it to see that chest no longer held a bunch of metal poking out. Now, it looked like the average insides of any doll. You had to remove a bit of the silicone, but that was no problem to deal with.
The doll’s porcelain blue skin reminded you of someone with frostbite-- it didn’t allow the figure to have any specific ethnicity, giving it almost an extraterrestrial look. It was nearly human. Though, the features were impossible: full, plump lips paired with big sad eyes,which gave for any normal doll appearance. Though every time you glanced up a bit to look at its face, you felt more melancholic. Something about ‘his’ expression was deeper than all the other dolls you had worked with.
Throughout the night, you found yourself talking to the doll as if it were a person; not a strange habit, really. You tended to do that with all your projects. Thankfully they never talked back, but you were a bit lonely stuck in that quiet cozy room. The record playing began to skip, pulling you away from your work. You had managed to fix most of the “rib cage” but a few pieces were missing. Nothing in the box showed to be the parts. Getting up from the short chair you had been sitting in for hours, you stretched. Pulling out your hands and twisting to the side, you heard a loud crack come from your back.
The skipping record began to grow annoying as it occupied your mind. Muttering to yourself, you left the doll in peace to collect some replacement parts and to change the record. The dolls eyes looked like they moved to follow your walking form, but you ignored that creepy factor.
Shutting off the record, you heard a crash follow from your work room. The doll. Rushing over to the door, you saw the doll lying there, crumpled. Its behind was sticking straight up, body twisted and conformed in an unnatural position. Slowly, the object moved. It’s hands shook beneath it, moving roughly like it was swimming through broken glass. One twisted arm moved to stretch out, trying to grip the floor. The things feet moved beneath it, trying to prop itself up. Despite how hard it tried to get up, its broken back was too much for it to move properly. Its head was still stuck to the floor. It almost looked like a newborn baby, trying to learn how to walk.
You shouted without thinking. The mere thought of finding one of your projects moving on its own was terrifying; this was a whole other level of creepiness. As soon as the sound left your mouth, the doll fell limp. Its legs hit the floor with a high thud. The sound made you cringe. Somehow, its ragged clothes managed to get even dirtier from your dusty floor. The doll was an absolute mess; but you were worse. It.. moved? The item, object, unliving thing, moved. You heard about the ghosts but hoped by all odds you would never encounter a possessed machine.
Clutching the side of the door, you waited for the doll to get back up. It didn’t. Instead, a small screwdriver fell off your desk. The doll hit the desk previously, making the tool fall and hit its head. The doll still didn’t move.
From its stillness, the idea of it being alive seemed impossible, it was as stiff as before. But you didn’t trust that; you saw it move with your very own eyes, saw it try to climb up and off the floor from where it tumbled unto. Inching closer, you moved to poke at the doll. Giving it a harsh jab in the shoulder, you jumped back. It didn't move an inch. Taking deep breaths you tried to reassure yourself: this was just a bunch of parts thrown together. There had to be a logical explanation.
Gaining courage, you grabbed the doll and forced it back onto the chair. Its heavy frame made you carry with vigor. The figure looked the same: no cracks or changes, no scornful glare like you had expected. Taking a moment you allowed your heart beat to settle; perhaps something underneath moved it, like a rat? You could hardly believe that explanation. Taking matters into your own hands, you bent the doll further down to inspect its back. According to how these dolls were normally made, there should be a way to open it from behind.
Observing the area, you found no such thing. There weren’t even any cracks or lines which would distinguish the silicone skin pieces from one another.
“Hmm…” You shakily cleared your throat, thinking pensively. The only explanation was that something inside or outside moved it. Inside… That’s it! You felt a lightbulb switch off in your head, the thought seeming so clear. Of course: it must be mechanical.
The doll must have gears or a charged device inside it which makes the ball-jointed limbs move! And it got stuck, because it was broken. You felt pleased with yourself, knowing that you weren’t delusional, and that you were perfectly alone in the house. Though, the suspicious part was that you hadn’t seen a place to input a charger or battery pack. There weren’t even any gears inside the base that would help it move. Not only that, but ball-jointed dolls didn’t tend to be mechanical; whoever designed it must have been either a genius or drunk out of their mind. This poor sap of a machine was still working after being treated so horribly. You almost felt bad for it.
Your fear subsided, and instead was placed with curiosity.
“Well, since we are going to be partners from now on, I guess I should give you a name…” You mumbled. Dusting off its clothes, you racked your brain for possible names.
“Ur...iah?” You tried out the name, saying it over and over while looking at the doll. You still avoided its eyes; the glare from its sad orbs still making you hesitant. The syllables of the name rolled off your tongue easily.
“Uriah. Uriah! It’s good, I like it.” You settled on that, naming the doll. You knew this would make you slightly attached to it-- as what happened with all things you gave names to-- but that was better than being terrified of it.
“Well alright Uriah,” You cut yourself off with a yawn, looking at the clock strike 3. “ I think it's best if we go to sleep. Goodnight, little creepy doll.”
Giving the doll a pat on the head, you took off your oil and grease stained apron. Turning off the electric desk lamp, you headed to bed. Another wave of yawns hit you as you left the room, showing how hard you had worked all day. Staying awake until three in the morning was a record. Usually you stayed up a bit after the sun had set, but this was a real work day.
Preparing yourself for sleep, you took one last glance at the workroom which held Uriah. He was almost like a friend in a way; an eerily creepy, lifeless friend. You decided that if he was real, he’d be the kind of person you wanted to befriend. Whether it was the hopeless romantic in you, with how sad his eyes looked, or how quirky he was considering his insides, you couldn’t decide. Sleep hit you easily, the stench of oil still stuck on your hands and exhaustion washing over your eyelids.
Your deep rest was hardly disrupted as something made its way into your bed. The creak and crinkle of the mattress made you stir, but you didn’t awake. The being staring at you couldn’t stop its gaze.
You awoke the next morning with the sun shining in. The window above you let in a streak of gold and white, making you feel warm and fuzzy. It was another bright day, filled with the strength of smooth cogs and lively customers. The cluttered walls of your room made you feel safe, posters of your idols and your own achievements on the walls, along with some of your greatest creations. You didn’t have much time to invent as of late, but it was nice to fix things instead. The auburn walls and rusted gears hanging was almost like a safety net, reminding you that there was comfort inside this room alone, despite whatever might lurk outside or inside.
Pulling the covers off of you, you felt a strong weight from the other side of the bed. A hand limply fell off from your shoulder, under the thrown covers. You looked with a puzzled expression, unsure why there was a lifeless hand in your bed. Pulling back the covers, you jumped with fright. There, was Uriah. He lied in a crumpled form, nearly the same as when he sat in your workroom chair. Its mop of dark navy hair covered its face, looking almost human. His eyes looked up to stare at you, unmoving. Its legs were also against your own, the cold material making you shiver.
You brought your hands up to your mouth, trying not to scream.
“How did… what..” You were speechless, poking at the doll to make sure it wouldn’t move. It stayed put, lying there as it did yesterday. You were both horrified and intrigued. Never had a creation done something like this before; even if it was running on batteries, or a mechanical force to make it move, things usually didn’t have enough power to walk after years of abandonment.
How did it even manage to open your workroom door? Could objects like this even do that? You tried to focus on one thing or another but all you wanted to do was to cut this thing open; see what made it tick. No, you reminded yourself; this was for a customer, not for your own satisfaction.
Talking yourself through it, you decided this must have been another flunk from the internal system. Like human bodies, there must be a major system in the doll, which was telling the rest of it to move. Unfortunately, it had to come to your room specifically. You were certainly going to start locking your door now.
Getting out of bed, you moved to the other side to remove Uriah. Picking up the doll’s heavy body, you found a black substance soaked into your bed. It was covered in it. Your night clothes and hands were soon wet from it as well; it gave off a peculiar scent. Smelling your hands, you realized that it was oil. How did it manage to get covered in oil? You pushed your fingers against the doll's open ribcage. You had fixed most of it, but there was still a gaping hole. In the hole, you witnessed a sea of oil from within it. The metal ribs and exoskeleton were covered. How the hell could it contain this much fluid?
You struggled to bring it back to your work room, half dragging it down the hall and half carrying it bridal style. Despite being only a mechanical object, the thing still managed to be huge. Life-like was an understatement; the “skin” of the object brushed against you, giving shivers down your spine. You still didn’t know what made it tick, not even what caused it to be so heavy, but you were determined to find out.
Finally managing to set the thing down on a cleared workbench, you made your way back to the bedroom. But not without harshly stopping yourself with the door frame first; remembering the ‘rules’ you were given, you decided to be safe than sorry.
“I’m going to go change.” You said, looking at the doll. It wasn’t as odd talking to him as you thought it would be; sure you’ve talked to machines before, out of a lonely habit, but not out of fear like this. And yet, it didn't feel much different. Skipping back to the room, you hastily threw on some old clothes and your tool pouch, tying it around your waist.
As you started walking back to the work room, you began to notice oil littering the floor. It was small drips at first, but soon became large, dried splotches and sliding footprints. You followed the trail of black down to a room next to the one where Uriah resided.
“What is this…” You mumbled to yourself, looking up at the end point of the oil. Inside the tiny spare room, oil littered the walls. It somehow sprayed out from one of your past creations.
“Letta!” You shouted, running to your dearly destroyed machine. She was a beauty; one of the first things you had ever created. Over time you had been working on her, greasing up old gears and changing her features to display the newly improved image you had in mind. She was an automaton, and didn’t need oil to function, which is why this sudden mess made no sense. She couldn’t have malfunctioned and sprayed it everywhere, or even moved.
So how had oil made its way inside of her gears, on her face, and all over the floor…? As you took a closer look, you noticed her mechanics had been tampered with. Something was definitely stolen; ripped out to leave small pieces of metal and broken cogs everywhere. You had recently installed a voice box, hoping that maybe she could learn how to replay small messages when writing. But you had yet learned how to make both work simultaneously, and merely only allowed the same two phrases on the voice box: “Play with me!” and “Help!” Both were used in the function to alert you. The first, to remind you that she was working in disguise of a cute little phrase. You wanted to give her a nice phrase to see how well it would fit with her structure; and it worked well. The second, was to let you know if something was jammed, or going wrong. But you weren’t sure if the automaton would ever be able to be created to figure that out for herself. So, you settled on merely installing it to see if it would even go well. And you hadn’t been able to test it yet.
Looking into Letta’s exposed back, you found it covered in oil and hand prints. The voice box was gone. You had installed it only a day ago; and now it was missing! You were furious, angry at whoever had the guts to come in and destroy your livelihood, not to mention your home. That voice box was expensive too…Hearing movement from the room over with Uriah, you stomped over to it. Perhaps you could catch the culprit of this utter disaster.
Instead of finding what you hoped to be a deranged animal or prankster, you merely saw Uriah on his side. The doll smeared oil all over the workbench, the undried substance sticking to anything it could latch to.
“Dammit…” You grunted loudly, tossing your hands in your hair. “Guess my only option is to clean you up, huh…” You looked over to Uriah, the doll seeming as lifeless as it always had. The pale blue porcelain of its face still unnerved you, but it was so pretty to admire from afar.
Gathering up the doll and several rags with a bucket, you spent an hour cleaning all the oil off. It had gotten into several cracks and crevices. Hell, you hadn’t even managed to fix the doll yet and it was already destroyed! You half hoped the client who dropped it off--whoever they were-- wouldn’t mind this small mishap.
Thankfully the grease was easily removable and did not damage the silicone or porcelain at all. You spent the rest of the day fixing broken areas, such as the nearly finished ribcage, and broken spine. While working, you swore you could feel its eyes on you. Occasionally, the dolls hands would be in a different position that you set them in. After turning around, you’d find the figure in a more open position, its hands caressing your skin or hair when you moved. You didn’t bother changing the dolls limbs after the first few times; it would always somehow move once more. You blamed this on the fact that it must have had some kind of battery inside, still allowing it to move. And yet, you still couldn’t find the battery.
But finally! You had managed to get the doll to sit upright. It was far from finished, but now at least the thing could walk properly. You really wanted to get inside of it and understand why the hell it could move, but there was no way to do that without destroying it. So, you settled on focusing on aesthetics. At least you could make the beautiful antique look restored.
Yawning, you decided to take a bit of a nap before working on the doll any further. You were thoroughly wiped out after all these strange occurrences.
“I’m gonna take a nap Uriah, see ya later.” Stretching, you removed your tool pouch and slumped to your room. All this constant work on the doll was really draining. Sleep came easy despite the bright open window of your room. Yet, you hadn’t managed to sleep as long as you desired before something woke you up. The sound of someone speaking, jolted you awake.
“Play with me!” The sound rang out. You recognized the voice, but couldn’t be sure as sleep still hazed you.
“Play with me! Play with me!” The voice replayed itself, assuring your assumption. Confusion hit you like a wall, making you slowly get up from your bed.
“Help!” As the voice began to ring out more frequently, your pace sped up. It was coming from your work room.
Reaching the bedroom door, you jiggled the handle to find it locked. Oil spilled underneath from outside the door. You grew panicked, hearing more phrases from the voice box ring out.
“Play with me!! Play!”
You settled on pushing against the door frame, trying to break it down. Whatever was going on, was not normal. Your shoulder began to bruise, the weight not enough to split the door. It stayed strong despite the creaky wood and bent nails keeping it together. Looking around feverishly, you found a discarded toolbox next to your clothes hamper. Thankfully, it held a couple screwdrivers and hammers, enough to allow you to take apart the door handle.
It took you several minutes but finally, the door broke open. You witnessed the sight that lay before you. Oil slid across the floor, wet black liquid tainting the ground in front of your room. Hunched over in front of you was Uriah. The doll had black oil dripping from its legs and hands. Inside its chest, was the voice box, roughly shoved in. The box leaked with oil, finger prints smearing more of the black all along Uriah’s exposed internal chest. The doll's clothes were falling off as it stood there in front of you. It shouldn’t be able to stand on its own, even as you had fixed its back.
“What the… hell…” You stand in shock, hand still resting on the gaping hole where your door handle used to be.
The doll turns its head. Instead of staring at the floor, it looked directly at you; oil stained its face. The large and unnatural splatters dripped to the floor, black slick destroying the wood and doll’s silicone even further. An internal part of you was disappointed on how all your hard work of cleaning the previous oil spill, was now wasted. But now you had bigger things to deal with.
Like how the hell this thing was still moving on its own.
Dolls who could move always had a predetermined set of moving abilities programmed. Uriah was not programmed.
The doll reached a hand out towards you, Its finger pointed in your direction. It was keen on touching you. You didn’t dare move, fearing what may happen if you messed with whatever this thing was.
“What the hell are you...”
You stared at it, watching as it outstretched its hand. Cold silicone fingers touched you with caution, experimenting whether it would be safe to continue.The tall figure tilted its head, the oil covering half of it making it seem more terrifying. Feeling its grip grow harder, you began to step backwards. Its hand tore into your shirt, not daring to let go. You fought back, trying to shut your bedroom door as it held onto you. Uriah was faster than you determined, its speed seeming inhuman. Despite the heavy mass of the doll, he didn’t seem to have a problem matching pace with you. Pushing you into the room it ran after you. Letting out a loud shriek, you ran to your bedroom desk. You tried to grab a nearby tool to defend yourself, but that was quickly swatted away by your aggressor. Uriah held an offensive stance, preparing to catch you if you tried to run. Backing up, you found yourself shoved into a corner, Uriah following pace.
He matched your steps, holding the tool he grabbed from you. You covered your face, fearing that it was going to strike you with it. Uriah only watched, staring as you cowered in fear. The lifeless, aqua eyes bore into you. They seemed to hold nothing, no life or expression other than solemness. It didn’t--couldn’t-- change expression, merely tilting its head to get a better look at you. You cringed at the sound of his joints creaking. It was clear this doll had not been so active in a long, long time.
“Don’t… don’t hurt me!” You couldn’t stop yourself from crying out, terrified that this cursed abomination was going to kill you.
“Play with me!” The voice box rang out.
You froze in place. Uriah didn’t move. The girlish voice rang out again, a short “help!” targeted towards you.
“...Help..?” You repeated.
“Play with me!”
You lowered your hands, watching as the doll crept closer. Uriah dropped the small tool on the floor; one of his hands rested on the button of the voicebox.You didn’t turn away, but still winced as he came closer to you. The stench of oil was strong as it shuffled forwards.
The doll outstretched his hand as it did before, fingers ghosting over your face. The thin digits lightly touched the tip of your nose, and your lips. You shut your eyes harshly, trying to look away. It came closer, bringing another hand up to touch your face. The wet, fake fingers ghosted over each eyelash, prodding at every pore and unique indent of your face.
You whispered faintly, opening your eyes a crack. The doll was intent on gazing at every feature of you, the frozen hands trying to touch every warm area of your body. Its eyes that seemed so frozen in time before, moved. They moved to study how your chest rose and fell after each breath, how your fingers trembled.
Without hesitation, you rammed your body into the doll. It stumbled backwards, stunned as you made your way past. You slipped on the oil, sliding slightly. Uriah snapped out of the shock, grabbing your waist to stop you from running further.
“Help! Help!” The voice box rang out, growing more frequent the more desperate the doll got.
“Let me...go!” You grunted against his force, trying to claw against the already mangled silicone flesh. The doll clasped onto your shirt, throwing you harshly to the ground. You let out an agonizing sound, feeling your head throb.
Uriah went quiet, no more voice box noises or sounds of gears and joints turning. You scrambled to get back up. Before you could stand fully, you saw Uriah swing a heavy mallet above you. You cursed yourself for having so many tools in your room; not once had you managed to use them to your advantage.
The first swing missed, hitting the ground instead. But the second, got you heavily. The damage from the mallet made your head ricochet against the floor. Easily your eyes fell shut, unconsciousness hitting with full force.
Despite your inability to awaken, you felt the same cold fingers caress you. From your feet to your ears you felt the silicone admire and bathe in the heat of your body. The same line repeated over, and over again.
“Play with me!” It rang.
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