Playing with dolls

I like to think that I’m your average 26-year-old male, I like the ladies, video games, sports and so on. I’m just a little different. I like to play with dolls. You know what I mean, don’t kid yourself. I like to make them date, go out, have a normal life just like us. Make them into real people, if you know what I mean. Pose them the way I want, make them do whatever I want. We all have our own god complex; this is the way I handle mine. Now don’t misunderstand what I’m saying, I’m not crazy or a homo or anything like that. It’s just that I have my own way of dealing with life and its downfalls. Not that I promote my lifestyle or anything of that nature, but it just seems to have always worked for me.

I grew up in a normal home, just as most of us did. It wasn’t perfect but we all did the best that we could. My dad worked two jobs and my mother was a waitress, but we got by and they made sure that me and my sister had everything that we needed when we needed it. Me and my sister got along very well considering how close we were in age. There wasn’t really that much sibling rivalry between us and we always took care of each other. I played tea party with her, and she played GI Joe with me, no big deal. As we got older, we had our own things going on, but always made time for each other. As I said, we always had each other's backs. If some guy was giving her shit, I made quick work of him and he didn’t bother her anymore. If I had a question about girls, she was always there to listen. As a teenage male, I had all kinds of questions, as I’m sure she did, but she was too modest to ask them. Which was weird, because some of the questions I asked her she gave visual demonstrations. I’m not proud of it and I hope you don’t judge me based on that, but I was curious, and she was willing to teach me. Even though as innocent as it was or should have been, depending on how you look at it, I tried to block it out, but I’m sure it’s all tucked away in my subconscious somewhere. I knew that if I dwelled on it for too long, I would surely drive myself mad. So anyway, she helps with all my female and sexual queries, and I protected her from the ass holes of the world. We continued to have that brother/sister comradery and still due to this day. She comes and checks up on me and I make sure she’s safe and happy.

But I digress back to my story. I didn’t ask all those questions to my sister for nothing. I needed the info to be a stud for all the ladies and by George, I was. Like I said I have my sister to thank for that.

I remember my first time; the best ten seconds of life and I didn’t want it to end. I think that’s when I realized that it didn’t really have to. As I lay there holding her and trying not to cry like a bitch, I knew that I didn’t want her to leave and that I just couldn’t let her. Call it love or call it lust, whatever you want but I couldn’t live without her. Her name was jasmine, and I’ll never forget her or live without her. So, I decided that she should never leave and made that commitment. As she was getting dressed, I tried to talk her out of leaving. I gave her every bullshit line I could think of and her answer was always the same, “I wish I could but I have to work tomorrow.” I finally couldn’t accept this answer anymore, and demanded she stay the night. I could see the concern beginning to grown in her eyes and she began to show a frightened look on her face. She began to show the old deer in headlights look and I realized how weak she had become. I knew this was my chance to keep her here before she was gone forever. As she finished getting dressed and began looking for her keys, I could feel the doubt growing in her mind and she knew that she had made a mistake sleeping with me. I knew that at this point, I couldn’t convince her otherwise and there was only thing to do now. As she continued to look for her keys in the dimly lit room, I looked for the first and heaviest object that I could find. I brought the bedside lamp down across the back of her skull. The lamp shattered and the pieces of broken porcelain fell to the floor almost as fast as she did. Too much noise and mess to clean up for my taste, but it will do in a pinch. Her limp body lay there and I pondered what to do with it and justified my reasons at the same time. I figured the shower would be best, an easy drain and water source. With two bathrooms made it even easier. I’m the only who’s ever in this one, so no one will ever know that they’re here. With a little ingenuity and some lime, I made it happen. As I began to slice her open, she came to and tried to scream. When she did, startled me and I did the first thing that came to mind. I made a small incision in her throat to let the blood gurgle up to muffle her screams. I then decided it would be best that from now on, I drain the main vein, the jugular. After I had finished watching the blood flow from her veins, I almost began to feel bad about what I had done. Once again, I justified my ways and felt much better about it. Now that she was lifeless, I had my own doll that I could bring life to. I changed her hairstyle, brought her new clothes and just had great conversations with her. She was just great to be around, but I could tell that she was beginning to get lonely. I knew this would never do, so it was time to find her a friend.

I went out on a couple of dates with some gorgeous women, but none of them struck me as someone that she could connect with. Each night, I would come home feeling like a failure and like I had let jasmine down. I tried to explain it to her, hoping she would understand my plight. She was always understanding, and knew I only wanted the best for her. Every time this happened, she would hold me and tell me it was OK, that she understood. Never had a felt a connection to someone like this before.

One night I finally found her a lovely female companion named Ashley. She was just adorable and a great conversationalist, just like jasmine. I knew that they would just get along splendidly. We had a wonderful date together, so great that I asked her to come back to my house for a night cap. She willingly obliged, and back to my house we went. I just knew Ashley and jasmine would hit it off. My palms were so wet with anticipation, I could hardly wait. When we got back to my place, I served Ashley the night cap I had promised her. We conversed some more, and I didn’t know how much longer I could stand it. All the thoughts of the good times we could have together been driving me absolutely insane. I lured her back to my bedroom, and began to make my moves to get her aroused. It definitely worked because in under five minutes we were undressed and were having relations like I had never had before. She kept screaming for more and I was happy to oblige. After we finished, we laid there and basked in the glory of the satisfaction we had given each other. I told her she could spend the night here with me because there was no use of traveling all the way back home at this time of night. To my surprise, she was more than willing. We laid there and continued to hold each other in our arms. She finally drifted off to sleep, and I knew what had to be done. After my first little fiasco, I got smart and hid a crowbar under my bed. No mess to sweep up and no new lamp to buy afterwards. By this round, I had figured out how to be neat about it. You know what they say, cleanliness is next to godliness. So, I brought the crowbar down across her forehead in on swift blow. Right across the frontal lobes just as I had anticipated. The sickening thud it brought on aroused me a little bit. I knew I had done it perfect when I heard the crack of her skull. As she laid there motionless, I thought to myself, “hell, one more time wouldn’t hurt so I had relations with her one more time. Once I was satisfied, I carried her limp body to the bathtub to do what needed to be done to make my next creation. I slit her throat and jugular and lied next to her in wait. Once she was ready, I dressed her in the finest clothes possible and did her make up for her. I introduced Ashley and jasmine, and just as I expected, they hit it off fabulously. They embraced each other as if they were long lost friends. They were doing well, so I left them to speak among their selves. “This is wonderful,” I thought to myself. “Now jasmine will never have to be lonely again when I go out.” Life was perfect, jasmine had a friend and I could go about my business without having to worry about her feeling depressed or left out. Besides, I knew that they needed their girl time alone from time to time. It all went well until they started having little spats that turned into bigger ones. I don’t know how many times I had to separate them. One would get jealous and call the other one a bitch, so on and so forth. I tried separating them, but nothing seemed to work. That’s when I knew that it was time for some time apart and maybe some new friends for the both of them. Then all of a sudden it hit me. Maybe it wasn’t new girlfriends they needed, but new boyfriends. I didn’t want to do it for fear that I would be cast aside. But I did it in usual fashion and made them happy once again. This worked for a while but soon they began their b. s. once again. I was hoping that it was just that time of the month for them, but I guess I was wrong. They still fought like cats and dogs and I was at my wits end with both of them and their new boyfriends. I was patient as long as I could, but a man can only take so much before he snaps. I tried to explain my situation to my female companions, but they weren't quite so understanding to my plight. Unfortunately, their newfound guy friends weren’t paying attention to where they were going and fell into a vat of acid and were never heard from again. The ladies took it really hard but I was there for them and gave them a shoulder to cry on when they needed it. They tried to be little trooper's god bless them. I know that it was hard for them to lose their new best friends, but that’s life. We all have to go sometime, and I guess it was just their time. I tried to let the ladies drink away their pain but they began to use it as a crutch and I knew that just wouldn’t do. So, I made them go through my own personal rehab and cured them in less than three steps. I counseled them myself and helped them through their trying times. It was difficult but we made it through together. I really made sure that they were taken care of. I took care of them as long as I could. It was beginning to be too much for me. I paced the floor wondering what I could do to mend the situation? When I couldn’t take it anymore, I decided that it was time for them to go. We argued back and forth for about an hour and they still wouldn’t leave. I felt my anger rising and knew that something bad was about to happen.

With all options exhausted, I knew what had to be done. I called the police on them and explained the situation to the dispatcher. I told him how I asked my two roommates to leave and they refused. The police showed up and had a shocked and disgusted look on their face when they arrived. They acted like they didn’t know exactly how to handle the situation. Maybe they were just uptight ass holes, I thought to myself. They took all my friends away and took me down to the station for questioning. They kept me there for over 8 hours wanting to no everything under the sun. the police wanted to know my name, how long I lived in my house and what the ladies were doing in my apartment, as well as their male counterparts. I told them I had lived there since I was eighteen and they were my roommates. I explained how I loved them dearly and what all happened when I needed police intervention. They kept their professional and blank faces throughout the whole explanation. While they were questioning me, the other members of the force took damn near everything out of my house. All my roommate's clothes and everything that they thought might be evidence was gone from my house and stored in evidence lockers. After the question I was whisked away to a holding cell while they tried to build a case against me. I still don’t know why, wasn’t I the victim here? As they took me to the holding cell, I saw news vans and reporters surrounding the police station. They hurried me along to cell to avoid the media. I still didn’t understand the fuss, I did everything by the books to diffuse the situation. They put me on trial and wasted lots of time and money only to put me in a mental ward. I tried to argue that I was fine, that my roommates drove me a little crazy but that’s why the cops were called in. I sit here every day in my cell in the mental ward wondering how the victim became the criminal. Am I guilty of loving too much? Karma had me confused. Every day I sit here trying to figure out what went wrong. I guess I just cared too much and it ended up hurting me in the end. You know what they say, love hurts.