When he woke up Philip just stared at the ceiling for a few minutes. His mind was still groggy and his body was reluctant to make any kind of move.
He was completely naked, his clothes had vanished and yet he felt cleaner compared how he was when trapped under a horde of horny living dolls.
Maybe they bathed him before leaving him? That is, if there was any trace of sanity left in them.
Phil was doing his best to keep his eyes open as he lay in the bed, even blinking flashed images of those glazed eyes drowning in lust, the twisting bodies in their carnal dance atop his cock, and the mother and daughter from the picture that old crone showed him.
The old crone...what did she say again? Be on your guard and leave as soon as possible.
Great advice, but there was something else. A brief worry fluttered into his thoughts and lingered just beyond his reach. Something the crone said that had confused him at the time but was beginning to make sense as he lay there numb and dazed.
Ah right.
If you're the one she has chosen...
She?
A flash of purple invaded his mind, the memory of a spellbinding gaze cast from violet eyes.
The girl in the attic was by far the most captivating enigma the mansion had revealed to Philip and even now he couldn't understand why.
What little glimpse he caught of her was brief as he would pass out almost immediately afterwards and yet his brain refused to write her off as a simple mirage created from an exhausted state.
He rubbed his eyes and sat up in the bed, regardless of how many mysteries surrounded the house, it was clear that he was in danger and needed to escape.
As he looked around the room his eyes rested on a figure standing sentinel in the corner of the room. He didn't flinch nor did he startle but a creeping unease settled over him as he watched it, goosebumps broke out over his body, he broke into a silent sweat and he felt his dick harden as he remembered the things the doll and it's kind did to him before he fell unconscious from exhaustion.
The doll was like the others of it's kind, pale skinned, slender and beautiful. The only thing separating each doll from each other were their hair styles and colour as well as their eyes.
They were practically indistinguishable from a regular human if not for the visible ball joints on it's elbows, knees and waist.
Though it wouldn't have mattered since they must have been human at one point.
Phil remembered the two dolls that joined in his reverse rape that bore a tragic resemblance to the mother and daughter that recently went missing after entering this cursed placed.
Normally Phil felt he should have written it off as a coincidence, or that whoever was responsible was simply pulling a macabre joke by making the dolls' likeness equal to the missing victims.
He felt like it would have been natural to do so, if only to deny the reality of a strange, absurd world he was currently trapped in.
But a part of himself knew, not guessed or assumed; knew, that these dolls were humans.
That this is the fate of all women who come into this home.
He approached the doll, a young lady with light brown hair that exploded into curls and small hazel eyes, freckles surprisingly dotted her cheeks and across her breasts.
She was holding a small card, the front had written on it in elegant font;
Two more attempts remain, good luck.
Phil felt his cheeks flush, was that orgy his first failure? What counted as a failure? The act of being caught or the act of falling unconscious?
He flipped the card around to reveal another message on the back;
Journey to the basement and kiss the bride.
On the bright side the instructions were simplistic, though that only served to fuel his nerves more.
Surely there was a trap waiting for him, another group of dolls ready to molest him or something worse?
Phil left the room and walked down the corridor, though he was the only person present in the house he felt rather uncomfortable walking in the nude so openly but couldn't find an alternative way to dress without hindering his movement should he need to make an escape.
He passed more dolls on his way to the foyer staircase but none of them appeared to wake up or attack him.
Presumably, the dolls would leave him alone until he had the key but it was better to remain cautious regardless.
He made it to the basement door without incident, or rather what he assumed was the basement door.
It was an iron door he saw when he first came into the manor. It was unlocked but heavy, and it swung inward revealing stone steps that descended into the gloom, a stuffy, oppressive atmosphere loomed over the staircase.
Phil left the door open and descended, using the light to help guide him down the steps as much as possible.
The stone was deathly cold against his bare feet, each step sent shivers up his body as he walked practically blind into the yawning abyss.
Deeper and deeper he went, beyond the guardian gaze of the light until he reached yet another heavy iron door.
He pushed it open, the metal scraping unbearably loud against the cobbles revealing another dark room abandoned by light.
Philip paused for a moment before returning to the foyer. After looking around he found the best light source he could; a single wax candle unused and ready and a box of matches before returning to the darkness armed with a feeble flame to help him see.
The room was expansive, it was impossible to tell in the gloom but the room could have easily stretched the entire expanse of the mansion for all he knew.
Because for all intents and purposes it looked like an endless dark void of nothingness. But voids are empty and this room wasn't.
Philip never considered himself a timid or nervous boy but after his experience with them before, he practically screamed when he bumped into another doll in the dark.
After a brief panic attack which almost had him drop the candle and his only source of light, Phil a few deep breaths and, steeling himself for his nervous journey, pushed on into the darkness.
