Chapter 1
John Falls, a middle-aged senior researcher, did not know what to do when he first got the diagnosis. Sex Doll Syndrome. What was this even supposed to mean?
He found out soon enough. It turned out the drug he had willingly taken, six times, the one that was supposed to be mandated for the whole nation... It wasn't so benevolent, or even just harmless, after all.
It started slow. He found himself unable to move for a few seconds. Unable to open his mouth and speak unless first spoken to. He found it impossible to disobey orders. And he... He still desired his wife. But his body didn't.
He had held out through his wife cheating on him, blaming him for it, and then serving him the drug herself. He was the one who showed grace, who forgave, and who followed the rules, to protect others, from shielding his own kids from trauma to protecting his fellow citizens from a deadly disease... And HE was still the one who ended up like... this.
In the eyes of the law, in the Salvaged Land, the part of the country he ended up in after the Break Off, he wasn't even a citizen. Not one who could have full say over his own body. Technically, there were laws protecting him. Prohibiting others from taking advantage of him. But, in practice...
He was a walking symbol of the fate that was supposed to befall all of his fellow citizens. Because people like him took the drug willingly. Not even to avoid getting fired, but to go on vacation abroad or see a movie. Or even just, like in John's case, to "have some peace".
He struggled with it. He didn't feel guilty, but he was still facing the consequences. The last thing he had done before his disease had completely set in, before the diagnosis became a part of his permanent record, was sign off the divorce papers.
The worst part of finally going through with it was giving up not on the marriage he had, but on the idea of the marriage he thought he had. On a whole family. A peaceful retirement. Seeing his kids graduate...
His kids. Both of them were adults. They could contact him and come see him... But he wasn't sure where they'd come see him at. He couldn't live alone. He needed an "owner". But he didn't want one.
He had taken care of his own will. He knew they would most likely sell the apartment, or maybe one of them would go to grad school in this city... It didn't matter. All he knew was, they didn't need him anymore. They loved him, they would miss him, but he... He couldn't live like this.
Except, it turned out he couldn't die, either. He couldn't move, or even say anything, when it pertained to his own self-destruction. He was forced to live out his natural lifespan.
In a way, he was an improvement upon the human condition. He needed to eat and drink. But he didn't need to use the bathroom. All of it got converted to energy inside him. He needed to sleep, too. But he did not snore. He could get cold. But it was impossible for him to get a cold. He was perfect. He was a perfect sex doll.
He pushed through the day using whatever minuscule amount of control he had in his fingers. Just enough to let him use his phone, to play the right recording at the right time.
He was in his apartment when they came. He opened the door for them. And he was taken away, all of his possessions safely secured.
"Jane Smith, Aftermath Management Department. Mister John Falls, in light of your condition, you have been purchased. We are here to make the delivery," two men in black suits and sunglasses took him by the arms. "Follow me."
He couldn't disobey. He had been "bought". Someone would take responsibility for him, and relieve the tax payers of the burden that his existence had become. He tried to say something as they sat him down in the car. But he couldn't make a single sound.
"Ask me a question you want to know the answer to," the woman finally took pity on him.
"Who?" he managed before his submission took over once again.
"We are not supposed to tell you that," she said.
Chapter 2
John thought he would die of shame as he was first stripped down, then tossed into a bathtub full of milk with pink rose petals floating on the surface, then rinsed warm water, his hair brushed with the finest, rose-smelling soap, and then, at last, dressed up again. But not back in his own clothes.
He was a well-educated, well-read, but not a vain man. He wore loose, long-sleeved shirts, and pants that were just an inch or two away from "baggy". His usual attire did not show off his long, slim legs, his narrow waist, or his not effeminate, but still rather shapely hips. It also hid away his rib cage, which, while not defective in any way, was on the narrower side, even compared to his own, decently broad shoulders.
All of these things were revealed once his slim, helpless body was clad into his new garment. A silk shirt. Dark red, the fabric glistening in the light. Slim-fit, black pants. Not skin-tight, but definitely showing the outline of his calves, and the shape of his hips. The shirt both highlighted how broad his shoulders were, and how narrow his rib cage was. His waist, for once, was extremely well accentuated.
All that was missing was a huge bow on top, he couldn't help but think as the people in white hazmat suits pushed him up the hallway. He couldn't even whimper as they put a tag on him, and left the form to fill out around his neck.
They were in an expensive, secure building. There was a camera in the hallway, so he was pretty safe... But it still felt so demeaning.
As if he wasn't even a person anymore. Left in front of someone's door like a goddamn package. A package no one cared enough about to even have the delivery form on it signed off... They didn't even ring the bell. So John was left standing there.
And he stood there. He stood there for what he was pretty sure was five minutes. Then ten minutes. Fifteen minutes... Half an hour, at the least. Clean, all dressed up, with his lips left slightly parted, to look as inviting as possible. The pants, while they did not show off his bulge, thank god, did cling to his ass in the back. It was all so humiliating!
For a moment, John thought he'd be there all night. But the lock turned. The door opened... And he wished he had spent the night in the hallway. He knew this man. David Frost.
A tall, muscular but slim, handsome man. A man younger than him by about two decades. His former lab assistant. The one who moved on from the company during the Crisis, to join a new government organization.
