"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.
