A Living Doll
By Amy Sadler ©2025
Introduction
Harry Slater aged 18, had always been one for a good scheme, especially when the promise of easy money presented itself. Recently, the talk of the town was all about the newest craze—a line of Living Baby Dolls. These were big, life-sized baby dolls, so convincingly lifelike that people swore they could not tell the difference between doll and young adults. Demand was sky-high, and shops struggled to keep them in stock. For Harry, this trend was an irresistible opportunity.
The Plan
It was a crisp autumn night in Hargate when Harry put his plan into motion. Knowing that the Living Dolls Warehouse was heavily guarded, he surveyed the building for hours before noticing a vent that looked just big enough for him to squeeze through. With no more than a torch, a crowbar, and a backpack, Harry shimmied his way inside, careful not to trigger the security alarms. Once inside, he marvelled at the rows of immaculately dressed dolls, each one perfectly posed, their glassy eyes reflecting the moonlight that slipped through the warehouse windows.
The Heist
Harry had no proper plan for hauling out the loot, but the thrill of the heist was all he cared for. He tiptoed towards the nearest Living Baby Doll, intent on grabbing a handful before making his exit. Just as his fingers brushed against the doll’s arm, an unexpected whirring cut through the silence. A robot, programmed to patrol the warehouse, walked toward him Its sensors had detected him, and, to Harry’s horror, it advanced on him.
Mistaken Identity
The robot paused as if assessing Harry. Suddenly, a metallic voice declared: “Reject Living Baby Doll detected. Correction in progress.” Before Harry could react, mechanical arms pulled him into a corner, stripping him of his clothes with unfathomable efficiency. In their place, the robot dressed him in a frilly pink baby girl dress, complete with a thick towelling nappy, a pair of frilly plastic pants and a delicate pair of frilly white ankle socks and a pair of pink Mary Jane’s. Disoriented and dishevelled, Harry found himself lifted by the robot that carried him and placed him inside a glass display case, the door clicking shut behind him.
On Display
Daylight brought a new chapter to Harry’s misadventure. The display case was delivered to the Living Doll store, where he was set up alongside the other dolls—each clad in their best, each perfectly silent. Shoppers passed by, oohing and ahhing at the realistic features of the newest arrivals. It wasn’t long before a lady stopped in front of Harry’s case, her face lighting up with delight. She paid the cashier and, with barely a glance, took Harry home with her.
A New Life
From the moment he arrived at the lady’s house, Harry tried desperately to explain his predicament. “Please, miss, I’m not a doll! I’m a person!” he cried, but his words seemed to fall on deaf ears. The woman fussed over him, adjusting his dress and remarking on the craftsmanship of her new Living Doll. No matter how much Harry protested, she simply smiled and patted his head, convinced that he was just one of the latest, most realistic dolls on the market.
Destined to Remain a Doll
Days turned to weeks, and Harry realised the hopelessness of his situation. The lady dressed him in various outfits, paraded him before her friends, and proudly showed off her prized Living Baby Doll. Harry’s pleas and struggles went unnoticed; his identity lost behind frills and ribbons. In the eyes of everyone, he was nothing more than a beautiful doll, one that talked and tried to convince people that he was a real living boy, but he was made to keep still, and eternally on display.
Conclusion
Harry Slater’s attempt at a quick fortune became a cautionary tale whispered among those who might dare to tamper with things they do not understand. The Living Dolls continued to fly off the shelves, and somewhere in Hargate, Harry sat in his new home, dressed in pink, his words unheard, destined to be a living doll, forever at the mercy of those who could never see the man beneath the façade of frills and ribbons.
The End.
