The Dollhouse

Part 1

Chapter 1: A Real Boy

Growing up I remember Pinocchio saying how much he wanted to be a real boy. It was because he was fake. He was a puppet. He was a doll.

Hey What's reality? What was real? What was fake? What was flesh? What was plastic? What was reality? I wonder those things. I couldn't believe this was my reality. I couldn't believe my reality was Lionsdale High.

I roll over to Bates.

"First day of school," he states.

"I can see you're excited," I notice.

His dick is hard. I don't hesitate to grab it and put it in my mouth. The warm saltiness on the tip of his dick makes my own dick swell up like an allergic reaction. I put his cock into the back of my throat. I gargle like I have Listerine in there. Fuck it tastes so good. Before long I find myself bobbing my head up and down on his wet cock. My finger gets down to his asshole as I begin to probe his prostate. He loves it when I do that. He tosses his head back. He does it as hard as he can.

"Oh hell yeah," Bates is telling me.

I push harder. His asshole is so tight that I can barely fit a finger in it. It's so warm and smooth. I start fondling his balls with my tongue. I can see a long strip of precum start dripping off the tip. He is loving it and so am I.

That's when I hear the footsteps.

Fuck. My dad was up.

"Time for school!" the door opens.

My dad looks around the room suspiciously. Bates is under my bed before my door opens and my dad is standing there looking at me wondering why I wasn't ready.

"Gimme a second."

"You're going to be late."

"Just a second more..."

My dad nods, "Fine."

~

I'm not excited about this.

"Please no..." I state.

I hated first days. First days were always the fuckin' worst. The car is making so much noise. Pops is pulling up jamming gangster rap from the 90s in his hooptie thinking he's the coolest motherfucker walking. The car is probably older than the song that's playing on the radio. Pops means well. Ever since mom was gone, it's only been me and him.

"Not this shit again," he starts looking over at me.

"You don't get it. You don't get how bad it is."

"Listen Yogi. What I tell you about defending yourself. If one of these kids start with you just pop 'em in the mouth. That's all."

He's not joking when he says, Yogi. That's my name. Yogi Luthor. It was my dad's idea. He said I looked like a little teddy bear when I was a baby. So he named me Yogi. My dad was on drugs at the time. I don't know which. Something hard. Clearly, that's probably what it takes to name your son Yogi. And my mom loved him so much she just let it ride.

Kids grew up though.

The cute shit died down and I'm left just looking fuckin' stupid.

"Dad. You don't get this school. You don't get it."

If only he could spend a day here. He would understand.

"This school is the best of the best. Your Aunt pulled some strings to get you into this school. This school will give you a future. You know it."