"We're going to play 'Mommy'," the doll says as it falls to its hands and knees and begins to crawl toward you over the broken junk on the floor.
You back up into the door. You're having second thoughts about deciding to cooperate.
The doll crawls closer and closer. You try the knob, but now the door is locked. "You said you were going to play," the doll says. Its plastic face stares at you blankly, lips motionless. "So you will play."
"What...are you doing?" you ask, trying to control the shake in your voice. Your already high-pitched five-year-old voice sounds even shriller now.
"I'll be the baby, and you'll be the mommy," it says. As it gets closer, your body tightens around your dress. You can tell that you're growing bigger, maybe even older. You rip off what you can before your changes take care of the rest. Your stockings rip down your legs and you barely free your growing feet from the restrictive boots before the stockings tear off completely.
In no time you're stark naked, cowering among a pile of your youthful clothes. Your body, however, isn't so youthful anymore. You get bigger and your breasts grow out quickly. Your hips widen, even more than they ever have. You've returned to around twenty-one years old, still not quite as old as you were when you entered the house all that time ago, but close.
You sit on the floor in a daze. Something is sapping your energy. You can hardly move, and you certainly can't stand up. Meanwhile, the doll has come uncomfortably close.
You stare at its big eyes. They are fixed right on you. You try to lift your arms to push it away, but even that requires more energy than you currently have. You can barely keep your eyes open at this point.
The doll crawls between your legs, pushing them farther apart. You know where it's headed, and you're terrified. You think you'd rather trade another fifty years in this house as a five-year-old girl than what you're about to experience.
It jams its little arms into your fresh birth canal. The pain shoots through your mind and you lose all the rest of your senses. The only thing you're aware of is how much it hurts to feel the doll crawling slowly into you, stretching you wider and wider. You can feel your organs shifting around to make room. After what seems like hours, the pain finally subsides.
It takes some time to regain total consciousness. When your eyes finally open, you're staring at the ceiling of the doll room. Your hands shoot to your stomach. Your heart sinks when they find a bulge in your body comparable to a womb that's nearly nine months pregnant.
When your strength returns in full, you sit up against the door. The room has changed. Nothing is broken anymore, and there are no signs of the dolls or children's furnishings. It's back to the plain guest bedroom you discovered on day one.
You look yourself over. Your skin is still pale white, but your body is now twenty-one. Your hips and breasts are a little larger than they were when you were twenty-one, however. You can feel your hair on your shoulders and you find that it has changed texture.
You stand up, and your hair falls about you in thick waves down to your ankles. It's not ridiculously curly as it was when you were turned into a goth child. You also notice there is a bright red streak running down the left front locks.
The doll--or the baby--kicks inside you. You gasp and clutch your protruding tummy. You wonder if it has turned into a real baby...or possibly something else. The doll kicks again, and this time it actually hurts. It kicks again. And again.
The pain forces you to double up, tucking in your arms. It continues to attack your insides with its pounding.
"Stop! Please stop!" you scream as tears run down your pale face.
After a few more excruciating hits, it stops. The baby is now motionless. It takes you several minutes sitting on the bed to recollect yourself. If it was that violent now, you hated to think about when it eventually will be born.