Marvin’s heart pounded as he stood frozen in the workshop, the Marionette Suit holding him rigid, the high-pitched, childlike voice still echoing in his ears. Mila’s laughter bounced off the walls, her green eyes glinting with mischief as she towered over him. His cheeks burned with humiliation, but he forced himself to focus. He had to get out of this—literally and figuratively. His thought frantically scrambled over possible ways he could escape. Work! Work was his lifeline, his one tether to the outside world. If he didn’t show up at the bookstore, his coworkers would notice, and questions would spiral. Yes, Mila had to let him go to work.
“Mila,” he said, wincing as the squeaky, toddler-like voice chirped out, “I gotta go to work. My coworkers—Sarah and Lena—they’ll make a big messy if I don’t show up. You have to let me go.” The words came out lisping and petulant, making him sound like a kid begging for a toy. He clenched his fists, the suit’s motors humming faintly as they kept his arms locked.
Mila tilted her head, her smirk softening into something almost thoughtful. “Work, huh?” she said, tapping her chin. “Yeah, that could be a problem. Can’t have your little book nerd friends sniffing around, can we?” She leaned closer, her height making the moment feel even more oppressive. “Alright, Marv, let’s make sure they don’t get suspicious.”
Before he could protest, she turned back to the control panel, her fingers flying over the touchscreen. “Throat Goat, switch to echo mode—Marvin’s voice, my input,” she commanded. The suit buzzed softly, and Marvin felt a subtle shift in his throat, like a weight lifting. He opened his mouth to test it, but nothing came out.
Marvin’s stomach twisted. Echo mode? He didn’t like the sound of that. But before he could process it, his mind drifted back to the bookstore—to Sarah and Lena, and the way things had been there. The reality is that he hadn’t exactly made friends at work.
The Bookstore, Weeks Ago
Marvin leaned against the counter at Pages & Panels, the small indie bookstore where he’d worked for the past year. The shop was quiet, save for the soft hum of the air conditioning and the rustle of pages from a customer in the corner. He was sorting a stack of graphic novels, arranging them by publisher, when Sarah—a lanky 19-year-old with purple-streaked hair—walked by, balancing a tower of romance novels in her arms.
“Careful, Sarah,” Marvin said, his tone sharp and patronizing. “Don’t drop those. Wouldn’t want to damage the store’s precious supply of bodice-rippers.” He smirked, adjusting his glasses as he held up a copy of Watchmen. “You know, if you ever want to read something with actual depth, I could recommend a few graphic novels. They’re not just comics—they’re literature. Not that you’d get understand.”
Sarah’s jaw tightened, but she forced a tight smile. “Thanks, Marvin, but I’m good with my ‘bodice-rippers.’ Some of us read for fun, not to stroke our egos.” She set the books down with a deliberate thud and walked off to shelve them.
Lena, a bubbly 20-year-old with a penchant for glittery nail polish, overheard from the register and rolled her eyes. “God, Marvin, you’re such a snob,” she muttered, ringing up a customer’s purchase. “Not everyone needs a fancy college degree to know what’s good.”
Marvin scoffed, brushing his ponytail over his shoulder. “I’m just saying, there’s a difference between art and… whatever you two are into. Those books you like? Predictable. Formulaic. No substance.” He tapped the cover of U for Ultraman with a smug grin. “This? This is a cultural touchstone. Maybe if you two idiots spent less time swooning over shirtless princes, you’d understand.”
Sarah, now back from shelving, crossed her arms. “HEY! Uncalled for. You’re not our professor, Marvin. Maybe we don't know all that stuff. But you don't have to be a jerk about it!” She turned away, her purple hair swinging as she muttered something to Lena, who snorted and nodded. Both women headed to the backroom, leaving Marvin alone at the front of the store.
Marvin shrugged, unfazed. He’d always felt a step above these... Children. Sarah and Lena were just useless high school grads, coasting through retail jobs while he was destined for something bigger. At least, that’s what he’d thought before Emilia. Now, he dodged their questions about his personal life. The last thing he needed was those two gossip queens finding out he was dating a woman twice his age. If they ever found out, everyone in town would find out...
---
Marvin snapped back to the moment, still frozen in the workshop, Mila’s smug grin pulling him into the present. “Alright, Marv,” she said, pulling out her phone and dialing a number. “Let’s call your little bookstore buddies and make sure they don’t come knocking. Throat Goat, prepare to relay my words—Marvin’s voice, my script.”
Marvin’s eyes widened. “Mila, wait—” he tried to say, but no sound came out. The suit’s neural interface silenced him, waiting for Mila’s input. His heart sank as he realized what was coming. She held the phone to her ear, and after a moment, Sarah’s voice crackled through the speaker. “Pages & Panels, this is Sarah. Who’s this?”
Mila smirked, her voice barely audible as she spoke. “Throat Goat, relay at normal volume: ‘Hey, Sarah, it’s Marvin. I’m not gonna make it to work today—maybe for a while, actually. I, uh, was masturbating and I spilled some superglue and now my hand's glued to my dick. I'm stuck til the adhesive wears off. Doctor says I'm lucky my penis is so small, so it might only be a day or two.’”
Marvin’s eyes shot open in panic as the sound began to come out of the Throat Goat and his own voice delivering the humiliating excuse with perfect clarity. “Hey, Sarah, it’s Marvin. I’m not gonna make it to work today—maybe for a while, actually. I, uh, was masturbating and I spilled some superglue and now my hand's glued to my dick. I'm stuck til the adhesive wears off. Doctor says I'm lucky my penis is so small, so it might only be a day or two.”
On the other end, Marvin could hear Sarah burst out laughing, the sound sharp and mocking through the phone. “Oh my God, Marvin, are you serious? That’s… wow, okay. TMI, dude.” Lena’s voice joined in the background, giggling uncontrollably. “Lucky it's small? Take care of yourself, "Little Professor"!” The laughter grew louder before Sarah managed to get it under control to where she could speak again, “Alright, uh, feel better, I guess. We’ll manage without you.” The call ended with a click, their cackling cut off abruptly.
Marvin’s face burned, his hands twitching uselessly in the suit’s grip. Those two harpies were going to tell everyone that story! He wanted to scream, to tell Mila to stop, but the suit kept him silent, immobile, a prisoner in his own body. Mila tossed her phone onto the workbench, grinning like a cat with a cornered mouse. “Perfect,” she said, clapping her hands. “Thanks for the reminder, Marv. Can’t have your coworkers getting nosy, can we?"
She stepped closer, her tall frame casting a shadow over him. “Now, let’s get you settled. Suit, sit.” The suit obeyed instantly, forcing Marvin’s legs to fold as he dropped to the cold workshop floor with a soft thud. He glared up at her, his mouth forming silent protests, but Mila just winked. “Don’t go anywhere, 'Little Professor'. I’ve got some ideas.” She turned on her heel, her blonde hair swinging as she bounded up the stairs, leaving Marvin alone in the humming silence of the workshop.
The suit’s faint buzz was the only sound, its neural interfaces glowing softly against his skin. He sat there, helpless, the weight of Mila’s control sinking in. Weeks without Emilia, stuck with Mila calling the shots—and no way to fight back. His mind raced, searching for another possible way out, but the suit held him firm, a marvel of engineering that also worked as a cage. All he could do was wait.
Upstairs, Mila sprawled on the plush living room sofa, her phone already in hand. She scrolled to Anna’s contact, her smirk widening as she hit call. Anna picked up on the second ring, her voice bright and curious. “Yo, Mila, what’s up?”
“You have to come over,” Mila said, barely containing her glee. “The best thing ever just happened, and you’re gonna lose it when you see my new toy.”
“Toy?” Anna’s tone perked up. “Like, what kind? Spill.”
Mila leaned back, twirling a strand of her blonde hair. “It’s Marvin. My mom’s little boyfriend. He’s stuck in one of her fancy robot suits, and I’ve got full control. Voice commands, movement, everything. Oh, and get this—his voice? It’s a five-year-old girl’s now. You have to hear it.”
Anna’s laugh crackled through the speaker. “No way. That’s insane! Is he, like, freaking out?”
“Oh, totally,” Mila said, grinning. “He’s down in the workshop, probably crying in his toddler voice. Come over. This promises to be so much fun.”
“Bet. I’m there in twenty,” Anna said, already grabbing her keys. “This I gotta see.”
---
True to her word, Anna arrived at the mansion in record time, her beat-up hatchback looking comically out of place next to the sleek cars in the driveway. At 5’10”, with a wiry build and a shock of dyed pink hair, Anna carried herself with the confidence of someone who thrived on chaos. She strode into the foyer, sneakers squeaking on the marble, and spotted Mila waiting with a wicked grin. “Alright, where’s this doll of yours?” Anna asked, slinging her backpack off her shoulder.
Mila led her to the workshop, where Marvin still sat, rigid and helpless, the suit’s faint glow highlighting his small frame. His caramel-colored hair was still tied in the ballerina bun Emilia had twisted it into, adding to his humiliated appearance. His wide blue eyes darted toward this stranger, a mix of fear and embarrassment flashing across his flushed face. “Throat Goat, speak freely,” Mila commanded, crossing her arms.
Marvin’s mouth moved, and that shrill, lisping voice squeaked out, “Mila, please, you can’t do this! Just sync it to my voice and let me go!” The childish tone made his plea sound like a toddler throwing a tantrum, and both girls burst into laughter.
Mila smirked, stepping closer to Marvin. “Told you, Anna. It's hardly going to take any effort at all.” She turned to Marvin, her green eyes glinting with malice. “You wanna know why I’m doing this, Marv? Because you and my mom? It's wrong! Creeping on my mom, some older lady who’s way out of your league by the way. Gross. And you had the nerve to say I’m jealous because I’m not ‘Mommy’s little girl’ anymore?” She leaned down, her face inches from his. “Well, guess what? I’m gonna make sure Mom sees you for what you really are. Not a man. Certainly not anyone who could ever be worthy of being my mom's partner. No, I'm going to make sure she sees you as a little baby girl who needs her Mommy. And then she'll come to her senses and toss you out."
Mila's face scrunched up and, as an apparent afterthought, she growled "Throat Goat: toddler voice!"
Marvin’s face burned, his mouth forming protests that came out as, “That’s not twue! I wuv Emiwia! Pwease, don’t do this!” The toddler filter twisted his words into something even more humiliating, and Anna howled with laughter.
Anna clutched her stomach, tears forming in her eyes. “Oh my God, that’s hilarious! He sounds like he’s begging for a juice box! ‘Wuv Emiwia’?” Anna mocked, mimicking his lisp. “Oh, this is too good. Mila, we gotta make him look the part.”
Mila’s grin widened. “Oh, we will. But first that thing I ordered that you picked up for me…” She exchanged a look with Anna, who nodded eagerly. Anna unzipped her backpack and pulled out a small, metallic object that made Marvin’s stomach drop—a tiny chastity device, barely an inch long, gleaming under the workshop’s lights. It was absurdly small, even for someone his size, and the sight of it sent a chill through him.
“No, no, pwease!” Marvin squeaked, his voice breaking as he tried to back away, but the suit held him fast. “You can’t! That’s not faiw!”
Anna smirked, twirling the device between her fingers. “Look at him, Mila. He’s probably a total perv, thinking creepy thoughts about your mom. We can’t have that, can we?”
“Nope,” Mila said, her tone mock-serious. “Gotta keep our little girl pure. Hold him still, suit.” The Marionette Suit tightened its grip, forcing Marvin’s legs apart as he sat frozen, his heart pounding. He tried to beg again, but every word came out in that lisping, filtered squeak: “Pwease, I’m not a pewv! Don’t do this! I just wanna be with Emiwia!”
Mila rolled her eyes, grabbing a bag of ice from a nearby freezer used for lab supplies. “Oh, shut it, princess. You sound like a cartoon character.” She pressed the ice against Marvin’s groin, ignoring his high-pitched yelp as the cold hit him. “Gotta shrink you down to fit this tiny thing,” she said, smirking as he squirmed uselessly. Anna giggled, holding the device ready.
Marvin’s pleas grew more desperate, but each one only fueled their amusement. “Pwease, I’ll be good! Don’t put that on me!” he wailed, the toddler voice making Anna snort so hard she nearly dropped the device.
“God, it’s like he’s auditioning for a kid’s show,” Anna said, wiping her eyes. “Alright, he’s small enough. Let’s lock him up.”
With clinical precision, Mila held the ice in place while Anna fitted the chastity device. Marvin felt the cold metal snap shut, the complex lock clicking with a finality that made his stomach lurch. It was tight, uncomfortable, and utterly humiliating, the tiny cage emphasizing his vulnerability. “There,” Mila said, stepping back to admire their work. “Now you’re a proper little girl. Only pure thoughts about Mommy.”
Marvin’s face was crimson, his eyes stinging with unshed tears. “Why awe you so mean?” he squeaked, the filter turning his anger into a petulant whine.
Mila ignored him, turning to a storage closet in the workshop. “Time for your new look,” she said, rummaging through boxes labeled with her childhood belongings. She pulled out an outfit that made Marvin’s heart sink—a frilly, bubblegum-pink dress clearly meant for a young girl. The dress had a high collar trimmed with white lace, puffed sleeves adorned with tiny satin bows, and a skirt that flared out with layers of tulle, ending in a hemline that would barely reach his thighs. A matching pink hairband with a giant bow sat beside it, along with white knee-high socks and shiny black Mary Jane shoes, their buckles glinting mockingly.
“Oh, this is perfect,” Anna said, clapping her hands. “He’s gonna look like he stepped out of a dollhouse.”
Mila held up the dress, her grin wicked. “Suit, equip outfit,” she commanded. The Marionette Suit whirred into action, its motors moving Marvin’s limbs like a puppet as he stood up. His arms lifted as the dress was slipped over his head, the tulle scratching against his skin. The suit adjusted the fabric, pulling it snug against his slender frame, the short skirt fluffing out absurdly. The socks were tugged onto his legs, and the shoes clicked into place, their buckles fastened by the suit’s precise movements. Finally, Mila removed the ballerina bun and combed his long caramel hair into two high pigtails, securing the pink hairband with its oversized bow on top.
Marvin caught a glimpse of himself in a nearby monitor’s reflection and wanted to disappear. The dress was comically childish, the bright pink clashing with his pale skin, and the bow made his head look cartoonishly large. Underneath the dress, he could feel the chastity device pressed uncomfortably. “Pwease, don’t make me weaw this,” he begged, his lisping voice making Anna snort again.
“Too late, princess,” Mila said, stepping back to admire her work. “But we’re not done yet. This is just something for you to wear while we travel. Anna, you know what time it is?”
Anna’s eyes lit up. “Salon time?”
“Salon time,” Mila confirmed, grabbing her keys. “Suit, follow us.”
Marvin’s heart plummeted as the suit forced him to march after them, his Mary Janes clicking on the marble floor. “No, pwease, not a sawon!” he squeaked, visions of public humiliation flashing through his mind. “Peopwe will see me!”
“That’s the point,” Mila said, tossing her hair as she led the way to her car—a sporty convertible parked in the garage. “Mom needs to see her little girl all dolled up when she gets back. No reason not to get you in the spirit as soon as possible.” Mila paused, a flash of something indescribably in her eyes.
Anna opened the back door, and Mla ordered the suit to make Marvin climb in, the tulle skirt puffing up around him like a pink cloud. He tried to slump in the seat, to hide, but the suit kept his posture prim and upright, like a proper little lady. Mila slid into the driver’s seat, Anna beside her, both girls still giggling at his expense. “Don’t worry, Marv,” Anna teased, turning to wink at him. “We’ll tell the salon you’re just a really dedicated cosplayer.”
Marvin’s stomach churned as the car roared to life, the convertible’s open top exposing him to the world. The wind tugged at his pigtails and bow, and he could already imagine the stares they’d get at the salon. A makeover? His mind raced with terrifying possibilities—nail polish, makeup, or worse. He tried to protest, but all that came out was, “Pwease, I don’t wanna go! I’ll be good, I pwomise!” The girls just laughed harder, the car speeding toward the salon as Marvin’s dread grew with every mile.
As they pulled up to the salon, a chic storefront with neon signs and glass windows, Marvin’s heart pounded so hard he thought it might burst. The suit held him rigid, the dress’s tulle rustling in the breeze, and the chastity device’s pressure was a humiliating constant. Mila parked and turned to him, her smirk as sharp as ever. “Ready to be Mommy’s perfect little girl, Marv?” she asked, her voice dripping with mock sweetness.
Marvin could only stare out at the salon’s doors, his lisping voice silent for once, as the reality of what awaited him inside sank in.