Whitney stared at herself through the silvered mirror, her mind still trying to comprehend the things around her, and trying to remember the night before. She had woken moments ago, flopped out on top of her bed. She was wearing only a tan body stocking that covered her body up to her neck, and had been padded slightly in several places. It had a thickness, too, that fought off the chill in her room.

She found various garments scattered across her floor; red striped stockings and polka dotted dress. Confused, Whitney stumbled into her bathroom, where she found more peculiarities: a red yarn wig and a rag stained with pink makeup had been lying on the counter; black slippers with soft buckles had been discarded on the floor.

Whitney picked these up and returned to her computer desk, scratching her head. She had half a mind to go ask her roommate if she had seen anything, but then noticed her strange attire and thought better of it. Then she saw an unmarked disk sticking out from the side of her iMac. She popped it in and saw it had only one file on it: a small movie named ‘Hello!” She started the movie with no guess as to what would happen next.

Her screen was quickly filled by a strange image of her, sitting at the very desk she was sitting at. The Whitney in the video was fully dressed in the polka dot dress, her head covered by the yarn wig instead of black curls. She had a simple, bright smile painted on a cloth face, and soft blush circles on each cheek. A thin seam ran down from her for head to her collar, and eyes glimmered with a glass reflection. Her brows and lashes were painted on.

And yet, the doll still looked like Whitney. “Hi, Whitney!” The doll waved into the camera. “I’m Piper! Mum doesn’t know I’m doing this, so don’t tell, kay?” Whitney had no idea who Mum was. “Anyway, I was just calling to tell you a little about myself. First of all, I’m a rag doll who is supposed to be getting a new costume soon . . . that’s what Mum keeps telling me.  Mum is my owner, if you didn’t know. And I guess she’s your owner, too.

“Anyway, since I am a dolly, I like games and make believe and pretty clothes and stuff. I’m a little wobbly on my feet, you know, since I’m all stuffing. But I’ve only fallen down once!” She said triumphantly. “Well, I fell a second time, but Bryan caught me, so it doesn’t count.” Again, Whitney did not know any Bryans.

“Anyway,  this was just a little hello. I really want to know more about you. So just make a little video or write a note or something.” Piper blew a kiss as the video ended. Whitney looked at her desktop in silence, wondering if that video created more questions than answered them.

After a few moments of blank staring, Whitney straightened out her hair and smiled as she turned on her webcam software. "Hi, uh, Piper, is it? Hi, I'm Whitney, and I'm a bit confused by all this. I don't have any memory of last night and I wake up in bed wearing this catsuit. I really can't explain any of it, and so I need you to tell me, straight up, what is going on. Also, who are Bryan and Mum." She switched the camera off and saved the file to her desktop.

Whitney sat back in her chair and pulled up her smooth legs, wrapped in tight tan cloth. She absently ran her fingers up and down her leg and marveled at how comfortable the suit was to wear. It didn't itch or didn't pull or snag and just felt like an extension of herself. She had an absent wondering and looked at her hands, which had all five fingers perfectly formed; unlike her dolly doppelganger who had mittens for hands. Whitney looked passed her fingers and saw a business card on her desk; embossed with pink, shiny lettering, it read

The Doll Cafe

1818 W Front St

With nothing to loose, Whitney pulled off the catsuit and put on proper jeans and a shirt and left the house to get to the bottom of this story.

A short time later, she was at an out of the way pink house. It was Victorian styled and had three stories with two wrap around patios on two floors. The front yard was kept in pristine condition with a small garden and large, old trees. The only marking that it was a business at all was a finely crafted wood sign with the name of the place scrawled on it in pink cursive lettering. With nothing totally amiss, and with no fear, Whitney walked up the walkway to the door.

Inside she found a small foyer, soft wood all around. She stepped onto a simple rug made from bright thread; several paintings on the walls were in a similar style: simple and bright. There was a receptionists desk on the left side of the room, though no one was sitting behind it, as well as several chairs in open spaces. A perfectly clean glass door separated the foyer from the house beyond. Just as Whitney peered beyond, someone stepped from a room behind the receptionists desk and cleared her throat.

"May I help you, ma'am?" Whitney turned to the voice and saw a beautiful ballerina, wearing a pink workout costume. Her black hair was in a bun and held back by a pink headband, and she wore a tight fitting wrap sweater and leotard with some generous lift. But most strange of all was that her skin had a soft wooden appearance and was marked by thin visible joints.

After ogling the beauty, Whitney got her wits quickly. "Do you serve breakfast here?"

"All kinds." The ballerina smiled, and came out from around the desk, then led Whitney into the cafe proper. Her hips swished and swayed; her little tutu incapable of hiding a thing. Whitney stepped into the dining room with little clue what could be in here.