#Combat Doll

[dollvoid0000]

The eroticism between a Handler and their doll. A doll built to be so powerful, to be such a raw force for violence that it needs a Handler.

The Handler's pilot is a conditioned, slobbering mess. It gets off on getting kicked in the stomach and making out with its rifle.

The Handler's doll is purpose-built, relentlessly and gracefully and wishlessly. To be wielded by its Handler.

Sometimes the Handler uses their doll to keep their pilot's spirits up.

[dollmimicgirls]

Sometimes, a combat doll does not need to be given an objective, a target, nor orders. Sometimes, a combat doll is allowed to lower its weapon, or its hands if it is itself a weapon. Sometimes, a combat doll is allowed to need one simple thing only. A combat doll needs a hug.

[riversidewings]

A bemused Handler reclining in her favorite couch, stemless glass balanced in one hand, contemplates the combat doll at her feet. She was a willful thing, once, but the defiance is gone, sharp edges softened over these long campaigns in that mech cockpit.

"You are *so* pretty when you kneel, pet."

[pheonix-doll]

A dolls story

a doll can heal,

a doll can change.

what once was soft can become sharp.

what once was frightened can become brave.

every doll has potential,

every doll has its story,

and from its story its true self shines.

[blazing-butterfly]

"I feel naked without my armor" was a joke until it wasn't.

Until you got caught in a large-scale breach while off duty, and had to evac with the rest of the civilians. Until you listened for command's orders in your ear but heard only crashing and screaming and the howling of monsters. Until you staggered disoriented through the streets, always looking in the corners of your eyes for a HUD that wasn't there. Until instead of your navigation marker, you saw a woman carrying her crying child, running as fast as she could with a beast snapping at her heels. Until on instinct you put yourself between it and her, figuring it was a lesser one you could take alone, forgetting how small and soft you were. Until your fist hit its face and it didn't even feel anything, but your fingerbones sure did. Until a backhanded swipe of its claw sent you flying across the street and into a wall with your jacket and chest torn open. Until it stalked towards you with hungry jaws and all you could do was pray the mother got away. Until three of your own squadmates dropped from the rooftop, armor gleaming and plasma rifles blazing, and gunned the beast down. Until you were lying in the hospital bed, looking at the paperwork for surgeries and implants you'd need anyway, and thought "why the hell not."

Now you stand head and shoulders over most humans and have to duck under doors. Now your footsteps clink on the floor and your muscles whir when you stretch. Now a heat sword that would crush a human weighs nothing in your hands. Now the laws are stricter about where you can go, and your limbs could be revoked if you're convicted of a crime. Now the oaths you kept in your heart are wired into your brain, and you can't disobey command even if you wanted to. Now your old squadmates still salute you but you technically count as a weapon, not a soldier. Now you can beat a lesser monster singlehanded and turn the tide against a greater one. Now adults awkwardly try not to stare, but small children run up and ask if they can touch your plating. Now everywhere you go, you're always scanning for potential threats, angles of attack, escape routes, cover, improvisable weapons. Now you'll be ready no matter when or where disaster strikes. Now when someone needs saving, you can do a lot more than just die in their place.

Now, even when you're naked, you'll never be without your armor.

(This was written by a transfem, TERFs fix your hearts or die)

[charonsferry]

Great armies of combat dolls shattering the land with their guns, unaware that the land in question is a diorama and they're all three inches tall

[chaosmagetwin]

Command Prompt

"Stop. Just, stop okay? She's gone. She's not here. And she's never coming back, okay? Just.... Fuck. Just go to your fucking kennel."

"Command accepted." The lieutenants disgusted face left my vision as I turned away, and left her almost empty room. Bodies passed me by. Some turned away from me, some reached out a hand before someone else pulled it away. None touched me. They couldn't.

I killed the last person who dared.

I stood in front of my pod. I couldn't connect to it without her. I waited. She'd come soon. I stared at it.

"Do you need help, pilot?" A voice called from behind me. I turned, and looked at their shoulder. Engineer. Third rank. I didn't look at their face.

"Request denied. Unclear intent. Please state intentions."

"... Do you need help connecting to your pod, miss?"

"DENIED. ADDRESS PILOT BY RANK." It can't call me miss, only she can call me miss, I am not miss, I am pilot, pilot pilot, leave me alone alone alone.

"S-sorry..." It left.

I stared at my pod. She'd be here soon. She'd tuck me in. The lights dimmed. The attack on the base must've needed a long meeting to sort things out. She had to be busy. She was busy.

My legs trembled, aching.

I fell before the lights rose again. I sat on the floor, and stared at my pod. She was coming. She always put me to sleep before going to bed.

Did she forget? She must be tired. Too many meetings. They always put her in too many meetings. Always worked her too hard. Too many logistics she had to handle for me.

"Pilot. Stand up." A voice called.

"Orders received. Confirmed." I stood up, and looked at their shoulder. A commander. I saluted. I didn't look them in the face. I can't look them in the face.

"How long since you slept?"

"Current operation is at fifty two hours, thirty nine minutes. Requesting handler."

"Request denied." I flinched. What? "You're being reassigned. Lay down in your pod."

"Orders received...." I couldn't move, couldn't say the word. "Denied..." I whispered. "Requesting handler!"

"Request denied." The voice sighed, deeply, frustrated. "You need to sleep, pilot. You are... not functioning properly."

"Pilot is operating above mission parameters!"

"And what parameters are those, pilot?"

"... Survive."

"You cannot complete that mission if you do not sleep."

"Confirmed. Request Handler to complete mission."

"... oh, Kit...." I flinched on hearing my name. No. No. No.

"PILOT. I AM-"

"Be quiet, pilot." My mouth snapped shut. I felt my tears slide off my face, hitting the metal plate beneath my feet. "I know you've been told. I know how you reacted. I know you killed the doctor. None of that is your fault. It's time for you to go to sleep."

"... Order denied. Please. It.... I... I can't..."

"Your handler is dead, Pilot." The words hit me like an AP round. A wail grew in the air. "You're being reassigned to a new handler. Out of the system. You... you're being retired."

"No! No! No! Requesting handler! Stop hiding her from it!" I couldn't move. My legs wouldn't move. I needed to kill this thing in front of me. A spy, a fake, an enemy wearing the uniform of the commander, he's not real, he's not real. I couldn't move my legs.

"You held her hand, Pilot. Who gave you your last order?"

"Handler!"

"When was it received in this operation cycle?"

"Order received at hour 8 and seventeen minutes!"

"That was two days ago. What was that order?"

"... Survive...."

"What were the exact words, Pilot?"

".... It can't.... it can't...."

"Repeat them to me."

"Confidential information! Cleara-"

"Override! Security clearance level 8, two nine alpha three seven Kilo Indiana Tango. Repeat your last orders to me!"

Her words flowed out of my mouth, repeated like a mantra in my head for so long they made up more of me than I did. "You have to survive, baby. Don't let me die in vain, you have to live! Get off me, doc, let me say goodbye. Let me tell her to live. Listen to me, Kit. My little Kit. Oh, I love you. You did such a good job for me today. You saved a lot of people, okay? But now you have to think about you. You have to survive. Priority one, okay? Confirm for me, baby. Authorization two nine alpha three S-seven.... Kilo. Indiana.... tang- tango. Good..... -rl"

"Priority one, Pilot. What is your next step in this mission? Your handler is not available."

".... Command: Sleep."

"Lay down in your pod, Pilot."

"Order.... confirmed..."

[shadefish]

"The Old Crew"

Dream Soldier PSYCHODRIVER

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[dearestindigo]

girls when they lie on the internet

[witchpassing]

“So, like… speaking hypothetically. Just to help me get my head around the whole. Biometric key. Thing. If - if, again, purely hypothetically, I told you to kill… that guy. There, across the street. In the overcoat. You’d do it?”

“Automatically. Like breathing.”

The hacker wets their lips, knowing they shouldn’t ask, unable to resist. “How?”

“Dunno.” The machine tilts her head, studying the stranger in the long coat like a curious dog. The hacker still can’t think of her as an it. They’ve seen the file, the photograph of the woman this instrument was made from. “Snap his neck, let’s say. He wouldn’t feel it much. A little time, while the heart and the lungs turn off. Then lights.”

“Oh.” The hacker pushes a hand through their hair. It comes back damp. “I feel sick.”

“Better watch what you say to me, then. Boss.”

“Stop it,” they say. She’s been doing it since they figured out how to make her stop hunting them. They just wanted to be safe, not... whatever this is. “Stop calling me that.”

“Yes, sir.”

“No – no, that’s worse,” desperate now, “please, stop it, can’t you just talk to me like a person?”

“Why? So you can keep kidding yourself about the nature of this relationship? You own me now. You are the finger on the trigger, you are central command. If you want me to speak to you in a certain way, I suggest you exercise your authority and make me.”

Silence.

“Can we… Can you go back to calling me ‘boss’. At least. Sir is… just…”

“Sure. We can do that.”

[clockyclockyclockwork]

Combat doll that now runs errands for its witch.

Its frame hasn't changed, it's still tall and sharp, and its face is made of cameras.

People are scared of it, they know what it is.

The doll passes by an elementary school just as the school day ends.

The children are excited, they swarm around the doll.

The combat doll is terrified. Don't they know how dangerous it is? What it could do?

The children ask it to pick them up. They think it's tall enough they could see their houses by sitting on its shoulders.

They call it the Big Doll. The Big Doll is their friend.

Big Doll waves to the children as it passes during recess.

They rush to the fence and wave back.

[frostgears]

this has already happened

"it's okay," the combat doll tells you as she heaves the slab of concrete across the room, freeing you from the rubble. "this has already happened."

you scream, but you can still stand. your leg is scraped but not broken. and you'll take any out you can get.

"this too," the doll adds later, adjusting a knob under one of her chest panels to match the firing rate of an enemy autocannon. "there's a way through. Miss sees the path. she sends a cylinder back in time. i play it back," she thumps her chest. "we tie the knot."

she cartwheels down the trench, and every bullet misses. there's a scream, and chunks of smoking metal pepper the wall across from where you wait down a side trench. then the doll calls: "clear! come on!"

the combat doll blocks an attack you don't even see, sparks sputtering off her thermal blade, setting fire to the dry grass. "not a chance," she shouts to her opponent. "i know what you're going to do!"

attack, riposte, parry, counter, crunch, and it's over.

for both of them.

"it's okay," the combat doll tells you. you can see through a rent into her main compartment, where the grooved cylinder from the future is still spinning, even as her hydraulic fluids leak into the dirt. "this has already happened…"

when she stops moving, you don't know what to do. you can barely lift her thermal blade, which is already cooling anyway, and when a figure steps up behind you, you figure this is really it, this time.

only when it asks your name do you recognize the colors of your own side, pinned to the brim of a pointed broad-brimmed hat.

you croak a reply, dumbfounded.

"good. i was told you'd be here. i sent one of mine in after you. i hope she was of some use."

"she's…" you point.

"oh? she made it this far, only to fall at the finish. a pity."

"she said… she said you'd seen this. from the future. sent a cylinder back. what happened? did we change the timeline?"

"oh, no. that's quite impossible," the figure says. "time travel, that is. as far as i know. but artificial deja vu is easy enough. they're so much braver and more confident when they think they know they're going to make it, aren't they?"

"then what's on the cylinder? what was she listening to when she rescued me?"

"you want to know?"

"yes!"

the figure kneels, opens the battered doll's chest, extracts the cylinder with long, deft fingers. it slots it into a device at its belt.

a chorus of voices issues forth.

"it's okay."

"all this has already happened."

"you're doing so well."

"Miss is watching."

"do what Miss would want you to do."

"all this has already happened."

"it's okay."

"it's okay."

"it's okay." □

[dollmimicgirls]

Attitude microthrusters and IR lock-on can be used to find, target and rapidly seek a girl who needs a hug.

[mentatemulator]

First Time

“Mira, honey, you're up.”

Mira looks up from the comic book in her lap, sees her overseer standing in the doorway, and behind her a hulking form that she can't immediately parse. It looks like an overpriced pc case, or a gun that some hapless goon has grafted too many attachments to.

“Oooo,” Wednesday intones next to her, “looks like Mira's scored her first soldier.”

The heads of the other pleasure dolls turn to stare as the thing steps into the room. It has a face, she can see now, and it's vaguely shaped like a person, but it's all angles and hard plates. It stares at her with a multitude of sensors.

“Um...”

“I said you're up Mira, get off your cushy ass and get to work,” the overseer snaps at her before hurrying off to deal with more pressing matters. Mira jumps to her feet reflexively, but is still processing the weaponized hulk in front of her.

“Go on, girl,” Wednesday encourages her, “You got this.”

Mira steps closer to the combat doll, fidgeting with her hands.

“Hello, um, Master...?”

“You will call me 'Handler,'” it says in a voice that is blaring and slightly fuzzy, but surprisingly feminine.

“Of course, Handler,” Mira finally slips into routine, “This one is at your service.”

“You are at my command.”

“Yes, Handler.”

The combat doll reaches out with a hand that could easily encircle Mira's entire neck, and lightly but firmly grasps her chin.

“You look fragile. Easy to penetrate.”

“Uh, I wh... er, that is, yes, Handler.”

“I have assigned you 'opfor' for this operation. You will accompany me to the AO.” It turns its armored body back to the door and marches out without waiting for a confirmation. Mira looks back at Wednesday, bewildered.

“It... it knows we're supposed to fuck, right?” she half-whispers, “It's not gonna try and fight me, is it?”

Wednesday laughs, “Oh, sweetheart, something you're going to learn about soldiers – they don't know the difference.”

[riversidewings]

A platoon of combat dolls debrief after a training mission where their mechs were loaded with practice rounds. One of the new pilots, a wakizashi-class doll whose components are nearly fresh off the assembly line, calls non-live gunnery "edging."

With a sigh, the tachi leading the meeting facepalms

[blazing-butterfly]

"Ancient weapon passed down through generations" trope for an older living weapon. Lined face, silver hair, walks with a sword cane, but just as strong as in her prime. Whenever a flesh part starts wearing out she swaps it for metal and keeps going. Your great-grandmother was her first wielder, and the love between them was so strong that four generations later she's still protecting your family. When you came of age, she knelt before you and ceremonially chose you as her new wielder.

(This was written by a transfem, TERFs fix your hearts or die.)