How Did Chucky Poupeé Become A Killer Doll?

“Get on your fucking fours and make me cum, boy toy.” He muttered sinfully, lips grazing my earlobe. ☆☆☆ Milestone College is ruled by power, money… and cruelty. Ryker Creed enters its gates with nothing but a scholarship and a secret obsession with the very man who ruled the campus—Leonardo Rizz. When a single night of humiliation throws Ryker into Leonardo’s path, a dirty deal is struck behind locked doors: safety in exchange for his body. No emotions, just pure lust. In a college where love is forbidden between the rich and poor, power is ruthless, and betrayal is inevitable— falling for the devil may be the most fatal mistake of all.

Freya was just your typical normal girl, never really stood out in the crowd she kinda blended in. But things were about to drastically change. It was just a normal every other day, she walks to the shop to buy milk but it's what happens there, that will alter her life forever. Two masked men burst into the shop she was in, at first glance she thinks they're just there to rob the place, but something much more sinister was at play. She is abducted along with a four week old baby, it's there she is forced to play the evil mans wife. Anyone that tries to get in his way don't last long, he is the game master of this weird fantasy game he plays. Follow along with this story on how this normal person, just like you or I, became the pawn in this sick mans game. *Incredible cover created by scarlett1234*

"When does a person die, when it stops breathing, when its heart stops beating?" "No a person dies the moment it looses hope, that's when u become an empty shell, a living doll when you have no more expectation from the world, where there are no feelings just emptiness" "Many people would think that immortality is a blessing little do they know that this is the cruellest curse someone can give you" ******** *creepy smile* " Oh Celea you really think that you will ever be able to live me" he was caressing her face, he looked like he was crazy... "what are you talking about?" " I'm saying that you will never be able to escape me, I won't let you go even if you love someone else, you are mine" " your hair belongs to me" touches her hair " your lips belong to me" touches her lips " the eyes that look at me with indifference belong to me" touches her eyes " your heart belongs to me..." his finger went down her neck to her heart, action wich made Celea look at where his finger's at. Claus than goes to her ear and whispers " your whole existence belongs to me Celea"

A dark and gloomy villa stood in the middle of the barren landscape, hidden from sight by a perched hedge. It was phenomenal and spectacular, but it makes it appear to have succumbed to a sullen and ominous atmosphere, both inside and out. A lanky hedge and gnarled shrubs give off the impression that the house has indeed been overlooked. The rainstorm seeping from the sewer pipes made the place appear miserable and dispirited. Needless to say, the house appeared razed to the ground and devoid of life. The house was made of rune stone that had been smeared darker in spots by downpours, sending it an insidious demeanor even during the day. The window frames were all padlocked and bricked up in steel frames and woods, as if what was inside would have been too grotesque to see, trying to give the impression that someone must have attempted to prevent something horrible from escaping. People have claimed that the residence was plagued by the witch who died there, but there has been no tangible evidence to substantiate their claims. It was even widely speculated that the villa was venomous and mowed down the leaves of trees that come into direct contact with its concrete pillars. People also construed a terrifying presumption that whoever tries to enter the house will never make it out alive because there is something inside that you would never dare to see with your very own eyes. Whatever was real or not, it was unmistakably foreshadowing, exponentially cold and savage at a hundredth of a thousand glances. A breathtaking doll sat competently on a rocking chair inside the house. Waiting complacently for someone brave and heroic enough to unravel the abominable and ghoulish mystery and paradox behind her enchanting, spine-chilling smile.

My childhood friend said that he was connected with the doll. Now that he had lost it, he called me up to cry. One hand held my phone as I consoled him, while the other toyed with the doll. His voice began to take on a more interesting tone with my purposeful touches… I squeezed and pinched the toy and comforted him, “Shh, I agree with you. Whoever took your toy is a terrible person…”

"It is an anxious, sometimes a dangerous thing to be a doll. Dolls cannot choose; they can only be chosen; they cannot 'do'; they can only be done by."