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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Contest Entry · #2191867
Naked, and not acceptable. He spends his day trying to figure out why.
Full Counts
All Words: 986



"My goodness, he's still naked!"

I didn't know they were saying that about me. You see, I had no idea what 'naked' meant, or that I was whatever-it-was. It was only when hands grabbed me that I realised I was the one being referred to.

I tried to figure it out. I knew I was a boy. I knew I had curly black hair. I knew I was a medium-doll, brown-skin-shade, full-cotton, all-new-material. I knew all this because it was on a tag on my arm. But nobody had said 'naked' or tagged me that way.

When the hands that grabbed me let go, I found myself falling on something soft. "Ouch," said a voice. I closed my eyes for the impact, then took a few seconds to open them again. I looked at what I had fallen on. It was a heap of girl dolls.

"You're naked," one of them said. "You're a naked boy doll. You shouldn't be here."

"Why not? And what's naked?"

"Naked means you have no clothes," she replied. "See this? This fluffy green thing? It's my skirt. And this is my top. They're clothes."

Image for my entry to 'What a Character'


"Clothes?"

"Clothes. They cover the body. Everyone should have clothes."

"Why? I've never had clothes before."

"Well, it was okay while we were here in the tailoring unit. Everyone in the tailoring unit knows we are dolls, made of cloth, because they made us. But tomorrow, we're going to the children. The children shouldn't see us naked. They need us with clothes."

I thought about this. I had lived in the tailoring unit ever since I had been sewn. This was the first time I was hearing that there was anywhere else to go. And children to be with, whoever they were. Children who should not see me naked.

"But you don't have clothes on your face," I said. "Your face is like mine, only your hair is a bit longer and straighter than mine."

"You don't need clothes on the face, silly," she replied, and some of the other girl dolls giggled. "You need clothes on the pee-pee."

"What's a pee-pee?" I asked.

"It's what's between your legs."

I looked between my legs. "There's nothing there," I said.

"That's because we're not anatomically correct," came a muffled voice from somewhere in the pile of girl dolls. "I was at the anatomically correct section last week, they have pee-pees between their legs. Girl and boy dolls have different pee-pees. Girl dolls have something called breasts, too, which boy dolls don't."

"That's unfair," I said. "Why should girl dolls get something boy dolls don't have?"

"I don't know. It's the way things are. Anyway, we need clothes to cover up the pee-pee."

"But I don't have a pee-pee because I'm not ana-ana ..." I began to protest.

"Anatomically correct. But you need clothes anyway. Because the children will think you have a pee-pee."'

"I need clothes to cover something I don't have because the children will think I have it?"

"Yes."

"Do they know what a pee-pee looks like?"

"Yes. The boys know what a boy pee-pee looks like because they have one, and the girls know what a girl pee-pee looks like because they have one."

"So girls don't know what boy pee-pees look like?"

"Most of them do. They have brothers or friends or something."

"And those brothers or friends don't have clothes to cover their pee-pees, so the girls can't see them?"

"They do. When they don't have their clothes on, the girls see their pee-pees. And boys see girl pee-pees when girls don't have their clothes on. Girls have to cover their breasts, too."

I thought about all this. My mind was reeling a bit. I was leaving the tailoring unit the next day, to go to some girl children and boy children, all of whom had pee-pees and knew what they looked like, but had clothes to cover them anyway, and I was bad because I didn't have clothes to cover a pee-pee I didn't have because I wasn't ana-something.

The hands took hold of me again. I think there were two pairs of hands. One held me, another was putting something on my legs. My waist was being squeezed. I didn't like it much, but ...

"There! Now you have lovely, shiny red pants!"

I was proud. My non-existent pee-pee, which the children would imagine because they know what a pee-pee looks like, was covered. The tailors were happy. The girl dolls would now accept me on their heap.

"And here is a lovely striped shirt, to match!"

Something was being thrust on to my arms. Why? "I don't have non-existent breasts, I'm a boy doll," I thought, as hands zipped something up over my chest.

"Why do I need a shirt?" I asked the girl dolls.

"You can't move around without a shirt! What'll the children say?"

I wished I could stay in the tailoring unit. I wished I didn't have to go into the world of children. It sounded very confusing, with pee-pees and breasts that had to be covered whether they existed or could be imagined or not. I liked my red pants and matching striped shirt, but they were uncomfortable, too. I didn't want to wear them all the time.

"Why are you looking so sad?" The hands picked me up gently this time, and stroked my hair. "You should be happy and excited. You're on a special consignment to a birthday party!"

I had no idea what a special consignment was, but the human sounded happy. Maybe special consignments didn't have to worry about pee-pees. Maybe going to the world of children wouldn't be so bad. Certainly, whenever I'd heard the word 'party', whoever said it had sounded really glad.

I smiled.

It was my last day at the tailoring unit. Tomorrow, I would be in the world of children, wearing red pants and a matching striped shirt.



Character Prompt for May 2019:
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