Dottie
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Dot 4 free porn video
[This story is the continuation of the saga of Dot, and more thorough
background may be found by perusing Dot 1,2 and 3 under this author's
name.
A young girl in the England of the mid 1800's is afflicted with
"consumption" and leads a lonely solitary life. Then she is unexpectedly
befriended by a street urchin who with the help of her kindly old doctor
agrees to take the place of the doll who is her identical twin, so that
the two children can spend as much time together as possible. After some
years the boy begins to show signs of puberty; the disguise cannot
continue. For the sake of his friend, he agrees to undergo an
"orchidectomy" (spelt orchiectomy in the States, or we would simply say
castration). He and the doctor secretly leave the girl's garden by going
over the wall on a ladder.]
Directly the doctor and Dick departed, Dot descended into doubt and
distress. (This alliteration, Charles, is my slight attempt at humour,
meant most to nerve me for the grim events which lie ahead.) When would
they return? They had not said. What if in the meantime Dick's absence,
or her dolly's apparent absence, were to be discovered? She would surely
then lose her sole companion.
Quickly she worked to hide the ladder which had perched upon the
interior wall of the garden. Then she ran to the library and attacked
the divan. Dot was not adept at such work, but with some difficulty she
eventually retrieved her old dolly, dusted her off, and perched her in
the old place, the seat in the corner of her bedroom. hands demurely
crossed in her lap. It struck the girl how much Dick had posed just like
that, day after day, for Nurse's benefit.
She already missed him. He had spent each day in dissimulation,
pretending to be her identical doll, a boy who although poor had at
least been as free as any lad in England, sharing by his free choice her
prison here. He had given up his life for her, and now with the doctor's
help he was giving up his very manhood, so that he would not outstrip
her in size and weight, nor betray his sex through beard or basso
profundo.
Before she could sink too deeply into regrets, Nurse did arrive to tuck
her in to bed. She let the kindly older woman undress her and place a
seasonal nightgown upon her slender frame. Then Dot cleverly asked Nurse
to dress dolly in similar fashion. This had not been done for years,
since the children did not want Nurse to notice the difference in weight
between Dick and the doll he had replaced; he had changed before she
ever appeared at evening. But now Nurse gladly complied, and fussed
equally over the girl and her twin doll.
"There now, loves! As alike as peas in ary pod, you might say. Such a
sweet pair! Now just say your prayers for the both of you dear, and I
shall extinguish the light."
And so Dot did pray heartily that God watch over her and especially "her
friend", and gave thanks for the provision of such a reliable companion.
Nurse found this quite touching, but she did not know the half of the
situation.
Dot lay awake most of that night, staring at the blank plaster ceiling.
She missed the weight and warmth of Dick's body next to hers, although
they had agreed that she would repose under the covers and he atop them,
in observation of propriety.
The next day came and went, and the one after. No word arrived, but then
how could it? All must be kept as clandestine as possible. But what if
some tragedy had struck? What if Dick had developed complications
or...perish the thought... expired?
Dot ignored her precious garden, and sat twisting grasses into braids
and then tearing apart her handiwork, fretting endlessly.
"Your parents and I are concerned, dear!" Nurse exclaimed. "You had been
eating so well, and now you have barely touched your meals these past
several days!"
Well of course Dick had consumed more than half of those portions, but
the household must never know of it. Dot tried to smile and look
reassuring. "I am sure I shall be better any day now, never fear! I
would not be surprised to soon be eating better than ever."
Nurse clucked and fussed but let the conversation go at that.
Next day, as shadows lengthened beneath the garden wall, Dot was aroused
from her studies by the clink clink of small pebbles striking the
library window!
Startled, she jumped up and ran outside. There was the old doctor,
peering over the wall at her, with another missile in his hand ready to
launch! It was such a comical sight, she could not repress a laugh. She
was also laughing from relief as she fetched the hidden ladder on her
side of the wall and raised it into position.
But when the doctor had descended, and assisted the doll like creature
who followed him, her smiles were quenched.
"Dick...?" she asked, tentatively.
The girlish figure tried to smile, and offered reassurance of well
being, but the doctor said gravely "These operations are not without
their consequences, young lady. You may find your friend somewhat
changed in future."
In two days the physician would make his regularly scheduled rounds at
the home, and would be at liberty to explain in more detail. Now he hied
back up over the wall, and the two friends disposed of their ladder, and
then embraced.
"Oh Dick! I began to worry."
"I missed you, Dot. No cause for worry, the doctor has a sure hand. I am
glad to be back here, the place which has become my home, odd though my
role in the household may be."
Dot noticed then for the first time how much Dick's speech had altered
since he first arrived. He had been a creature of the mews and alleyways
and his speech had reflected that upbringing. But now after years of
only conversing with her and the doctor, and after years of reading the
carefully selected volumes in her library, his language reflected that
of Dot and her parents. Even the rather common phrasings of Dickens
could but have improved his conversation.
That night the children were careful to dress Dick in a suitable
nightgown before Nurse should arrive. It would not do at all to have her
notice the difference in weight between the boy and the real doll.
Next day they much enjoyed each others company, at meal ("Eat hearty,
Dick! They must believe I have regained my appetite!") and in the
garden. Even the birds seemed to take extra notice of them, but this may
perhaps be ascribed to the children scattering crumbs from a scone for
an avian treat.
The pair sat together on one of the wrought iron seats in the garden and
watched the day descend into violet and then true purple. Dot sighed
contentedly. "I just wish we could always be like this, you and I
together, here." She laid her head gently upon Dick's shoulder, one twin
reclining upon another.
He smiled, but rather wistfully. "The sun rises, and we converse and
enjoy our company, and the odours and melodies of this garden, and the
sun sets, and we pronounce it good, one day after another. We should
indeed be glad for the turning of these days, for they are all embraced
within a calendar whose pages turn, and having turned will turn back no
more."
Dot looked at him with sudden concern, this mirror of her face, her
profile. What was he thinking?
But he said no more.
Next day he once again installed the dolly within the coils of the
divan, and made a reasonable repair of that furniture so that it should
not evidence any tampering.
That evening Nurse was once again concerned with Dot's appetite; Dick
had not been eating well!
In the morning, he even ignored his favourite treat, the relative
innovation, kippers. They were nicely done too, jugged, with salt and
pepper, and a bit of toast and marmalade.
Doctor soon arrived, rather earlier than was his wont, and Dot expressed
her concerns to him, about Dick's mood and appetite. He nodded gravely,
and examined the boy. "He has healed quite well, but I made sure of that
before we returned. This operation may cause anaemia, with lethargy and
other side effects; I fear such is the case for us. It is not a fatal
condition, but hardly ideal. I will keep a record of his weight, as well
as my oracular observations, and we shall see what we shall see."
With that Dot had to be content.
The two children continued to dress identically each morning before
Nurse arrived, so that she would not be required to handle the figure
that was supposedly a doll but in reality a boy. There was not yet much
difference between them as to weight and height, the boy ill nourished
as a child, the girl consumptive, both were slender and almost frail.
The old routines were taken up again, weeding, pruning, watering the
garden, walking conversing and often embracing one another, reading
quietly aloud in the library.
One night they reread Marmion, and Dot exclaimed "You came out of the
west to me, Dick! That was where you entered, under the west wall of the
garden. My Lochinvar!" He endeavoured to smile but it was a wistful
rather than a hearty smile, and Dot worried.
Several months after the orchidectomy, the doctor confirmed his fears.
"It is anaemia. He has actually lost weight since the operation, no
doubt due to loss of muscle mass. His colour is wan as well. I dare
venture it will no longer be necessary to powder his face with talc and
cornstarch in order to have his face match the pallor of your doll."
"What can be done, Doctor? I do not want him ill forever, all for my
sake!"
The older man shook his head and averted his eyes. "We can try a
strengthening diet, although it is unpleasant and you will not want to
join in it, which in turn will make for complications smuggling the
viands past the household. But liver and kidneys have proved helpful,
especially raw."
Dick made a horrid face.
"I shall insist upon cod liver oil" the gentleman went on. "No!"
exclaimed Dick. "Me Da used to smear that on his old joints, the vile
stuff! Smelt like hell!" His language had relapsed in the extremity of
his response.
"These days we have a steam process which makes the substance less
vile", the doctor reassured, "and I am told it can be blended in with
other foods to disguise its presence."
So it came to pass that Dick's mealtimes became more medicinal than
gustatory. He endured, and his loss of weight ebbed, but the lethargy
remained, and the pallor.
The two children gained an uncanny resemblance, without benefit of any
cosmetics whatsoever, both thin and wan, delicate, perhaps beautiful in
their way, but exuding an aura of impermanence.
Winter came, with its first light dusting of snow, and a promise of
freshness and eventual Christmas. "Do you remember how we used to make
snow angels?" Dot mused. Her companion replied "Yes, and fear that it
would be discovered that there were two creatures in the garden making
such shapes."
Dot persisted "But it was fun Dick, wasn't it? Can't we be like that
again?"
She was to be disappointed. "I do not feel as though I can be Dick any
longer, Dot. Dick was a boy, and I am no longer a boy. He had a family,
and a place in the world, such as it was. I no longer have those things;
I am cut off from my past, and cut off from any hope of myself becoming
a father. You may as well address me hereafter as Dorothea, for I have
replaced your doll, and become her in all respects."
Tears sprang into the girl's eyes. "But you are my sole friend! What
will become then of my brave champion, my noble companion?"
Dorothea smiled gently. "Your Dorothea shall be as brave and noble as
she may, dear Dot. She will be whatever she can be for your sake, as she
already has done all she may. But she can no longer be what she is not."
And so it was. The doctor was informed of the change, and acquiesced. No
longer in their conversation was any mention made of a boy in residence.
There were now only twin sisters.
The following year was a difficult one. Dorothea continued to languish,
and Dot was not much better. The garden survived, but did not flourish,
for its attendants lapsed in their duties.
At least the pair maintained their white and red roses, symbol of the
empire and of their own relation, two pure impulses united as one. They
pruned and watered and plucked off the nasty aphids, and the blooms
thrived.
That Christmas proved another challenge. "I cannot ask anyone else to
transport Dorothea, lest our ruse be discovered". the doctor confessed,
"yet I am old and worn and unequal to the burden, light enough though it
may be."
The good doctor had a young great nephew who showed signs of promise and
might eventually succeed in the medical practice, but he was abroad at
that season.
"Ah well, heigh ho!" the good old man exclaimed, and hoisted Dorothea
onto his shoulder where she endeavoured to perch as inertly as possible
as the trio made their way into the family's main living quarters.
The lights seemed especially bright that season, and the songs
especially cheery. Dot was given a traditional dram of wine to toast the
year, and smiled along with the rest. Neighbour children came by to sing
and beg, as usual, and as usual received nuts and apples for their
efforts.
This would be the last season when all parties would be present for the
festivities.
Dot had worried that Dick had started to mature before she did, and
wondered why her own onset of adulthood was so delayed. "Do not wish for
it", the doctor advised. "With that physical change often comes an onset
of the very worst aspects of your condition, affecting the lungs. Your
development is delayed by your condition, but that very delay may be
prolonging your life".
"You have always honoured me with your honesty, Doctor" Dot rejoined.
"You show respect for my moral fibre and my intellect by not sugar
coating the truth. Thank you."
The poor old man actually wept as he bent to embrace her, while Dorothea
stood by silently, much affected, but not at all surprised.
The three celebrated her birthday that spring with sincere solemnity.
The doctor even managed to smuggle and decoct a fine vintage for them
all, with which they toasted the essences which had sustained them, life
and love.
Next month, Dot began to bleed, to evidence the onset of her oncoming
adulthood. Within days, the blood also issued from her mouth, as she
began to cough incessantly.
Dorothea held her, and read to her, and plucked flowers for her, but
said little. What was there to say?
That summer her fair body became deform for the first time, displayed a
field of raised red dots all across her skin.
The girl did not want to distress her parents if that could be avoided;
to disguise her symptoms, she began to use the same talc cosmetics that
Dick or Dorothea had been wont to use.
Dot never complained. She merely coughed, as quietly and peacably as she
might, and with each cough there emerged onto her handkerchief a bright
red blot.
The signs needed no explanation.
"Doctor?" Dorothea dared to ask. "Can we at least prolong her days
somehow?"
"Oh, my children", he murmured, "I have dedicated my life to healing and
whatever gifts in that cause I have possessed have been shared with you.
Now I must retire. I have nothing left to share, except my fond, my
fondest, my most loving regard for you two."
All had then been said.
Dot came one day to Dorothea as they tended their flowers in the summer
heat: "Do you love me?"
"Yes, I do, and have shown as well as I may."
"You have given everything to me and I have no right to request more.
But what may not be required by right may yet be requested by love.
Would you then be willing to do one thing more for me, make one more
sacrifice?"
"My life is yours for the asking, as it has been since first we met."
"Then please consider this. My parents gave up their pleasant life in
the country in order to provide this existence for me. They have devoted
themselves to my care, and striven to make my existence as pleasant and
profitable as possible. While all the world abhors contact with me, they
never once shrank from my embrace. Now, before long, they will no longer
have that embrace to share. Their hopes for my life, the life in which
they have invested their years and their tears, will be spent."
"And mine as well" muttered Dorothea; "I have invested my own hopes, and
my own love. And never ever did I abhor contact with you."
"Oh my dearest" whispered Dot, "In another world, another life, we would
have met as proper lovers, as in those stories we so enjoy, and there
would be progeny to proclaim our passions. But as things are..." and she
silently exposed her arms, covered with red dots, each one an angry
accusation of mortality, "as things are, we must give thanks for what
has been and resign ourselves to what must be. But only please this say
for me, that when I am gone you will not let Mother and Father grieve,
but be for them the daughter they imagine to have. Can you do this? You
have played the role of the doll; can you now play that of the
daughter?"
Dorothea hugged her fiercely, in assent.
"You need not have asked. But...I shall be so lonely! So please look
down on me from heaven and remember me? Pray for my heart's ease? For I
shall have none otherwise."
So they wept and embraced there together, before informing the doctor of
their plans.
He agreed, albeit reluctantly, and set about making the final
preparations.
Now Dot became the doll, powdered with talcum to cover the signs of her
disease. Dorothea began to interact daily with Nurse, and occasionally
with Father and Mother. She spoke well enough; she comported herself
adequately; no suspicions were ever raised as to her true identity.
When she embraced Mother and Father, she did so with genuine affection,
for the sake of her friend.
Eventually the day did indeed come. Sun broke through the windows of the
bed chamber; Dorothea shook Dot to arouse her, "Another day! Come, enjoy
it with me!" But she did not respond. Harder and even angrier became the
shaking, and dark and cold was the despair.
Feeling ice run through her veins, Dorothea one last time removed the
doll from her toylike crypt inside the divan, and placed her on the
usual seat. Dot's mortal remains, pathetic coolish limp things, more
effigy than was the doll now, were placed under the bed out of sight
until better arrangements could be made.
Nurse walked in that morning as if nothing untoward had happened. "Why
my pet! You seem so drawn, so shaken and wan! Have you taken a turn for
the worse?" she asked, thinking of course that Dorothea was Dot.
They sent for the doctor, which was just as well; he was a trusty ally
for the survivor.
The Doctor set forth the hard facts to Dorothea. "We must inter her.
There will be an obvious gravesite. We need a pretext then, an occasion
to cover the true nature of this tomb. Let her parents, yours now,
believe you have decided to outgrow your old doll; we will provide a fit
ceremony for her, and bury her atop the actual casket of your friend."
Choking back tears, Dorothea gave her assent.
I may as well now abandon the fiction of representing myself in third
person and simply say "I", should I not? For who else is left to tell
the tale of this sad survivor?
The doctor dressed Dot as well as he might, and smuggled a snug casket
over the wall that night. The two remaining conspirators placed her
within the cold earth and covered her with soil and prayers.
Then I, Dorothea announced to the household that my dolly had passed
away. I declared that my mind had been much occupied lately with
thoughts of mortality, and I considered it appropriate that my lifelong
friend be the pioneer in experiencing the end of life. Mother, Father
and Nurse were of course much moved by this, and agreed to assist in a
funerary ceremony.
The next evening, the good doctor accompanied Dorothea, or myself,
and the household to the gravesite where they placed within the ground,
as the family supposed, the doll, the long-time companion of the young
lady around whom their world revolved,
I, Dorothea intoned the words of Milton: "I will build her
A monument, and plant it round with shade
Of laurel ever green, and branching palm,
with all her trophies hung, and acts enroll'd
In copious legend, or sweet lyric song."
The doll was placed in a humble casket atop the broken earth which hid
the true grave, the resting place of Dot.
True to her promise, I, Dorothea did plant the site, below the white and
red roses they had loved so much, with laurel, and also with the
wildflower known as pearly Everlasting, as well as a peach tinted rose,
symbols of hope and eternity.
That night as she, as I, composed herself, myself, for sleep, for the
first time sleeping under and not above the coverlets, I felt a lump
beneath the pillow. My exploring fingers plucked out a sealed letter.
WIthin it were two dried roses, one red and one white, and the brief
message: "I cannot command, not you who have so much done for me without
command. But I can request, and hope, that you will treasure these faded
blooms as keepsakes for what we once had and once were together, you and
I. Never did I say these words when I could and should, but I say them
now: I love you."
Clutching the roses to her tightly, the poor creature sobbed herself,
myself to sleep as quietly as she
Alessandra
- 13.10.2020
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