• As the city slept the factory worked at full speed, smog rising from its aged stacks. The ancient gears would turn to fuel their owner’s malice as the sin city slept.
    In silver springs, the deceivingly named underbelly of Eos there was where a simple building known as the factory ran all hours of the night.
    No one came or went through the rusty building.
    No one ever had.
    But still everyone knew of it and its story.

    Left there before the city itself had even been conceived, this building stood, clogging the air surrounding it with heavy toxins. Hidden in this city, there were some who had been inside this building, born from it.
    Known simply as dollifs, not human but with their true species unknown one had simply been given to them
    It was said that they were deranged sex-dolls; their minds meddled with until they go insane.
    Eventually they are all thrown out into the city and many are destroyed. But still none are seen leaving the factory. But it was the only place such monsters could come from
    All had skin pale as milk, with hair often made of wires and chords, in neon colors or simple blacks. Their faces are all similar, sculpted to be slender and almost ghostly allowing their wide eyes and diseased black lips to stand out.
    With each move you could hear the scraping of metal and the cracking of their artificial skin.
    They were monsters, thrown from the belly of the beast.

    Inside a tall man stood his lanky limbs dressed in long black robes as he hunched over his station. A bloody table lay under him, a simple body with it’s chest opened.
    His hands dug through the mess as he reveled in the sweet stench. His eyes locked on his work as he snipped at the final veins to the boy’s heart. And with a simple toss it found its way to the floor.
    His goggle hidden eyes looked up at the boys sleeping face, and a grin crept onto his lips. Another one off the slums had been stupid enough to try in here. Unable to help himself he threw his head back in laughter as he tightened the screw on the large cage around the boy’s mouth prying it open all the further.
    Motion with his slender bloodied hand, the figure behind him handed him a simple scalpel. This was soon scraping at the boy’s mouth, digging under teeth and sawing at his tongue.

    Every night was the same job to be done: Find some poor soul and meddle with them until they fit his description of beautiful.

    Some of his old ‘models’ would watch this display while other of his works would hide away in their rooms.
    Two of those who watched often were a set named Symbiote and malady. These two were, perhaps, the oldest that still roamed the factory.
    With almost matching pasts, these boys had taken to each other has their only family. And, being older models both were left mute despite an ear blasting screech.
    At the beck and call of their master they stood at his side, watching his surgery as it went. Deep in their hearts they hoped that once again they would be on that filthy table.

    But soon the man’s work for that night had been finished. And with a rushed movement he stood strait looking down with a cheerful clap at his progress before smirking over at the enthralled pair.
    “Almost finished boys” he purred licking away the blood from his fingertips, his wildly mismatched eyes looking over his oldest dollifs with something akin to endearment. And he made his way towards them warmly taking one in each arm.
    Tilting his head he grinned “would you like to see?” and both forced a nod.
    All of them looked down at the pulpy mess of a body. It was easy to see all of the changes, his teeth were missing, his eyes were missing, and his bone structure had already been altered.
    Chuckling again he hugged the two closer letting them look as they desired. “Yes boy’s only one more day and he’ll be done” he whispered in deep thought. “I can only think of what to do to him . . .” and once more the man was silent, his arms falling back to the table.
    Malady’s hands shot out to grab his partner’s then as he cowered against him, urging them away from the scene. His soft wheezing was enough to break some of the other’s out of their daze, including Cynfandel, the nurse.
    Looking at them with his large black eyes, he craned his neck to one side. His pale hands clutched at his tray all the tighter, denting the soft silver. It was a sign for them to leave. They both knew this from earlier meetings with this angry boy.

    Hurrying from the scene the boys stopped in one of the simple dark halls. Malady gripped onto Symbiote letting out another pathetic wheeze. His hands clawing at the taller boy’s shirt as he was lead to their room.
    It was far for the two, being on the oldest wing of the building. They shared the largest room with eight other boys all newer and happy to flaunt their advances to the old dogs.
    It was a painful life, but one the two had grown to almost love. They were kept and fed, with a warm master to tend to their pitiful needs.

    It was a good life. . .