You take your unmoving doll to the diagnostic clinic run by an eccentric witch.
“Ah!” it exclaims during examining. “I know this problem. Your doll has run out of spiders.”
You object, saying you’re pretty sure that’s not how most dolls work, but it adopts a lecturing tone.
“Just look here,” it says, pulling off the head to let you peek inside the torso. “A ball-jointed doll like this one needs strings holding it all together, see? These strings have frayed to nothing!”
Sure enough, you don’t spot any strings inside, but you’re still unsure…
The witch leans toward you, conspiratorially. “Probably chewed up by moths, let’s be honest. That’s part of the risk when you don’t have enough spiders.”
Well, that doesn’t sound right, but you don’t know enough about doll maintenance to refute it, so you just nod.
You ask how long this will take, and when you’ll be able to pick it back up again.
“Won’t take but a moment! Just wait right there,” it says.
You watch awkwardly as it unceremoniously hikes up the doll’s skirt and positions itself over it.
You were not prepared to watch this thing crudely penetrate your beloved doll like this. You grimace, but can’t bring yourself to look away. It almost reaches a breaking point, and you’re about to tell it that this lewd display is nothing like proper clinical treatment, when—
“Ahhh, much better,” the witch says, crawling back off the table. “Full of eggs now!”
You stare at your poor, ravaged doll. It still doesn’t move, and you’re at a loss for whether you just paid this creature for the pleasure of molesting your cute doll.
It explains. “They’ll restring your doll from the inside when they hatch, you see. You won’t have to deal with any more mothy nonsense. Guaranteed!”
You lift your precious doll and turn to leave.
“Now,” it adds before you go, “it may act a bit different than you’re used to. Twitchy. Hungrier, maybe. But I assure you that’s perfectly normal and healthy doll behavior!” It flashes you a wide grin that shows off its fangs.
You’re never coming back here again.