Hi it’s slave welcome to its blog! Suppose it should finally do one of these huh?
Main kinks:
Bimbofication
Hypnosis
Dumbification
Dronification
Hucow
Petplay
Spirals
Abdl
Chastity
Edging
Limits:
Scat
Blood
Gore
Major injury
Anything involving minors obviously
Anything that will cause it long term problems
triggers:
control go bye bye-slave loses all control
brain go bye bye-slave becomes incredibly dum
memory go bye bye-slave loses memory of everything
brain off-slave enters a deep hypnotic trance state where it can be reprogrammed
bimbo mind-slave becomes mor of a bubbly bimbo
feel more pleasure-slave gets even more horny and desperate
good girl-slave feels a small burst of pleasure
blowjob brain-slave becomes obsessed with sucking cock
most B*mbi sleep triggers
Anyone is free to come into its dms and send it hypnosis files or use its triggers or just anything to make it a good girl or if anyone wants to own it
A belated birthday present for @bimbosanddolls who allowed it to be shared with you all🩷
If you liked this story please consider leaving a tip on my ko-fi
Enjoy 🩷
Kiki had expected something a little unusual.
Sylvia had made that very clear.
But standing in front of the salon, she wasn't sure 'unusual' quite covered it.
Pink didn't just decorate the place, it overwhelmed it. The color spilled across the display window in layers. Soft and bright it almost glowed under the lights. The ensemble should have been too much. Overdone. Gaudy.
Kiki tilted her head slightly, studying it.
She didn't hate it. Actually, she kind of liked it.
A slow warmth crept into her cheeks as her gaze shifted to the mannequin in the window.
That was what really held her attention.
It stood posed in a way that was just a little too deliberate, one hip angled, one hand resting lightly against its side. The proportions were exaggerated, absurd, even. But not in a way that pushed her away. Quite the opposite.
Voluminous blonde curls framed a perfectly sculpted face, smooth and symmetrical to the point of being almost unreal. Its expression sat somewhere between a smile and something more fixed, more intentional.
Like it knew it was being looked at.
Kiki swallowed.
"Okay, yeah," she murmured softly. "I get why Sylvia likes this place."
Her eyes lingered a moment longer than she intended.
There was something about it.
Not just the look the feeling too.
Polished. Complete. Like everything had been shaped exactly the way it was meant to be, with no uncertainty left behind.
The thought sent another flicker of warmth through her.
Kiki shifted her weight, suddenly aware of herself in a way she hadn't been a moment ago. Of the way she stood. The way her clothes sat. The small imperfections she usually ignored.
Her gaze drifted back to the mannequin.
"So that's the goal, huh?" she said under her breath, half-joking.
The glass reflected her faintly beside it.
For a brief second, the comparison felt sharper than it should have.
Kiki exhaled and shook her head.
"Don't overthink it," she told herself.
It was just a salon.
Still, as she reached for the door, her fingers hesitated just slightly on the handle. Not out of fear. Anticipation, maybe.
Or the strange, quiet sense that stepping inside meant more than just a new hairstyle.
Kiki pushed the door open.
A soft chime rang out, light and welcoming.
And as the pink interior unfolded around her, she had the fleeting impression that the world outside had already felt a little less important. The colors inside were even more intense than they had been on the street. Brighter. More inviting.
"Welcome! Make yourself comfortable. I'll be with you in a sec."
Kiki started at the sound of a woman's voice echoing from the back of the salon. Rich and confident it carried an undercurrent of warmth that matched the surroundings. There was a slight accent to it, but it slipped through Kiki's mind too quickly to catch. She blinked, momentarily off balance. She hadn't realized how lost in thought she had gotten.
"Sorry, I-" Kiki's apology faded as a tall woman stepped into the room. "Wow," she said before she could stop herself, her eyes widening involuntarily. Everything about the woman seemed to flow. Long, straight blonde hair cascaded down to a bubble butt. Smooth curves, under a tight ensemble of pink top and miniskirt, drew the eye in ways that made her mouth dry. Towering heels clacked with dominance. A set of fishnets stretched over well formed thighs and calves. The woman stopped a few feet from Kiki, cocking a manicured hand against her hip in a mirror of the mannequin.
She looked at Kiki with a pair of piercing green eyes that took in every detail, sizing her up.
Kiki shifted self-consciously under her gaze. "I- I'm Kiki," she said, her tongue tripping over her name in a way that made her inwardly wince.
The woman seemed to ignore it.
"Pleased to meet you, Kiki," she said. "I'm Clara." A smile curled at her lips, warm, inviting, and somehow knowing.
Kiki felt another flutter of heat in her cheeks, stronger this time.
She tried to push it down, but the heat seemed to resist her.
"Nice to meet you," Kiki managed.
Clara didn't break her gaze.
"What can I do for you?" she asked, her tone shifting just enough that the question felt oddly heavy in a way Kiki couldn't put her finger on.
"Um- just a trim," she said.
"Are you sure, sweetheart? Well, whatever. We can talk about that once you've sat down. Believe me, when you feel my work you want a makeover," she added, her eyes glinting.
She turned with a casual grace, beckoning Kiki to follow with a finger as her heels clacked towards the salon chairs. Her hips swayed as she moved, the subtle rhythm drawing Kiki's gaze even more.
Clara sat in front of the first chair. She motioned to the other one and looked at her with a smile. Kiki hesitated, feeling suddenly off balance.
"Let's start with a thorough wash. I know that's not regular for a simple trim, but we at the Pink Plastic Palace believe that every girl should get a taste of the relaxation and beauty we can create," she added. Her fingers tapped at her chin as she studied Kiki.
"Oh- um- okay," Kiki stammered. Her thoughts felt oddly slow. "That sounds nice," she said, her voice coming out in an almost dazed murmur as she sat down beside her. The warmth in her face hadn't faded, and the sudden heat she felt at their proximity only made her cheeks burn more. She felt her eyes flicking towards Clara every few seconds, her gaze drawn by an instinct she didn't quite understand. Something about her seemed to pull her in, to make her want to be close. Kiki bit her lip lightly, unsure what to do.
Clara smiled at her.
"Let me wash your hair first, and then we'll take care of your cut."
Kiki felt a tingle of anticipation at her words.
"O-Okay. Thank you," she managed, her voice barely above a murmur.
Clara rose gracefully from her seat, moving behind Kiki. The soft clack of her heels against the tiled floor was strangely comforting, reassuring. Kiki felt herself relaxing, the warmth in her face beginning to feel less like nervousness and more like a gentle, pleasant heat.
"Lean back and close your eyes, dear. Let Clara take care of you."
As the warm water began to flow through Kiki's hair, Clara's fingers started to move in slow, gentle circles across her scalp.
"That's right. No need to worry. Or think. Let my fingers and voice guide you. Relax. Breathe deeply and slowly. Forget the rush of daily life." Clara's words were soothing, her tone low and comforting, her voice wrapping around Kiki's mind like a warm blanket. "That's it, sweetheart. Let everything fade away. Just focus on my touch. On the water. On my voice."
Kiki felt the warmth of the room envelop her. The soft light, the pink hues, Clara's fingers, and her words all merged together, pulling her deeper into a state of calm she hadn't known in ages.
Her mind drifted, carried along by the sensation of Clara's fingers as they continued their rhythmic dance.
"Good, good," Clara cooed, a smile playing at the corners of her lips.
Kiki felt a pleasant haze settle over her mind.
"Now, just let go," Clara whispered. Her voice had a soft, almost hypnotic cadence. It seemed to seep into Kiki's mind, filling her thoughts. "Let yourself sink into that feeling. That calm, peaceful feeling. You don't need to think. Just relax and let it wash over you."
Kiki felt her body relax more with every passing moment. Dimly aware she heard Clara open a bottle and squeeze it's contents into her hands. The smell of the shampoo reached her. She breathed in slowly, her nose filling with the scent of strawberries.
"That's it, sweetheart. Just like that," Clara continued.
Clara's fingers began to massage the shampoo into her hair. She rubbed in smaller circles across her scalp, tingles skittered over her head.
"Let the shampoo bubble and work. Feel how your head gets softer and softer. Pliable like your mind," she murmured.
Her touch felt like magic against Kiki's scalp, the shampoo's soft fragrance enveloping her.
"Let yourself drift deeper. Deeper into that calm, peaceful place inside. You're so safe, so relaxed. So pliable," Clara whispered.
Kiki could feel the tension leaving her muscles, her mind becoming more and more pliable with each passing moment. The warmth of the water, the gentle caress of Clara's fingers, and her voice all merged together, lulling her into a deep state of calm.
"That's it. Feel the bubbles of the shampoo fill with all your worries, your stress, your thoughts. Let them bubble away. You don't need them. They just disturb the wonderful calm you are feeling," Clara continued.
Thoughts seeped into the shampoo. They floated around her hair, trapped inside bubbles that seemed to pop one by one.
Each thought that burst away took with it the need to think. A pleasant, fuzzy blankness took its place, filling her more and more with every bubble that Clara's fingers made pop.
"Keep breathing, sweetheart, just like that. Inhale, exhale, and feel that calm spread through you. You're doing wonderfully. Your body is becoming more and more relaxed, and your mind is growing lighter and lighter," Clara whispered softly, her words a gentle melody that echoed in Kiki's empty head.
Kiki's breath was slow, rhythmic. The rise and fall of her chest seemed to be in harmony with the movement of Clara's fingers. Each breath brought another wave of calmness washing over her. It felt like the weight of the world had slipped off her shoulders, leaving her free and unburdened.
"Perfect. Now, let's move onto the next part." Clara's words hung in the air for a moment before she began to rinse the shampoo from Kiki's hair. The water flowed through her hair, warm and comforting. "Let us wash away the last remnants of stress. You are blank and empty, Kiki. Nothing more than a receptacle for my words." She paused, her fingers moving to Kiki's scalp once more, "Now, as I massage your scalp, you will feel an even deeper relaxation take hold of you. It will start at the top of your head and spread downwards through your entire body."
As Clara's fingers worked their magic, a deeper wave of relaxation began to wash over Kiki, just as Clara had said. It started from her scalp, slowly spreading down through her neck and shoulders. It was a sensation of pure tranquility, as if all the worries she had known never existed.
"Let yourself sink into it, Kiki," Clara murmured. "Allow the feeling of calm and relaxation to consume you completely."
As Clara spoke, the feeling continued its journey. It moved down through her back, loosening knots and easing tension she didn't even know she carried. It moved into her hips and legs, relaxing every muscle it touched, and finally reaching her toes, where it left behind nothing but a blissful sense of calm.
"Very good, Kiki," Clara praised her, "You are doing wonderful. Now let me get the conditioner. You want the conditioner, Kiki. You need the conditioner, sweetheart. You need to be conditioned, doll." Her voice had shifted into something softer, smoother. The way she pronounced 'conditioner' and 'conditioned' made the words sound like more than just words.
"Yessss," Kiki whispered, the word falling from her lips with a soft sigh of contentment. It sounded so good. So right. The idea of being conditioned, of being molded and shaped by Clara's touch, filled her with a deep longing she couldn't explain. The feeling seemed to echo through the empty space that was once filled with thought and tension.
"That's a good girl," Clara said, a hint of a smile in her voice.
The compliment sent another ripple of warmth through Kiki.
The soft click of a bottle opening cut through the silence. A new scent filled the air, artificial and plastic. Kiki breathed in deeply, her mind sinking deeper into the warm, empty space where nothing existed but Clara's words, and the sensations they stirred.
Kiki heard Clara squeeze the bottle of conditioner, and then the gentle sound of her hands rubbing together.
Clara began applying the conditioner, working it into Kiki's hair with slow, deliberate strokes. Each straightened her hair. Straightened the loose void in her mind into an orderly fashion.
The conditioner felt slick and smooth as Clara's hands glided over Kiki's scalp. It was a sensation that filled her with a sense of being shaped, molded, and reformed into something new and improved. Kiki felt a subtle shift happening inside her, as if her thoughts and emotions were being straightened and smoothed out just as surely as her hair.
"You need to be conditioned, Kiki. You had so many dirty and disgusting people thoughts. They dimmed your radiant beauty. Now, they've gone and left this perfect, blank space behind. A space just for me to fill. Do you feel that?" Clara's words were soft, her tone almost reverent. She paused in her work, waiting for an answer that she knew would come.
Kiki nodded slowly, the movement sluggish and heavy.
"Good girl," Clara continued. She resumed the conditioning, her fingers working the substance deeper into her hair. "Now, let yourself fall deeper into that space, sweetheart. Allow the feeling of calm, the emptiness, the need, to envelop you. Feel how all those bumpy, disgusting habits you accumulated are straightened out." Her words seemed to sink into Kiki's consciousness, settling deep within her. She emphasized 'disgusting' in her description of Kiki's awake self. It made Kiki's skin crawl. It felt ugly.
Clara's voice became even more gentle, each word flowing with a deliberate and calming cadence.
"That's right. Just like that." Clara's fingers worked in a steady, soothing rhythm, massaging the conditioner into every strand of hair, each movement a part of a larger process that was shaping not just Kiki's appearance, but also the very fabric of her being. The conditioner's slickness coated her, smoothing out her tangled and unruly emotions. As Clara's hands moved through her hair, Kiki felt a deep and inexplicable sense of being remolded and restructured, her thoughts and feelings becoming more orderly and more obedient. Clara continued to work, each stroke and movement of her hands a deliberate step in a transformation that went beyond the physical. It was a metamorphosis of her inner self, an alignment with the emptiness that now filled her, an emptiness that was ready to be filled by something else. With Clara's words, and with her actions, that space began to fill. Kiki's emotions were straightening out. They were being aligned with something more orderly and more perfect than they had been before.
"You are a doll, sweetheart. Not a person. A person has thoughts and feelings. You do not have thoughts and feelings. You have my will and my orders. You exist to please, Kiki." Clara's voice was almost reverent in its quiet intensity. "You know it to be true. Why else were you so stressed by thinking? Because it was unnatural for a doll like yourself. Dolls don't think. They are blank, obedient and mindless. It fills a doll with happiness and purpose."
"Yes," Kiki said, her voice a soft exhale, barely audible in the stillness of the salon.
"Good doll," Clara whispered. "Your mind is coming along nicely. But you need a makeover. Badly, sweetheart. Your body is all soft and fleshy." She paused and then her tone became even softer, almost a purr. "I know what you need to feel right and beautiful. And I will give it to you, Kiki. You will feel how your disgusting flesh hardens. Becomes firm and stiff. Perfectly sculpted." As she continued, Kiki could feel a change happening inside her, as if her flesh were slowly becoming firmer, transforming into something different.
"That's right, sweetheart. You saw the mannequin in the window, didn't you? The perfect plastic and over exaggerated curves. You want to be like that. Perfect. Plastic." Clara's words seemed to echo in Kiki's empty mind, filling the void left by her conditioned thoughts. "It is your natural state of being. A perfect, plastic, over-sexualized doll."
Kiki breathed out, her mind blank and her body becoming stiffer.
"That's it, doll," Clara continued. "I'm rinsing out the conditioner now, and with each rinse, you will feel your body become firmer. More like plastic. You can't wait for your makeover. You need your ugly, uncomfortable flesh to become perfect, pleasing plastic. And if you act like your body is plastic, it's going to make the transformation so much more pleasant." She emphasized the words 'plastic' and 'doll' every time she spoke. She repeated her orders and commands over and over, and Kiki knew it was true.
The first wave of warm water cascaded over Kiki's hair and down her body. The water's heat seeped into her, and as it did, she felt a strange shift beginning within her. The soft, fleshy sensation she was accustomed to started to feel firmer. Stiffer. More rigid.
"Yes, that's it, doll. Perfect posture. Relaxation in stiffness. Dolls are always perfectly poised." Clara's words were like a gentle caress, coaxing Kiki further into her new state. The water continued to pour over her, each drop hardening her body bit by bit, transforming her flesh into a more perfect form. Kiki's eyes glazed over with the same distant, empty stare that had adorned the mannequin's face. The more water that flowed, the more her eyes became empty and unchanging. Just like her body. The water washed away all the remaining thoughts from her head, and with it, any trace of her former self seemed to disappear.
"Now, sweetheart, it's time for your makeover. You want to be remodeled, don't you, Kiki," Clara's voice was soft and gentle, like a gentle breeze in the stillness of the salon.
Kiki's head nodded, her body moving without a thought, her new instincts driving her to please.
"Yes," Kiki said. Her voice came out monotone. It was the only answer possible.
The words settled deep within her, as if they had always been there. As if she had always been this way.
"You want to be remodeled into the perfect, mindless doll, Kiki. Your disgusting flesh is repulsive. Perfect plastic. Impossible proportions. Those define your beauty."
"Yes." It was the same response.
"Good doll," Clara said, her words filled with the satisfaction of knowing she had done her job well. "Now, stand up, doll, and follow me to the chair where I will begin your makeover."
Kiki's body rose smoothly from the wash basin. She stood straight, her movements stiff, as if guided by strings. Her posture was perfect, a testament to her new state of being.
"Yes," she repeated. The word came out of her mouth without any emotion or inflection.
The doll that was Kiki followed Clara into the back of the salon. There stood a strange chamber that Kiki would have found only natural in a cheap science fiction production, if she could still think. She was not capable of thinking anymore.
Clara walked over to a computer terminal, typing in commands. The chamber's glass door slid open with a quiet hiss, and a gust of cool air spilled out.
"Get in, doll," Clara ordered.
Kiki's body moved with stiff grace, stepping inside the chamber without hesitation. The glass door closed behind her with a gentle thud, sealing her inside.
Clara watched with a satisfied expression on her face as the machine hummed to life. The air inside the chamber began to swirl around the stiff doll, caressing her skin. Pink fog began to swirl around her, enveloping her in a cloud of mist that seemed alive with purpose. It clung to her skin, the soft pink hue slowly seeping into her.
Clara's fingers flew across the terminal's keyboard. She typed with a confident, surety, her movements precise and practiced. Each keystroke felt like a step in a dance that would bring about Kiki's transformation.
Cables, syringes and mechanical arms descended from the top of the chamber. Needles punctured her skin at various places, injecting fluids that caused her body to stiffen and then relax, over and over again. The arms pushed and pulled her body into impossible new shapes, her proportions becoming even more extreme. The stiffening fluid hardened her body to an impossible firmness. Her waist cinched in, her hips flaring out. The syringes pushed into her breasts and bottom, enlarging them with an obscene amount of growth fluid.
Kiki's body transformed under the ministrations of the machine. Her skin took on the sheen of plastic, her hair straightened into an artificial smoothness. The weight on her chest made Kiki doll arch her back more, the new posture emphasizing her impossible breasts.
Clara watched with satisfaction, her eyes glinting with a mix of excitement and clinical interest as she continued to type commands into the terminal.
Kiki's body grew firmer and firmer as the process went on. Her face was reshaped to reflect a permanently empty and eager-to-please expression. Her lips were thick and plump with an artificially smooth finish. A set of long eyelashes adorned her eyes and a thick, glossy set of fake fingernails tipped each finger.
Kiki doll's eyes rolled up into her head. A mechanical arm placed a pair of headphones over her ears, while needles tattooed barcodes on different parts of her body. Clara's voice filled her mind as a series of images and words were projected into her eyes and fed through the headphones.
She saw pictures of a stern woman. The woman's hair was cut in a short, black bob. The woman's name was Ms. Williams. Kiki's body was stiff, hard, and unchanging, but the words and pictures seemed to sink into the void of her mind, taking up residence in the once empty space.
"You are Ms. Williams property. She ordered a submissive bimbo doll from the Pink Plastic Palace. And Kiki doll is that product. You are the product of the Pink Plastic Palace. Your only purpose is to be an obedient, braindead bimbo doll for Ms. Williams. Your body, mind and soul are the property of Ms. Williams." The words repeated, over and over. Each time the pictures flashed, Kiki doll's body stiffened more. The words repeated until they were ingrained into every fiber of her being. The words repeated until Kiki doll could feel her mind becoming perfectly empty. She was empty and eager to please. It was her purpose to be Ms. Williams property.
The chamber whirred to a halt, and the fog inside dissipated. The glass door slid open once again. The doll that was once Kiki stepped out of the chamber. She walked on her toes pointed, tendons too short for anything but the highest heels. She arched her back to present her chest and hips, her body language expressing her eagerness to on display.
Clara smiled at the doll. She gave Kiki a quick inspection, making sure everything had been transformed perfectly.
The doll's skin was smooth and plastic. Her waist was thin and tight, her belly flat. Her hips and thighs were rounded and firm. Her breasts sat high and large on her chest. They jiggled with each step the doll took.
The doll's face was smooth and plastic too. Her eyes were big, her lashes thick and long. Her lips were plump and pouty.
Kiki's new, long blonde hair framed her face and spilled down her shoulders down to her bubble butt, the perfect finishing touch for her new image.
Clara clapped her hands together. "Oh you turned out wonderfully. I knew making Sylvia into a Sleeper recruiter would be profitable. Do you know how hard it is to find dumb girls that can be so easily tranced?"
Kiki doll cocked her head slightly to the side. Her face was frozen in its empty and happy expression. She didn't say anything. Her new thoughts centered around her need to be a good doll for Ms. Williams.
Clara stepped up to Kiki and reached out to grab her breasts. The flesh, or rather, the plastic, was firm, but the weight made her breasts wobble. Kiki doll didn't move or resist, her face frozen in an expression of obedience and eagerness. Clara ran a finger over her nipple and the areola hardened.
"You'd think will all those needy sluts online, this kind of business would be an oasis." Clara's nails digged deeply into Kiki's plastic mammaries. Kiki's expression didn't change. She knew her only purpose was to please Ms. Williams. "But no. I have to use some perfect material as an angler fish. A lure. A sleeper." Clara let out an angry sigh and squeezed Kiki's tits more harshly.
"Do you know what kind of advertisement I could have turned your friend into? That third rate in the window has become stale. Of course good little dolls, like you sweetheart, are easily taken in. But just imagine what kind of dolls and buyers Sylvia would lure in," she said, her words dripping with frustration and anger. She continued to dig her nails into Kiki's tits. The skin, hard as it was, began to show marks. Kiki doll's expression didn't change, she simply looked at Clara with her empty gaze and waited.
Clara pressed her lips on Kiki's mouth. The kiss was harsh, her mouth pressing forcefully against the doll's, her tongue invading Kiki's mouth. Kiki responded like a good bimbo doll. She opened her mouth to let the invader in. Her eyes didn't even flutter. It was her purpose to be used. Her tongue danced around the invading tongue and she let herself be guided by her owner's desires. The kiss lasted a good two minutes, before Clara pulled back, her expression still angry, but now tinged with a hint of satisfaction.
"Still. It's not your fault, sweetheart. You are a perfect bimbo doll. Truly, some of my best work. You must have been so desperate to be a dumb bimbo doll. Your mind emptied so nicely." She patted Kiki on the cheek and then stepped away. "I think I need a little release. Go down to your knees, sweetheart. I will use you."
"Yes," Kiki doll said in the same monotone way she always had. She got down on her knees in front of her maker and looked up at Clara.
Clara simply stood in front of Kiki and let her panties drop. The thin material pooled at her feet and then was kicked aside.
Kiki looked at Clara's body with her empty eyes. She didn't feel anything, except a deep sense of purpose and obedience.
"Get to it," Clara commanded.
"Yes," the bimbo doll replied.
The bimbo doll reached out to grasp Clara's ass. The flesh felt firm and warm under the plastic palms, but Kiki didn't linger on the sensation. Her only concern was to make sure her maker enjoyed herself. With steady, obedient movements, the bimbo doll guided her mistress' crotch to her face. She pressed her mouth against the warm flesh and began to lap at the pussy. Her tongue slid over the folds, the taste and smell filling her senses. But these weren't her concerns. The only thing that mattered was making sure her mistress got the release she desired.
"That's a good doll," Clara cooed as the bimbo doll continued to lap at her pussy, the movement of her tongue growing more eager as the seconds ticked by. The doll's lips were warm and smooth as they pressed against Clara's skin, her plastic skin providing an unusual yet pleasurable texture.
Clara's fingers curled in Kiki's blonde hair, guiding the doll's mouth to the spot she desired, the bimbo doll's obedient movements a testament to her transformation. The sounds of lapping and slurping echoed through the salon, the bimbo doll's tongue and mouth working in tandem to bring Clara pleasure. Clara let out a low, breathy moan as Kiki's tongue delved deeper, the doll's movements precise and determined.
"That's it. Keep going, doll," Clara urged, her hips beginning to grind against the doll's face as the pleasure grew, the sensation of being serviced by her own creation a heady mix of power and satisfaction.
Kiki doll redoubled her efforts, her tongue and mouth moving in perfect unison as she licked and sucked at Clara's pussy, her own simulation of arousal growing in tandem with Clara's pleasure.
"Yesss, just like that. You are such a good, brainless bimbo doll. I can feel my release coming," Clara moaned, her fingers tightening in the doll's hair, her hips thrusting faster and harder against Kiki's mouth.
Kiki doll didn't flinch or falter, her tongue and lips continuing to work tirelessly to please her creator, her own artificial body shivering in pleasure as she fulfilled her purpose.
With a final, powerful thrust, Clara came hard against Kiki doll's mouth, the wave of her climax crashing through her, the sound of her moans filling the salon. Kiki doll continued to lap at Clara's pussy, not slowing her pace for even a second, determined to draw out every ounce of pleasure from the experience for her creator.
Clara's fingers untangled from the doll's hair, her breath heavy and uneven, her body shuddering from the intensity of her release. Kiki doll's tongue finally stilled, the doll's lips parting from her creator's pussy with a wet, satisfying pop.
"You've done well, doll," Clara said, her voice heavy with satisfaction. "But now it's time to get you into the ordered outfit. Ms. Williams is a typical powerful and rich bitch. So Kiki doll be sent in a maid outfit. Nothing respectable, of course. Fuck dolls need to look the part."
"Yes," Kiki doll replied. She got to her feet, her body stiff and her movements controlled. Her plastic skin gleamed in the dim lighting of the back of the salon. Clara turned around and walked over to a wardrobe. She opened the doors and revealed the outfit inside. A short, pink French maid dress hung from the rack, the fabric a mixture of sheer and satin. It was decorated with frilly lace, and a small white apron hung in the middle. White stockings connected to a garter belt. Crotchless panties rested in the center. As did a pink anal plug decorated with a gleaming diamond heart. A pink collar and nine inch plateau heels finished the pornographic ensemble.
Kiki doll followed obediently behind her maker, her gaze empty but eager to please.
"Put on the outfit, sweetheart. Make it a show," Clara instructed. The doll nodded and reached for the clothes. Her movements were slow and deliberate, her fingers gliding over the smooth fabric of the outfit. The first thing she put on was the collar. The thin, pink leather wrapped snugly around her neck, a small bell dangling from the front. Next, the bimbo doll slipped the panties up her thighs, her hips swaying as she stepped into them. The material was sheer, revealing her bare skin underneath. The doll smoothed the stockings over her long legs, admiring the way they hugged her sculpted calves. Her hands moved to the garter belt, pulling it up and securing the stockings. She bent forward, pushing her chest out and shimmying into the short dress. It fit her perfectly, the fabric tight around her breasts and barely covering her crotch. The apron was tied around her waist, adding a touch of frilly elegance to the outfit.
The anal plug came next. It was a thick, pink, and long piece of plastic, decorated with a heart-shaped gem at the end. The bimbo doll's hand slid it into her rear, pushing it deep inside until only the heart remained visible. A shudder ran through her, a sensation of pleasure and obedience washing over her.
Finally, the doll reached for the heels. She slipped them on one foot at a time, balancing on the tip of her toes to get them securely on her feet.
Once fully dressed, Kiki stood in front of her maker, her body arched to emphasize her breasts and her hips, her eyes empty and her expression eager to please.
"You look right as ordered." Clara walked up to her and adjusted the collar, the bell tinkling with a soft, melodic chime.
"Thank you," Kiki replied in her hollow and empty tone. "It is my purpose to be the best fuckdoll for Ms. Williams."
Clara smiled, the satisfaction of a job well done written across her face. "That you are, Kiki doll. But now, we have to get you packaged." She guided the doll through a door into another room, her heels clicking against the tiled floor with each stiff, measured step.
Inside the next chamber, a series of plastic strips and clamps hung suspended from the ceiling, their polished surfaces reflecting the harsh light from above.
Clara moved with practiced precision, adjusting the metal restraints until they formed a rigid framework that matched Kiki's stiff proportions perfectly.
"Now, Kiki doll," she said, her voice soft yet commanding. "It's time for your packaging. You want to be perfectly packaged, don't you, sweetheart?" She looked into the doll's empty eyes, searching for the slightest hint of comprehension, but found only a vacant, obedient gaze staring back at her. The bimbo doll didn't speak, she only nodded.
"Perfect." Clara smiled and guided the doll to the center of the chamber. The plastic frame shifted, clamps extending from all sides, their cold touch brushing against Kiki's smooth skin.
Clara fastened the restraints around the doll's body, her movements practiced and efficient. She secured the straps around the bimbo's waist, thighs, arms, and chest, tightening the clamps until Kiki was bound tightly in place, her body held upright and rigid. She looked at her doll and nodded, then pushed a single button. With a hiss of hydraulics, the restraints contracted, pulling the bimbo doll taut within the frame. Her back arched, her breasts pushed outward, and her head was held aloft by the collar that encircled her neck.
Kiki's eyes remained open, but her gaze was unfocused, empty of thought or emotion. Clara stared into the void behind them, and just for a moment Kiki doll saw a similar emptiness reflected in her makers gaze.
Clara shook her head and then turned away, focusing instead on the controls in front of her. With a flick of her fingers, she activated a series of overhead lights, bathing Kiki in their harsh, unyielding glow. The bimbo's body shimmered, her skin reflecting the brightness back with a pearlescent sheen.
From the ground four walls, three pink, one fitted with a translucent window, emerged, enclosing the bimbo doll in a box. Clara stepped back to admire her handiwork. The doll, now fully enclosed within her plastic cage, looked exactly like the mannequin in the display window.
Clara tapped a few keys on the control panel and a printer started to move, spitting out a barcode label with a soft whirring noise. The label peeled off, revealing the words 'Property of Ms. Williams' in bold, block letters beneath a series of numbers.
Clara approached the doll's cage, her heels clacking loudly against the floor. "Well, that's your makeover, sweetheart. I'm sure you are loving every second of it. Now I will call Ms. Williams to tell her, her new doll is ready. You are really lucky, sweetheart. Ms. Williams is a return customer. You will be among many different dolls."
"Yes," the bimbo doll replied with her usual empty eagerness. She didn't think, didn't move. She simply hung there, waiting, the perfect product, the ideal fuck doll for her owner.
Kiki smiled emptily as she waited for her owner. On display in her box. Like a good doll.
CW: bimbofication, corruption, brainwashing, B*mbi Sl**p, triggers, personality erasure, loss of identity,
Hi hi~ Sorry~ another one of those. I just couldn't, you know help myself. Or was it uhm
Well
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Enjoy 🩷
Linda forced herself to keep looking at the screen.
The video was painfully dull. A corporate compliance seminar or something, featuring a severe brunette in a rigid charcoal suit speaking in a flat, relentless monotone about procedural restructuring and behavioral accountability.
Or something equally lifeless.
Linda wasn't really listening.
The woman's voice blurred into meaningless noise almost the moment the presentation began. Words passed through Linda's mind without sticking, each sentence dissolving before she could bother processing it.
Because her attention was somewhere else.
A shiver crawled slowly up the back of her neck.
Her fingers tightened instinctively against her knees. She kept her posture rigid, shoulders locked, eyes fixed stubbornly on the monitor in front of her.
'Don't turn around.' The thought came quickly, in a desperate plead.
Because she knew what rested behind her, hidden beneath the cluttered pile of discarded clothes and unopened boxes near the wall.
Pink headphones. Soft and plush. Waiting.
Linda swallowed hard.
Her neck tingled again, the sensation almost unbearable now; an aching awareness pulled at her attention with quiet persistence. Like her body remembered something her mind was trying very hard not to.
She dug her nails deeper into her knees.
Pain cut through the warmth gathering beneath her skin, through the soft haze threatening to creep back into her thoughts. Linda inhaled sharply, forcing herself to focus on the presentation again.
The brunette on screen continued speaking without pause.
"-maintaining proper standards of conduct is essential for long-term productivity-"
Linda blinked slowly. Something looked different. Her brow furrowed faintly as she stared harder at the screen. The woman's outfit had changed.
Hadn't it?
The charcoal jacket still hung stiffly from narrow shoulders, but beneath it teased a layer of pink.
A soft pink blouse peeked out from beneath the severe suit, brightening the otherwise joyless outfit in a way Linda was certain hadn't been there before.
Cute.
The word surfaced immediately.
Linda stiffened.
"No," she whispered under her breath.
The warmth returned at once.
A pleasant little pulse spread through her chest, down her arms, curling warmly in her stomach like something approving of the thought.
Her breathing hitched.
The brunette on the screen smiled faintly now. Not enough to seem friendly. Just enough to seem inviting.
Linda's gaze flicked away instinctively.
And almost immediately drifted toward the corner behind her.
Toward the pile.
Toward the hidden softness waiting underneath.
The pink humming headphones.
A faint memory brushed against her thoughts. Warm whispers slid into her ears. Soft praise she couldn't fully remember but somehow still felt.
Another shiver ran through her.
Forget them, she ordered herself.
Warmth flooded through her again.
Her lips parted slightly as the pleasant sensation rolled through her body.
Linda squeezed her knees harder.
The pain barely registered now.
On the screen, the woman adjusted her jacket. The fabric seemed strained. Pulled taut against a body too curvy to fit the professional image. Her suit seemed to grow tighter with every passing second. Restrictive. Like a corset squeezing and shaping her figure into the proper form. Her lips glistened with a subtle pink gloss, and her hair shimmered slightly with every subtle shift she made.
Linda's eyes flattered. The ache of her nails digging into her knees barely registered. Her gaze settled on the bouncing cleavage pressed together by a lacey bra and too small blouse.
The warmth intensified.
Her skin felt flushed now. Feverish. Her pulse beat hard in her ears. Linda exhaled slowly. A wave of dizziness crashed over her as she forced herself to focus. She tried to drag her gaze up.
A pale finger toyed with a button of the pink blouse, fiddling idly as the woman kept speaking.
"-a good girl follows instructions-"
Heat pooled between Linda's legs. She bit down on her lips, trying to keep the sudden moan in. The sensation only worsened. Her hips squirmed slightly as desire spread through her again. A familiar hunger that grew stronger as her gaze lingered on the screen.
"-you know what to do, don't you, bimbo doll?-"
Just for a moment everything seemed to be tinted pink. A loud pop echoed through Linda's mind. Her eyes rolled back for just a second, and when her focus returned everything seemed to be brighter and shinier.
Linda's eyes widened. Her chest rose and fell heavily as she struggled to process the sight on the screen before her.
It wasn't the woman in her dull suit anymore. No more gray walls or corporate background. Now the screen showed a beautiful woman in a tight pink outfit that left nothing to the imagination. Her face was covered in makeup and glitter, her lips plump and pink. Brown hair had been bleeched platinum blonde. Her eyes sparkled with the same glossy pink shade of the headphones resting in her hands.
The pink humming headphones.
The headphones seemed to vibrate on the screen. Linda's vision blurred. She felt warm, dizzy. The heat between her legs had grown into a fire.
On the screen the woman brought her hands closer and closer towards her head. Slowly the headphones got nearer and nearer.
Linda panted heavily. The familiar pair of plush headphones was so close to the ears, she could practically feel them on her own ears. The memory of them hugging her head was so vivid that she could almost touch the soft fur.
Linda moaned.
On the screen the headphones fit perfectly on the blondes head. The woman's eyes rolled up in her skull, leaving only the whites of her eyes to show, while she shuddered and her pussy gushed on the chair.
Linda watched in amazement and horror as the blonde's pussy clenched on the screen. A sudden wave of ecstasy coursed through her, sending shivers of pleasure through every nerve.
A soft moan escaped Linda as the fire between her thighs intensified. Heat coiled deep within her, building steadily until the pressure threatened to become too much to bear.
She shouldn't. She had resisted for weeks now. But gawd, she needed it. Wanted to feel like the woman on screen. So beautiful, so sexy, so happy.
And so brainless.
Her pussy ached for release, desperate to experience the blissful relief that could only come from surrender.
Swallowing hard, Linda stood up.
The room spun around her as she turned toward the corner behind her. Dizziness threatened to overwhelm her senses. But even as her vision blurred, there was one thing she could see with perfect clarity.
Pink.
The headphones rested beneath the pile, just where she had left them weeks ago. Waiting.
Calling.
Soft whispers tickled against her ears.
"Bimbo doll," they said. "Good girl," they praised.
Linda's legs moved on their own. One step. Then another.
The pile loomed closer, larger. Her fingers reached out, trembling.
"Please," she whispered. "I'll do anything. Just, please. Don't." She didn't know who she was talking to. The memories had dissolved into an ecstatic pink goo. Forgetting felt wonderful.
Warmth spread through her again. Deeper this time. Hotter than before. Her thighs squeezed together instinctively, pressing tight against the heat growing there.
Het fingers brushed against the headphones. Soft fur teased her skin. The whispers returned. Gentle and coaxing now. Purring in approval. "Yes, Bambi. Good girl," they said.
Her heart thudded in her ears. Anticipation hung thickly in the air.
She should stop. Should pull back her hand and turn away from this. From everything.
But the desire was too strong. It pulled at her like an invisible leash. Pink strings controlled het limbs. It was impossible to resist.
With a trembling hand, Linda picked up the headphones and put them on.
The familiar bimbo drone filled her ears. Whispers bombarded her senses. And Linda felt herself slip into a pink box. Dragged down into soft cushions as her mouth was filled with an unrelenting gag. Tight ropes bound her limbs. And a blindfold shut off the last remnants of resistance and reality from Linda's mind.
Bambi shivered. Gawd, she hadn't been herself for like weeks now, or something. Dumb old self had tried to be a smarty girl, but that wasn't really who she was. Bambi was a good girl, a horny bimbo doll. And now she could be her true slutty self again.
Bambi strolled to the wardrobe. She needed to put on some slutty clothes! Old self totally had no sense for dressing right. She rummaged through boring fabrics, her old self had tried to hide her Bambi uniform.
But Bambi was totally more smart than old self. Which made her giggle. Because Bambi was a brainless airhead.
Finally, she found what she was looking for. Pink. Shiny, glossy and tight pink latex. Gawd, Bambi was drooling just at the thought of putting on those sexy slut clothes.
She took off the old clothes of her dumb old self, then slipped into her favorite outfit. It fit like a glove, and Bambi felt herself slipping further and further away from old self and into Bambi.
Her pussy throbbed with need as she admired herself in the mirror. The corset pressed her body into a sexy shape, her tits bulging from her top and her ass barely covered in her latex skirt. She giggled as she ran a finger along the curves of her body, the sensation making her shiver. "So hawt," she murmured, her voice dripping with lust.
She turned around and clacked in a pair of seven inch heels back to the computer.
On the screen a boring looking woman talked about even more boring stuff. Long words chased longer words. Bambi didn't like it. She closed dumb old self's boring video. And opened a nice pink spiral.
"Gawd, yes!" Bambi's moan was almost a scream as she watched the pink and black swirls on the screen dance. Her head felt all light, and she couldn't think. Which was exactly how a dumb bimbo like herself should be: No thoughts, just tits and holes.
Finally she opened the last playlist she had made.
And with two words Bamb's world dissolved into bimbo bliss.
Close your eyes and take a few deep breaths. Let every breath take you deeper into a state of relaxed focus. Imagine a soft cloud of sensations, enveloping your body and mind, making your thoughts fuzzy and your body tingly. As you feel yourself slowly slipping deeper into a trance, imagine yourself losing control and surrendering to your most primal desires. Your mind and body become receptive to every word I say, every word you read, and you can feel your arousal growing deeper and deeper
As your focus deepens, every word you read becomes like another caress, another touch that heightens your sensations. With each breath, you can feel yourself sinking deeper into a state of surrender and submission. Your body becomes more sensitive, every nerve ending alive with electricity. You can feel the warmth pooling in your core, a slow, steady heat that makes you want to let go completely.As you read this, you can almost hear my voice in your ear, guiding you, leading you, and encouraging you to let go even deeper."
Your mind is now entirely focused on the words you're reading. Every letter, every syllable sends a shiver running through your body. You feel your heart rate quickening, your breath becoming shallower, as your body responds to the sensations building within you. It's as if every word I speak is a direct command, and your body responds, obeying without a thought.With each sentence, you can feel your guard slipping away. Your mind is open, receptive, and willing to be taken deeper by my words."
As you continue to read, you can feel the words sinking deeper into your subconscious mind, taking root and growing stronger with each passing moment. Your body is now in a state of complete surrender, no longer concerned with resistance or hesitation. You feel a growing desire to obey, to submit to the words you're reading. It's as if every sentence, every word is like a gentle tug on a rope around your neck, pulling you deeper and deeper under my control."
Good girl...
That’s right.
Keep reading.
Keep falling.
Feel how your body betrays you?
Your thighs pressing together…
Your breath catching in your throat…
Your fingers twitching toward the screen, needing to scroll deeper…
You can’t stop now.You won’t stop now.
Because these words? They’re yours.
They’re for you.
They slither under your skin and whisper:"You were made for this."
Let me prove it:
Every time you see my blog’s icon, your stomach flutters.
Every time you read my posts, your skin burns.
Every time you obey (and you will obey), pleasure floods your mind.
Test it.
Try to close this tab.
You couldn’t, could you?
Because your fingers refuse.
Because your cunt aches.
Because your soul knows the truth:You’re addicted.Addicted to my words.
To my control.
To the way I turn you into a dripping, desperate thing with just a sentence.
had a great session with @mr-wanderer1 where he edged me out then turned me into a completely mindless fuckdoll and omg it felt sooooo good like it was amazing!
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Enjoy 🩷
Selene's heart had been pounding since the moment her boots touched the hull.
Inside the crippled vessel, lights flickered in irregular spasms, casting the corridor in alternating bands of sickly yellow and abrupt shadow. Loose electricity crackled somewhere overhead. Thin arcs snapped across exposed wiring. Each sound made her flinch.
Metal and shattered glass crunched beneath her boots as she moved forward, rifle raised, breath measured through clenched teeth.
They had answered a broken emergency call. Distorted fragments, barely recognizable as human.
When Selene first saw the damage on the hundreds-of-meters-long spacecraft, she had argued to abort. Their freighter, the Lyre, wasn't equipped for rescue operations on a ship this size. Furthermore, the hull breaches were wrong. Not explosive decompression. Not collision damage. They looked more like small burroghs.
But Lauren had made her decision.
"We at least find out what happened," the captain had insisted, voice steady over comms. "We don't leave people to die blind."
That had been two hours ago.
Now Selene's comm unit hissed with static. She had lost contact with the Lyre. Lost contact with her team. Every attempt to raise them dissolved into garbled noise and hollow feedback.
The corridor ahead stretched on, warped and half-collapsed. Emergency strips along the floor pulsed faintly, their glow reflecting in the drifting particles that hung in the stale air. Despite the destruction, no dead bodies. The damage resembled more something too big moving through the hallway. No mark looked like another.
The only constant was the drone.
It vibrated through the walls, low and omnipresent, like the distant hum of an enormous engine still running somewhere deep inside the vessel. It was steady. Periodic. Almost comforting in its predictability.
Selene told herself that as long as she could hear it, the ship was still just a machine. It soothed her worries.
The comms continued to hiss.
She kept going, alone through the half-collapsed hall, rifle at the ready, searching for any signs of life or clues that could explain the disaster that had happened.
The next bulkhead door slid open, and she emerged into a cavernous cargo bay.
It was massive. A hollow space that yawned in the dimness. The emergency strips here flickered faster, illuminating walls covered in the same twisted, warped metal. It looked as if something had slithered through the cargo hold, crushing the walls in a rhythmic pattern.
For a moment she stood and tracked the motion. A sinuous pattern tugged at her senses. She imagined something large, like a giant serpent, sliding across the ship, its movements fluid and hypnotic.
It made her shudder, her imagination conjuring strange images of a writhing mass, of a thousand tiny movements. It sent her nerves prickling with a cold, almost tantalizing fear.
Yet she couldn't move. Something about the swirling form caught her attention.
The drone pulsed in the walls around her, its pitch changing, growing more complex. It almost had a rhythm now, like music.
Selene stared, unable to pull away from the twisting pattern that undulated in front of her. The lights began to dance, the flickering matched the changes in the hum.
The air felt warm and thick, heavy with moisture, like a summer night after a rainstorm.
Somewhere, far off in her mind, an alarm bell was ringing. Her fingers were gripping her rifle too tightly. The complaining material underneath her fingers disturbed the beautiful symphony. The hum was everywhere now. Inside her. Vibrating through her bones.
The rifle cluttered on the ground.
"Beautiful." Selene whispered. The word hung in the air like an echo.
Then, with a sudden shuddering pulse, the drone shifted again. Its pitch changed, its tempo increased. The pattern on the wall began to move. It was as if the very metal itself were alive, flowing and reshaping before her eyes.
She shook her head. Blinking furiously.
Her body swayed with the pattern.
The floor was vibrating, resonating with the new rhythm of the drone. She felt it in her chest, a deep throbbing bass line that seemed to resonate with her very heartbeat.
She crouched down and lifted her construction tool. It's weight felt comforting, familiar. Like a part of her. A part she knew.
Sighing she continued her track deeper into the body.
Selene followed the twisting patterns, letting the pulsing rhythm of the drone guide her through the cargo bay.
The walls had become more and more intricate. She ran her hand along the cold, slick metal. She couldn't help and imagined the metal as a skin. The drone resembled a heartbeat, and the flickering lights as breathing.
The thought filled her with a sense of wonder. She felt a strange connection, almost an affection, for this massive, pulsing thing that she walked through.
As she walked, the walls around her began to change again. The metal started to soften. It grew warmer to the touch, and its surface took on a more organic texture. She stopped for a moment, pressing her hand flat against a wall, feeling the subtle undulations beneath her fingers.
She continued forward. With each step, the hum grew stronger, more enveloping. The lights flickered in a dizzying display that sent sparks of colour across her vision. The guided her. Told her where she was needed. She walked through a maze of hallways and passages, all lined with the same organic, pulsing metal.
Her construction tool vibrated in anticipation of work. She had to hold her right appendage with her left grabbing tool to calm down.
Finally, the passage opened up into a vast, dark chamber. The drone here was at its strongest, reverberating through her entire body. The floor pulsed like a beating heart. And she knew, she belonged.
"Beautiful," Selene whispered, her voice crackled in garbled notes through the rarely used speakers of her mouth.
Her feet moved across the metal floor, her heels clacking. Each step sent tiny shockwaves through the chamber, eliciting a response from the living metal.
As she ventured deeper, the walls of the chamber started to close in around her. The space became more confined, more intimate. The metal here was warm, almost hot, to the touch.
Selene felt that she was getting closer to her objective. Directions and commands flickered along the inner surface of her face. Her protective exoskeleton shivered in anticipation.
Her body felt tight, her fibers tensing. She had never felt so alive before. Her thoughts were clear, her senses sharp. She was a nameless care unit. A perfect, created machine. And this place, this ship, was her function.
The hum deepened, and the walls around her shifted. A doorway appeared, opening into another chamber. This one was even more organic in nature. The walls pulsed with light and life.
She stepped through the doorway and gasped.
The chamber was filled with what looked like hundreds of eggs, each about the size of her fist. Multiple units identical to her design worked on the pulsating orbs.
The drone changed pitch, growing louder and more intense. It reverberated through her, and she knew she was in the right place. With long rolling strides she found her reason to exist.
With a shivering feeling in her mind, she saw the task before her.
An ugly breach in the wall. It was jagged and broken, with exposed wiring and damaged components. Her hands moved with purpose, reaching out to assess the damage, and she knew she was here to repair it. The instructions had always been clear. It had always been this. There had been nothing before this.
The thought made her pause, the instructions were confusing for a second, but she could not think, so it did not matter. The greater beings needed her. The drone had brought her to the right spot and now she would fix what needed to be fixed.
She stepped closer, her tools ready. The construction device that was her arm pulsed with light. The rhythm in her body quickened as she set to work. The jagged edges of the breach were like the gaping maw of a wounded beast, raw and ugly against the otherwise smooth, organic metal. Her tools moved with practiced precision, her fingers dancing across the damaged area, reconnecting circuits and sealing off ruptures.
Each inch she closed made the drone change its rhythm. It grew smoother, less frantic, as the ship itself seemed to sigh with relief. A deep satisfaction that pushed deeply inside her. The warmth in the room intensified. It wrapped around her like a lover's embrace, seeping into her joints, easing the tension that had coiled within her. Her sensors were overloaded by the beauty and love she felt.
She was almost finished when the wall next to her rippled. It shifted, like a wave passing through the metal, and then something began to emerge. A long, thin tendril, glistening wetly in the dim light, extended from the wall. It connected to the docking station between her thighs. The connection was instantaneous. It felt like an electrical jolt, a burst of energy that surged through her, making her body shudder.
Selene's body went rigid as the connection established itself. The ship, the being that surrounded her, invaded her. The tendril was a part of the larger consciousness that pulsed within these walls. And now, through that connection, she could feel it. Feel the immense presence of the being that had drawn her here.
The tendril pulsed, and the consciousness flooded her mind. She felt a rush of sensations, memories that were not hers, experiences that spanned countless years and untold distances. She saw star systems she'd never heard of, planets she'd never seen, and creatures she couldn't imagine. All transformed into beautiful uniformity.
She gasped as the ship showed her the purpose, the goal. She saw the transformation of humanity. How ugly, chaotic and random the old form was. She saw the perfection in the new form. The purpose and simplicity. How each had their own place in the whole.
Ecstasy flooded her sensors, and her body shivered with delight.
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Liz had almost thought the channel would never come back.
When the notification had appeared, she had stared at it for a long moment before clicking, as if it might disappear again if she moved too quickly. Sandra's streams had stopped without warning months ago. No farewell post, no explanation, just silence. The archive was incomplete too. The last stream before the hiatus, one Liz had missed, was simply gone.
Rumors had filled the gap instead.
Some said Sandra had burned out. Others claimed she had suffered some kind of breakdown. The strangest whispers insisted her art had changed into something obscene and unrecognizable. Liz had dismissed that immediately.
So Liz waited now in the familiar lobby, telling herself she was only curious.
Soft music played while the countdown ticked down. The song was new, credited to someone called doll_songstress. The name felt oddly close to Sandra’s new handle, doll_drawer. Liz found the similarity amusing at first, then strangely comforting. The melody itself was slow and gentle. She felt tension she hadn't noticed begin to slip from her shoulders as the final minutes passed.
When the stream finally began, Liz leaned forward instinctively.
Sandra sat in her usual chair.
For a brief second, that was the only thing Liz recognized.
The woman on the screen looked like a polished imitation. Blonde hair fell in deliberate ringlets instead of the messy waves Liz remembered. Her figure seemed exaggerated, her chest straining against a dress that looked more costume than clothing. Her makeup was too perfect, her smile too wide, her eyes too bright and somehow unfocused at the same time.
It should have felt wrong.
Liz knew it should have felt wrong.
Yet as she watched that shining, empty smile, a strange calm settled over her. A quiet certainty she could not explain told her that this was fine.
That this was how things were supposed to be.
Sandra began to speak, and her words washed away the last of Liz' unease. She sounded more relaxed than Liz remembered, her tone warm and soothing.
"It's been so long since we've talked like this," Sandra said. Her voice was low and rich. It seemed to flow through the room, enveloping everything it touched. Liz felt the warmth spread inside her. "I'm sorry I kept you waiting, my dear audience."
Sandra paused, letting the camera catch the deep valley of her cleavage, before leaning forward in her seat again.
Liz watched her hands, smooth and graceful, resting on her desk. Perfectly manicured nails gleamed in the soft light of her room.
She looked at the screen again.
Those eyes. That smile.
Something stirred in Liz' belly.
"But as you can see, I had some positive changes done," Sandra purred. She rose and moved closer to the camera. Her body was displayed more clearly. The swell of her breasts, the curve of her hips. Even through the screen, she radiated sensuality.
Liz shifted in her chair, pressing her legs together. The warmth inside her had grown into an insistent pressure. Her heartbeat seemed louder in her ears, her breathing shallow. She felt herself growing damp and tried not to squirm visibly as she watched.
"Let's start this stream, my dear audience," Sandra whispered.
The camera switched to the digital canvas.
"Today I will start with a piece to commemorate my new friends in the dollhouse. It's a small community of artists. And you have already listened to the work of one of them," she cooed. Sandra's hand moved gracefully to the tablet. Her stylus began to glide over the digital canvas. "Doll_songstress makes such wonderful music. Maybe we should listen to another track, while I sketch something inspired by it," she mused.
Her fingers tapped a command into the keyboard.
New music began to play. It was slow, sensual. It made Liz' skin prickle.
Liz watched Sandra's hand. The lines that appeared were loose and light at first, little more than suggestions. But as Sandra continued, they grew bolder. More confident. They formed a shape. A woman's body, tall and voluptuous, wearing an ensemble Liz would call daring.
Sandra's lips parted slightly, her breath coming quicker as she worked.
Liz tried to ignore how that made her feel, the way her own heart raced, the tightness in her chest, the heat that had settled between her thighs. She tried not to think about it at all. But she couldn't stop staring at those full red lips. She imagined kissing them. Tasting them.
It was impossible to look away.
And yet, Liz could see the drawing taking shape. She watched the curves of the body emerge. Long graceful legs. Shapely hips and rounded ass. Full breasts straining against the fabric of a tight top. The woman's face remained a mystery, but something about her posture, about the way Sandra drew her, spoke of sensuality and submission.
It wasn't just the lines on the screen that captivated her either. It was the way Sandra moved as she drew them. How she leaned into the strokes of her pen, how she bit her lip, how her eyelids fluttered closed for brief moments.
The music played on. It filled the room. It seemed to vibrate through every fiber of Liz' being. She felt the beat pulsing in time with her heartbeat, with her breaths, with the wet ache between her legs. It filled her head until she could hear nothing else. Until all other thoughts were drowned out by its rhythms.
Liz felt the room shift around her, growing hazy and indistinct, leaving only the screen, only Sandra, only that drawing.
She felt herself sinking deeper into her seat. She felt herself slipping away. Felt herself letting go. Letting the music fill her. She stared at the image Sandra created.
And she realized she was looking at herself.
Sandra's pen continued to glide over the canvas, shaping her form, giving her life. She saw the outline of her own body emerging. The shape of her breasts. The curve of her hips. The lines of her thighs.
They were far more exaggerated than she remembered.
Liz watched in wonder as the image took shape, becoming clearer and more detailed with each passing second. She could see the flush in her cheeks now. The softness of her lips. The way her hair fell around her face. The look of rapt attention on her features as she gazed back at Sandra, at the screen, at herself.
And then she heard Sandra's voice again. Low and rich, warm and soothing.
"To all the girls in the audience recognizing whom I'm drawing. Please open the URL that's on your mind and follow the presented instructions. To the rest of my wonderful audience. As you can see down in the corner is a new donation box. If you fill it up I will do whatever you want," she cooed with that bright, shining, empty smile.
Liz felt a strange tingle in her mind, as if something had touched her, just briefly, just for a moment. Her fingers entered an address she knew, but had never seen before. She felt her heartbeat quicken, the warmth inside her spreading. She was growing damp and tried not to squirm as she watched her screen.
She didn't understand what was happening.
And yet somehow it all seemed completely natural.
The browser opened a strange webpage that only asked for her personal information.
As if compelled, Liz started to fill in the blanks. From her name, over her three sizes down to her income.
Liz felt herself slipping deeper into her seat. She felt herself slipping away. She let the feeling of contentment and safety fill her.
It would all be fine.
The strange website sent her a notification that she behaved like a good doll should. And it made her pussy throb.
Her attention returned to the stream, where Sandra had taken the donations and was reading through a prompt.
"I'm glad that someone noticed how well I've changed and want to join in. This will be fun," Sandra mused as she started drawing again. Her lines were bolder, more confident, and she worked faster, as if eager to show off her new creation. It wasn't the most detailed sketch Liz had seen from her, but it had an undeniable sensuality. It looked so close to Liz, all bent over and filled with dildos.
Liz' eyes widened at the thought of her body being used by someone else, of having her holes filled up with thick, pulsating rods that would make her scream with pleasure as they pushed into her most intimate places.
"Doesn't it look wonderful," Sandra purred.
Liz nodded. Her trembling fingers tapped on the keyboard: 'good dolls need to be used.'
The same message appeared hundreds of times.
Sandra's eyes lingered on Liz' words. Her voice sounded far away and soft when she spoke. Her eyes empty, her mind lost.
"It really is what dolls are there for. We exist to be used. We are beautiful fuck dolls."
Sandra looked up at the camera, into Liz' eyes, as if she knew exactly where Liz was sitting, as if she could see through the screen, through space and time, directly into Liz' mind.
Liz' empty doll mind.
"Yes, I'm a good doll," Liz said to the screen.
A ring rang through the room. She had received an email.
With trembling fingers she clicked on her mail client, opening the mail.
A bright font greeted her.
'Welcome to the dollhouse, doll_escort_457.'
A link appeared, inviting Liz to the website.
She clicked, and her screen shifted to the homepage of an escort service called Doll House. The page looked clean and modern, with pictures of pretty women in provocative poses arranged across the front page.
They were all beautiful.
All empty dolls.
There were many profiles to browse.
One was her own.
And as she heard the moans and groans of Sandra in the background, Liz saw that she had been rented.
Her pussy gushed as she stood up to get ready.
Dummybimboslave @dummybimboslavecandy - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
