I didn't know what to expect when the package arrived. I'd been told by my friend on the Internet -- the one I chatted with concerning dolls and mannequins and being changed into objects -- that this "would change my life."
Change. That's what I wanted. I was strange about it. I wanted to become things: dolls, mannequins, play things . . . anything that wasn't me I was interested in becoming. My friend knew what I liked. We'd spoken for hours about this, about my fetish and fantasies and such. He didn't think me strange. If anything, he thought I was interesting and refreshing.
The gift he'd sent me were a pair of latex panties. The panties had a large black latex dildo built into them, and this was hooked up to a small power pack that was controlled by a timer and a power setting dial.
There was a note inside:
Trust me when I say this device I've sent you will give you more thrills than you can ever imagine. They are simple to use. Just put them on and adjust the dial. The higher you turn the dial, the more . . . intense the pleasure becomes. The timer will deactivate the panties-- you'll see why, particularly if you use the MAX setting a lot. Don't worry about getting stuck; the effects wear off if the batteries die.
Give them a try and let me know how you like them. I'll be waiting to hear from you.
Now I was really interested. "Stuck"? What the hell did he mean by that?
Well, I was about to find out.
I stripped down to my garter and stocks and bra, and slip the panties on, getting the dildo in place inside me. I snapped them closed in the back and lay back. I'd set the timer for 30 minutes, then reached down and turned the dial. I didn't want to go full out, not just yet, so I put it to about half power.
The dildo started to vibrate, and the strangest sensation came over me. One of intense pleasure, yes, but as it continued I found it harder to move. I could move, but my actions were slow, almost restrained. Not only that, but my skin looked different. Almost glossy. It looked almost like--
I wondered. I moaned a little as the orgasms swept through me. Even moaning was difficult; it was as if my vocal cords didn't want to work. And when they did, my voice sounded like it was pitched much higher . . ..
When the thirty minutes was up I changed back to "normal", whatever normal was. I got up and walked around, the panties still on. I was feeling very satisfied; more so than I'd ever felt before. It had been incredible sex, even if it was just with myself. And there was that feeling of helplessness, of not being able to move . . ..
I had to find out what happened at the Max setting.
I lay back down. I leaned over and punched in 60 minutes on the timer, then quickly turned the dial to Max and lay back. The moment I did the pleasure hit me. It was like being fucked over and over and over and over and over and having the best, greatest, most wonderful orgasms every-- and the same feeling swept over me every ten seconds or so. I brought my hands up and started rubbing my breasts, but almost as soon as I touched them I froze. Literally froze. My skin became even more glossy than before. My breasts swelled as seams appeared on my body. I felt my mouth forced open into an inviting "O" shape. My body felt like it had grown lighter, buoyant one might think--
I knew what had happened. I'd become a love doll.
I couldn't move. I could think and feel and enjoy the fan-fucking-tastic sex that was going on within my inflated body . . . but that in itself made everything all worth while. My friend had given me something that would change my life, and now . . . now with these panties I could live through one of my most intense fantasies.
After an hour of coming my brains out the panties shut off and I went back to being a real girl. I got up and removed the panties. I expected to find my body covered in a light sheen of sweat, but then remembered-- dolls don't sweat. How could they? They're just blow up women who are only there to be fucked. If anything, I'd need to be cleaned up, to have the lubrication and semen washed out of me.
Oh, if only.
I chatted online with my friend that night and told him about what I'd done. He seemed pretty happy that I'd went "all the way" and discovered the doll transformation. He asked me, "How did it feel to be a latex doll?" I wrote back, "You can never know unless you're one yourself." I tried to explain as best I could the sensation, but words just couldn't match what I'd gone through.
He asked me if I was going to try them again. I told him I would, but then added, "It would be nice if I could . . . share this experience with someone." He was being coy when he wrote back, "What do you mean?" and I told him exactly what I meant.
There was a pause over the chat. Then he wrote, "You maybe up for a little trip?
It was nearly a month later before I showed up at his place. I'd taken two weeks vacation, and told work that I was going to be completely unavailable for anything, so don't bother trying my cell phone or any of that shit. After that I packed my panties and a few things and got in the car and spent two days driving to my friend's place.
When we met we sort of laughed and talked for a bit before I got dressed. We'd planed to go out my first night for some dinner and a little drinking. And then after that . . . well, after that the real fun would start.
He took me to some out of the way place that had great food. I ate like a pig. Hey, it was going to be the last meal I was going to get for like 8 or 9 days, and I wanted to enjoy it. We cracked open a couple of bottles of wine and talked about some of the people we knew on line. We didn't talk about what we were going to do after dinner was over. There was no need to talk. We both knew what was going to happen.
We got back to his place, both of us a little high. I stripped down to my heels and nylons and garter. I sat back while he pulled out something. It was a box-- no, check that. It was my box. It had my picture on it. Next to my picture was the word, "TINA!" and below that, "The Most Realistic Love Doll Around!"
I clapped. "I have my own box now," I slurred. "And my own pump. I'm fuckin' complete."
My friend laughed, then asked, "You're certain you want to go through with this?"
I nodded. After all, I told him, it's only going to be a week or so. I'll change, you'll fuck me, clean me, deflate me, put me way, take me out, pump me up . . . everything that would happen to a real doll. I stretched. "It's what I want," I said. "I want this more than anything, okay?"
He was nodding, pulling the panties out from my overnight bag. There was a safety feature built into the panties: they couldn't be activated unless the snaps were fastened in the back. This was supposed to prevent permanent transformations-- which technically could happen if someone were transformed on the Max setting and then somehow the panties --and the transforming dildo-- were removed. So naturally they had to be on--naturally.
Of course there was a way around it. Fold the panties inside out and snap them together. That way they could be turned on and used, and removed-- leaving the person who'd been wearing them stuck in whatever form the panties had left them. It only made sense they could be used this way-- after all, isn't part of the fun of being turned into a doll the ability to be used by someone close to you?
I lay back on the bed while he inserted the dildo inside me. It didn't matter what the timer was set at-- the idea was I'd be tuned into Blow Up Girl, used off and on for a week, and then he'd put the panties back on my form, set the timer for like fifteen minutes, and then when they shut off I'd turn back to normal.
He looked at me like he expected me to say something. What was there to say? I just nodded. He turn the dial to Max--
The feeling came over me again, just like that last time. I saw the expression on his face as I went from living flesh to air filled latex. After what must have been a minute or so I felt the dildo being removed . . . and I was still a doll, still filled with air, and still feeling like I was being fucked by a thousand dildos. He continued looking at me, his eyes filled with wonder. I was thinking, Get your dick out and put it inside me, honey! Tina needs a good fucking! He must have heard me because after five minutes or so he started to undress. When he was naked he reached inside my box and got the Love Lubricant and lubed up my pussy. I about passed out while his fingers were inside me, it felt so good. Damn, if fingers were that good--
I didn't have time to finish that thought as he chose that moment to climb on top of me, stick his oh-so-feeling-large cock in my latex pussy, and begin fucking the living daylights out of me. I was cuming with nearly every stroke. I could feel everything; it was like my whole body had become my pussy, and there wasn't a thing that wasn't being stimulated. I just lost myself in pleasure while my friend quickly came to climax and flooded my rubber cunt with his semen. I think I passed out at that moment . . ..
When I came to I was being cleaned off, the cum and lubricant being washed from my pussy. After that he sat with me and talked, though it was a very one-sided conversation. He wondered how the sex had felt, if I was aware of everything happening. After an hour I felt his cock getting hard against my surface. Why don't you put that dick to good use, baby? I thought. He lifted me off his lap and moved my mouth towards his erect cock. I'd never enjoyed giving head before, but now . . . I was the best cocksucker there ever was-- and I was getting off on it as well.
Before he went to bed he deflated me and folded me up nicely and put me in my box. There was clear plastic where my face was, so I could see out while I sat on the shelf on one side of the bedroom. From there I watched him sleep. I loved where I was at. I loved that I was going to spend a week living out my fantasy.
I loved that he loved me.
I was pulled out of my box and inflated. I feel his hands caressing my soft hair as soon as my inflation plug was in place. I like being caressed. It feels so nice.
I'm taken out of the bedroom and into the living room. It's night time 'cause it's dark outside the windows. I'm placed on the sofa, and my friend sits next to me. He turns on the TV. He likes to have me sit with him while he watches TV. I don't really give a shit one way or another. I can't really concentrate on the stories. I just like to sit with him.
He opens a bottle of wine and pours himself a glass. He drinks and watches TV and talks to me. Asks me how I feel, how things have been, did I enjoy my time in the box. I'd tell him, Yeah, I'm good, it was nice if I could, but I can't. I can't speak. Dolls don't have vocal cords. But I'd tell him that if I could.
He holds the glass up to my frozen mouth and asks me if I'd like a sip. Of course I can't sip --it's not a real mouth-- but I think, Yes, please, and like he can hear me he pours a little wine into my mouth. I feel it pooling inside the sack that is my throat. I know why he's doing this because I understand what he likes. Sure enough, a couple of minutes later he's standing up, taking off his clothes, and he puts his very hard cock in my mouth and starts getting a wine-lubed blow job. Since I'm such a good cocksucker it doesn't take him long to get off, and the wine mixes with his cum. The taste drives me crazy. I really love it. It makes me cum even harder than normal. I sort of wish I could drink the mixture, but that's a silly thing to wish for.
He cleans himself up, then comes for me and takes me to the bathroom and starts cleaning out my mouth. He's very quiet while he does this. He usually is. It's like he wants to make certain that I'm nice and clean and I don't end up with a lot of crap inside me, so I don't start to smell and get crusty and funky. He's really good about that.
After I'm nice and clean he throws on a robe and we go back to the living room. The TV's still on, and I'm watching it, but like I said I can't really pay attention to what's on. I'm listening more to my friend, who's talking to me. He's telling me about the nice stuff he bought me today: some nylons and some boots and some heels and some sexy night gowns . . . he'll even show me later. I can't believe he's got me more clothes. He's really very good to me.
After what seems like a few hours --or maybe more, I can't really say-- he turns off the TV and picks me up and heads for the bedroom. He puts me on the bed and lights a few candles. He likes it intimate like this-- for me. I know it's for me. He knows I like romantic stuff 'cause he told me he knows I like romantic stuff. He pulls out some of the clothes and shows me what he'd got. It's really nice stuff, let me tell you. He really knows how to buy classy shit.
Then he stands at the end of the bed and looks me over. And that when it starts. He begins crying. Just a few sobs; it's not like a total breakdown or anything, but the tears start flowing down the cheeks and his voice starts breaking and he sits on the bed and absentmindedly runs his fingers over my nylon-clad legs.
And he starts talking. Telling me about how he's sorry. About how he truly didn't mean for what happened to happen, but . . . well, I was just too good a doll, he says. He talks about how he figured that after a week I wouldn't mind if I stayed a doll another week, and then it was another week after that, and wow, before you know it, three months had gone by and he's had to get rid of my car and my bag so no one would ever know I'd visited him.
And six month after that he was really going to change me back, but that every time he'd get the panties out he'd look at me and he just knew that I loved being his love doll, that I loved having sex with him, I loved having him love me. And then he'd put them away and lube me and use me and then clean me up and put me away for another month. All the while telling me that he'd change me back soon, maybe a month or so from now.
But then suddenly it's a little more than two years later and he knows that he if changes me back there'll be a lot of questions about where I had been, what had happened to me . . . stuff that he figured people didn't really need to know about. Besides, I probably didn't even remember being a person, so what would be the point of changing me back? No point at all. It was better if he kept me as a doll, so I'd be nice and safe and loved.
So he says he just kept using me and taking care of me and treating me like the most special doll in the world . . . and time just kept slipping by. He said that by now probably no one is looking for me any more, that he could probably change me back if he wanted to and no one would believe me if I told then where I'd been . . . but what would I do? After all, it'd been a while since I'd done anything but be a doll . . . and now that I had been one for so long there really wasn't any point in making me real again, since this was the only life I now knew.
He wipes his face dry. "I'll go down on you Tina," he said. "It's the least I can do, and I know you love having your pussy hole licked, don't you?" He gets his face over my rubber cunt. "Happy Anniversary, honey," he whispers right before his starts licking me.
As the fantastic shiver runs though my body I think: yeah, I knew going into this you probably weren't going to change me back. I knew after those first couple of nights you didn't see me as Tina the person-- I was Tina the Love Doll. I knew after that first month I was stuck as Tina, The Most Realistic Love Doll Around! I knew you'd always take care of me, and that you'd always love me.
And I know that you still feel guilty about what you did to me, even now, five years later.
That's okay. I forgive you, honey. Like I said, I knew going into this little game this might happen . . ..
What I don't understand is why you're taking so long to getting around to fucking me?
Don't you know by now what I really want?