The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Slut Coffee

Chapter 3

Recap: Adria is an employee of Alsen&Alsen, a global chemical conglomerate that deals with drugs that alter the mind and body, along with many other product lines. Society in general is more accepting of sexual body modification, with rules and laws surrounding it. However, heavy modification is also fairly unusual, and it is normal to look down on such people. Adria was recently promoted at work. Last week Adria began showing symptoms of being on Dolly-S. Her developing symptoms are excess arousal, breast growth, and a tendency to freeze helplessly in place when anyone, even herself, touches her in a sexual way. She had a doctor’s appointment on Tuesday to try to fix it, but instead the doctor dosed her with Dolly-R. Dolly-R programmed her body with automatic sexual reactions when people use her, instead of being totally frozen. The doctor also was annoyed at how her teeth scratched during fellatio, and gave her something for that.

Disclaimer: Nothing about this story should be, or physically could be, tried in real life. Contains unwanted sexual transformations and sex acts of dubious consent. Any similarity to any real life people is accidental.

* * *

Wednesday morning, Adria took another massive, gut-busting shit. Honestly, what was going on with that? She’d never pooped that much in her life, and she hadn’t even eaten anything! It smelled horrible, sour, and she had to plunge it to get it down the drain.

She took a shower and as her hands roved around her body, scrubbing and rinsing, her groggy, horny mind noticed something was off. There were... creases in her skin. Seams. Around the joint of her wrist. Around... around each of her joints. As if to aesthetically suggest they were a marionette’s ball joints, Adria realized with a growing sense of panic.

Just like a Doll, just like a fuck doll. She raised her hands to her face and neck and—there, she felt it, another deep seam circling around her neck, up where everyone would see! Her heart pounded in anxiety and she tried to tamp down a rising, perverse sexual thrill. She fingered the neck seam, which felt oddly sensitive, until she made herself stop. Tears were running down her face under the hot shower. Just a doll, nothing more. The seams told her what her place was and it was all wrong and she was too aroused and she wasn’t allowed to touch herself where she needed. She imagined if some faceless doll-owner was here in the shower with her, abusing her, squeezing her doll-tit-flesh and plunging their fingers in her wet hole. She was hyperventilating, soaking wet down below where she couldn’t touch, more tears streaming down her cheeks. She had to get a grip. She had to get a grip.

Adria turned the shower to cold and tensed as the freezing water poured over her. Her oversized nipples stood out painfully hard on her doll tits. She had to calm down.

Shivering and gasping from the cold water, but a little more clear-headed, Adria exited the shower and took a look at the “damage” in the mirror, willing herself not to get aroused. The reflection was clearly a doll, hardly a human woman. No, it was her. It was Adria. She had to hold on to that. She was still herself. She could cover it all up—probably? She had to cover it up. Adria nodded at her reflection with more certainty than she felt.

She got dressed. She used her most roomy bra, one that she’d bought as a mistake and hadn’t gotten around to throwing out, but it still felt tight. Like Christopher had noticed, her tits were swelling bigger.

She checked in the mirror and in fact, it wasn’t so bad. Only the neck and wrist seams showed. She taped her shirt cuffs down so they would cover the wrist seams better and wouldn’t slide back. She put on a scarf—would that be enough? She’d look strange wearing a scarf all the time. She applied thick makeup over the neck-seam until it was hardly noticeable.

There. Not a doll in the mirror, just herself. She tried to convince herself of that.

It was time to eat breakfast but she didn’t feel hungry, she felt horny. She picked at a couple of rice cakes but didn’t finish them. There was nothing she could do right now about feeling horny. She wanted to at least pinch her nipples but she knew it would just make her freeze and then everything would be worse.

She didn’t want to transform into a fucking sex-doll! She had to solve this problem, somehow! Find a different doctor! But for now she just had to go to work. She gave herself one last check in the mirror, tried to convince herself she didn’t look too dollish, took a deep breath, and headed out the door.

* * *

At work, Adria struggled with her morning e-mails. She’d been off a day so she had a backlog. And... and it wasn’t only that, she had trouble focusing on them. Often she found herself searching for the right word, only to give up and use a simpler one. It was just this stupid arousal, she couldn’t think past it.

Unless... unless she was actually getting dumber, Adria feared, with a chill. That couldn’t be happening. No, that was paranoia talking. She shoved the thought away.

Debbie stopped by with a coffee later, as usual, Vanessa in tow. Adria thanked her and took a sip, trying not to look too much at Debbie’s body. The coffee was bad today, only lukewarm and with a slight chemical taste, but it did help her wake up and focus.

“I like your new choker,” said Vanessa, tracing a finger around Vanessa’s own neck. “Very subtle.”

Adria nodded distractedly, and then she spluttered on the coffee as it sank in what Vanessa had just said. She wasn’t wearing a choker! Vanessa was talking about the doll seam around her neck!

“It’s not...” Adria started, but she couldn’t finish the sentence without telling them her secret! She had to think of some other excuse, but her thoughts were so sluggish this morning. She was gaping at Debbie and Vanessa like a fish, spilled coffee messing her chin, face burning red. The seconds dragged on and there was nothing Adria could think of to defend herself.

“You’re cute with your mouth open,” said Debbie, and Adria didn’t think it was possible to be any more humiliated but here she was. “Eek!” she blurted out. What a stupid thing to say, but she was still blanking on literally anything else.

Debbie and Vanessa just stood there, looking at her. Belatedly Adria thought to close her dumb doll mouth. Why were they staring, why wouldn’t they just leave! Adria took a gulp of coffee just for something to do with her hands. “Y—you can go,” Adria finally said, her voice cracking.

Debbie smirked and sauntered out. Vanessa’s gaze lingered, and then she followed Debbie.

* * *

They were gone, but Adria’s heart was still pounding out of her chest. She was too stressed-out to stay in her chair. She stood up, feeling the sweat sticking under her clothing. She had to move, she had to get some air. But she couldn’t just walk out of her office right behind Debbie and Vanessa. She paced. She was almost unbelievably turned on. That was the most fucked-up part of the whole thing. The doll in her was getting off on it. Vanessa had called out a physical feature that indelibly marked Adria as a doll, just an object for the sexual use of others, and Adria had acted all dumb and gaping, just like a helpless doll would. Why hadn’t they taken her! Adria thought crazily for a moment. Why were they holding back! It was nuts to think this way, to want them to fuck her. She shouldn’t think like that. Still pacing, she cupped her hands around her erect, oversized, oversensitive nipples, pressing the hard nubs gently back into her tits, not daring to pinch them. It felt good but it was only making her wetter and more frustrated. She made herself stop.

Her breathing had slowed a bit by now and her heart wasn’t pounding as much. She was still horny, but there was nothing she could do about that. Adria made herself sit back down and try to focus on work.

Again, the lukewarm coffee was pretty bad, with that chemical aftertaste, but at least the caffeine would help her wake up and think straight.

Pausing in her work, she had a sudden thought. Maybe Dr. Lieson was the one who originally dosed her with Dolly-S! He would have had the opportunity during her regular checkup with him months ago. That would explain why he would have knowledge of such a rare drug that his regular patient had somehow been dosed with. Perhaps Dolly-S had a months-long incubation period before the effects started to show. Fuck, it made too much sense.

On her lunch break, Adria stopped by the bathroom to touch up the concealer around her neck seam. She couldn’t bear to have anyone else notice that. Then she went back to her office and tried to confirm her suspicion that Dolly-S had a long incubation period. Unfortunately, public information on Dolly-S was very scarce. It was listed as a “developing product” by Alsen & Alsen, her giant multinational employer. That was about it. Adria thought about using some of her work contacts to find out more, but it would raise suspicions... people might notice other things different about her and connect the dots. She didn’t really have any legitimate work reason to be asking about it anyway.

Instead she looked up more local doctors and managed to get an appointment with a different one for next week. Perhaps they could tell her something, give her something to reduce the effects.

If anyone else noticed the seam around her neck, they didn’t say anything to her. She nervously retouched the makeup concealing it every few hours.

* * *

Adria managed to choke down half a mayonnaise and tomato sandwich at home. She didn’t want to eat it but she had barely eaten anything in the past two days. She craved a cock, not a sandwich. She had to toss the rest of the sandwich out because it just repulsed her. She took another huge shit.

It filled up the toilet, dense and huge. It had to weigh ten pounds, maybe more.

She stared at it. All that weight, all that stuff had come out of her. It was the third one like that since yesterday night. And she wasn’t really eating. She had to be losing a lot of weight. The drug was making her lose weight.

She weighed herself. She had lost... thirty-five pounds since last week?? She weighed 95 pounds.

But when she checked the mirror, she didn’t seem any thinner or smaller than before. The opposite, really. Her doll tits hung heavy and obscene from her chest. Her thighs and butt seemed a little thicker too.

A doll, Adria thought. A doll would be curvy, but light. Easy to carry. Easy to sling on the bed or over the couch.

Adria suddenly wanted David or Christopher to be here, grabbing her defenseless blow-up doll body by the hips and fucking her until she couldn’t think. Her mouth watered when she thought about it. But she pulled herself back from the edge of actually doing it. It wasn’t safe, she didn’t know what the doll drugs would do to her if triggered again by sex. Her condition was progressing.

Instead she sat around, distressingly aware of her sensitized, excited private parts. Including her lips and tongue now, somehow. Her body parts wouldn’t stop being excited, or telling her about it. She tried to distract herself with social media and a couple episodes of a new drama. Her thoughts kept veering towards what the characters would look like naked. She was such a fucking whore.

Adria fell asleep to the worrying thought that she was becoming more doll-like every day.

* * *

Adria was dreaming, maybe. She was naked and she couldn’t think straight and women were using her as a fuck-toy. She was licking their vaginas and felt slightly disgusted about that and their fingers were all over her, handling her and pressing into her. She felt like a ripe peach, swollen and sensual and bursting, and they were touching and squeezing her bulging curves and letting the juices out. A warm, ripe haze clouded her thoughts. She felt so aroused and so dumb and she was trying to think but nothing was happening. She had to poop so bad.

* * *

She rubbed her forehead, the dream fading. She got out of bed and took another massive, toilet-filling dump. It took several attempts to plunge it down the drain. It wasn’t normal feces; it was denser, oily. It smelled different.

80 pounds. That’s what she weighed now. Before her ordeal she weighed 130, last night she weighed 95, and now she weighted 80 pounds. One massive dump had cost her 15 pounds.

She wasn’t hungry at all. She put on her biggest bra again—much too tight, she’d need to go shopping after work. It pinched. She really had to slather on the makeup to cover up the doll seams around her neck and wrists.

She was about to do her face makeup, but... as she looked in the mirror she saw that she didn’t really need it. Her doll lips were naturally rosy, her doll skin smooth and perfect. She looked like she had makeup on already. Uneasily, she put the makeup kit away.

She was too fucking horny.

* * *

Adria stared at the paper plate of food in front of her. Her boss, sitting next to her in the cafeteria, was talking about some news from the legal department about the Beelee recall. A lawsuit or something, Adria was having trouble following it. She was having trouble focusing. She was too horny. Her thoughts kept drifting back to the drug she was on. How much weight was she going to lose? She didn’t like the food in front of her at all. She wasn’t hungry. Her boss said something and she nodded, hoping that was the right reaction.

On the way back from lunch somebody smacked her ass from behind, like had happened on Monday, freezing her in place for a long, humiliating minute. She heard footsteps of her molester—whoever it was—hurrying off down a side corridor behind her.

Jerry came down the hall the opposite way and saw her frozen cocksucking face. He stared at her in confusion but passed on by without comment. Adria was going out of her mind with embarrassment. When the freeze ended, Adria turned and looked down the side corridor, but there was no one there.

Debbie came by mid-afternoon with coffee, which Adria eagerly slurped down. It would help wake her up even if it did taste really bad. Chemical. She asked Debbie what kind of coffee it was, and Debbie said it was just plain black coffee. For a moment a half-formed thought nagged at Adria but it passed before she could really focus on it.

Adria actually envied the bare-titted whores on Chestnut Street, when she passed them on the drive home. She admitted it to herself, saliva collecting in her mouth as she stared. They were getting fucked regularly. Used. Adria was constantly horny and couldn’t do anything about it. She feared there would be more unpleasant surprises if she let someone else fuck her, in her condition. Trapped frozen for days, or something. She didn’t know. She only knew her condition was getting worse. She had to at least find out more about what “Dolly-S” was doing to her.

* * *

She stopped at a department store to buy bras. Her largest bra, which she was wearing, was very uncomfortable. Her tits had slowly continued to grow.

Adria went into the fitting room with her selection. She was about to undress and try them on when she paused. She had a strange feeling this wasn’t... right. She shook her head but it persisted. Where was this feeling coming from? Was this another aspect of her disorder?

Then the thought occurred to her that a real fuck-doll wouldn’t be picking out new outfits for itself. Someone else would choose for it.

As soon as she thought that, the feeling clicked. That was exactly it. That was exactly the reason for the uncomfortable feeling right now, as she looked at the bras in her hand.

Adria shook her head and gritted her teeth. No, she needed to try on new bras and she wasn’t going to let a weird feeling stop her. She pulled off her blouse. Her hands were shaking. The feeling that she shouldn’t be doing this had intensified.

The feeling was irrational but... but Adria had been so fucking frustrated all day, resisting sexual impulses. She was too exhausted mentally to fight this new feeling. She put her blouse back on, feeling much better now that she had given up the idea of trying on the bras by herself. She walked out of the fitting room to find an attendant to help her.

* * *

“Oh, yes, we can do that,” said the female attendant, when Adria asked to be fitted. “Right this way. My name is Joyce.”

“I have to warn you,” said Adria halfway through the walk. She’d been working up her courage to say this. But it had to be done. “I’m... I’m a Doll,” her face flushed red. The attendant stopped to look at her. “And that means I might... freeze in place, when you’re fitting me,” she explained. “Just finish it, ok? I’ll be back to normal in a few minutes.” (I hope), she added silently.

“Let me get my manager,” said Joyce. “Wait here.”

“No, wait...” Adria mumbled in a small voice, cheeks on fire, as Joyce walked away. She didn’t want more employees coming over to gawk at her. But she waited, in the middle of the aisle. “Excuse me,” said an obese woman, pushing her shopping cart past Adria. Adria was right in everyone’s way but she’d been told to wait. It occurred to her that she could step off to the side. But she didn’t. A... a doll would stay put... Adria didn’t want to be a doll but she anxiously waited anyway.

“So you say you’re a doll?” asked the manager, a middle-aged man with a trimmed beard. “Does that mean like a sex doll?”

“Uhh...” Adria couldn’t bear to answer, face burning. The answer was yes but she... she just...

“Ma’am, are you a sex doll, yes or no?”

“Yes,” Adria blurted out. “I mean, I’m sorry...” she didn’t know what she was apologizing for. Tears started to leak out of her eyes.

“None of that,” said the manager brusquely. “We do accommodate body-modded clientele like yourself. Can you tell me more about the difficulty you’re having?”

“Well...” and Adria told him about the problem she’d had in the fitting room, the strange feeling that she shouldn’t choose her outfit, someone else should. The words just gushed out of her. It was embarrassing to admit and he was a total stranger, but for some reason it felt good to tell him.

Adria’s burning cheeks got even redder. She found herself wanting to tell him everything, tell him to use and abuse her like the doll she was. But she bit her lip and stopped herself from making that particular mistake.

“I must admit I haven’t heard of that problem before,” said the manager, whose nametag said Paul. “Let’s get you fitted. Come with me.”

Adria nervously followed Paul and Joyce to the fitting area, back into one of the private changing rooms.

“Now, Joyce, go ahead and remove the doll’s blouse.”

Adria suddenly had several questions, like—why was Paul here at all if Joyce was going to do the work? How had she so readily fallen from “customer” to “doll” in Paul’s eyes? Why didn’t he give Adria a chance to remove her own blouse? But Joyce didn’t hesitate, stepping up to unbutton Adria’s blouse.

And then Adria couldn’t say anything at all. The moment Joyce undid the first button, Adria’s mouth popped open in a pink O, her eyes and eyebrows went wide in surprise, her chin tilted up slightly, her posture straightened and stiffened. Joyce paused, looking to Paul questioningly. Paul nodded and Joyce resumed unbuttoning Adria.

Adria couldn’t move a muscle, frozen like a fuckdoll, but, but Joyce hadn’t done anything sexual at all! That wasn’t fair!

Only—Adria was feeling really good. Each button popping free was almost sexual, somehow. Like a lover running their fingers through Adria’s hair. Adria’s vagina was throbbing. She felt so passive, so cared-for, tingling in her head as the woman attended to her clothing. The doll blissed out under the attentions, barely aware of her surroundings.

“Now the bra,” said Paul, staring openly at the doll’s big tits. With some difficulty, Joyce unclasped the doll’s too-tight bra, letting its naked tits bounce free.

“Beautiful,” said Paul, hefting one of them in his hand. The doll shifted slightly, automatically thrusting its tits out when he touched them. Paul rolled and pinched the weird oversized nipple between his thumb and index finger. He ran a finger around the doll’s shoulder, wrist, and waist seams, testing how deep they went. He squinted and noticed the doll’s neck seam, hidden under makeup for some reason, and examined that too. His pants were visibly bulging in the front.

“Sir...” said Joyce uncomfortably.

Paul stepped back. “Continue.”

Joyce took out soft tape and measured the dimensions of the customer’s bust as she’d been trained to do. She circled the tape around the base of each breast, around her body at the nipples, around her chest above and below. She measured the distance between the customer’s nipples as they hung naturally, and a few other distances to assure the best possible fit. Joyce wrote the measurements down on a little pad.

Joyce turned to Paul. Joyce’s job would usually end with advising the customer about their bust measurements. But this customer was a special case.

“Go pick a few bras out for her,” said Paul. He snapped his fingers a few times in front of the doll’s empty stare, producing no reaction. “Something sexy. You know what, I think we can sell this bimbo a full outfit. Pick out something hot and eye-catching.”

Joyce looked uncertain, but left Paul alone with the customer.

Paul wordlessly unzipped the doll’s business skirt and let it fall to her ankles. He crouched and saw how wet the doll’s panties were, pressing a finger into the front of the damp fabric. This caused the doll to automatically jut out its hips at him. “What a whore,” he breathed softly. He tugged the panties down, appreciating the seams now clearly visible around the doll’s thighs and knees. This was not a real woman and shouldn’t be treated like one. He tasted the doll’s pussy with his tongue.

* * *

Joyce returned to the changing booth, a pile of clothing draped over her arm. She heard suspicious noises from inside and threw open the door to see Paul, bare-assed, thrusting his cock into the customer, who was naked and spread-legged on the bench. Joyce dropped the clothes in shock.

“Paul!” Joyce exclaimed. “What are you doing!”

“Wait until I’m done, Joyce,” grunted Paul, thrusting vigorously. His thrusts elicited soft gasps from the customer’s gaping, otherwise mute mouth.

“Paul, you can’t just, fuck a customer here!” Joyce protested.

“It’s fine. She’s at least a class four bimbo. Wait until I’m DONE.” repeated Paul.

Joyce watched helplessly as her boss raped the customer’s pussy. She should do something! But she didn’t want to get fired, but, but how could she just stand here and watch this! She picked up the clothing she had dropped, then shut the door and stood outside.

Paul soon groaned and stiffened, climaxing into the open-mouthed fuck doll. He wiped up its hole and his cock with a box of tissues from the side table. He zipped up his pants and stepped outside the booth.

“Paul, what the hell!” Joyce said immediately.

“She’s class four, at least,” said Paul calmly. “Don’t you know the classes of bimbo? Check out those seams around her joints, or those nipples, or the way her face is, and tell me that’s natural. Besides which, she invited us to undress her, which she admitted was the result of one of her bimbo urges. Plus she was soaking wet. The law is clear. Go look it up on your own time. For now you have a job to do. Help the doll try on her clothes. Come get me when you’re done.” Paul strode off into the main area.

“She’s still a customer, not some prostitute,” Joyce grumbled behind his back, entering the booth. She wasn’t sure she believed her boss’s excuses, but she didn’t know enough to argue. Didn’t you have to have proof of legal bimbo registration before you could do things like that?

“I don’t know if you can hear me, Honey,” said Joyce, to the mute, frozen, naked dolly. “I have some outfits for you to try on. Would you like that?”

The doll continued to gape vacantly at nothing. It made Joyce uncomfortable.

“Now this one is cute,” said Joyce, trying to be cheerful. “Paul... Paul thought you would like something really sexy. See this neat top, it ties in front with a bow! Isn’t that the cutest?”

The naked doll-girl had no response where it reclined on the changing bench. Joyce sighed. She felt like she was talking to a brick. Paul had said to help the doll try things on.

“Let’s get some underwear on you,” said Joyce. The doll’s old panties were still bunched around her ankles. Grimacing with distaste, Joyce reached down between the doll’s ankles and pulled off the soaking wet, by now cold panties. She held them between two fingers, not seeing a place to put something so disgusting. She settled for the waste basket.

Joyce dressed the doll on the changing bench. Lacy, sexy, pink panties and bra. Thigh-high white stockings. A short gray skirt, leaving thigh exposed above the stockings. The cute white top, which left shoulders and midriff bare. A pair of slim black high heels.

She had to manipulate the doll’s arms and legs to get everything on, but that was no problem. The doll’s limbs were easily posed and would stay stiffly where Joyce left them.

“Here’s how you look,” said Joyce. She propped up the customer so she could see her reflection in the mirror. It was quite a revealing outfit, leaving no doubt that the woman was heavily modified. The bare midriff exposed the waist seam, the bare shoulders and arms exposed the shoulder and wrist seams. Joyce wiped the makeup off the neck and wrist seams so they would match the others. The doll gaped blankly, giving no sign it knew or cared what it was looking at. Except maybe—was that a blush? Was the doll blushing? Or was that just how it always looked?

Maybe Paul was right, Joyce thought, looking at the doll’s frozen cocksucking expression. This thing looked like a sex toy, and a fairly crude one at that with the exposed seams.

The toy’s open mouth drew Joyce’s eye. She shouldn’t, but... well, she was curious. Feeling slightly guilty, she slipped a finger in the hole. As Joyce had half-expected, the lips closed and the tongue began working, sucking on Joyce’s finger. Joyce pulled the finger out and wiped it on her pants.

Definitely just some creepy sex toy. There wasn’t any reason to feel sorry for her, Joyce decided.

The toy still wasn’t saying anything or moving, so Joyce was at something of a loss for what to do next. She had no idea how long it would stay like this.

“I need to get back out to help other customers, now,” said Joyce. “I’m going to leave you here. When you get, uh, back to normal, you’ll need to pay for what you have on, before you go. Okay, honey?”

Of course there was no response. Joyce felt silly, talking to a doll. She left.

A continuous trail of drool traced its way from the corner of its mouth around its cheek and neck.

* * *

In the mirror, Adria could see the embarrassing drool trickling from her mouth and couldn’t do a single thing about it. She couldn’t close her mouth or swallow. She couldn’t even look away from her reflection. She kept trying to move, her muddled head forgetting in skips and moments that she couldn’t. A sick panic twisted her guts. It was hard to think about anything but the sensual feeling of her open drooling holes. Someone should be using those holes. She was a doll and someone should be using them. That was what she was meant for. Something really didn’t seem right but she struggled to think.

* * *

Paul dragged the oversexualized plaything out of the booth, letting its high heels scud across the carpet. It had been a few hours and the dumb thing still showed no signs of humanity. A couple customers had complained about it occupying the booth. He sat it down on a chair outside the changing rooms, bending it at the hips and knees so it would fit. He looked at the various price tags hanging from the doll’s outfit. That was several hundred dollars of merchandise, right there.

Paul had high hopes the bitch would actually buy the stuff she had on, based on what she had told him about needing others to pick her outfit. She would definitely have to buy the panties, which would be ruined by now with her whore juices. Assuming she did ever snap out of the state she was in.

Paul handcuffed the doll’s ankle to the chair frame, as a precaution so she wouldn’t run out with all the merchandise on her. He gathered the doll’s things and took them to the lost and found.

* * *

“Hey, check it out!” said a youthful male voice. Three teenagers, 18 or 19, filed through the waiting area outside the changing booths.

“What happened to her?” asked one of them, chin marked by an patchy attempt to grow a beard.

“She’s a body modded whore, man,” said the first with confidence. “Look at that mouth.”

“She looks like a blow-up doll,” muttered the third, overweight one.

“Hey, stick your finger in there,” the first dared the third, pointing at the doll’s cocksucking open mouth.

“No way,” the third decided. “She’s creepy, what if she bites it off?”

The first grinned, already poking his own finger into the doll’s mouth. “She can’t move, she—" and then he yelped and jerked it back, because the doll had closed her lips.

“I told you,” said the third.

“Wait,” said the first, determined not to be proved wrong. Gingerly he probed the tip of his finger back into the doll’s mouth. The doll closed her lips and started to suck. Cautiously, the boy stuck his finger deeper, and the doll massaged his finger with her tongue.

He smiled. “She’s just sucking it! She’s a whore, man.”

“She looks really embarrassed,” said the second, noting the redness blooming fiercely across the woman’s cheeks. “Maybe you should stop.”

The first boy looked back at the blushing doll that was still sucking his finger. “Nah, come on,” he said after a few seconds. “It’s designed to look like that. Part of the body mod.”

The fat one approached the doll as well, nervously reaching out to touch her cleavage. The doll pushed her chest out at him a little when he touched it, startling him and making him draw back. But he couldn’t back down in front of his friend. He put his hand back, squeezing the doll’s soft warm breast. “It feels real,” he said reverently.

The first boy pulled his finger out of the doll’s mouth, growing bored with that. He gave the doll’s tit a squeeze as well. “You want to see them?” he asked the third teenager.

“You mean, take off her,”


The fat teenager’s hands were a little unsteady, but he untied the front of the doll’s top. The top also unbuttoned in the back, and the first boy eagerly unhooked the bra.

“That’s fucking wild,” he said, taking in the doll’s nipples. “Look at how big they are.” The two teenagers explored the humiliated, mute woman’s naked chest, pulling, squeezing, pinching and twisting, while their other companion looked on uncertainly.

The first teenager unzipped his pants.

“Hey, what are you doing?” asked the one still standing off to the side.

“I’m gonna fuck this whore’s mouth, Cooper,” said the first teenager, pulling the woman out of her chair. “You have a problem with that?”

“Nah.” Cooper clearly did have a problem with it, looking nervously around to see if anyone was coming.

The first teenager quickly figured out how to pose the doll on her knees. He gripped the back of her head and stuck his cock in her open mouth. There were soft slurping noises and the doll’s naked tits wobbled with the motion.

“There’s someone coming, Dennis,” said Cooper after a few minutes.

“Just a minute,” said Dennis, increasing his pace in the doll’s mouth.

“They’re coming right this way,” said Cooper. “I’m going.” Cooper hurried away.

The fat one looked for a moment at Dennis. Then he too left, leaving only Dennis, furiously fucking the woman’s face, trying to finish before whoever it was got here.

The boy groaned and cum spurted from his cock down the doll’s throat. Hurriedly he pulled out, letting the last few squirts decorate her cheek, and shoved his cock back in his pants. Then he was gone, bumping the doll in his haste. It toppled sideways onto the carpet.

It lay there, face burning with helpless humiliation, cum on its cheek and drooling from the corner of its mouth.

* * *

“Guuhhh,” groaned Adria. She had been having a strange dream where she was somehow stuck in a department store, and everyone was staring at her, and some of them stroked or fondled her skin, or stripped her naked, or even violated her, and she couldn’t do a thing to stop them. In the dream there had been a sex drug pulsing in her veins that froze her in place and made her horny beyond belief and let everyone do those things to her. But what she remembered most clearly from the dream was the feeling of how embarrassing every moment of it was, how much she wanted to hide from all the people. What a fucked up dream. Adria squinted and rubbed at her forehead.

Wait a minute. Adria stared at her wrist, in front of her face, and yelled out in shock. There was a crease around it. A... seam. Like on a doll, a poseable action figure. No.

No, her dream couldn’t be real.

Adria stumbled halfway to her feet and immediately fell over again because there was something tied to her ankle. A heavy lounge chair. Handcuffed to her ankle, and... she was mostly naked.

“Oh, my god, oh, my god,” muttered Adria. What the fuck was this? Clothing was scattered nearby on the floor. Before anything else she had to cover herself. Adria grabbed a lacy pink bra—definitely several sizes too big for her, but she’d take anything—and fastened it with some difficulty around her chest. Her... very hefty chest. Which the too-large bra fit perfectly, Adria discovered with a sickening feeling.

In her clouded head, Adria was starting to remember things she didn’t want to remember. Excessive arousal. Some kind of sex drug. Freezing in place, feeling like a... like a doll.

A pair of lacy pink panties were around her ankles. They were not Adria’s own panties. But she pulled them on, noticing with disgust how cold and damp they were in front.

She fastened the white top about her chest and shoulders. It was awfully revealing.

Oh my god, her doctor had fucked her! Adria suddenly remembered. She felt weird about it. Weird like... like it was somehow right for him to do that to a doll like her. What the fuck. Adria squinched her eyes, trying not to think about it, and put on the short gray skirt. Too short.

Her cheeks burned red when she looked down at the clothing on her lower body. The seams around her exposed thighs and belly, like a marionette’s seams, stood out to her. She had been wearing thigh-high stockings when she woke up and was still wearing them. Only sluts wore that kind of stockings.

She straightened the stockings a little. She put on the shoes.

There! Now she was dressed. Adria felt a brief surge of accomplishment, because she was now dressed in one of her proper outfits.

Wait, what did that thought come from? What was “proper” about this clothing? Adria’s current outfit looked slutty at best, whorish at worst. But... but... but it was proper, came that thought again.

Proper because someone else had selected it for her, Adria suddenly realized, the thought clicking into place like a puzzle piece. Joyce, she suddenly remembered Joyce dressing her and how good Adria was feeling at the time to be cared for and attended to like that. Joyce had given her a proper outfit. Adria was wearing it again now.

Dressed like a proper slut, Adria thought with disgust. But she had no other clothes.

Now there was just the matter of... the fucking handcuff around her ankle. Getting that off, finding her purse and things, and getting out of this... place.

This department store. Like in her dream. How much of the dream had been real?

Adria tried not to think about it.

“Hello?” she called out. “Hello, I need some help!”

* * *

After Adria had called for a bit, she got an employee, who got the manager, Paul.

She found herself flushing with fresh embarrassment at the sight of Paul, because she recognized him from her... dream. In the dream this man had used her cruelly, filled her up like the toy she was and... well it was hard to piece together events. Had that really happened?

“Can you undo the cuff, please?” Adria begged him.

“Are you done being a bimbo whore?” asked Paul, jingling his keys.

“I—I’m—uh, what?” Adria squeaked.

Paul just stared at her dominantly, until Adria said, “yes, I’m done.”

“Done with what?” prompted Paul.

“Done being a bimbo whore,” recited Adria, burning with shame. If that was what she had to say to get this man to uncuff her, she would say it.

“Now, you haven’t paid for what you’re wearing,” said Paul, kneeling down, but not releasing the cuff just yet. “You’re going to pay for it all, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I’ll pay for it!” said Adria. Wait a minute, pay for it how? Adria didn’t see her purse anywhere. Did he mean—with her body?

“Good girl,” said Paul, releasing the cuff. “Follow me.”

Adria followed him, where to her relief she found her previous business outfit and her purse. Paul guided her to the checkout where she paid $377 for the slut outfit she was wearing. It was a ridiculous price but Adria didn’t feel like she had any choice. She just wanted to get out of here without any more fuss.

* * *

Adria drove home late at night. It wasn’t easy—the wheel felt heavy in her hands, turned only with difficulty. It was hard to push the gas pedal down, too. As she drove, she tried to piece together what was real and what was a dream or fantasy. Everything she remembered was clouded in a fog of arousal and embarrassment. Halfway home she noticed dried... something on her cheek. Sperm? She had a memory—or a fantasy—of a young man spurting on her cheek. Probably a memory, because of the evidence on her cheek, she thought with disgust.

The more she thought about events, the more they repulsed her sensible, logical mind and attracted her body and sensual side. A doll, just a human fuck doll, a set of convenient holes. It felt perversely good from deep inside to think that of herself. She understood by now that this feeling was the Dolly-S, somehow affecting her thoughts. But that didn’t make the feeling any easier to shake.

She wanted to collapse into bed when she got home, but something needed her attention first.

Her poop filled up the toilet, dense and huge like before. She had to use the plunger, with difficulty. Another literal part of her body disappeared down into the plumbing, lost forever, leaving her even more fake and doll-like every day. She was too exhausted to worry about it.

* * *

To be continued...