Barbie Doll

Pete smiled down at her, seeing the shocked expression on her face that mingled with the desire she felt. "You are transforming into the perfect love doll, Becka darling. You are learning to respond so strongly because your purpose from now on is to be used, and whenever I take you out to play with you, your body will feel unrestrained pleasure and yearn for more. Your body will try and entice me to use it more and more, like a drug."

Things were moving faster now. Becka stared up at her owner, the word just slipped into her mind. It felt so natural. In fact she struggled to remember the word she used to use. Then like a distant drum it echoed back to her: lover. That was it, Pete was her owner. No wait.... What was that word again? She struggled a moment. Oh yes, that was it. Owner, of course. Of course he was her owner, what else could she be thinking.

Becka's arms slid to her sides as if carried by a breeze. They hung outwards forming a V from her shoulders and her fingers splayed out. She was losing the ability to grip with them, they were just able to pat. Then she felt a ripple run down them, and her muscles tightened and then relaxed and wasted away. In a last involuntary reaction to the chemical changes within, her elbows bent lifting her hands upwards from her body now prone on the bed. Her fingers pointed out, inviting and open. She was defenceless now, and from the corner of her eye, she saw the seams snake along them and around her wrists. Her nails on her fingers turned crimson and seemed to melt into her fingers. The sharp edge faded into rounded red tips.

Becka couldn't move her head any more. She was staring up and Pete was looking into her eyes. He was smiling, showing her he loved this sacrifice she was making for him. He was pleased with her and he mouthed the words "Good girl." Or was he mouthing them? Becka felt her hearing dull down. She couldn't hear any noises now. She imagined her ears, beneath the strands of her long black hair, melting into plastic: The holes through which sound penetrated into her skull closing up, sealing over with latex encasing her forever from sound. She was locked inside. Her mouth stretched like she was yawning. It was as if her face was tensing up into a shuddering convulsion. Her mouth was stretched wide and round. She felt no air blowing inside, her throat becoming sealed behind a protective sack of pink latex. The round gaping pink hole of latex forming in the centre of her face, dominating it as all other expression and features melted into plastic.

Her eyes were wide and she could feel the pleasure rippling around inside this latex skin that was enveloping her. It didn't feel like an orgasm now, but this incredible pleasure was no longer a sensation to be experienced and savoured. This was her, this ephemeral pleasure was all that she was now and it defined her existence. She needed this man, her owner, to pick her up. She needed his cock to slide into that open hole in this doll face. For only then would this pleasure exist, only then would she herself exist. Once discarded, she would evaporate like the morning mist as the sun rises, as the afterglow of sex fades. She only existed as the pleasure of serving her owner, whilst her doll openings were being fucked. She had no reason to exist otherwise.

Becka stared up at her owner, her vision dimming as her eyes faded into round plastic discs. She begged to feel the touch of her owner picking her up, of servicing his cock with her holes. Then she would become, and be that pleasure, the pleasure in serving, in being his property, for his use. She needed him to use her. That is all she knew now.