Dollification Pt. 01

He woke up in a room wearing only a t-shirt and boxers, completely unaware of how he got there or why. It wasn't a particularly large room - it was perfect cube, all white walls, white floor, white ceiling. The only thing that was different was that one wall, just opposite to him, was all a mirror, and he could see the look of bewilderment and confusion on his own face. As far as he was aware, he had all his limbs, he wasn't in pain, and he seemed to be thinking clearly. That was a good start. The rest, however, was a complete mystery, and the only reasonable conclusion he could come to was that he'd been kidnapped. How his memory prior to waking up was blurred out, he was still confused about.

Just in front of the mirror stood a white tripod-like stick, and on top of the tripod, a small cube, no larger than his fist. It was near-transparent and slightly blue, it even glowed a bit, and he knew from the moment he laid eyes on it that it wasn't natural. Something was in there. In lieu of freaking out, he sat up from his position on the floor, pushed himself against the far wall away from the mirror and the tripod.

"What's going on?" he asked aloud, but the room ate his words and there was no means of a response. Another few minutes passed, and still refraining from exploring the other object in the room, he swallowed his breath and wondered if this was the end.

Or perhaps not? The center of the blue cube began to glow. Like a heartbeat, actually. It lit up and then went back to normal in intervals, slow at first and then, anxiously, gaining speed. At this point he was sitting up completely with his back against the wall, but unsure of what this cube was going to do, he began to prop himself up, first hunched and then standing up all the way. He was about as far away from the mechanism as possible and yet he didn't feel far enough.

The blinking light picked up speed even further, faster than a heartbeat, and it became so quick that the young man could barely tell something was happening anymore. The light became brighter and he squinted his eyes, tried to block the light with his hand. At the worst of it, he began to hear a ringing in his ear, and right when all the terror of this small object reached its climax, an overwhelming flash flooded the room.

What next?

His eyes were completely closed in fear, but when he realized he was still not in any pain, he opened them. What was different? He looked around the room to find nothing, but in the mirror saw that - wait, his shirt is missing? He looked down to inspect the difference, and right as he did so, an unexpected second flash flooded the room again. After that, his boxers had disappeared and he was completely naked.

His first instinct was to cover himself, which he did, slightly hunched over. But from what he could tell, there weren't any cameras, much less someone to embarrassed in front of. He was all alone, and still wondering what this was all about (and increasingly concerned in the process of mysteriously losing his clothes) he ceased hunching over and decided to take a closer look at these farther walls.

Looking for a crack in the wall, something to indicate a door. He ran his hands up and down every inch of these white walls, but found absolutely nothing. He was in a chamber with apparently no escape, and while he wasn't claustrophobic, that terrifying thought sent a sweat through him. Was he ever going to get out?

That's when things started getting weird. Analyzing the tripod and the cube, he made sure not to touch the cube itself, merely look at it from every angle. It had briefly ceased blinking, thank goodness, but it still had a faint glow to it. It drew him in. Against his better judgement, he touched its front face.

An instant blink of light, blinding again. Every time this happened it completely caught him off guard and removed him from his senses, if only for a moment. In the next second, he thought absolutely nothing had changed. His vision, which after the blink was becoming less and less blurry, initially saw nothing in the mirror. But then he felt something around his legs, up his sides, and in the reflection he saw that his legs were far smoother than they were only a moment ago. He looked - down.

Pantyhose?

His arising suspicion of aliens or government agents felt immediately nullified, and not that it disappointed him, but it upset him that his leads were cut short. Not pleased with the instant feminization, he grabbed the top of the pantyhose and attempted to pull down.

Wait. What? Nothing. The tight fabric didn't budge from his waist, and this time repositioning his hands to push it from another angle, he tried again. Still nothing. He was stuck in a shiny tan pantyhose, nearly perfectly matched to his skin tone. They ran from toe all the way to his waist, just below his belly button, and though they felt nice - strange as the observation may come to him - it felt almost invasive to have them on against his well. Still, they pulled everything in so nicely. There were no folds or creases, much less any runs, and there was a soft sheen that ran up and down his leg from the reflection of the overhead light.

Against his better judgement, he felt himself up, and it was strangely glorious. It felt so good against his soft skin. He was surprised his leg and pubic hair weren't causing any problems.

Wait! Caught in a brief moment of euphoria, he hadn't bother to look at himself, and now spotting himself in the mirror, he saw that all the body hair he had from the waist down - a dark brown color - had all disappeared, and in its place was perfect smooth skin under spandex.

Whether this was magic or technology, he didn't care. What did matter was that it scared him and he wanted it to stop.

Blink! He was blinded again, and this time, he was scared to observe the changes. But he could feel it - around his torso, his crotch, his ass. When he opened his eyes, he dreaded to see he was wearing something even more feminine than the pantyhose, which still were on underneath: a one-piece swimsuit. It was a soft baby pink, opaque and super shiny, and it tugged at him in all the weird places. They cupped his balls, pressed his semi-flaccid cock flat against his lower stomach. He felt the back digging into the crack of his ass and lifting his cheeks, turning around to see that they were significantly rounder than they were previously.

Wait, is that a trick of the eye? He turned sideways to view himself in the mirror and cupped his butt in both hands, weighing them considerably. Was this suit just contouring him considerably, or did this feel and look significantly more... meaty? He squeezed himself tight and felt the thicker swimsuit fabric rub over the pantyhose, and it felt silky and slippery and soft. Again, somehow, the suit fit perfectly to him and there were next to no folds or wrinkles. It was simply perfection. He had a relatively thin build, average to lacking muscle, and the way it sucks him in just so - it gave him hips. Not even man's hips. More-so, androgynous hips leaning on feminine. He could see the way the suit pulled his shape just inward to make his backside and thighs a little curvier.

What the hell was going on? For at least a minute after this suit was magically fitted to him, he was stuck in the daydream of his own body, and it felt foreign. He shook his head and willed himself to have a moment of clarity, of rationality. What was going on? He reached around to the back of the suit where he expected a zipper to be, but there was none. He tried then to pull the tank-top-like sleeves off, something that should be very easy, but they didn't budge. Instead, the suit adjusted himself and held tight to him, molding his body more and more with every minute.

Molding him? He looked in the mirror and tried to find his reliably masculine silhouette, but with the widening hips and the thinning waist, he saw less and less of it, and worse -

Oh my god. His bust was growing. It was a subtle change at this point. He must've been an A cup only, but when he turned to the side, he noticed a definite difference. He looked down and fruitlessly tried to push them back in, as if he could mold himself, but the small layer of fat didn't seem to go away, not at all.

Blink! Another flash flooded the room from the small cube, and this time he felt pushed back to the wall. When he looked at his arms immediately after, he was panicked to see that the suit had extended from the shoulder straps all the way down to his hands, his fingertips. As if he were wearing gloves, but connected to the suit. A leotard? So many things were running through his head but all he could really notice was that same shiny, opaque baby pink, a material privy to catching the light easily and reflecting it. It made his arms and hands look slimmer. In the mirror, the width of his shoulders eased.

What the hell was happening? At this point he was freaking out, and the swoop-neck of the one-piece, at becoming this gloved leotard, traveled up to become a faux turtleneck. He desperately grabbed at it and tried to pull it down his chest, but there was no give, not an ounce. This suit - these parts - were made to fit and never come off, and he thought with a panic that maybe he was stuck like this for good. His breasts were growing, his hips were fully curvy, and his ass was full round - a bubble butt.

The worst of all was the sensation of his balls being cupped by the suit were slipping away. He looked down, saw that the lump that was his crotch was minimizing, even his cock. The way it pressed against his stomach, it faded away slowly by the second. He tried to grab what remained of it, wanting to keep some semblance of his manhood, but in the next moment it was completely flat. He rubbed at it and desperately tried to get some means of sensation, and while he couldn't feel anything like a dick, something else sprung inside him.

Pleasure. Touching his flat crotch woke something up deep inside him, and while he knew this wasn't what he should be doing, he kept rubbing and rubbing, trying to awaken something deep inside him. He'd given way to lust even in this moment of panic. Even still, he kept his sanity, his true self, his inner conflict nearly reaching a peak.

Blink! It was the last time the cube would flash like this, but he wasn't sure how he knew that. Instead of dwelling on it, the physical sensations of his change were too distracting, and his feet felt different. His face felt different. He first looked down and saw strapped to his feet two high heels, the same shade of baby pink, and before he could lean over to inspect them he knew he had to check his face.

In the mirror, the faux turtleneck traveled upward and fully covered his face, his head, his ears. There was no identity for him to recognize in this hood suit, and when he reached his hands up to inspect the difference, he was terrified what it would mean. His body was changing in ways he couldn't imagine, all completely against his will, and he felt like a toy.

Maybe he was a toy?

He approached the mirror for the first time since the new transformative clothes started attaching themselves to his body, and he saw the last of the changes coming into play: the last of his apparent muscle tissue softened, his arms thinned. The worst of it? He saw the features of his face slowly disappear, the suggestion of a nose and eye socks and lips flattening out like he were a pure doll.

No! He tried to find some attachment on the back of his head, something to pull off this hood, but it was all for naught. His cock was gone, he had full sized breasts, and he was no longer a man. No longer a human. He was a doll, for better or worse, with all the right parts to please. He reached to his crotch, felt the mold start to open up for him. The materials of the suit, alien in the way they fit to him and responded to his actions, opened up, revealing a tight, soft pink spandex pussy, and behind him a matching ass to accommodate. When he removed his hands, it closed up again and became perfectly flat.

He was someone's play thing, and he wanted to scream, but nothing came out. Not even a whimper. His voice box was nullified, his personality all but swept under layers of spandex.

With his stomach in a knot and his heart beating at a thousand miles a minute, he felt like he was about to shut down. On the contrary, however, right when he felt like he was at a mental breakdown, everything silenced in his mind. A forced calm, something he couldn't control. He still knew something was wrong and that he ought to scream about it, but there was a blocker, an insistence to remain calm. From his perch in front of the mirror, having leaned over to inspect his face, he slowly stood back up at full height. This wasn't his choice, he didn't think. Maybe? His will was molding with that of his new form, the doll. His muscles relaxed and he stepped back to the center of the room. When he finally felt perfectly level headed and free of worry, a door opened behind him.

"She's perfect." She turned around to face the voice, and there were two men standing there. One, older, wearing a black suit with his fingers clasped together. The other wore a three-piece gray suit and had his hands shoved in his pockets, hiding what looked to be large muscles under his clothes. The doll figured this was the person who first spoke. The other man began talking.

"We can start out your trial for a week, so long as you tell us what awareness levels you want her at, as well as what sexual desire. Because this is a trial, her new form will expire after a month, unless you are satisfied with the product and want to take it on a full run."

"So right now she's fully aware what's happened to her?"

"We do have some blockers on her to ease panic, but that can all be adjusted per your desires."

"I like it more when they're aware of the process."

"Then I suggest we start at 20% submission. She'll be aware of herself but won't be able to fend you off. We've upped the maximum pleasure she can feel so that even the slightest touch of a man such as yourself will please her, and hopefully this will convince her to give up any semblance of individuality in the coming week. She'll be conflicted."

"Sounds perfect."

"Doll," said the older man, the apparent seller. He held out his hand and the doll anxiously came forward. The older man flipped to handle the back of her hand, and then touched it like a sensor pad. She felt herself change from the inside - how she had changed, why she wasn't herself. Strangely enough, a sensation all too overwhelming to her was the simple touching of the man, which sent shocks through her. The older man looked at the muscular customer and gestured for him to approach her, and without any warning, the young man firmly grabbed at her waist. "I'll leave you alone so you can test her out."

Test her out? Before the doll could process that, the seller left the room, locked it tight behind her. The young man immediately started undressing, taking off his blazer and unbuttoning his shirt. He was well naked within half a minute, and he approached her, squeezed her waist and reached around, selfishly groping her hot round ass.

"On the floor," he said, and while she wanted to protest, her body betrayed her and descended to the ground immediately. He came after her, and pushed her gently to the ground. He was leaning his rock-hard body over her silky smooth spandex, and in the next moment she felt the entire weight of shift onto her. He grabbed her legs and widened them just so, with his still around hers, and he felt up the upper part of her stomach, slid his hand up to cup her breast, which he squeezed tight. His hard cock was rubbing slowly against her crotch, and then it picked up speed. The spandex responded to his request and opened up to reveal a soft, wet hole, and without wasting any time he penetrated her right there, on the floor. She held her breath at this new sensation, this otherworldly sensation, and right when she thought it couldn't get any more intense, he pushed in. He cursed.

Her body was responding in ways she never dreamed of. Her hips slowly thrust forward to meet his, and just when she thought he thought he couldn't get any deeper, he bottomed out his ten-inch cock into her. She saw his eyes roll in the back of his head in complete ecstasy. Ten whole inches - he probably invested in a doll just to feel the pure, full reception of his raging hard cock, something few real women could give to him without complaint. The doll, knowing that this was wrong but desperate to feel more and ultimately driven by lust, grabbed at his lower torso and begged him to penetrate her deeper. He pulled out some, let the air breath between them, and then thrusted back in. Her wet hot pussy clamped around him perfectly, a silky smooth and inhumanly tight feeling, and he couldn't hold back. He started going at it faster and faster, this doll sensation unlike anything he ever felt before, pumping in and out of her with as much intensity as he could muster. He placed his free hand around her neck and held tight, held her in place, and knowing that she wouldn't even come close to losing her breath because of this form, held fast.

This was his doll and he could do anything he wanted to her, to the person inside, and they had no choice but to feel good and feel sexy, to feel the feminine orgasm. She finally let out a long, breathy moan, her first sound since she became a doll, and it was nothing like she ever sounded before. She was his plaything, for now, potentially always, and against that white floor he finally came in her, an intense thrust with all the weight of his body on hers. This was possession. This was dominance. This was her owner.