End

DAY 01

I gasped sharply as the hot spray from multiple jets slammed my naked body yet again. The liquid did trickle down my form, but it dried rapidly, that plus the fact that the jets kept firing at me at regular intervals meant that the coating was setting quick. The first coating. My heart hammered in my chest at the anticipation of further spraying; further drying; further loss. My body was locked in the sort of frame that splays you out like Da Vinci's "Vitruvian Man". There was no escape, nor did I really wish to.

My torso was rounded and feminine. I had been attempting to transition between the two main genders before I gave up.

I shriek as the jets scald me again, the latex slowly melding into the prior spray slowly forming a shell.

For this process, bits of me have been emphasized for the future use I will be placed in. This emphasis has been laden out by means of plastic injection, into my lips, my nipples and areolas, the ring of my anal aperture and the veining tracing up and down along my penis. These injections have served to plump up and set rigid these parts of my body like sealant.

The spray blasts me again. I can't even arch away from it. Every bit along the profile of me is set into the frame and the jets spray the latex at every angle. It has even coated my shaven head, down over my face. I see nothing and all I hear is the raucous hiss of the jets when they fire.

My genitalia had been shriveling away to nothing through the use of transitional hormones. But the apparatus that they have rigged around my cock is ensuring that its size will be considerable for pleasure. There is a tight harness around my testicles to plump up the sac and ensure it is bloated at all times. There is a sleeve around the shaft of the penis and a sort of infrastructure of a cage built round the sleeve. A long tube has been inserted deep into my urethra. This tube once exiting my penis has been stretched back along the shaft, mindful of kinking and then snaked up my body between my breasts; held strategically in place by taping. All, of course being coated in the latex. Right now, my shaft juts out farther than it ever had in its natural erect state.

My fingers have been slenderized and elongated to an almost alien-like quality. The finger pads broadened and flattened to resemble the pads on the webbed toes of frogs. I have been allowed flexibility in the fingers and when I press them together, they almost feel like suction cups.

Minute subcutaneous devices have been inserted under the skin in a few places; the lips again, the nipples, genitalia and anal ring. I am under the impression that these machines are programmed to vibrate and stimulate by remote.

The latex continues to drench my body, but I feel the heat and momentum of the blasts less and less now as the thick coatings dry.

DAY 02

Blackness. Everything is dark. I believe that I have been stored away somewhere. The final shell allowed to dry and become one piece. I felt the sensation of hands rubbing over me at some point last night. Perhaps some last form of shine or polish being applied to my "skin" But, my senses are still dulled as they have not put their finishing touches upon my "face". My hearing has even faded and dulled. I have to breathe through my mouth for they have not formed my nostril holes as of yet. My mouth is stiff, the lips feel alien, all thick; the muscles more attuned to remaining wide open now through the rigorous drying and setting...

Time has passed, and I am now enduring the most painful part of this process. My teeth are being pulled one by one from my jaw. I'm crying and the tears have nowhere to go. My mouth is wrenched open so the choking cries of pain sound more like guttural animal groans than any human sound. Someone passes a suction valve around my mouth every few seconds to drain away what I can only imagine is a mixture of some parts saliva and most parts blood.

Once the teeth have all been removed and my mouth cleaned, I can feel numerous pinches and a bit of inflation. I believe my gums are being injected with more of the plastic substance that adorns other bits of my body. I feel rubberized caps being jammed into the holes left behind by my teeth. The slack from the tube leading from my penis has been pushed down my throat causing me to gag until it feels natural sitting there within me. A plate of latex has been slid atop this, within my mouth and around and under my tongue to seal the tube in place. The inside of my mouth feels swollen and spaceless...

I am aware of so little. I had always likened my gender dysphoria to being held prisoner within my own body. If anything, this process, this voluntary death I have put myself through enhances that feeling exponentially.

It is getting so hard to think. My body is in pain that I can barely even feel. My mind feels drowsy. It's so hard to concentrate, so hard.

The only thing that I can feel without end is the throbbing in my loins. The heat. The unending heat...

At some point they came and freed up my nostril holes and cut around my eyeholes. They fitted me with some contact lenses that make the vision I have been granted very glassy. I do not believe they are intended to enable me to see, rather to put up the appearance of doll's eyes. I can also see a cage of long curled lashes have been affixed to my lids whenever I blink.

I can see many more dolls in various stages of the process and various states of dress. They are all vaguely feminine and yet androgynous. Some are very obviously more feminine than others. But they all remind me of the very sensuous feminine and androgynous suit worn by Marilyn Manson as he draped himself in lanky disjointed poses all along the liner notes of his "Mechanical Animals" album. Strange how human, and yet inhuman these dolls all look.

How I will look...

DAY 03

It's getting hard. It's getting so... It's getting so... It. It. Hard. Hard. Can't... Think...

USE 23

The mixture of sounds penetrates its hearing. The squeaking of its skin. The high-pitched giggle/cry/moan of unbridled joyous pleasure from its owner. The muffled cracked choking sobs and grunts of itself.

USE 77

My... Na... Myna... Na... Me... Mm.. Is... Mis...naa.. My... naaaaaaaaaa... Myynaaaaaaaaammisss...

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The following is a disclaimer from the Mitchell-Tauton Fetdoll Corporation. The previous is the only surviving material from the discourse of thought recording from one of our products. The remainder had been wiped and incinerated as the being in question who had been keeping the material of its transition recorded no longer exists. All belongings, accessories and identity pertaining to the product's previous life have been destroyed. We at MTFC hope that you enjoy the flawless working and lifetime warranty of your device.