Reluctantly, Jane undid the string of the small rectangular box that had been set before her.  The top unfolded, to reveal a wrapping of tissue paper.  Inside, cradled in the tissue lay a small figurine.  It was a doll, crudely modeled in plastic.  Its features owed more to male fantasy than anything feminine. Long blond hair topped a smiling face, whose most prominent features were its pouting red lips.  A black plastic brassiere and black panties barely covered well-endowed hips and breasts.  Its legs were angled apart, rude and inviting.

Yet even as she picked the doll up, Jane felt the first inklings of the spell that had already caught her two companions.  Suddenly, she was warm, comfortable and no longer afraid.  Deep down inside, another soft voice could still just be heard warning her to beware: warning that this very lack of fear was itself part of the enchantment. But the warning was quickly overwhelmed, lost in the stronger feelings of well-being that now permeated her body.

The wizard raised his hand, indicating the second door in front of her.  Jane stood up and stepped forward.  She walked to the door, which swung open at her approach.  Beyond the door was a large and partially lit room apparently devoted to the celebration of sexual debauchery in all its forms. It was laid out like a gallery or exhibition.  The lighting was low, giving an overall impression of intimacy.  Here and there, spotlights picked out little tableaux set in alcoves around the wall, or laid out on platforms raised slightly above floor level.

And what scenes were represented there!  In one, the figure of a young woman was attached to a frame that fixed her, on all fours, to the floor.  Her head and neck were equally fixed, forcing her mouth to rest between the legs of another young woman, equally immobilized, but seated before her.  Behind her, kneeling, a young man knelt, teasing her behind with his massive erection.

Next to this, a woman dressed from head to toe in leather was posed, whip in hand, arm upraised over the naked buttocks of a bound and gagged young male.

In a third, two women writhed, intertwined, mouth locked against mouth, each gently rubbing a hand between the other's legs.

And so on.  Each scene was laid out in such absolute lifelike detail that, despite an awareness that these were no more than models, mannequins lewdly posed for their owner's pleasure, Jane could almost believe they were real people.  Especially as each time she turned her head she sensed that somewhere on the edge of her vision these things were truly happening.

And again, she felt surprise.  She was getting turned on by the surrounding sculptures even though, that still voice of warning told her, 'She was just not that sort of girl'.

One corner of the room was laid out more like the interior of a sex shop.  Glass fronted cases held every conceivable variant of sex toy.  Chains and handcuffs: dildos and vibrators in every shape and size.  Racks of clothing.  And to one side, a row of little recessed alcoves containing the ultimate horror: life size dolls.

As she turned toward this corner, she felt again the warm comfortable feeling she had had when first she entered the room.  She heard, too, that nagging warning.  But one more time, it was the comfort that won her over. Jane stepped forward.

She examined each alcove and its contents in turn.  Over each display was a little placard: Randy Mandy; Busy Lizzy; Delicious Delilah.  Inside were three very different figures of satisfaction.  Mandy was crude, little more than a large balloon with pouches for her mouth and vagina.  Lizzy was more substantial and, as a diagram at her side indicated, could be activated to provide more elaborate pleasuring: press upon her clitoris, and her vagina would start to pulse, alternately expanding and contracting around whatever was held inside it.

Finally, Delilah, the most realistic of the three, could almost have been mistaken for a woman asleep.  The only giveaway were those impossibly pouting lips and opened inviting legs.

It was then that Jane noticed the fourth alcove.  Above it, a placard carrying the single word: 'slut'.  Inside, a pair of black vinyl plastic panties and a matching bra, heaped atop a steep pair of shining black high-heeled pumps.

For no reason at all, the idea came to her that it would be fun to trick the wizard by hiding from him; what better way to do so than as disguised as one of his own exhibits.  Impulsively, she slipped off her dress and shoes and kicked them under the nearest cabinet.  They were quickly followed by her bra and panties.

Then she pulled on the scant costume that had been in the alcove.  She was a little disappointed at first to see how her pubic hair peeked through the centre of what turned out to be crotchless panties: but then, glancing at Delilah, she saw that doll too had mock pubic hair - so perhaps that would not be noticed.

She heard - or thought she heard - a noise coming from the direction of the door.  There was nothing for it but to see her deception through and get into the alcove.  Carefully, quietly, she slipped the shoes onto her feet, stepped up into the doll area, and turned around to face whoever was coming.  It was not easy maneuvering in the confined space.  Her task was made more difficult by the presence of a column that, she now saw, was used to support each doll.

It rose up in the middle of the alcove, forming itself at the top into an arrangement a little like a bicycle seat.  There was nothing for it but to straddle the column in the same unladylike position as the other dolls.  With her legs in position she was able for the first time to gain for the first time a 'dolls' eye view of her situation.

She noticed now for the first time that situated opposite the alcoves was a large panel mirror.  It amused her to see how very like a doll she looked.  Why, if no-one knew better, she smiled, they might take us for four dolls and not just three.

She was still smiling when she became aware of a figure gazing upon her.  The wizard had indeed entered the gallery, and was now stood admiring the view in the mirror.  He turned toward her slightly, and smiled in a way that suddenly made her shiver.

'It is such a useful mirror, that', he drawled meaningfully.  'I call it the mirror of truth: it shows things how they really are.  Or, rather, how they should be'.  He waved one hand through the air in front of him, and briefly the mirror clouded over.  When it cleared, Jane drew in her breath sharply - for now it showed all too clearly four dolls.  The three she had seen before, and herself, now changed, subtly altered into a blonde big-breasted likeness she half-remembered from somewhere before.  The very image of a wanton sex toy that men would call 'slut'.

'No-o-o.'  She forced the sound out through lips that felt as though they were made of lead.  She leant forward, intending to rise from her pedestal.  But her muscles would not respond.  Her arms hung limply by her side.  Her legs held her up, but  were otherwise incapable of independent motion.

Between her legs, something was happening.  The seat seemed to be molding itself to the shape of her crotch.  A lump was rising up, pushing against her pussy lips.  Now the lump was elongating, forming itself into a firm warm dildo that was steadily insinuating itself into her body.

It began to pulse and vibrate.  As it did so, Jane felt the warm comfortable feeling return.

She felt sexy.  She needed to be filled up, screwed, fucked.  Across the room, she could see the expression on her face giving way to one of dreamy pleasure.  Her hair shimmered and lightened: grew longer, fuller; became blonde.

Her mouth gaped open, forming a sensuous 'O' of pleasure.

Her breasts felt as though they were being pumped up like a car tire.  She could see them visibly expanding, filling out the plastic brassiere until it fitted like a second skin.  Her nipples were on fire.  She could see them, hard and erect, protruding through two little holes she had not previously noticed in the skin of the bra.

She could feel herself coming.  Her whole body stiffened.  She arched her back.  Then, as she felt the first spurts of something warm and sticky jetting up and into her body, she lost consciousness.

When she came round, she could not move.  She was aware of another presence, which she assumed to be the wizard.  And she could see herself, now reflected as she truly was in the mirror opposite.

A blonde, big-breasted and - she was pleased to see - pube-less doll.  A very tiny voice deep inside said: this is terrible.  I am a woman.  I cannot be used like this.

She ignored it: she was conscious of the emptiness in her mouth; in her pussy; in her arse.  I hope someone fucks me soon, she thought.  And her lips and pussy and arse tingled in anticipation.

Although she could not see it, the sign above her alcove now read 'Bawdy Barbie'...

17.05.07