|Kimmy Doll by Lilithtv F/m; drug; capture; bond; mask; dollsuit; moulds; cath; encase; mc; revenge; stuck; nc; X|
John Hupfnagle’s head was lolling forward on his chest when he came out of his stupor. He tried to raise it, but had no luck. He wondered for a moment if his neck was broken, then realized he couldn’t move any part of his body.
As he groggily tried to remember where he was or how he had got there, he realized that he was sitting upright in some sort of chair. He couldn’t see anything but his lap and his arms, which were secured with heavy leather straps, but it was clear that he was secured into something like the complex recliner you find in an oral surgeon’s office.
He tried to lift his head again, but was unsuccessful. He couldn’t even move his fingers, though they appeared to be loose of any restraint. It was as if all the voluntary muscles in his body no longer responded to his brain.
He heard a door open on what seemed to be the opposite side of the room and listened to the sound of footsteps coming toward him. He vaguely realized they were being made by a woman because she sounded like she was wearing high heels.
A hand gripped his head roughly and pulled it upright. He could see she definitely was a woman -- one in her late 30s, blond, blue-eyed and quite attractive, with hair cut medium shag length. Her full lips were twisted in a cruel smile as she looked at his face.
“So, you are finally awake,” she said, a mocking note of amusement at his perplexity and discomfort in her soft, low voice. “It took you nearly two hours to come out of it. I will have to work fast now, before the sedative wears completely off.”
She pushed his head back onto a rest that cupped the back of his neck loosely and kept his face looking straight ahead, then pressed a button that made the chair back incline at a fairly steep angle, allowing gravity to keep his head erect. The woman looked vaguely familiar, John thought fuzzily, his brain still filled with cobwebs. Then he remembered where he had seen her before. They had met at a topless bar he sometimes frequented called the Totem Pole. He had bought her a drink and chatted with her briefly. When she finished it, she bought one for him. It was soon after that that he had blacked out.
She used a rough towel to wipe his mouth and mop a pool of saliva off his chest and stomach. He realized that he had been drooling while his head hung down, and had covered his front with his spittle. He felt humiliated at his helplessness.
The blonde left for a moment then returned with something pink in her hand. It seemed to be a sort of funnel of some soft rubbery substance, since she flexed it back and forth as she examined it. She held it up before his face so he could see it clearly.
“This little item will go inside your mouth,” she said. “It is really a kind of sleeve that will hold your tongue down while clearing both your air passage and giving a channel to the back of your throat. It has a little hole in the bottom that I can slip a tube into for feeding you, and it also will allow air and water to pass through. I have painted it with a local anesthetic that will block your gag reflex. After it has been in place for a while, you will get used to it.”
She pulled his loose jaw down and slid the device back into his mouth. It seemed to John that it extended all the way down his throat, almost to his liver. The impression was an exaggeration, though. He had clearly seen that it was only about ten inches long.
At first, the sleeve did make him gag, but the anesthetic was very fast working, and he soon hardly noticed that the rubbery gadget had been poked down his throat. He found that he could swallow with effort. But his tongue was immobilized by it, so the effort needed was considerable.
The top end of the device was another matter. It was made of much thicker and sturdier rubber and wedged his jaw open nearly two inches wide. The thick portion of the sleeve was several inches long, so it filled his mouth completely, pressing his tongue down in place and holding his lips in a perfect circle big enough to hold a banana.
The outside of the sleeve had a wide rubber flange. The blonde used masking tape over his upper and lower lips to secure it solidly on his mouth.
“That will keep you from making more of a mess,” she said, surveying the seal. “Also, I want you to be silent. Completely. You won’t need to talk anyway.”
She then wrapped a loop of tape around his head, lengthwise, just between his face and ears. The restriction of the tape held his jaw tight against the sleeve. Even if he had control of his body, there was no way he could remove the device without using his hands to pry it loose. He blinked, the only facial movement he seemed capable of making.
When she attached the tape to his head, he could feel that all his hair was gone -- he sensed that the sticky tape was adhering directly to the skin of his scalp. While he was unconscious, someone had shaved his skull completely bald!
She wheeled a little metal cart to the side of the chair and took two plastic oval shaped cups from a tray on it, placing one over each of his eyes. The clear plastic shells covered his eyes like the bowls of a pair of large tablespoons, with clearance for his eyelashes when he blinked. They were a little like the little plastic eye protectors people wear in a sun tanning parlor to protect the sensitive tissues of their eyes from ultraviolet radiation.
Satisfied with the fit of the cups, she removed them, one at a time, smeared the rim of each with liquid from a small bottle, then placed it firmly back, holding each in place for a minute or two.
“That’s superglue,” she said as she cemented the second one over his eye. “Cyanoacrylate, to be more precise. The fumes may sting your eyes a bit, but that can’t be helped. Nobody will be able to see that they are bloodshot and irritated anyway.”
She pulled a pair of thin black latex gloves onto her hands, stretching them tautly and releasing them with a snap.
“I don’t want to get any of this next lot on my hands,” she said matter-of-factly. “It is simply hell to get it off your fingernails once it dries.”
She picked up a small jar and used a narrow, fine-bristled brush to carefully paint its contents around the base of the plastic cups. After a moment, she repeated the process.
Helplessly paralyzed, John could only blink under the little plastic domes as a cold knot of fear grew in his stomach and chest.
“This is a type of epoxy resin that hardens on contact with the air,” she said as she worked. “It is the stuff that is used to mold the Kimmy doll – a soft, skin-like plastic that feels remarkably warm and lifelike, but is almost as tough as armor. It is really ingenious stuff. I know, because I am the one who invented it. Five years ago, while working for you.”
She looked at him with an expression of hatred that would have peeled fresh paint.
“I’m Agnes Dalton, a chemist,” she continued in a bitter tone. “You probably don’t recognize me. Of course there isn’t any reason why you would. I am just the person who came up with the Kimmy doll’s skin – and then saw your lawyers make sure that I never saw a penny from my invention.
“In fact, I got canned within two months of coming up with this plastic,” she said as she continued to daub the cups with the goo. “I didn’t even get severance pay. I vowed someday to get back at you for what you had done to me.”
She smiled unpleasantly. “Well, that day has finally come, Mr. Hupfnagle.”
She moved peered closely at his face as she finished applying another coat of the goo around the edges of the plastic cups. “I am building up a nice little gasket around these lenses that will help hold them in place. I will be using a lot more of this resin on your face eventually, but it is important to make sure I don’t get it all over the plastic lenses, since that would make it difficult for you to see.
“And believe me – I want you to be able to see.”
John wanted to cry out for her to stop, but he was barely able to swallow, and his feeling of helplessness added to his panic. This woman -- Agnes Dalton or whatever her name was -- was obviously quite insane.
When she was satisfied with her handiwork, she put the little pot down and picked up four little lengths of rubber tubing. She guided two of them into John’s nostrils and placed the other two in the canals of his ears.
“I want you to be able to breathe, too,” she said, as if answering his unspoken question. “And I want you to be able to see and hear. It is important that you be aware of everything that is happening to you. Otherwise, there isn’t any sense in doing this in the first place.”
The tubes in his nostrils were uncomfortable but John could breathe easily through them. The problem was, he didn‘t know how long he would have to. His panic increased.
With his eyes covered and his breathing and hearing unimpeded, the woman picked up a larger jar of the same goop she had painted around his eyes and used a wide brush to spread the material over the rest of his face and head.
John wanted to resist, but he was still utterly incapable of motion. He could only lie back and watch as she painted layer after layer of the peach-colored material over his face, neck, ears and naked skull. At first the sensation was almost soothing, like having some sort of lotion daubed onto his skin. But after a few moments, the goop began to warm up. It seemed that when the resin hardened, it gave off considerable heat. The stinging and burning sensation was almost unbearable. John would have screamed, had he been able.
The blonde finished with the pot of gooey liquid plastic and put it down. He watched helplessly, his face burning with the heat of the chemical reaction, as she casually fished a cigarette out of a package on the metal table, inserted it between her sensual lips and fired it with a small gas lighter.
Exhaling smoke, she leaned forward to check whether the plastic she had painted over his head had set. She tapped at his face with a rubber-gloved hand. It made a dull thud on the well-hardened plastic shell that now covered his head down to his shoulders.
“Hope you don’t mind if I smoke,” she said with a smile. “Filthy habit, I know. But I just can’t seem to break it. This seems to be just about cured. Sorry about the heat, but that is just the way the stuff works. It‘s the chemical change involved in the hardening process.”
She used a pair of surgical scissors to snip off some of the rubber tubing that protruded from his nose and ears and then picked up a small mallet and tapped it against John’s head in several places. It made a hard, inanimate clunk where it struck the light-colored pink plastic surface.
“Good,” she said, replacing the tool. “Take a look for yourself. “
She held up a large hand mirror to his face. The reflection that he saw was simply that of a shapeless head-sized blob of plastic, completely smooth and featureless, with no visible ears, nose or mouth. The eyes were simply small bubbles of clear acrylic that seemed to have been set into the peach colored plastic.
His head now looked like some sort of bizarre sculpture -- an abstract human bust, stripped of all the humanity. Only holes where she had cut the plastic tubing off even with the smooth plastic showed where his nose and ears had once been. His former mouth was a large circular hole - the sleeve - in the lower part of the featureless plastic head shape. John blinked again, helplessly. The heavy layers of plastic had completely erased his own familiar features.
“That takes care of the first phase,” she said, setting the mirror aside. “Now we begin phase two.”
She moved to the tray on the table and removed something from it just outside his peripheral vision. She seemed to spray something onto it, then turned quickly and slipped it over the front of what once had been his face, adjusting it slightly on the sides and top to fit over the mounds where his ears had once been located, then holding it down snugly.
After a few moments she took her hands away from his head and looked at him carefully, her mouth a small bow of concentration. Whatever she had put over his face had lined up with the plastic cups so he could still see. It also apparently lined up with what was left of the rubber tubing inside his nostrils, as his breathing was unobstructed. He listened silently to the shallow whistle of his breath as it passed through the tubes.
“Very good,” she said finally. “Now we need to finish the eyes.”
She picked up a piece of cup-shaped plastic that was slightly smaller than the ones she had placed over his eyes, only this piece was translucent and white, and had a clear center that was cornflower blue. She applied a little superglue to the rim and carefully positioned it over the clear plastic cup that covered his left eye. Then she repeated the process with his left, taking great care with the placement.
She took another deep drag on her cigarette while the glue finished hardening and then moved completely behind John for a moment. He could feel pressure on his plastic-covered head as she fitted something over the top of it and adjusted it at the sides. When she returned to his field of vision, she was wearing a broad smile of satisfaction.
“Perfect,” she said. “Here -- take a look for yourself.”
She held up the mirror again and John stared with horror at his image.
Looking back at him was a provocatively painted woman, with huge, grotesquely sensual brick red lips pursed mid-way between a suggestive pout and a come-hither kiss. She had darkly rouged hollows under ridiculously exaggerated cheekbones, a ridiculously pert button of a nose, and pencil-thin eyebrows painted in a permanently lascivious arch over vapidly staring blue sex-doll eyes that were framed by huge curling black eyelashes. Framing the ridiculously erotic wet-dream of a face was an ornate, outsized hairpiece of jet black curls piled high and falling in loose tendrils at the sides and back.
He knew that face well. It was an incredible life-sized reproduction of the popular doll “Kimmy” that John’s company manufactured -- a doll that had been marketed so cleverly that it had flooded the industrialized world, surpassing Barbie and all her cousins in popularity in a period of only three years.
The doll was a toy manufacturer’s dream -- and a feminist’s nightmare. Kimmy was peddled -- with unbelievable success -- as a totally useless, air-headed sexpot, bereft of any redeeming social value. Unlike Barbie, whose grotesque physique wasn’t even vaguely human, Kimmy had a detailed physiology that was a composite based on three years’ worth of centerfolds from a popular men’s magazine -- only with her measurements were further punched up with the guidance of a secret marketing survey that involved more than 8,000 men from all over the Western World between the ages of 22 and 47.
Her detailing was precise. Forget anatomically correct -- Kimmy was complete in every possible way, from finger and toe-nails to her pert, permanently erect nipples to the pink lips of her vulva. She was a perfect wet-dream of feminine beauty from head to carefully detail toe, but she stood just 22 inches high.
The doll was more than a success -- she was a total craze. More than 100 million had been sold in the first year she was on the market, and the factories in six countries that manufactured her had never closed for more than maintenance since she began production. It was an open question how many of the dolls had been bought for pre-teen girls -- and how many were being privately fondled by middle-aged men and pimple-faced pubescent boys.
In fact, it was widely rumored that the doll was a runaway hit among certain American and European lesbian communities.
The reaction against Kimmy was almost as powerful a force as the doll’s commercial success. Kimmy had been thrown on bonfires by the hundreds at liberationist rallies from Sydney, Australia to Tokyo, Japan. Many top women’s rights advocates claimed she was the kind of openly sexist toy that brainwashes pre-teen women into subservient slaves to the male gender.
And she was John Hupfnagle’s brainchild. He had created the doll -- based in large part on his extensive collection of soft-core pinup art. He had pitched her to a top venture group and secured financing because every money man in the room at the time thought Kimmy was the sexiest toy he had ever seen. The doll was such an iconic sexpot that most heterosexual men found her irresistible.
But what what really made the doll was the texture of the plastic she was made out of. She consisted of a stainless steel armature that was covered by a molded flexible plastic “skin” that carried all her curves and other details. The armature was movable once the skin was sealed into place over it. The skin was the big selling feature – the plastic was soft and had the feel and look of real human flesh, smooth, fine pored and flawless. What’s more, the plastic maintained a constant temperature around 98 degrees, regardless of how cold or hot it got. The miraculous plastic made the doll feel exactly like a miniature human female.
He vaguely remembered the day that the supervising chemist for his corporation had brought the material to him. As soon as he felt its texture and warmth, he realized it was the perfect material to make a doll from. Almost spontaneously, he flashed on a doll quite unlike any on the market – something that would appeal to a much wider audience than young girls. He imagined a life-like doll with exactly detailed human features, right down to the fingernails. He imagined a doll that would be so gorgeous and sexy that men would buy it, too.
He couldn’t remember how the plastic had come to be invented – only that somebody on his staff had come up with it. He did recall, however, that his lawyers said the formula for the plastic would be more valuable than the doll itself. He could also remember telling them to get control over the patent for the material – by any means necessary.
At the time, he had given no thought to how his orders would be carried out. He wouldn’t care even now if he wasn’t strapped into a chair under the control of the person who had been victimized by them.
“Beginning to get the picture, Mr. Hupfnagel?” the blonde said as she put down the mirror and took another drag on her cigarette. “You had a material given to you that could have had countless different uses. It could have been used medically to save lives. It could have become the basis for a new generation of plastics for use in industry. It could have been almost anything.
“But you chose to use it to make a doll,” she continued. “And not just any doll – a sex doll. You are the man who created the ‘Kimmy’ sensation. Your sexpot doll is in the hands of half the impressionable girls in this country. She has become a pre-teen role model of millions of girls who want to look like her, dress like her, act like her: a mindless sex object for exploitation by men.
“And in the process of enriching yourself, you damned near ruined me!” she concluded with a vitriolic glare.
“Don’t worry about that,” she said as she deposited the empty needle on the table. “It’s a potent hypnotic drug. Just something that will make it impossible for you to resist following any command I give you when you regain control over your muscles in another half hour or so. By then, your new face and head will have completely set and we can move to phase three - finishing your transformation into a life-sized, totally subservient, living version of your little plastic bimbo.
“Then you are going to get a chance to find out, first hand, what sort of life is in store for those young women if they grow up aping your beloved ‘Kimmy.’”
John knew now that the woman was quite stark staring mad. To think she could get away with this, she would have to be. After all, he was a multi-millionaire, a captain of industry. He was an arbiter of public taste.
And, so long as he was in her power, he was a wide-eyed human version of his world-famous doll! A robot – and one she could make do anything she wanted.
He realized that the plastic she had used to turn his head into that of a sexy plastic doll was cooling down as it set up, and becoming more resilient and flexible. He had never actually witnessed the process of making the plastic, but he knew how it behaved because it had been explained to him by his technical advisors. As the chemical reaction that turned the material from a viscous liquid into a solid progressed, the plastic first became hot and hard as glass, but it softened and became more pliable as it cooled down. The plastic resin was the primary trade secrets of the Kimmy doll. It gave the doll its flexibility and poseability, and provided Kimmy with her soft-feeling “skin.” It was virtually indestructible, but extraordinarily malleable.
His panic had reached its peak. He realized that there was virtually no way to stop the blonde from carrying out her mad scheme. She had already sealed his head in a virtually indestructible mask. Once she had encased him in the tough plastic form of a life-sized Kimmy doll, nobody would ever know that there was a living man inside it. For all intents and purposes, he would have vanished from the face of the earth!
The woman removed her black gloves with a rubbery plop and placed them on the tray. The cigarette dangling from her lips, she once again tapped the plastic surface of his face. This time there was no wooden reverberation. The “skin” that sealed his head was reaching its normal semi-soft state.
“I’ll be back shortly,” she said as she turned to leave. “When I get back, you’ll be ready to get your sexy new body. Then we will find out whether a human version of ‘Kimmy’ goes over with the public.”
John swallowed again as she left the room. Doing it was somewhat easier now that the plastic was softening. Also, he could feel some degree of motor control returning to his body as the first drug she had given him - probably in his drink at the nightclub - wore off.
He tried to speak but found that the sleeve she had inserted in his mouth cavity and throat, held in place by the tough plastic crust that covered his head, made it impossible to make anything but a quiet grunt deep in his throat that was completely muffled by the layers of plastic that surrounded it.
He tried to shout, but the only result was a murmur that was totally inaudible.
With some effort, he turned his head, the only part of his body that wasn’t securely fastened to the dental chair. The interior of the room - at least, that part of it that he could see - gave him no clue where he was. He slumped back and tried to relax. Whatever was going to happen to him was beyond his control. Overwhelmed by stress and fear, he drifted into a troubled sleep.
When next he awakened, the blonde was unfastening the straps that held him down. She looked at his impassive doll like face with a sadistic smile.
“Awake, honey?” she said mockingly. “Good. Time for you to get pretty!”
She moved back. “Stand up,” she said. “If you have trouble, I will help you.”
He was unable to disobey. Whatever Agnes had injected into his arm had completely sapped his will. He struggled and pulled himself upright, tottering slightly, then go his balance and stood uncertainly, awaiting further instructions.
“Come with me,” she said, taking his hand. “Time for you to get a girly body to go with that sex-doll face of yours.”
He followed meekly. His normal physical strength had returned completely, but he had no control over it. She was totally in charge of him and she knew it. He simply had to do what she said. He couldn’t help himself.
She led him into another room with a long, wide workbench on one side. The counter was cluttered with cans, jars and various items made from what appeared to be the same flesh-colored plastic as his new - and seemingly permanent - doll’s head. She stood him next to the bench and ordered him to raise his arms and clasp his hands behind his head. He did as he was told. The soft synthetic tresses of his sexpot hairdo felt strange under his hands.
She picked up a corset made of the peach colored plastic and fitted it around his midsection, then slowly secured it by lacing it with two long cords from the bench. As she laced up the garment, he felt it grow tighter and tighter, squeezing his lower ribcage cruelly. She used a heavy hook to pull the laces even tighter, using the weight of her body and the leverage of her knee in his back to tug the cord as far as it would go. When she finished, she tied the cords in a tight knot and cut off the excess with a pair of industrial snippers.
He could barely breathe inside the truss. Although he could not see the plastic corset, he knew that it must have reduced his 32-inch waist substantially. The pressure was almost unbearable.
Next she picked up a pair of jiggly silicone forms and held them up so he could see them.
“Recognize these?” she asked with pleasure. “They are perfect replicas of the ‘Kimmy’ doll’s breasts - only sized up to fit a doll that is built to a human scale.”
He stared helplessly at the glistening plastic blobs, knowing they would soon be mounted on his own chest. At human scale, he realized how totally oversized the doll’s breasts really looked. It would be impossible for a real woman that size to find a bra big enough to support her. Of course, that fact was unimportant with Kimmy, since she never wore a bra under any of her two-dozen costumes anyway.
One at a time, she smeared a clear liquid on the inside of each form with a brush and then carefully positioned it over John’s own nipple, holding it in place for a minute or two to allow the cement to set. Then she assessed the results critically.
“That looks just about right,” she said finally. “A little higher than such huge boobs would be on a real woman, but definitely provocative.”
John stood in helpless silence, fearfully awaiting the next “improvement” she had in store for his body.
She lifted an item that looked something like the sleeve she had put inside his mouth and throat, only not quite so wide and a bit longer. It was made of the same material as the sleeve - more of the tough, flexible plastic resin - and he realized with horror that it was designed to be inserted in his body the same way, only at its opposite end.
“This is something special for your bottom,” the blonde said, looking at the device with pleasure. “Turn around and bend over. Put your hands on your knees and hold that position until I tell you to change it.
He complied in silence. He could feel her smear a cold gooey material into the end of his anus, pushing it up inside with a finger and smearing it in the inner canal thoroughly. The narrow end of the sleeve followed next. It felt huge as it entered his asshole and he grunted -- inaudibly inside his plastic-sealed head - as she drove the shaft of the sleeve into his anal canal with a steady slow motion, turning it as she fed the gadget into the orifice.
At first, the pressure was excruciatingly painful, but as she worked the tube into his bottom, the sensation became almost pleasurable. John realized with horror that he was getting an erection, his penis swelling and engorged as the blonde massaged his prostate by inserting the thick rubber sleeve.
It must have taken nearly a half hour to push the device thoroughly up inside his anus. He could feel the flanged upper edge of the funnel-shaped mouth seat inside the cleavage of his buttocks, holding the hemispheres of his ass spread apart as surely as if a length of pipe had been inserted. He could feel her daub a thick liquid around the edges of the sleeve as she held it in place, and the burning sensation that soon followed confirmed his suspicion that she was sealing the sleeve in place by surrounding it with the flesh-colored plastic material that now masked his head.
She held the sleeve in place until the heat reached its peak, and then tapped the resin holding it in place with a screwdriver blade. The wooden click of the iron on the plastic let her know that it had set enough to hold the sleeve inside his ass.
“Come on over here,” she said, patting John on the back to signal he could stand.
He followed behind her, walking stiffly because of the plastic column that filled his anal canal. She led him to a gynecological examination table on the far side of the room. Walking with the sleeve inside his bottom was an unusual experience. The rubbing gadget massaged the inside of his anus in a manner that stimulated him sexually and increased the size and firmness of his erection. At the same time, his engorged penis swung back and forth with each step because his gait was somewhat exaggerated by the way the sleeve spread his cheeks broadly.
She made him sit on the examination table and swing his legs into the stirrups. She cranked back the table until his was reclining at a 45-degree angle, then spread the stirrups wide apart, giving her complete access to John’s enlarged penis. She smiled when she saw its size and redness.
“So, Kimmy likes anal stimulation, does she?” she said mockingly. “She’s such a slut. But that’s good, because she is certainly going to be getting a lot of it.”
She picked up a length of thin flexible plastic tubing with a stiff plastic tip, dipped its end into a container that gave off the odor of alcohol and shook off the excess liquid. Gripping his cock firmly in one rubber-gloved hand, she slowly fed the stiff end of the narrow tube into his urethra. The sudden pain made John lurch involuntarily.
“Hold still,” she hissed as she slid the tube inside. “It will stop hurting soon.”
He did as she ordered and she continued to run the tube up into his penis.
“This is a catheter, so you will still be able to pee after we build you your new vagina,” she explained as she worked. “You will be able to relieve yourself like you always have with this in place. Only now you will have to sit down to do it.”
His erection had softened as soon as she inserted the tube and she now pushed each of his shrunken balls up into the cavity of his pelvis and pressed his flaccid penis over them while she used a strip of surgical tape to secure it flat between his legs. She looped the catheter tube back alongside so that the open end of the tube pointed forward and then secured it in position, too, leaving a small portion of the tube unobstructed.
With his legs spread wide in the stirrups, she slathered more of the liquid flesh-colored epoxy between his legs, brushing it over his taped genitalia, taking care to avoid obstructing the small hose. Once again John felt the area where she painted on the viscous liquid grow unpleasantly hot as it hardened and set. As soon as it was cool to the touch, she applied another coat. The sensation of heat seemed to diminish with each successive coat as the hardening plastic insulated his tender pubic skin from the high temperatures generated by the chemical reaction. Soon his legs were locked by a heavy coating of the plastic that completely covered his groin from the bottom of the tight waist cincher to the middle of his thighs.
As the plastic cured the woman held up a small molded piece of the soft plastic that has been used to create his doll’s face. “This is your new pussy,” she explained matter-of-factly. “Once it is sealed on between your legs, your urine will be conducted through the catheter into this little opening. That way, you just pull down your panties and sit on the potty to pee.”
She did an exaggerated double-take and pretended to slap her forehead with the palm of her hand. “Oh – I forgot! Kimmy doesn’t wear any panties, does she?”
She bent over and attached the tiny catheter tube to a coupling inside the flesh-colored mound of the artificial vagina. When she was satisfied with the connection, she brushed some of the patented liquid polymer onto the back of the piece and positioned it carefully on the plastic lump beneath which his penis was sealed.
“All of these little modifications to your body are permanent, you know?” she said in a chatty tone. “This is the way you are going to be from now on – until the day you die, in fact. We have a lot more to do, honey, but first we wait until the plastic cures enough so you can move your legs again. You are going to have to stand up so I can finish fitting you out with your new, ultra-feminine body.”
John’s panic was beginning to fade, partially because he couldn’t physically sustain that degree of agitation for an extended period of time. The stress would probably kill him if he did. But the primary reason he was beginning to calm down is that he realized this woman did not plan to kill him. She was clearly planning to keep him alive or all these elaborate preparations would be unnecessary. So there was always the possibility that someday he would have an opportunity to escape.
At least he hoped so.
After about a half hour had passed, the hard coating of plastic that she had applied had cooled off completely and become flexible again. She pressed against the thickest part of the coating between his legs and he could feel the pressure of her finger on his groin through the softening seamless resin shell that now covered his crotch. In his excited state, the pressure felt good against his pinioned cock and balls. They responded by filling with blood in an erotic rush, but the hidden swelling was invisible to the eye.
“OK,” she said finally. “Swing your legs over to the side and climb down from there. You have to stand up so I can get you into the rest of the costume.”
Unable to control himself, John did exactly as she ordered, marveling at how flexible the thick “Kimmy” skin was. He was able to stand and move his legs without difficulty and he waited obediently while she went to the workbench.
When she returned, her arms contained a garment molded from the plastic that now covered John’s head, chest and crotch, already cured to complete flexibility. It looked to be a one-piece body suit of the soft pink material. She unzipped the back and made him raise one leg while she started his foot into the bottom of the suit, and then repeated the process with his other leg. The legs of the suit ended in molded feet, complete with shiny red plastic toenails in the same color as the lipstick that adorned the Kimmy mask John’s head was now permanently sealed inside. It took her only a few moments to stretch the pliable garment over John’s own toes and feet. Afterward, she pulled the costume’s bottom up over his legs like a pair of tight-fitting leggings, snugging it up to his pinched waist carefully and taking care to press out any air pockets or wrinkles that formed in the material.
Once she had the suit to his waist, she continued the process, tugging and smoothing the upper torso portion of the plastic costume up over his abdomen, gigantic artificial breasts and ribcage. She took her time guiding his arms inside the molded arms of the suit, complete with hard plastic fingernails that were the same color as Kimmy’s lips and toenails. Stepping behind her compliant victim, she pulled the garment as snugly as possible as she slowly worked a zipper in the back opening closed, stretching and adjusting the plastic “skin” as she went to eliminate folds, creases and trapped air.
Despite his predicament, John had to admit the garment was cunningly made. The feet fit tightly over John’s own. There was a small soft “cunt” in the crotch of the suit that lined up perfectly with the plastic vagina contraption she had used to replace his cock and balls. The molded breasts fit over the bulging forms attached to his chest exactly, and had nipples complete with aureoles.
The suit was constructed so that the buttocks and hips were wider and thicker than John’s own, giving his body the appearance of an idealized female hourglass. The neck of the suit just overlapped the neck of the plastic mask that encased his head. With a coat of the liquid plastic over the zippered seam in back, and another over the seam between the mask and the suit, the costume would literally become a one-piece doll’s body, with no detectable openings or flaws that could be seen. It was a remarkable piece of fabrication.
“This suit is made with a little rosebud of an asshole, honey, just like the Kimmy doll,” Agnes said as she used the liquid plastic to seal the suit closed. “It’s very soft and fits right over the sleeve, so you will be able to go potty when you have to. I already showed you your little plastic pussy in front. Of course those openings work both ways. You can enjoy being sodomized from the rear, and fucked from the front. We wouldn’t want all that feminine beauty to go to waste now, would we? After all, Kimmy is a perfect male fantasy, designed and built for male sexual adventures.”
She added a few more touches to the rubbery but nearly indestructible skin, checking all the joins with a large magnifying glass to make sure they were completely erased. Finally, she put the liquid epoxy and brush back on the counter, stripped out of her latex gloves and lit another cigarette.
Her expression showed she was pleased with her efforts. “That is just exactly perfect,” she finally said with satisfaction. “There’s a three-way mirror over by the far wall. Go and look at your new body. Touch yourself while you look, like you were showing off for a lover. Be as girly as you can. You are going to be nothing but a mindless girl-toy from now on, so you might as well begin to act the part.”
John was powerless to resist her commands. Even though his conscious mind wanted to run out of the workshop and away from his tormentor, he found himself helplessly swaggering to the mirror with the exaggerated gait of one of the women in the many porn movies he had watched avidly while designing his dream woman, “Kimmy.”
The figure that stared back at him from 180 degrees mirror took his breath away even though he had helped design the “Kimmy” prototype and had seen thousands of versions of the doll, both dressed and naked. Seeing the same doll blown up to life size was mind-boggling, not to mention incredibly stimulating in a sexual sense.
He was now a living version of his creation – a sex maniac’s fantasy brought to life. And the worst nightmare of every woman’s rights activist in the industrialized world.
Hupfnagle could barely believe the image before him in the mirror. His glassy cornflower blue eyes, lined with long, thick gently curving lashes, stared impassively at the reflection, the very picture of mindless sexuality. His lips were pursed in a permanent moue that invited a passerby to plant a juicy kiss on them. His doll-like features were framed by wisps of long, softly curling black hair in a loose up-do with bangs held in place with a large clip-on bow.
The head was slightly large for the body, so his fourteen inch neck seemed slender as a stalk under it. His narrow shoulders were now softly padded with alabaster plastic skin that flowed down into slender arms with shiny, talon-like fingernails. The skin flowed over mammoth, jutting breasts with dark mauve nipples, a ridiculously narrow waist and huge womanly hips and buttocks that seemed to quiver with barely suppressed eroticism as he moved. It continued over his pale, hairless female pubis and the lips of his swollen vulva and down into perfectly proportioned long legs that ended with neatly pedicured red nails.
He primped his hair helplessly as he posed, one leg forward and balanced on the ball of a perfect foot, then let his hands move seductively down his outsized breasts, cupping them suggestively. The image of his red, curving fingernails pressing slightly into the soft flesh of his huge soft flawless breasts was enormously erotic.
His proportions were now perfectly those of the Kimmy Doll, only spread over a 5 foot eight inch frame. The result was outrageous. His bust size was easily 44 inches and the pert mounds of his breasts would easily fit into a double D brassiere cup, if one could be found. His waist was a tiny 28 inches by comparison, and the hips below it swelled gently to at least 40 inches.
He placed his perfect hands on those hips and did a slow pirouette, feeling the heavy fleshiness of his breasts jiggle with a liquid motion as he turned.
He performed a slow grind in front of the mirror, one hand behind the soft curls at the nape of his neck, the other cupping one huge breast, and then he turned his back to the mirror, bent with his legs straight and apart at shoulder’s width, put his sexy woman’s plastic hands on his ankles and watched his reflection in the mirror from between his perfect thighs as he swung his large inviting ass from left to right seductively. His little artificial asshole seemed to wink back at his impassive doll’s face from the looking glass.
The “Kimmy” suit fit him so snugly and precisely that he could not even perspire inside it. There was literally not a fraction of a millimeter of space between John’s own skin and the plastic layers that had been permanently bonded to it.
He knew that tight fit meant there was no way he could possibly pinch a fold of the plastic sufficiently loose to cut a hole in the suit without risk of slashing his own skin underneath. For all intents and purposes, “Kimmy’s” skin was now his own. The only way to remove it would be to soak it off in some horribly corrosive solvent that would probably dissolve his skin as well.
He realized with finality that he was stuck inside this ridiculous doll’s body – perhaps for the rest of his life. There was some chance that his own body oil would eventually loosen the plastic skin that encased him, but the prospect seemed very, very remote. It could take years to happen – if it happened at all.
Still swaying and gyrating helplessly for his captor like a nymphomaniac in heat, he sobbed deep in his throat as the reality of his situation struck home.
Of course the sound was completely silenced by the thick plastic mask that formed his new, exotically feminine head. Although his eyes filled with the first of what would be many tears, not a trace of his hopeless distress showed on his mindlessly sexy doll’s face.
Kimmy wasn’t the type of doll that cried.
Story continues in Kimmy Doll Postscript
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