A Gift for Him

by SFT

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© Copyright 2011 - SFT - Used by permission

Storycodes: Solo-F; F/m; dollsuit; mask; pose; display; glasscase; stand; encased; stuck; tease; torment; mast; cons; X

This story is covered by the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/3.0/ )

I've been starting to think the females in my stories have been, well, flat. They only exist largely to service the plot, and have few real characteristics. So, in this one, I've decided to see if I could figure out the personality and motivation of a female. (Expect unrealistic shit. :)


I've always hated her.

She was so self-obsessed. Never had time enough for people. Always doing things that would affect later, never now.

It started with all the studying. If it wasn't study, it was work. If it wasn't work, it was self-improvement. No fun, no relaxation.

No dreams.

She never really wanted anything distinct. Finish school, get a job, be successful. There weren't any specific details. Whatever was best, she did. Whatever had the most promise, she did.

Of course everything went swimmingly. Straight A's, promising career, financial security. But none of it was something she actually wanted. Everything was something someone else told her she wanted.

But with this package, it would all come to an end.

I wouldn't have to be her any more.


The package was long, brown, and fairly nondescript. About the size of a small set of drawers from a do-it-yourself furniture outlet. Everything inside, though, cost well over two thousand dollars.

I did want some of things I have. But I'm not sure if the things I wanted were ever actually my idea. School and career, self-improvement and health, that was all my parents and relatives.

Even this. I'd be lying if I said this was entirely my idea. It was his to start with.

Yes, I'm doing all this for a boy, cliche as that sounds. Still, it's not like he asked me to do this. This was an idea he kept from other people. Something he needed to keep secret, if only so people wouldn't think him antisocial.

It wasn't a horrific idea, just completely politically incorrect. He probably feared that people would misjudge his attitudes towards women if they knew. Or perhaps not misjudge, but correctly judge.

Objectification, he called it. It has come to be known as an abhorrent idea nowadays, the concept of a woman as an object. Women have spent millions of hours and words on fighting it. Only his version wasn't simply on a philosophical level, but a very literal one.

He wanted a woman, embraced by the trappings of artificiality.

He wanted a doll.


He owned many objects, of course. Every time I saw him, he was in the midst of acquiring or caring for objects. Figurines, manga, electronics. And he fawned over them. Ownership involved care. They were all kept in pristine condition. Figurines in sealed glass shelves, temperature and humidity controlled and free of dust and dirt. Manga kept on a shelf, sorted by genre and author, the most valuable ones kept inside small translucent bags and never read. Electronics, carefully sorted in boxes, static and magnetic field free.

Whenever I saw him around them, he always treated them with utmost respect. Protecting them from harm, viewing them with love in his eyes. And part of me wished he treated me as such.

I wouldn't say I'm attractive. I take care of myself, so I have a relatively slender build, but my hips and bust are far from what one might think of as desirable. My face, as well, isn't the type one would say is beautiful, or even plain average. My nose is too large, my eyes too close together, and I possess an annoying underbite.

He never really cared about those things when he was around, but he never really looked at me either. I am really not the sort of woman who would typically fall under the objectified label.

But I wanted him to. He took such good care of his possessions.

I wanted him to take care of me.


I know what you're thinking. Why do I want such things? I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I have up until this point. I don't need him.

But I've had enough of such thinking. It's so very tiring. I know I can do it, so why should I be forced to do it for an entire lifetime?

I'm tired of taking care of myself. Just once, just this once, I want to be taken care of. I want to not have to think about myself.

I want to feel something new.

I want to trouble someone. I want someone to think of me. I want to be free of this responsibility that I've had to carry.

It doesn't have to be forever. It can be just for now.

And opening this package lets this begin.


Opening the package revealed a bright, smiling face, with wide, open eyes. My new face.

Beneath that, carefully folded, was a fleshtone pvc bodysuit, custom tailored. My new skin.

Aside those were a dark, long wig, a slight, dark dress, and a tube of lubricant.

I undressed quickly, then I tied off my hair, trying to make it as small as possible. I then took the lubricant, and carefully rubbed it across my entire body. The bodysuit was tailored to my exact size and shape, so this was a requirement to even begin to put it on.

It was a neck-entry suit, with no other seams or zippers, so first I had to get my legs into it. I carefully rolled up the legs of the suit, the way you might do with pantyhose or stockings. I then inserted my foot into the stretchy neck portion of the suit, carefully directing it into the right position, and then carefully unrolled the suit over it, slowly smoothing over any wrinkles, and pulling it taut as it went over my shin, past my knee, and over my thigh. I repeated the same with my other foot, reapplying lubricant as needed, and raised the neck entry up to the position of my hips.

I entered a standing position, and smoothed my hands over my new legs, carefully catching any wrinkles and removing them from existence. The plastic legs were now impossibly smooth, much smoother than I could ever get my original ones, even with regular shaving and waxing. I began to enjoy the feeling of them, but then realized that I still needed to get the rest on.

First things first, though. I retrieved a few soft pads from the box. These were vitally important. The first two pads had small strings around them, and fit like wristbands. These covered over the front of my wrists, disguising my pulse there. The third pad was shaped like a thin neck brace, and went snugly around my neck, disguising my pulse there as well. The fourth, and largest pad, went around my chest and back, covering over my breasts as well. This one not only disguised my heartbeat, but also disguised my breathing as well, holding my chest relatively still even as I took normal breaths.

Over top of this, I pulled on the rest of the suit, starting with the arms. There was quite a bit of fight here, as I had specified my measurements to the manufacturer without mentioning these pads. I tugged, and worked my arm into one side, carefully filling out the fingers, then covering my shoulder. and then did the same with the other, pulling the rest of my suit over my body in the middle. Last, I stretched the neck piece over my own, and searched with my now plastic fingers over the back, identifying the hood, which I then pulled over my ears and compacted hair.

I looked at myself in the mirror.

My body was now perfectly smooth plastic, except for my face, which would be going away soon.

I returned to the box, and retrieved the face, as well as its matching head.


The head piece itself was actually two pieces, split into a left and right side, which easily clamped around my old head. They was made of fibreglass-reinforced plastic, and also held breathing tubes, which I inserted into my nose. These tubes went around my face and extended down to the back of the neck. The face of the head piece was open, since the only purpose for it was to correct the shape of my head for an animeish look, and serve as a holder for my new face.

That face was made from a stretchy, cloth-backed pvc, to match the exact tone and sheen of my new skin. It was designed to stretch over the open-faced head portion and fit snugly around the neck, disguising the breathing tube in the back and allowing only a very slight edge. In the upper portion of the large, animeish eyes, there were holes, allowing for vision, but small enough to appear black in normal lighting conditions.

Pulling it into position was a bit of a struggle, as it was designed to just barely fit, and the material had also been made to be somewhat resilient and easily return to its original size. After a few minutes of careful pulling, to prevent tearing, it finally shifted into position.

I looked into the mirror again, and a plastic figurine looked back at me.


I was... beautiful.

I don't think I ever dared use that word concerning myself before, but now, I was.

The defects of my old face were completely overwritten by my new one. My eyes were now large, well spaced, bright, and inviting. My nose was slight, and unobtrusive. My mouth was slight as well, and formed a delightfully coquettish grin.

Further, the defects of my old body were overwritten as well. My old, slender, uncurvy body, now enveloped by this new skin, had a new softness to it. The suit accentuated my slight bust and bottom, giving me the appearance of youth and fertility, instead of the blank impression my old ones did.

My eyes wandered to my genital area, and marveled at the blank smoothness there. True, this new me was now basically a mule, her ability to procreate buried away, but that didn't matter.

There was nothing left of the old me. I'd locked her away.

Now, there was only this doll.


I'm not naive. I don't expect this to last forever.

I know him. Once he finds me, he'll likely want me to change back right away. I never told him I'd do this, after all. I know he'll claim to not want this, but that's just the pressure of society upon him forcing that choice.

But my new body has tricks to it. At first, hopefully, he won't even know I'm here. And once he does, he won't be able to figure out how to release me right away. And I certainly won't show him how.

Still, he'll eventually figure it out. Make me return to my old life, return to not caring about anything but some ill-defined future.

But at least, for a time, I can stop caring about those things. I can be blank. And hopefully, he'll look at me the way I want. Care for me, the way I want. Keep me close, the way I want.


I returned to the box, and retrieved the small dress inside.

It was then I noticed. Every movement I made had a corresponding squeak.

I needed to fix that, and so replaced the dress, and took the lubricant once more, using it to oil my new skin. I applied it to every part of my skin that rubbed against another, eventually silencing my movements.

Then a thought occurred, and I walked over to the thermostat, turning it as low as it would go. My new skin would likely trap my sweat, and I needed to be able to stay cool for as long as I could.

I suppose I failed to mention this before, but I'm in his house, right now. It's almost quarter to seven, the time he usually gets home from work.

I quickly slipped into the dress, and grabbed the wig as well, pressing it into place and giving it a quick, hasty brush. I then took all the evidence I had been here, my old clothes, the box, shoes and related, stuffed them into a closet I knew he never checked, turned off all the lights, and then slipped into his bedroom.

There, I sat on his bed, attached a note to myself, and quietly waited, completely still.

The note read, "A gift."


The clock on the wall hit quarter to seven, and he failed to appear.

I suppose it was possible that he was late. During large projects, it would happen often. But he was supposedly between projects right now.

So, I waited. Might've been traffic.


My mind began to wander, and with it, so did my eyes. They looked over all the things in his bedroom. His manga was in the study, and his electronics were in a completely different room, but this room was where he stored his figurines.

Each figurine stored in its own glass container, with individual lighting to suit the look of each one. He must have spent a fortune creating this setup. The lights were off, of course, but the layout, and the expense was obvious.

And now, here I was, just another one of his figurines.

I know he'll take good care of me.


The trouble with being with yourself for too long, and not doing anything with that time, is that your mind starts making up stuff.

I started thinking about myself, and about him, and about what I was doing.

Why was I doing this, again? I know he had some fantasies about this sort of thing, but I certainly didn't. Though come to think of it, I didn't really have any fantasies of my own.

Sure, I had desires, but could you really call my desires fantasies? To be held, to be valued, to be cared for? A fantasy is something...fantastic, not mundane like those.

Also, I can't say that I'm doing this completely for him, either. Like I mentioned before, he doesn't even know I'm doing this. Further, this is going too far even if I was completely obsessed with him.


Am I completely obsessed with him?

Sure, he's very attractive, but I wouldn't say I'm obsessed with him. Just enamored. Sure, enamored. That's a good way to put it.

So no, I'm not just doing this for him. I'm doing this for myself, too. This is my clean break from my usual life, even if it doesn't last too long. It's my chance to stop being so self-obsessed and stop thinking about myself.

There's a plan.

Stop thinking.

Stop thinking.


No, thinking about stopping my thinking doesn't stop me from thinking.


Say, what is with that large glass case right across from the bed, anyway? It's oddly empty compared to the ones beside it. Perhaps he was saving it for something important, or for further expansion.

And what was that sound just now, the one that sounded like a door slam?


I tensed for a second, and then relaxed into a still pose just before he entered the room and flicked on the lights.

He was still dressed in his work suit, his tie half pulled off. He entered the room from the left hand door, passing right by me, and disappeared outside my field of vision to the right.

I couldn't turn my head to follow him, that would reveal myself too quickly. So instead I kept my head steady, and listened intently, though the sounds were somewhat muffled through my new head.

I could hear the rubbing of cloth, and the soft plop as cloth landed on cloth. He was undressing.

I chose not to think about it. I didn't dare excite myself, revealing myself too soon.

Soon the rubbings stopped, and after an empty moment, were replaced with the sounds of running water. Many droplets, to be precise.

He was taking a shower.

I could relax for a moment, since he could not see from the washroom.

I turned my head to the right, and saw that he had closed the bathroom door.

I had a bit of time to myself again.


I figured I had about five minutes.

So I spent that time familiarizing myself with my new body. I might not have to move it right away, but when I did move it, I should at least appear to be somewhat familiar with it.

Bending my knees and elbows, flexing my fingers, and shrugging my shoulders, I found that everything felt somewhat stiffer than my old body. A slight bit of resistance whenever I moved. I hadn't noticed before, being too seduced by the smoothness at the start, and too hurried afterward. Still, it was easy to adapt to a normal rate of movement, I just needed to push a touch harder than usual.

The same could be said for my sense of touch. I could certainly still feel things through my new skin, but there was a bit of a floating zone in between brushing my fingers against something and actually pressing in to feel anything. It was subtle, but worth noting. Also, I had more or less completely lost my sense of touch all around my face and head, the sensations absorbed by my new flesh there.

I would have to work around that.

My vision was also quite limited, reduced to a narrow field right in front of me. I could still get around, if I wanted to, anyway, and probably even read, but ultimately I lacked all peripheral vision and a good chunk of what was within as well.

My sense of smell was pretty much dead as well, as the plastic smell of the tubing pretty much killed anything I could be smelling at any point. I might catch something extremely pungent, but that was about it.

My new mouth was sealed, so I had no sense to taste.

And finally, as I had noted before, my hearing was quite muffled. It greatly reduced out a good part of the higher pitched noises, but low tones, such as footsteps or the sounds of falling droplets of water, I could still easily hear.

Though that particular sound had stopped now.

I quickly forced my body back into position sitting on the bed and relaxed just before I heard the door open.


He definitely saw me this time. I could hear his footsteps clearly approaching the bed where I sat.

I couldn't quite see him, but I'm sure he could see me. I wonder what he was thinking. Did he suspect I was here? I hope not. It's too early for that.

I felt a hand slip over my dress, and take the note I had carefully taped to myself earlier.

He must be looking at the note. Must be thinking who I'm from or something. Maybe he'd even think of the old me? No, I don't think he even knew I had the key to his house. I did just give his parents some excuse about dropping off something big for him, just to get that key.

Well, perhaps they told him. And I was a big thing to drop off, after all.

A hand grabbed my wrist now, and flexed my arm slightly. Yes, I'm poseable. You can go ahead and play with me, if you like.

But the hand didn't do any such thing, and released me.

Finally, he came into my view again. I quietly cursed only being able to stare forward. He was wearing casual clothes now, a shirt and sweatpants. He was walking towards that glass case across from the bed, the empty one.

And I finally noticed. There were no shelves on that case. It consisted of one, large display area.

And it was just my size.


He opened the glass door, and began tweaking with the lights embedded in the top of the case, activating them and adjusting them to fill the empty space.

Then, having done that, he walked to a closet on the right, and retrieved some sort of plastic pole with a round plastic clamp attached, which he installed within the case, the clamp just below his waist level. The clamp easily filled most of the space horizontally, with only a few inches between it and the glass walls.

It looked like I was next. He walked up to me, and straightened me out into a standing pose onto the bed, carefully flattening out my dress, and running his hands through my new hair, straightening it from the rush job I had done with it.

I took the pose easily, but remained quite stiff otherwise, to give the impression of poseable joints within me.

He then picked me up quite easily, carried me to the case, and stood me up within it, placing the plastic clamp around my waist and closing it around me with a snap.

He then carefully posed me within it, moving my hands to clasp each other at my chest, my legs slightly spaced apart, and my face staring slightly down and forward.

And with that, he looked at me, nodded slightly, and closed the glass door.

I was now part of his collection.


For the longest time, he just stared at me.

I was glad I had the breathing tube positioned behind my neck. If I breathed through the front of my new face, the glass in front of me would fog up immediately and ruin the illusion.

Though the staring made me feel self-conscious, honestly. I kept my eyes fixed upon his, trying to figure out where he was looking.

His eyes seemed evasive, though. Rolling this way and that, up and down, shifting when I thought he might be staring at something in particular, staring when I thought he was looking for something.

He didn't ever look away, though. His eyes were always upon me, part of me if not the whole.

It felt... uncomfortable.


But wasn't this what I wanted?

I wanted him to look at me. See me with something in his eyes other than a simple acknowledgment of my existence.

Maybe it was the separation between us. Between the me I used to be and the doll me, the one I was now. I couldn't shake the thought that he still wasn't looking at me.

The old me was part of the problem, though. He never bothered looking at the old me. This new me captivated him, at least.

His eyes scanned me again, from my feet, up along my legs, to the fringe of my dress, and further up, to my waist, over my bust, and to my face.

Maybe it was because I was still a little unfamiliar with my new body. I knew the proportions of my old one like, well, the back of my hand, but I couldn't really tell what he was looking at now. Only generally, and that knowledge bothered me.

It was then, when I took my eyes off his for a moment, and I noticed that he was smiling. Not a smile of greed, or of intent, but one of joy, of happiness.

And suddenly, everything felt right. He was looking at me. It didn't matter what me he was looking at. It was still me.

And I made him happy.


I felt bad for being swayed so easily.

Why did making him happy make me feel so happy in return?

I'd made other people happy many times before. I'm sure of it. Sure, most of the time it was indirect, like simply helping someone out because it was the right and proper thing to do, but I never felt so ecstatic about it.

Maybe he was special. His happiness was certainly important to me.

I thought back again, to why I chose to do this.

I admit now that he was a large factor, but he couldn't have been the only one. I liked making this choice. It was a completely radical choice, for one thing. I liked how completely unlike the old me it was. It served no clear purpose, dressing myself as a doll and placing myself into the care of another. It was certainly a large risk, a much larger risk than I'd ever made before. And furthermore, it was for little to no reward. What was I expecting, for him to magically fall in love with me afterward? That only happens in children's tales.

I was so lost in thought that the sudden darkness shocked me for a moment, and I almost lost my pose.

He had turned off the lights, and was now turning in for bed.


I watched him enter the bed quietly, holding my position the whole while, and fall asleep remarkably quickly.

It wasn't even nine yet, and he was asleep. I suppose it was a hard day at work.

I decided to give him a nice dream. I'd simply come to life, as it were, creep up to him, gently wake him up, then give him the experience of a lifetime.

He didn't seem to yet suspect I wasn't simply a lifesized figurine someone had purchased for him as a gift. Now, I had to convince him that whatever gods he believed in had granted me life.

So, to begin my plan, I placed a plastic doll hand against the glass door, and pressed.

Nothing happened.

I pressed again, harder this time.

The door resolutely refused to move.

I placed both hands against the door, and pushed with all my might.

But the door remained still. Glancing at the handle revealed a padlock I had not noticed before.

I was trapped.


I told myself not to panic.

Fat lot that did, though, as I could feel a shake go through me almost immediately.

I banged my plastic hands hard against the glass, trying to get his attention.

He turned over, and continued to sleep.

I wanted to yell, but there was no guarantee he could hear me through the numerous layers my voice would need to get through.

I instinctively crossed my arms and held myself, steadying myself slightly. This helped a bit, enough to let me focus on my surroundings.

I scanned the edges of the case, and noticed the large gaps between the glass walls at the sides and the door at the front. There was plenty of space for air circulation, so it would be impossible for me to suffocate.

The only real dangers were of dehydration or overheating, and I had plenty of time before either of those would happen.

This knowledge relaxed me further, allowing me to think more deeply upon things.

He knew, didn't he? He knew it was me and he stuck me in here on purpose.

Except there was no reason to assume that he knew. I had taken pains to make sure he wouldn't find out, after all.

To prove it to myself, I checked my own pulse, and confirmed that it was undetectable. Further, I was sure I had never moved under my own power while he was watching.

Still, he could've been a little more suspicious of me. If he had, I wouldn't have been in this mess.


Blaming him wasn't going to get me out of this situation, though. I had to think. I'm a smart, resourceful woman, I'll figure my way out of this. After all, this case and that padlock were designed to keep people outside from getting in, not people inside from getting out.

I supposed I could rock the case until it came tumbling over, but that would probably cause more harm than good. There were no guarantees that my new skin could take the thousand cuts shattered glass were sure to deliver.

I scanned the left side of the glass door, and spotted the small metal connectors which attached the door to the top and bottom of the case. The glass was a solid piece, these hinges simply wrapped around it with a layer of adhesive and nestled into small round holes, allowing the door to swing open and closed.

I raised my left hand to it, and wiggled it slightly. The adhesive was apparently old, and actually pulled away quite easily.

This was only half the solution, though. Even without the adhesive there, the hinge itself prevented me from simply pushing the door out. If I wiggled the other one free, though, the one at my feet, I should be able to slide out the whole of the door.

I began to squat down, only to be reminded of the plastic clamp around my waist.


I placed my fingertips around the clamp, and slid them around it, trying to find some sort of release or button to remove it.

There was none.

My fingers moved to the plastic pole the clamp was attached to, and searched it as well, but they formed a single piece, with no movable parts.

And I could not lower myself to reach the bottom.

My hands moved once more to the clamp, and tried forcing it apart, pulling with whatever leverage I could get.

But it refused to budge.

If I remembered how these clamps functioned on his normal-sized figures, he usually just snapped them in and out, something I didn't have the room to do in this enclosed glass case.

Still, if I could get the door out of the way, maybe I could snap myself out of it.

Then I remembered. I never bothered putting on shoes, did I? My doll feet were still bare. I managed to contort myself into a position where I could look down, and saw the tiny little toes that had been carefully melded into my doll skin. I wiggled them, and was glad for the extra I had paid for them.

I maneuvered the big toe of my right foot to the metal hinge at the bottom, and started to wiggle it. The adhesive here was loose as well, but I needed a bit more leverage.

I pressed my hands into the top of the door, and my other foot into it, and used the sticky friction only a doll's skin could have on that glass to gently rock it back and forth. The adhesive finally wore away, and I managed to slide the door enough to get it off the hinges.

From there, it swung open easily, rooted to the padlock. I then placed my hands to my waist, compressing myself slightly, and pulled my body forward, forcing myself out of the clamp with a snap.

I was free.


Slowly, carefully, I tiptoed toward the bed.

He had slept through that whole ordeal.

Jerk. He could've at least noticed. I'd have to get back at him somehow.

And a thought flashed through my head. If my new mouth weren't already fixed to a smirk, I'd be beaming.

First, I walked over to the glass case, and carefully reinserted the door into its hinges. It was important I leave no clue as to how I got out.

Next, I sneaked back to the bed, and looked at him. He was all relaxed, sleeping on his side, facing inward, completely oblivious to everything going on.

I then slowly let myself under the covers, lay down on my side facing him, and pressed myself as close as I could without touching him.

He made a slight clicking noise opening and closing his mouth, but otherwise didn't react.

I slowly raised my loose arm slightly, and gently slid it around him, holding him in a soft embrace.

And then I held still, relaxed, and waited.


He looked quite cute, sleeping, his eyes gently closed.

I was quite close, but I couldn't feel his breath on me. Sadly, it wasn't something my new skin could feel. Neither could he feel mine, as mine exited the back of my neck. I could, however, feel his chest expand and contract, through the arm I had carefully extended around him.

His nose twitched, but he didn't seem like he was going to wake up.

I may have to wake him myself.

So I squeezed him, pressing my new doll body against him for a moment.

He continued to breathe, his eyes refusing to open.

So I squeezed again, harder this time.

And he shook suddenly.

I reacted quickly, letting myself go limp.

His eyes flicked open.


He stared for quite a while, actually, almost a quarter of a minute.

"Nyyeaga!" he shouted suddenly, wiggling loose from my arm and exiting the bed, tearing the blanket off with him.

I let my arm drop limply to the bed, and remained still like a true doll.

He leaped over to the light switch, just outside my vision, and flicked it on.

Light filled up the room again, but I remained just as I was, showing no sign as to how this lifeless doll had gotten where it was.

After a few moments, he stepped into my vision again, just staring at me. He looked in the direction of the case, then me, then the case, then me again.

He slowly, cautiously, extended a finger, and poked my arm.

I didn't react, but could sense he was starting to get more suspicious. Good.

Seemingly gaining some backbone, he grabbed my loose arm by the wrist, and checked it for a pulse.

A minute later, he pressed two fingers into my neck, and checked there.

And another minute later, he was pressing his hand into my chest, checking there.

Part of me wanted to slap him for that one, but the rest of me just kept still and waited for him to move on.


Finally, he seemed satisfied that I was just a doll.

However, he quickly stood, and exited the room.

He must have figured there was an intruder that moved me, and was possibly inside the house.

It's a good thing he didn't realize the intruder was inside the doll, though.

As soon as he left, I enacted the rest of my plan. I quickly walked back to the case, moved the door off its hinges once more, and clamped myself back inside. I then moved the door back into position, and took the same pose he had left me in originally.

I felt sort of bad for messing with him so much, but it was just simple justice, after all.

After a few minutes of the sounds of opening doors, footsteps, and lightswitch clicks, he returned to the bedroom.

And he saw me.

And he blinked.


Again, he stared at me for the longest time.

As before, I kept still, but kept my eyes on him as well.

He fixed his eyes upon my chest, as if burning a hole into them with his vision. He must have been concentrating, seeing if I let out any indication of my breathing.

I tensed, though not in any visible way, and made my breaths shallower than normal. It probably wasn't necessary, but it kept me focused.

Eventually, he turned away, and walked to a small set of drawers at his bedside, where he retrieved a key.

He returned to me, and slipped the key into the padlock, giving it a quick twist, and then removing them both.

He then opened the door, and stared at me for a moment, and then placed his hands around my middle and the clamp, checking if I was securely fastened.

He then knelt down, entering a crawling position, and stuck his head between my legs, reaching around with his arms to feel the pole which secured the clamp, checking it for signs of wear.

After a minute of this, he extricated himself, stood, and turned to the bed, as if thinking.

With a loud snap, I quickly unclamped myself, moved my hands back into position, and then gently fell upon him.


"Puaara!" he said.

He was so cute when surprised. Relatively nonsensical, too.

He leapt away again, pushing me away from him. I fell as an inanimate doll should, flatly upon my face, though slightly catching myself with my posed hands. It hurt a bit, but it was all worth it for his reactions.

I couldn't see what was happening at first. I could only hear his footsteps, at an almost running pace, leaving the room. I then heard the noises of drawers opening, and various knick-knacks being sorted through.

After those noises, the footsteps returned, and so did he, picking me up off the floor and pushing me back into the glass case, the clamp once again snapping around me, but this time facing away from the door.

Then I felt a hard something against the back of my waist, right where the open side of the clamp was, and then heard the sounds of tape being vigorously torn and applied.

A pang of worry went through me for a moment about how I would free myself this time, but I decided not to worry all that much about it for now.

I then heard the door close, and the sounds of more tape being applied, over and over again, as if in a mania. Finally, after a while of that, the sounds ended, the lights went out once more, and I heard him enter his bed once more.

I couldn't decide if this was more protection or paranoia on his part.


I sucked in my stomach, using my hands to aid the compression, and slowly tried to turn. It was a very tight fit, but I managed to face forward once more.

I looked down, and saw a small metal pipe extending over the end of the clamp, which had been messily taped in place. Further, upon looking up again, the glass door itself had been taped closed.

Looking back to him, I noticed he was in bed again, lying on his side, though I wasn't sure if he was asleep yet. Though I was hoping not. It was much more fun that way.

I looked down again, placed my fingers upon the clump of tape, and began feeling around it, looking for a loose end. It was hard with the muffled sense of touch my new doll skin offered, and so coming upon it was almost an accident. The sticky side adhered to me, and I used that adhesion to pull it away and around.

It was slow work, running the tape in reverse to the way it was applied, pulling every step of the way. The tape was quite fresh, and resolute in its stickiness. Eventually though, I managed to remove it and removed the metal pipe.

Freeing myself the rest of the way after that would have been simple, but I had another thought in mind.


I carefully raised a plastic hand to the glass, and softly knocked three times, freezing my position after the last knock.

He sat up quickly, and stared at me. He blinked again, but after a minute of staring in which I did not move further, he lay down again.

I banged my hand against the glass again, harder and louder this time, and froze once more after the third knock.

He repeated the motion of sitting up, staring in disbelief, and lying down again, though this time I think he covered his head with a pillow.

So now, I slowly dislocated the door once more, using the length of steel pipe to aid me in pulling away the tape, and freed myself, carefully holding the clamp this time to avoid the loud snap it was so fond of. I then replaced the door, tiptoed up to the bed, and fell onto it with enough force to get a rise out of him.

I heard and felt him leap out of the bed once more.

This time though, he didn't run. Instead, he spoke.

"It's... it's you, isn't it. Mio-chan..."


My first thought was to correct him. I'm not Mio-chan, and it didn't feel right to deceive him.

He picked me up once more, and sat me down at the head of the bed, back to the wall. He then sat facing me, as if we were having a conversation.

"Did Lauren leave you here?" he asked. "Is she still here? Is she just posing you like this to get back at me?"

My next thought was that my first thought could wait, at least until I had more information.

"Lauren never understood," he said. "She thought you meant more to me than she did. That's why she took you away with her when she left."

He touched my right hand with his left, and held it from underneath, covering it with his opposite hand and slowing raising it up. I allowed him to do so gracefully, without moving a single other muscle.

"I miss her sometimes," he continued, "but it's been a long time now. I don't really think about her any more, at least not in that way."

He looked into my new eyes for a moment, and then looked away again, as if it was something he had meant to avoid doing. He shrugged, in sort of a sorry way that made me question the truth of his statements.

"I know you can't talk, Mio-chan," he said, "but it feels good to open up to you. Lauren never spoke to me since she left. But if she's still here, I'm sure she's listening."

I wanted to tell him that I wasn't Mio. I wanted to tell him that Lauren hadn't brought me here, and that she wasn't trying to get back at him.

But before I could properly gather my thoughts, he stood.


He made a quick check in the bathroom, then around the room, and then walked to his bedside, grabbing his keys. He then walked out the door, closed it, and locked it with a soft click.

Now, it wasn't like I was trapped inside this room. If I wanted to, I could just twist the knob, which would automatically unlock the door. However, there was no way to lock the door again from the inside, so if I unlocked the door, it would be clear that the door had been opened from the inside.

He had probably left the room to search for this Lauren person, the one he had wrongly assumed was posing me behind his back. As well, he had probably locked the door to ensure that Lauren wouldn't sneak back into the room to repose me.

There was an opportunity here. If I reposed myself, it would prove that Lauren hadn't posed me, as this was a closed room, and he had already confirmed that Lauren wasn't here.

So I needed a pose.


I couldn't think of one.

Though upon thinking further, I realized that this room was filled with poses. In miniature, each of these figures had its own frozen configuration.

I stood, and walked up to one of the glass cases, my old eyes scanning through my new ones for an appropriate figure.

Then I noticed one in particular.

I recognized it right away, because it looked like a model of myself. The new, doll me, not the old me. It was wearing the same slight, black dress, and had the same dark, long hair. Even the face was strangely similar.

Maybe it was a coincidence.

Then, upon taking a step back, I noticed that all the figures in this case were of the same character. Various sizes, various costumes, various hairstyles, but always the same face. They ranged from the smallest at the top, some less then two inches high, to the largest at the bottom, an amazingly detailed one that was probably around thirty inches in height.

And this case was immediately to the left of another familiar case.

The one I had been contained within earlier.


I heard footsteps just outside the door.

I had idled too long, he had finished searching the house and, finding nothing, was returning here.

There wasn't any time to pick a good spot, so I posed myself here, in front of the cases, mimicking the pose of that one figure I had singled out earlier.

It wasn't a complicated pose. It was sort of a combination of embarrassment and surprise, the sort of look you'd give someone if you'd accidentally uncovered their porn.

I leaned forward slightly, towards the cases, and planted my feet slightly wider than shoulder width. I then raised my right hand to my mouth, and squeezed my body slightly with my left. I tilted my head ever so slightly forward, and then froze.

The muffled sound of a key grinding into a lock entered the room, followed by a click. Then, from the reflection in the many panes of glass in front of me, I saw the door open, and watched him enter.

"She must've left," he said towards the bed, where I used to be.


It didn't take him long to realize I wasn't there, and to realize I was standing before the glass cases, noticing what was in them.

"Mio-chan..." he started to say, and then stopped.

He walked up to me, slowly at first, but gradually gaining speed, to the point where his last step was almost a leap towards me.

"Sorry about this," he said, "but I have to know."

He placed his hands on me, slowly swiveling me towards him, and then carefully posed my arms to the side. He seemed to be doing this fairly carefully, as if searching for any peculiar resistance or advance action.

I anticipated his motions, making myself easily poseable but never moving on my own, with just a bit of resistance to maintain the illusion of a rigid, jointed skeleton.

Once my arms were sufficiently out of the way, he picked me up easily, and lay me down on the ground face first.

And with a quick motion, he flipped my dress over my head, exposing my new doll body to him.


For a moment, I was embarrassed.

I remembered that I hadn't bothered to put on panties. This was an awfully big omission for me. It seemed now like it was a relatively important thing. I quietly cursed myself.

But thinking upon it further, I decided it wasn't that important. Right now, I was a doll, and a doll wouldn't care about such things. And further, I wasn't an anatomically correct doll.

This wasn't like my old body, with all its little issues and imperfections. This doll body was as perfect as I could make it. There was no reason to hide anything, as everything was perfectly formed.

I couldn't see what he was doing, but I was sure he was staring at my now exposed back and behind, searching for a sign that I was wearing a costume.

He seemed to stare quite a while, actually, not making a single sound, nor any attempt to touch me. I could sense his eyes on me, though. Just staring, examining.

Then suddenly, a single finger pressed against the middle of my back, and ran downwards, between my plastic buttocks and down to the perfectly smooth surface around the bend.

He had definitely done that to get a rise out of me. A shudder, a recoil, anything. But I managed to keep my composure, and remained still.

He paused for a while afterwards, as if he were disappointed at my lack of action.

Though it didn't stop him from grabbing the whole of me once more and flipping me over.


I could see him now, hovering over me, a look of curiosity on his face.

He didn't look angry, or annoyed, or anything negative. He only had an interested expression, as if he were trying to figure me out.

It was then that I realized that my new, doll breasts were exposed. Still, if I hadn't felt embarrassment at exposing my bottom to him, it certainly didn't feel right to feel it with this.

Still, a tinge of it did run through me as he continued to look me over. As I began to warm up, I was beginning to see this new body as truly part of myself, not merely an extension of me but actually being me.

That's right, it was getting pretty warm. It was actually a pretty comfortable feeling, but it did remind me of how long I had been here.

His hands moved to my chest, stopping my train of thought. He placed his fingers of one around one breast, and felt its mass and texture.

Now he was really starting to push it. He must've been doing this to get a rise out of me.

But that just steeled my resolve. When I revealed myself, it would be on my terms.


After a while of poking and prodding at me, he flipped my dress back down onto me, stood, and turned around.

He must've known by now. He'd already eliminated the possibility that someone in the house was posing me, and now he was checking if I was capable of such actions. It must've been enough now that he had disregarded the fact that my new body had no pulse and didn't seem to breathe.

He briskly stepped away in the direction of the door, and sounded footsteps as he exited. He was probably going to get some tools to "examine" me further, perhaps a pair of shears or a knife.

Of course, I couldn't let that happen.

I stood, and adjusted my dress further, smoothing it out and adjusting the straps. He had shifted it quite a bit to one side while examining me, and it would've otherwise been uncomfortable.

While I was at it, I smoothed over my new skin as well. Though while doing so, I noticed it hadn't shifted at all. In fact, pressing down upon the sides of my body with my hands and sliding didn't shift my skin at all.

As if it really were part of me.


A tinge of worry came over me, so I walked over to the bathroom to have a look at myself.

I remembered how warm I was, so I turned on the tap, and ran some cold water over my plastic hands, and splashed a bit on my face, rubbing it in and wiping it off.

I then looked into the mirror. After a moment of adjusting my eyes, Mio stared back.

I thought about all those figures in that case. From the very smallest to the very biggest, they were all Mio. Those cases were for Mio.

He was right, wasn't he. I was Mio. Yes, this face I have, this is Mio's face. These hands, these are Mio's hands. This is Mio's body. This is Mio's dress.

But who was Mio?

Well the answer to that was simple. I'm Mio, right? All those figures in that case, they were all representations of me. I'm the real one.

I felt like I was forgetting something, though. He mentioned a Lauren, right? I hadn't noticed before, but I think I remember that name from somewhere.

I'm sure I didn't like her, though. It probably wasn't important, and there were more important things to think about.


So I walked back to his room, and thought about what to do.

He wasn't going to be long, he was just going to search for a cutting tool, so I should probably space myself away from the door.

I decided to just sit on the side of the bed away from the door, but turned towards slightly, so I could turn my head there to look. I then posed myself staring away.

And I formulated a plan.

When he came, I'd mechanically turn my head to him. Hopefully that would get a rise or at least a good reaction from him, then I can walk over, perhaps jerking towards him in a marionette-like fashion, and remove whatever tool he retrieved from his possession.

From there, I'd just play it by ear.

The sound of his footsteps once again betrayed his presence at the door, and I executed my plan.


He didn't seem surprised by my movement, though.

In fact, he simply put down the shears by himself.

"Well," he said, "I'm glad I don't have to prove you're in there now."

I looked at him inquisitively, tilting my head to the side slightly. Who was in where?

"Oh, come off it, Lauren." he said. "I know it's you in there. Who else could it be?"

I shook my head at him. I'm Mio, who's Lauren?

"Look," he said, "I don't really have time for whatever game you have going right now, Lauren. I need my sleep, I have a big important day tomorrow."

He then walked straight to the bed, got under the covers, and turned over.

I'd have to prod him further.


He was really being a jerk about this whole thing.

I turned to him, and looked at his not sleeping face, eyes closed, with a blank expression.

I'd already spent more than four hours here. Didn't he know I was doing all of this for him? Couldn't he at least try to enjoy himself a bit?

I then thought to myself, what exactly did I expect from him? I wanted him to look at me, and for a while, he did. I wanted him to care for me, even as an object, and he did that as well. Weren't those enough?



No, it wasn't. There had to be more.


I lay myself down behind him, over the covers, and placed an arm around him, pulling myself closer.

He didn't react, but instead just continued to lie there, breathing in and out. Every breath raised and lowered his chest, echoing the motion into my outstretched arm.

And a strange thing happened. I didn't seem as upset as before. The rhythmic motion of his body had a strange calming effect, decreasing my annoyance with every breath.

I opened my senses, and focused on him, in a different way than our last embrace. Before, I was simply trying to get a rise out of him. Before, I was only paying attention to his overt actions. Now, I was enjoying his subtleties.

It was true, wasn't it. I was in love with him. I was a doll, in love with a man. I'd denied it to myself, thought maybe it was something else. Were dolls even supposed to have emotions?

I tried to remember. I felt like I was missing something. But right now, all I could remember was him finding me on the bed this evening. Teasing him before revealing I was alive. Before all of that, everything was fuzzy. And warm.

But now I thought, was it really necessary? The memories only served to counter what I was feeling now. And what I felt now was real. I needed more.


Thinking about it, I wasn't really sure what I wanted. What exactly could I do with him? As a doll, and a non-anatomically correct doll at that, my choices were limited. Cuddling was certainly an option, so I decided to start with that.

I pulled myself even closer to him, compressing my chest every so slightly into his back. I brought my hips in as well, pressing forward into his bottom, and brought my legs up to his as well, perfectly tracing their slightly bent outline.

There was still the blanket between us, but it was fairly obvious he was still awake and could tell I was here. Every bit of contact brought a slight movement, but not a recoil or a rejection, but more a resigned acceptance.

I pressed my head in closer now, somewhat obscuring my vision, but also elicting a new reaction.

He groaned softly, pulled away a few inches for clearance, and turned over to face me.

"Alright, fine," he said, "what do you want to do?"

I smiled at him, as it was the only expression I could offer.


I began by removing the blanket. Removing it from him, anyway. It was in the way. I slipped it behind me, kicking it to the end of the bed, and then lay next to him again.

He wearing a set of plain gray pajamas, fairly boring looking, but I imagine that he didn't really care what he looked like when asleep.

He remained in place, head against a pillow, and cracked a half-smile, and not a very enthusiastic one at that.

I paused for a moment to think. I'd have to capture his interest somehow. What sort of experience could I offer him that he had never had before? Despite his fantasies, I'm fairly sure he'd never been in close contact with a doll come to life before.

I remembered how smooth and flawless my skin was, and decided to expose its perfection to him. So, I began by brushing my soft, plastic hand against his cheek.

I had to start somewhere.

His response was slight, but immediate. His smile tightened, rendering it a little more genuine than before. He seemed to enjoy it a bit, at least.


He moved his free hand as well, to my face. I couldn't really feel it, but I was certain he was stroking his fingers against my cheek as well, mirroring my own motions.

After a bit of this, it was clear that lying next to each other was limiting our range of motion, so he placed his other hand on the pillow side of my face, and motioned upwards.

We rose into sitting positions, facing each other, him sitting on his legs Japanese-style, while I let my own legs surround him.

We were separated just enough so we could examine each others' bodies without being so close as to force an embrace. That could come later. For now, I wanted him to simply enjoy every inch of me.

"Laur..." he started, but I quickly covered his mouth with my hand and shook my head.

After a moment to let that sink in, I removed my hand.

"Mio-chan?" he asked.

I nodded.


He placed his hands on my slight plastic legs surrounding him, and ran his fingers up and down their smooth surface, never once catching even a hint of friction. Each finger applied a different tone of pressure, and varied that impression as they traveled.

I couldn't do the same, so I chose a different action. I placed my hands to his pyjama top, and began to unbutton it slowly, pausing on every button to press my plastic doll hands against his firm, human chest. Once I reached the end, I extended each of his arms in turn, slipping the pajama top away from him, and revealing his smooth build to me.

In response, he moved his hands to the right shoulder strap of my dress, carefully maneuvering his fingers underneath them, pulling up, then softly manipulating my arm under, and then through. He repeated the action on the left side as well, freeing the dress from my shoulders, and slipped it down my body. Anticipating his next move, I raised one leg and hip, pulling them in and out of my dress, and repeated the action on the other side, freeing myself from it.

I was once again revealed to him, but I did not feel exposed. Instead, I wished him to examine me further.


That he did, starting with my stomach, his firm hands and fingers rubbing against every surface of my doll body. They traveled from the front, along the sides, and up my back, tickling me slightly in the underarms as they passed back to the front, and cupped my breasts.

My own hands wandered to his pajama bottoms now, unbuttoning him the rest of the way. I wasn't surprised to find that he wasn't wearing underpants, and was already quite excited, by the looks of it.

I looked at his face, and he seemed quite sheepish about it. His face was turning red, in that uniquely human way, though I wasn't sure if that was embarrassment or simply the flush of excitement.

I looked down upon him once more, and found that I had no idea what I could do with this. The more I thought, the more I drew a blank. I certainly wasn't designed to use it in any way.

So I decided to simply press into him deeper, and squeeze between our entwined bodies. I bent my knees and entered a kneel, still straddling his own legs, and then sat on his knees. This left a bit of space, which I then closed up by extending my arms around him, and pulling my body towards his.

My chest compressed slightly, deforming and spreading itself against his hard, smooth chest. I could feel his tip pressing into my stomach, hard but shifting, traveling almost imperceptibly slowly upwards across the plastic surface.

He embraced me as well, and placed his hands just above my bottom, pulling me further up along his thighs and impressing even more of himself onto my middle.


From here, things went quickly.

I pressed my perfectly smooth skin right up against him, surrounding him with my arms, breasts, and stomach. I pulsed these up and down against him, feeling the imperfections of his human body through my plastic flesh, every bump and cavity echoing a note through me.

He continued to grow between us, becoming a core of strength there, which I could seemingly draw energy from by rubbing myself harder and harder upon it. In contrast, the more I took, the more it seemed to strain him, his half smiles abandoned for gritted teeth.

I was entranced by his emotional face, though I could only smile at him in return.

As we continued, the pace quickened. He began to pull even harder, even as I pulsed myself faster and faster to keep up with him. His breathing became rapid, seemingly pulling in gusts through his clenched teeth.

And suddenly, his expression changed, and it was over.


He fell asleep, beaming a smile of pleasure.

I shared in that, though I could only smile a permanent smile back, invisible to his closed eyes.

I was satisfied. But now, what do I do now?

Of course. I'm a doll. My place was clear. My case, I had to return to it.

I quietly removed myself from the bed, and took a few tissues from his bedside. I then went to the bathroom, and running a bit of water, cleaned my plastic doll body of any stains he left upon it. I'm sure if he were able, he would've cleaned me himself.

Next, I came back to the bed, and retrieved my dress. I then slipped it back onto myself, replacing the shoulder straps, and tiptoed to my case. I opened it up, and clamped myself back in, holding the clamps to keep them from snapping. I then closed the case once more, took my default pose, and went blank.


The light of the midday sun woke me, filtering through a window and lighting up a narrow line across the pillow. A passing breeze flicked through that same window, and skated cheerfully across my face.

My eyes flitted open. I blinked.

Something was wrong.

I sat up quickly, tore the blanket from myself, and looked around.

I was in his bed, but he wasn't here.

I noticed a note on the side table, and read it.

"Lauren, wanted you to know I had fun with Mio-chan. Thanks. You should have fun too."

It was then I noticed. My body, my face, they felt different. Changed somehow from the way I remember them being before.

I looked down at myself, and recognized a familiar looking set of gray pajamas, but more importantly, a pair of hands. But the hands were flesh, not plastic.

I raced to the bathroom, and looked in the mirror.

A human woman stared back at me.

It was the face of a woman I remembered. The face of a woman I'd wanted to forget.

This is Lauren's face.

I remembered.

I'm Lauren.


Wait, I am?


It seemed odd.

If I was Lauren, why didn't I remember being Lauren at the time?

But I could remember being Lauren now. I could remember that I had work next week, and I took today off to do something special.

I relaxed a bit, letting out a sigh. It hadn't completely worked. It was a nice holiday from being Lauren, but I had expected it to last longer.

It must've been the heat. I remembered feeling warm, possibly dehydrated. It must've messed me up more than I'd realized. I actually started to think I was Mio.

The memories of being Mio, though, felt hazy and indistinct. But one other thing stuck out in my mind. I ran back to his room, stepping up to a familiar glass case.

He said Lauren took Mio away.

Inside the case was Mio, in a very familiar pose, staring straight back at me. Her face, her dress, her body, everything was exactly as I remember being.

I racked my brain. I'd had this costume custom made, hadn't I? How could I have taken something away from him that I had ordered, and further, hadn't even been made yet?

I opened up the case, which had somehow been unlocked, and cautiously prodded her with a finger.

She was plastic, through and through. I carefully grasped one arm, moving it slightly, and found that she was quite poseable as well.

I turned away for a moment, and shook my head. This wasn't possible. This was the same skin, the same dress, the same face, but I wasn't in them, and there wasn't any ready plastic framework in the house to put inside.

For a moment, I was confused.

But then a small, plastic hand pressed itself upon my shoulder.

And I realized exactly what I had taken away.



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