The Wand...

this is a wonderfull piece of fiction i wish was real... its by a very good friend TSG who has several stories up on legacy, but they seem to be dragging their heels on updating the site even though they have the content.

so here it is for your enjoyment....

xxx

The Wand

I held the wand in my hands for a long time before I began to adjust the settings. Did I know what I was doing then? Of course I did. I'd be a fool to say so otherwise.
How my boyfriend had come across the wand I can't say. He gave it to me as a birthday present last year. It was a nanotech wand, one that could enact changes to a person simply by setting the controls, inserting it into one's body, and letting it run. It specialized in inanimate doll transformations: mannequins, Real Dolls, and, believe it or not, inflatable dolls. I asked if getting turned into a little doll was possible, and he told me the company that made these wands figured that in a couple of years they'd figure out how to convert mater in such a way that turning a full-grown person into a foot-tall Barbie Doll wouldn't be out of the question, but for now you could still be a Barbie, but you'd be a life-sized one.
Now, first off, you're probably saying: why the fuck would you want a gift like this? The answer's simple: I have a fetish about becoming objects. I've been that way ever since I was a little girl playing with Barbie Dolls and wanting very much to be Barbie. Sure, it sounds strange, but it isn't--at least not from my point of view. It's just something I've always wanted. Look, some girls want firm bodies, or big boobs, or to be a blond. I've always wanted to be the girl modeling clothing in the window of a boutique. Sue me.
The first thing I was turned into was a mannequin. He had me lay down, propping myself up on my elbows, then I crossed my legs--but not before he stuck the wand inside me and turned it on. That's the only problem with it; it has to be inside your body. For a woman, that means either your asshole (out of the question) or your vagina. It was really designed to go inside your vagina, so there you have it. Anyway, it was in, it was on, and before I knew it I was getting warm and a little light headed, and then I noticed I couldn't move. Maybe a minute more passed before I saw that I'd gone from living girl to living mannequin! It was that fucking quick, it was. I tried to get my body to more, to do something, but it didn't. I could see and hear, and even feel, but I couldn't move so much as a muscle. Probably because I didn't have them any more. I was a plastic shell being kept alive by nanobots that had fused with my body.
After about ten minutes my boyfriend stood over me, checking me out. He bent down and touched me--rubbed me, really--and it felt . . . well, it was strange. Very strange. He wasn't touching skin, and I could tell. Eventually he stood up over me, and though I couldn't really see it (I could only look straight head), I knew he was masturbating over my body. Moments later he came, and when his semen hit me, there wasn't the nearly inaudible sound of fluids touching skin, but rather the hard Plop! of his cum hitting hard plastic.
I think I orgasmed for the first time that very moment. He left me that way for the evening. He kept a light on in the living room, but I was all alone there, modeling on the floor, not able to do anything but think and feel. Time seemed to pass pretty normally for me, although I did pass out at some point, because suddenly light was coming into the living room and things were getting brighter. I also felt my body starting to tingle, like it does when you've been lying on a body part for too long and the circulation starts coming back into that extremities. It realized that I was turning back, because my arms started to slowly slide outward and my legs relaxed, and I lay back and gave a nice, long, low moan.
I lay on the floor for about five minutes, taking in all that had happened. I withdrew the wand and gave it a good examination. There was a timer built into it, one that would regulate the amount of time the nanobots would remain active inside you. Actually, that's what I thought at the time. The truth was the wand injected the 'bots into you, and they would remain active until they received a signal that instructed them to turn you back, which was what the timer was really for--to give the 'bots the deactivation signal. The timer had been set for eight hours, any it would seem my eight hours had just ended.
I got up and started looking around for the instruction manual. It wasn't a very complicated thing to read--I mean, it was mostly select your transformation, set the timer, turn it on, plug it in and let the 'bots do their thing. Relax, enjoy the change, then when you come back to being your old self remove the wand, turn it off and clean it up. It was all very simple, really.
Of course, there were warnings. One was never to use the wand unless you were with someone else. I didn't understand that; wouldn't it be fun to just change yourself once in a while without anyone around? It was also recommended that the owner change batteries at least once a month, particularly if the wand was being used a lot. If the power went out when one was a doll, it was simply a matter of pulling out the wand (which could be done anyway) and putting in new batteries, but if one was a mannequin . . . it was a little trickier. The bottom could be accessed, though it might be necessary to take a person apart to get to it . . . and then the batteries could be replaced and the person put back together. Yawn. It was all very complicated.
The wand could be removed from any type transformation--well, that was damn near a must for fuck dolls--but there were warnings about staying transformed for too long. Technically speaking, one couldn't stay transformed forever; the 'bots would shut down on their own after 6 months. Anyway you looked at it, that was a long time to stay transformed. There were other fail-safes as well. For example, you couldn't be returned to normal from a mannequin state if you weren't all together; the 'bots had a way of knowing if you were in one piece or in pieces. If the later, you stayed that way until you were reassembled. Or if you were an inflatable doll, you couldn't transform back if you were deflated; you needed to be all the way "up" before you could transform back into yourself. (I wondered how many times that was tested before the company got it right. It sent a bit of a shiver up my back thinking about it, let me tell you.)
Since my boyfriend wasn't up yet--I figured he'd been up late playing with himself, thinking about my hard, plastic form in the living room--I thought I'd give the wand a whirl and see what I could do with it. I went to my bedroom (he wasn't there; he'd gone to sleep in the guest bedroom), I changed into something I thought he might like, then headed back down to the living room, set the wand, turned it on, and put it inside.
I had a minute or so before I felt myself turning plastic. I moved into a pose that I would hold for all the while the wand was inside me. I wanted to see what this was going to be like, standing on your feet dressed in something nice, not able to move, here for all to see--well, not all, just my boyfriend when he finally hauled ass down from the bedroom to find me frozen again.
He came down about an hour later and found me in the living room, dress and posed. He seemed a little surprised that I would subject myself to this treatment without him being around to "get it started", so to speak, but after checking me out for a few minutes he headed into the kitchen to fix himself some breakfast, and I didn't seen him again for the better part of two hours after that. And when I did see him again, he was on his way out the door, telling me that I looked wonderful and that he hoped I enjoyed my "quiet time" today, and that he'd probably stop over later to see how I was doing.
And then he was gone.
So there I was in my living room, modeling this sexy little thing for no one, and hating that I was all by my lonesome! Part of the fantasy of being like this is that you're on display, and the least that my boyfriend could have done was stick around to watch TV while I posed in the corner. I really wanted people to see me, but that wasn't going to happen, apparently.
Well, at least I'd be able to relax.
For the next 20 hours, that is.
I used the wand off an on for the next three months. I loved the mannequin stuff, and once I'd shown a couple of my girlfriends what could happen to me when I used the wand, they started having me come over to their places and freeze and they'd dress me and look at me--and, in the instance of Lisa, even play with me a little. She found it pretty amazing that I'd want to change myself into a hunk of hard plastic and just stand there, and I had the feeling that though she didn't want to say it, she probably had something of a mannequin fetish of her own.
In time I did discover Lisa's fetish, and she was interested in a lot of the same things I was, like being a mannequin and doll and the like. She'd never wanted to mention it to anyone, but seeing as how I enjoyed being transformed into plastic, she thought there'd be no harm in telling me about how she felt about those things.
I let her try out the wand for a couple of hours one day, and when she came out of it Lisa could do nothing but rave about how she felt. She wanted more. Since Lisa worked I could only change her during the weekends, but a few times I'd freeze her up on a Friday night and not have her change back until late Sunday.
She loved every minute she was a mannequin. I didn't know it but I'd opened up the gates that had been holding back her fetish, and now it was all she wanted. She loved being my dressing dummy, and she told me that she would love to be displayed in a window, much like I'd told her I'd like. We both knew this was impossible, but one could always wish.
I know I should have seen it coming, but I didn't. Or, maybe I did and I didn't give a shit; maybe I wanted what happened to happen, and just pretended I didn't know. Either way, about five weeks after I introduced Lisa to the wand, she came over one night and asked if she could turn me into a mannequin and then play with me. She asked me to get all dressed up in some lingerie before she froze me, and much to my surprise Lisa dressed up in something sexy as well.
She had the wand in her hand as she approached me. "You ready?" she asked. I nodded, then thought to ask Lisa about how long I was going to be under. Before I could ask, however, she put the wand inside me and activated it.
No sooner was it activated than she pulled it out.
I didn't have time to be surprised. Not by what Lisa had done, nor what she did next--which was stick the wand inside her, activate it, and pull it out also. She tossed it over on the bed. "Hold on to me, honey," she told me and she pulled me close. I could feel myself starting to stiffen, knowing the 'bots were working them magic on us and that the process was no irreversible. Lisa smiled, then turned her head downward and ran her tongue over one of my breast.
And with that we both froze.
The feeling of Lisa licking me was incredible--and even more so now that we were mannequins, because the sensation just kept coming and coming and coming . . . there was no stopping it. Her plastic tongue was now affixed to my tit, and it wasn't going anywhere unless someone pulled us apart. If I could have sighed I would have; as it was I just enjoyed the feeling of Lisa licking me.
Nearly two days went by before my boyfriend found us like this. He wondered how we had been able to freeze like this, then noticed the wand lying on the bed. That was when he freaked because he realized that the wand wasn't in either of us, but that we'd been affected by the transformation nanoids. He examined me to see if he could reinsert the wand and change me back to a real person, but I knew what he'd find: a smooth crotch with no sign of an entry hole. Getting the wand back into me--or into Lisa--was impossible.
He pulled out his cell and called the company that supplied the wand. He explained what he'd found, and wanted to know what he could do about our conditions. I knew what they were going to tell him: there was nothing he could do, nor was there anything they could do. With the wand outside out bodies there was no way to deactivate the 'bots, and therefore the only way we'd transform back to real women would be to let the nanoids run their course.
Which would take six months.
Lisa and I, frozen and sexy. And feeling oh, so very good . . ..

My boyfriend was pretty pissed that his plastic fantastic girlfriend went and got herself stuck for six months, so he took me and Lisa to a friend of ours who owned an art gallery, explained what had happened, and told her to "put their asses on display." Which was exactly what she did after he stormed out. I saw him some time later with this buxom blond on his arm as he explained to her about what had happened to his last girl, and how he was happy he now had a "normal" chick. That was the last time I ever saw him, but I can't say that I missed him all that much.
I could tell that people enjoyed looking at us. I mean, two sexy chicks locked in an embrace, frozen for all to see--what's not to like? We were so good that people wanted to buy us. Even though there was a "NFS" sign on our platform (yeah, we had our own dais), people still tried to take us home. I heard one woman offer $100,000 for us, and it was still no sale, although I could tell by the tone in our friend's voice that she was really tempted. I guess the only reason she didn't sell us was because we would eventually change back, and this woman would be more than a little pissed to find she'd paid a shit load of cash for two real girls.
A couple of days before our six months was up we were moved into a back room. It wouldn't have done to have us change back in front of a bunch of people. The time counted down, then a few days after we were moved I could feel that tingling returning to my body--only this time it was multiplied about a thousand-fold. It went on for what seemed like a very long time, and both Lisa and I were moaning aloud as we became living bodies once more. Lisa was still holding on to me as we slumped towards the floor. As we lay down, numb, her hand found my now-extremely wet vagina and she quickly fingered me into orgasm--one the likes of which I'd never had before. I sprayed my panties, something I'd never done before. Six months of stimulation will get you to that state, I guess.
We made out on the floor for God knows how long before our friend showed up. "Welcome back to the land of the living," she joked. We both smiled. It was good to move around again, but having spent the last six months living out our fantasy . . . it was hard for me to say which was better: being a "real" girl, or being a "fake" one.
Lisa writhed on the floor. "I'd love to do that again."
Our friend looked down on us. "Well, considering you're both out of work . . . would you like another modeling job?"

Our friend was interested in posing us as dolls this time. Our stint as mannequins had went over big, and she wondered if she could get the same sort of response with something that didn't looked similar, but not. Lisa was all for it; she had a couple of ideas about what she'd like to be for the next six months, and our friend was all ears.
Lisa was going to be a big doll. Lisa had wanted to go with a Barbie, but our friend had a different idea. Lisa was "injected", and slowly she started to change into her final form. Our friend did her up as a Bratz doll, and then put Lisa in a display with lots of clothes and accessories.
Lisa really was lovely. I could bet that inside her still, plastic form she was feeling great. Her display was great, too. It was called "The High Cost of A Little Fashion", and Lisa's oh-so-bored looking life-size form surrounded by all these doll things really made her the centerpiece. You could almost see Lisa smiling--which, in a way she was.
There were different plans for me. I wasn't going to be a big doll--well, I was, but not like Lisa was. I was going to be transformed into a blow up doll. I knew it could be done, but the idea . . . it was really turning me on. That you could be turned into hollow latex that could be inflated and deflated, and folded up and put away in your own little box, and then be taken out whenever someone wanted to use you . . . fuck it, I couldn't wait to give this a try.
And not only that, but the sex was suppose to be pretty good as well.
The display was set up at the gallery. It was suppose to look like a normal living room, with all the accruements of home around, and a lot of awards and decorations. In the middle would be then normal looking woman--me--who just happens to look like a blow-up doll. At her feet would be her hose and pump and even the box she came in. The juxtaposition would be that all women can be considered sex objects, even the ones who have a lot of awards and honors from their work and their community.
The night I was to be transformed--only a couple of nights after Lisa was changed--I came out into the gallery naked except for a pair of heels. I saw the picture of the girl on the box--Monica. She looked different than me, but with the transformation anything could be changed, so no one would recognize me as the mannequin that had been here just a few days ago. I was told how to stand and I got myself into position, then the wand was put up inside me, activated, and then quickly withdrawn.
Instantly I felt the change come over me. I grew lighter as my insides filled with air. I began stiff, but the stiffness wasn't like when I was a mannequin; this was more like balloon stiff, meaning I could be bent anywhere if someone wanted to. I saw the seams appear on my body, I felt my asshole and vagina and my mouth forced open into desirable "O" positions. Lastly I felt my inflation plug pop out of the small of my back.
My transformation was complete. I was ready to be used--though I tried to keep that thought out of my "head".
I was only after I was transformed that my friend came around and stood before me. She was looking me over with a wry smile. There was something that just didn't seem to "fit" with how she was looking at me.
"Well, 'Monica'," she started, "I suppose I should have told you this before I transformed you, but . . . hey, you'd have done it anyway.
"Apparently the company that makes these wands has issued a warning about 'injecting', like I did with Lisa and just did with you. Doing it more than once has an effect on the nanoids and prevents them from shutting down after six months. In fact, multiple 'injections' will result in people staying in their transformed state for--" She shrugged. "In Lisa's case, about 36 months."
I thought about that. Lisa a doll for three years? She was stuck. No six months for that girl.
"But as for you," my friend said. "Well, I could always put the wand in at any time and revert you back . . ." She put the wand in her bag. "But why would I want to do that. I mean, you are a real work of art, aren't you." She stepped away from my display. "I'm also certain that eight or nine months from now I can find some other use for you."
As she walked away my mind was racing. Three years?? I couldn't believe it. I was going to be stuff as this fuck doll for three years.
Part of me wanted to scream and cry.
Part of me wondered if I was going to end up loving this too much.

We were both on exhibit for nine months. Nine months that seemed to my new doll-like senses to go by rather quickly. Or maybe not. I couldn't really tell. I remembered the lights coming on and people coming in and them looking at me and some wanting to touch and then the crowds would thin out and the lights would go out, and I'd be alone with my thoughts of wanting to be fucked like there was no tomorrow.
And then it would happen all over again.
After it was all over our displays were broken down and new items put in our place. Now, since both Lisa and I wouldn't be coming out of our transformations for another 25 months, that presented a problem: what to do with us. Lisa was easy: she was going to be sent to different doll and toy cons where a realistic-looking, life sized Bratz doll would come in handy. And since she wouldn't be turning back for another two years, it was easy to be certain that there wouldn't be any "accidents".
And there were plans for me as well.
I was deflated and put into my box along with my hose and pump--and my wand. The box was sealed and wrapped. It was dark in there, so I didn't know what was going on, but I knew I was being moved. Shipped was actually more like it. I was going somewhere. A part of my mind knew what had happened: I'd been sold. Just like any other work of art, I'd been turned out for a sum of cash.
I was going to the house of my new owner.
Time passed, and then one day I felt my box being handed over and taken and placed on some hard surface--and then the wrapping came off, along with the cover of my box. I looked up into the faces of a man and a woman, both appearing to be in their mid-thirties. They smiled as they gazed down upon me before lifting me out of my box and re-inflating me.
The woman stood back and stared at me. I could hear something going on behind me, but all I could see was here--and her inscrutable smile. She finally said, "Well, we paid good money for her--it'd be a shame if you didn't use her." I was suddenly lifted into the air and laid upon a large sofa. The man was there, naked. He lubed up my vagina then inserted his penis inside me and began to fuck me hard.
I began to orgasm. I didn't stop until after he'd deposited his sperm inside the latex sack that was now my cunt. It was the best sex I'd ever had, and all I wanted was more.
Just like a fuck doll, I thought.
Things went like that for a while. The guy would fuck me whenever he was in the mood. The woman would sometimes watch. I gathered from what I picked up they were married and it was pretty good.
For my part I usually stayed inflated. They'd stand me up in the corner of their bedroom and let me watch what went one. For the most part what went on was sleeping, but these two had a very active sex life, and it was like they wanted me to know. I slowly understood that they knew what I really was, that I wasn't just some really nice sex doll, that I was actually a transformed woman who just looked like a sex doll. Somehow I imagined that made it all that more exciting.
After a while I started getting deflated and put away. When I was boxed up I had no concept of the passage of time; I was just an inanimate object sitting on a shelf waiting to be used. And I was used. I'd be pulled out, inflated, fucked, cleaned up, set aside, deflated, boxed, put away . . . and then the cycle would start anew. This happened at least a dozen times, although I couldn't say with any certainty. All I knew was I had become what I'd been transformed into: a sex doll. Nothing more or less. Even if these people knew I was human, they didn’t seem to care.
I was a fuck doll.
For a while more, at least.

One day I was used vigorously, then cleaned up, boxed--after which my box was wrapped up. I somehow figured that my three years were just about up, and I was being . . . what? Returned? Sent to another user? I really had no idea.
My life had become one of inflation, fucking, cleaning, deflation and storage. I remembered that I once had a friend named Lisa who'd been changed into a life-sized doll. I remembered that I once had been a real girl, a human girl, who'd been changed into a fuck doll that had been sold to a couple and used rather often. My life had become one of sex and little else.
I was sorry to be leaving my owners. They'd been so nice to me.
Again, I couldn't tell you how much time had passed inside my box. It seems to pass differently as far as my senses are concerned. I knew it had to be at least a couple of days, but it might have been longer--a lot longer. I wouldn't actually know anything until I was re-inflated.
Finally I was removed from my box. I felt the hose go over my plug, and I shook with an orgasm with every pump of air that entered me. When I was completely inflated my plug was put in--
And within seconds I started to revert to human form.
I laid on the floor for a while. It was a little cold--and I was completely naked--but I hadn't been human for years. At least three. Something told me it'd been longer than three.
I rolled over on my back and looked up. The woman I knew who owned the art gallery--the one who'd sold me so many years ago--stood over me, a slight smile on her face. "Welcome back," she simply said.
"Yeah, hi." I didn't know what else to say. I hadn't say a word for so long, so I really wasn't up on my conversational skills.
"You feel okay?" I couldn't remember this woman's name. I remembered she'd been a friend, but I was damned if I knew her name. I knew Lisa, and I knew my name was . . . was Monica. Was it? I was called that all the time, so it had to be. I searched my memory. There had been another name, but I couldn't recall what it was. Monica was my name--my doll name. That's all I had.
"I'm fine. Considering--" I was able to get to my hands and knees. I felt weak, but not completely helpless. "I've been a sex toy for three years."
"Five," the woman said.
"Five?"
"You were shipped back here after you'd been a doll for 41 months," she said. "I keep you boxed up since then. I figured I'd wait awhile and see if the effect had worn off."
"You kept me boxed for almost 20 months?" I couldn't believe I'd been a toy for three and a half years. And that I'd been keep deflated for over a year an a half after that.
The woman shrugged. "I forgot about you, to be honest."
"Uh, huh." I struggled to my feet and made my way to a chair. "How's Lisa?"
"She's . . ." The woman sat next to me. She didn't look happy. "She came out of her transformation after 40 months. But she didn't . . . she had a hard time readjusting to being human. She identifies too much with being a doll, and even now she thinks she's still this gigantic Bratz doll." The woman shook her head. "I guess you could say she's a little crazy."
"Being frozen for three and a half years will do that."
She cringed. "I didn't know this would happen," she said. "I didn't know until after you two decided to get 'injected' again."
"That part I do remember." I nodded slowly. "I don't blame you."
"Thanks." She put her arm over my shoulder. "How about you? You miss . . . being a doll?"
I couldn't answer that question, not right that moment. "I don't know," I said. "I liked the sex, I like what my owners did to me, I enjoyed how they loved me--" Then I stopped. I realized what I was saying. "I guess maybe right now I do." I sat up and sighed. "Ask me in six months how I feel. Maybe I'll have a different answer for you."

I met up with Lisa a week later, after getting my strength back. I could see how being a Bratz had affected her. She was dressing like a teenager and wearing a lot of makeup. She spoke in a half-bored, singsong voice all the time. I could tell that, in her head, she was still Lisa Bratz Doll, and not Lisa the human girl who'd once been my friend.
But she remembered me. She called me by some name other than Monica, one I didn't recognized at all. I told her that to make things easy to just call me Monica and not try to make me remember something I couldn't. Lisa agreed and from that point one I was Monica.
I moved into with Lisa, who had gotten an apartment after she'd transformed back. The damn think looked like an overgrown teenager was living there--and in a way, one was. Lisa was working at the gallery, and she said I'd have a job there as well if I wanted one. The owner sort of felt sorry for what had happened to us, and she'd decided that giving us a living was one way of taking care of us.
Everything was sort of a blur. I got up, I worked, I came home, Lisa and I ate and talked and sometimes went out--and had sex. We had a lot of sex. Though it's probably not the sort of sex one would imagine when a couple of girl get together. Our love making usually consisted of Lisa making love to me while I laid there perfectly still, unable to move, just enjoying the sensations that flowed through my body . . . just like if I'd been when I was a fuck doll.
The great thing is Lisa didn't mind. Just like I understood her new attire and attitude, she understood my new outlook on sex. For over three years getting laid to me meant being inflated, fucked, and put away cleaned. "It's not, like, I mind you just like fuckin' layin' there while I eat you," she told me one night. "It's, you know, cool in a way. I mean, you bein' a toy and shit, that's like, you know, totally special. You know?" I knew. Oh, indeed I knew.
Six months went by, and things seemed to be okay. I wondered about what had happened to my wand, but I didn't dare ask Paulette (the woman who owned the gallery) about it. I was afraid she's think I was eager to use it once more.
The thing was I did think about using it. At least once a day the thought entered my mind that I was having trouble being human again. I looked at people, and I didn't think about being their friend, or what it might be like to have a relationship with them. I'd think about being their doll, being their toy, letting them take me home and fuck the shit out of me and then clean me up and put me away until they needed me again. I was still viewing myself as an object--not as a person.
I wasn't sure if I would ever get over that feeling.
One day I told Paulette about my feelings. She looked at me with a certain amount of pity. "You really feel that way?" she finally asked.
"Yeah. I can't help it. I mean--" I took both of Paulette's hands in mind. "I would love to make love to you, Paulette, but every time I think about it, what comes to mind is you blowing me up and putting me on your bed and using me--and all the while I'm lying there, still, letting you do what you want to me. And do you know how that makes me feel?"
"Tell me," she asked.
"It makes me very wet. It excites me." I released her hands. "It's about the only thing that makes me feel . . . human."
Paulette led us over to a table in the back room. "You think you'll ever get over this feeling?" she asked as we sat.
"I don't know. Maybe one day, but . . ." I looked around the room, unable to meet her gaze. "Right now I can't. I just . . . want it."
Paulette nodded. "Would you like me to change you--just for a short time--and let my boyfriend use you?"
I couldn't believe what she was offering. Allowing me to have sex--no, that's not right. To be used like I once was. "I, uh . . ." I smiled. "I'd love that."
"But it wouldn't be forever," she said. "I'd control the wand. You'd be changed, sexed, and then changed back when it was all over." She gave me a concerned looked. "You understand it wouldn't be forever."
"I understand." But there was one think I had to know. "How long would I stay like that if you didn't change me back."
It looked as if Paulette didn't want to answer. "I don't know the exact amount of time," she finally said, "but it would be something like ten, twelve years."
I ran that number around my head. That's a long time, I thought. A very long time indeed.

I left with Paulette that night. She said she'd spoken to her boyfriend earlier in the day, and that he'd be over about 10 PM for the fun and festivities. I was almost shaking; I couldn't really contain my feelings. The prospect of becoming a doll again, a sex toy for the using, had me in a near frenzy.
"Why don't you get yourself comfortable, Monica?" Paulette said after we'd been at her place for a few minutes. "I know I am." And with that she stripped off her clothes, leaving only her bra, panties, stockings and shoes on.
I stared at her, dumbfounded. "Paulette?"
She smiled broadly. "C'om, honey," she purred. "Don't tell me you didn't know I wanted to do you before I turned you over to my boy toy." She giggled. "You're losin' it if you didn't, Monica."
She moved towards me slowly, her hips swaying broadly from one side to the other. "My only regret is I didn't keep you after I changed you the last time," she said. "The money was way too good, though." She put her arms around me, hugged me, then began undressing me.
"You wanted to keep me?" was all I could ask.
"Uh, huh." She unbuttoned by dress. "But the Mortons . . . well, when they found out you were a real girl inside that doll body, they didn't even blink when I said your price was $15,000." She slid it off my body. "I got greedy; I should have kept you." She pulled down my bra and began slowly licking my nipples. "We could have had so much fun--"
"You and your boyfriend?" I moaned. The moment she touched me I was on fire. I couldn't wait for her to put the wand inside me and change me. I wanted to cum right at the moment I turned to air-filled latex . . ..
Paulette cast my bra aside and slide her hand into my panties. "Yeah. Loving you, fucking you, playing with you. And all the while knowing there's someone inside that . . . body. Someone completely aware of what we're doing." She kissed me between the breasts, then locked lips. "I like that I can kiss you like this now. You won't be able to return the affection later."
I kissed her passionately. When we broke I said, "I'll be returning the affection--just in a different way."
Paulette giggled like a schoolgirl. "I can't wait." She fingered me expertly, but considering the state of sexual excitement I in, the wind blowing on my clitoris would have gotten me off. As soon as I came I feel to my knees, panting and moaning. Paulette left me in my pleasure and moved to where she'd left her purse.
She reached in and pulled something out. When she turned towards me, she held the wand in her hands. "Why don't we start the fun a little early?" she said, moving closer. She began making adjustments to the wand. "I've always had a thing for Kate Beckinsale . . . I'll bet you'll be hot as her as a Real Doll--"
She knelt before me. "You are going to be so beautiful," she whispered. "We'll take great care of you--"
I couldn't look at her. All I saw was the wand. "Paulette?"
"Yes, honey?"
"One should experience their own fantasies," I said. "Not live them through others." I snatched the wand out of her hand. Before she could react, I pressed the wand through her half-open lips and activated it.
Paulette recoiled in shock. "Monica!" she screamed. "You've . . . what have you . . ." She looked at her arms. They were already starting to transform from flesh to silicon latex. "You--"
"I changed you, Kate," I said. I stood over her still-knelling form. Her features changed from her own into the actress she had a thing for. She tried to look up, but already most of her body was transformed into an inanimate doll form. "I changed you into your fantasy." The transformation completed only seconds later. I'd changed Paulette into a perfect copy of Kate Beckinsale--one that I was certain her boyfriend would love with all his heart.
I kissed her lips. "I love you this way, Kate," I told her. "You're so very lovely." Of course I knew she could hear me. She was probably feeling some fear right now, but as soon as she had her first orgasm . . . "Oh, how bad of me," I told her. I got to my feet, then headed for her bedroom. I had to spend a few minutes tearing through things, but eventually I found what I was looking for.
I returned to the living room, holding her large purple dildo in my hands. "I knew a girl like you would have a toy like this." I set the dildo down and moved Kate into position. I put her on her back, knees up and legs spread, hands on knees. I got between her legs and licked her pussy, getting her good and wet and eager to accept the dildo. After twenty minutes I decided she was read. I turned the dildo on and slid it into her waiting hole. I began to masturbate her. I knew what she was feeling inside her silicon body. Pleasure. Intense pleasure. Pleasure no real woman could ever experience.
I laid next to her. "You knew I'd do this," I said. "You didn't even try to stop me. You wanted to know what it was like." I rolled over and pulled myself closer. "And now you do." I kissed her on the lips, then I grabbed the wand.
I held it in my hand, staring at it. I thought of Lisa, but there was no time to contact her. Besides, all I could think of was my pleasure, not hers. Yes, it was selfish, but . . . well, Lisa's interest lay in one area, and mine in another.
I placed the wand in Kate's mouth and activated it again. Removed it, replaced it, activated it. I didn't know if it would have the same effect as having been fail-safed like I had, but . . . well, it didn't hurt to try.
At least I have someone who understands how I feel, I thought as I placed the wand in my own vagina--

Danny had quite a shock when he came over and found two identical Kate Beckinsale Real Dolls lying together on the living room floor, one with a dildo in her pussy, the other hugging the one with the dildo. He knew about the plan, knew about the wand . . . but he didn't know he was going to find us both changed.
And the wand nowhere in sight.
First he panicked. Then he calmed down. Then, realizing his luck, hauled us both into the bedroom and spent the weekend having his way with us. He didn't know which one of us was Paulette, and which one was Monica--and after a few weeks of us transformed he didn't much care. He ran my business as best he could, kept my house, and made love to us.
It was a pretty nice life.
It was the housekeeper who finally found the wand, under the sofa where it'd been tossed while Monica was still able to move. By this time ten months had passed; ten month of Danny loving both of us the best he could. Oh, sure, he brought over other women--women who weren't all that freaked out by us, women who even played with us a little. We didn't mind. After all, the living sometimes crave the touch of someone real.
He kept the wand for another three month before deciding to try and "deactivate" us. I could tell he only wanted one of us back; you could see it in his eyes. The problem was, which one? Kate 1 or Kate 2? He couldn't make up his mind which one would be the one he wanted. Finally he stuck the wand in, turned it on--
And I returned to being flesh and blood once more.
He stood over me. "Paulette?" he asked, concerned, puzzled.
I looked and smiled. "Yeah, it's me," I told him as I rubbed my breasts. "I'm back."
I spent the better part of a month getting back on my feet. The last year had been fantastic. I told Danny everything about being a doll: how it'd felt, how sensual it was, how loving he'd been. He let me in on everything that had been happening at the galley, but I wasn't paying much attention to his word. All I could think about was the last year.
He asked about what to do with the other Kate. "Leave her," I said. "It's what she wants."
And so we did.
That was four years ago.
The gallery is doing well, and business couldn't be better. I discovered that Lisa had gone to jail; she'd been caught having sex with teenage boys, and was on the third year of a five year stint. Rumor was she'd trying killing herself a couple of times once in, so she'd been moved to a mental health facility to finish out her sentence. It was doubtful, though, that she'd ever get out; there were stories that she kept insisting she was really a life-sized doll . . ..
Danny has moved on after a couple of years. When he discovered I enjoyed paying more attention to Kate than to him it was more than his ego could handle, and he headed off to find a woman who was happier with a "real" man instead of a Real Doll.
His leaving didn't bother me.
After all, it's the same thing my first boyfriend did.
I never told Danny that I'd made a few adjustments to the wand before I used it--like, if and when either of us was deactivated, we'd come back looking like Paulette. As long as Danny was getting ass sex and blow jobs he didn't seem to notice that there were things I knew that Paulette didn't, and things I'd never known that she did. Whenever something like that did come up, I'd just tell him that my memory was spotty from "being dolled".
That too was a lie. 'Cause I remember everything.
As much as I've tried I can't get the feelings I had as a doll out of my head. Even living at Paulette, even knowing her friends, being around them, interacting with them--it hasn't changed anything. I was "under" for way too much time, and anymore it's all I want.
To be still once more. And loved.
Just as I love Kate.
It won't be long before I go back again. Kate was affected by my injecting her multiple times. She'll stay transformed for six more years if I don't bring her out of her condition. But I can't have that. I'm getting old, and she still looks as good as the day she was made.
No, I have something else in mind. I'm going to transform her back to her "old" self, and then I'm going to change us both again. I already have a buyer for twin Kate dolls that have been--lets say "modified" just a little. All he has to do is come over and come in, and he'll find the dolls in the living room. Just leave the money behind and take the dolls.
Sure, I know he won't leave a dime. But I don't care. Because money won't ever be important to us. No, not with us staying transformed for 45 years.
And I don't even need to ask Kate if this is okay with her.
I know what she's thinking 'cause she's just like me.
She just wants to be perfect.
And loved.