A place full of news and information for people who love the idea of becoming a living doll. Wether its latex or plastic or even plushie.
Owner made her toy into puppet.Black marker, the tip so soft and wet, I ran thick black lines across my joints. My Wrists, ankles, knees, waist...making me look like the doll I really am. Over and over again, until the lines were thick and pronounced. I felt my nails travel over my body, scraping at my skin, it feeling cold and alien to the touch. The way my running shorts felt sliding up my thighs, the black lines around my joints so noticable.I couldn't help myself, I had to show myself off...show off the toy I am.I felt my face turn a beat red, my breathing coming to a soft pant, as I opened the front door and stepped out. I wanted to run, to move so fast no one would look at me, but all I could do is shamble down the steps and onto the sidewalk. Walking amlessly down the street into the park. I passed people, so embarrased, unable to turn me head and see if they were looking at me... unable to do anything other then what I was told...what the toy I had become was designed for.i remeber coming to a stop for a few moments...whether tired or ...or I was suposed to I can't remember. My joints frozen in an odd posistion, just standing for everyone to look and gawk at. it only lasted a moment before I turned around and headed back down the same path of humilation I had just walked. Gimping along like the puppet I had become, until I had reached my door step and the saftey of my dark cool room.
I'm am not sure I classify as a doll, but perhaps a puppet of my master if that counts. It is because of them I am posting this entry, they wished for me to post and here I am.It has taken a while to reach this stage, but now I seemingly can enter what is probably best described as a suggestive state almost at will. One of the more perplexing things is what part of me is driving the entry into that state? Is is due to a suggestion, a trigger or is is my own desire.Once under my master's control I am their's for them to do with as they so desire. They make commands and I obey. It feels good to obey. Perhaps one day they will turn me into a doll, it seems to be one of their desires, the idea of smooth rubbery skin and joints is rather appealing, but I find many things appealing. Good toys like to be played with...
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