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.
"As the timer on the freeze ray kicked on, Angela relaxed for another weekend 'dollcation'. As her mind began to drift into the calmness of non-thought, she briefly regretted not smiling better for her cameras. Oh well, next weekend she'd be sure to beam... before the beam."
i see the entries are flooding in.i may have to think about i started to blog againxx
Wait, let me get my latex...
It was good to have friends. Ben made custom mannequins for high-end fashion shops. The contracts were lucrative, but the time demands were tight. When that yuppie rear-ended the trailer he was transporting his client's latest project in, Ben knew he'd never have time to rebuild the new mannequin before the deadline. In a panic, he called his old college friend Sandra, and she said she'd be right over to offer whatever help she could. The help was exactly what he needed, and after the last pass of the matte finish layer of the resin spray, Ben knew Sandra could buy him enough time to finish the real mannequin. She'd said she wanted to go on a diet for a few days, anyway, so in a way Ben was helping Sandra out, too. It was good to have friends.
Love the pic! Click on the link for MY contribution:http://bimbodacious.blogspot.ca/2014/05/best-doll-caption-ever.html?m=1
[begin brief fiction]Deep down, Mimi knew that this was all just a game. Just roleplay, just hypnosis,just dress-up.It was always something. Something getting in the way of her actually BEING a doll in the moment. Some small little stray thought telling her "this is fake" or "this isn't real" or "this is sexist and won't end well".It never really occurred to her that she'd have to have someone with her, so she could go deeper into it. That she'd have to have someone do her hair, do her makeup for her and actually do this TO her, live, in person, to actually make it work, and make it stick.Which is why, now, after 5 weeks of actually making her hair that blonde and shiny, and after waiting for the perfect and sterile circle lenses to arrive, and waiting for the right kind of makeup, foundation and fixer to arrive so that her face wouldn't budge...after waiting for her owner....no, that wasn't right, but other words, they wouldn't come out right.Boy-friend? Love-er? Or may-be his name thing-y? The harder she tried to relate to him as a person, the more cute, squeaky and dollish her words came out--it was a trance condition he insisted on early and often.Point was...after all that and having her face and body rendered numb and downright-wooden feeling for 8 hours and being posed like that and NOT allowed to sleep or rest or react much at all....She couldn't do it. She was getting cold and couldn't ask him to dress her. Couldn't move enough to actually sit down and couldn't talk loudly enough to ask him to take the heels off. She couldn't feel her fingers or toes properly anymore, and her face was a mask.Barbie wasn't me-me anymore, she was a doll. Maybe all doll, maybe too much doll, and she still had to wait. And all she could do was pout about it.[end brief fiction]Brad Poe (welcome back, it's been too long)
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