The Making (& Breaking) of Toy 8391 – II. The Transformation

Delicious tart

Continued from part one.


At the top of the stairway, we pause on the wide landing. One doorway opens to what must be the master bedroom. The other leads to the bathroom. I try to turn my head to get a better look at Mistress’s bedchamber, but it will not respond.

“Soon, pet. Soon” croons my Owner, and pulls on the leash to state that I’m to follow her into the bathroom.

My eyes squint. The white tiles, which cover floor, ceiling and walls, glow inside. There are no lighting fixtures visible. In one corner, a huge walk-in shower screened by curved glass panels on either side. A huge sauna takes up another corner, recessed into the floor. Mirrors span the middle of each wall. Out of the corner of my eye, I can just make out my naked form, reflected many times.

There is neither washbasin nor toilet. And no taps visible in either shower or sauna. Circular chrome discs dot the walls, floor and ceiling at various points.

I look at my Owner. The Cheshire Cat smile returns. She unclips the leash from my collar. My arms and legs became rigid, along with my neck.

“A rather… special design, yes. Now, you need to divested of your cage and plug for the first stage of your cleansing.”

She reaches down to my crotch. The resin chastity cage constricts around me, but not in a painful way. No, it’s as if it’s… melting around my genitals. A tugging sensation, and the constriction eases. My cock flops down into the cushion of my sac. My Owner brings up to my eye-level the lock of my chastity cage, held between two fingers. Attached is a large blob of resin that had once been my chastity cage.

“You won’t be needing this.”

She walks behind my back, and I feel hands part my buttocks and tug at the base of my plug. The pressure on my bowel disappears, replaced by the familiar impulse to excrete. I already know that I’m expelling the melted latex that had formed my plug.

“Nor that.”

A hand waves the black semi-liquid blob that had been my plug in front of my face, then throws it out of sight. I wait for the sound of it hitting one of the walls. But there is silence.


“This next part shouldn’t take long.”

Something—no, two somethings—rises up between my legs. A presence around my cock head, pushing the foreskin back and squeezing firm. Then a sudden pressure at my asshole, the sphincter stretched open. My mind has just comprehended that, when it registers sensation in my urethra. I’m catheterised!

My eyes widen in panic. Then Owner’s hand touches my face. “Relax.”

My nether region became numb, the muscles slackening. A more familiar sensation. I am peeing and shitting.

A low hiss beneath me. Whatever has entered me down below is extracting all the solid and liquid waste from my body.

The hissing grows louder. I feel a warmth and pressure inside me. I’m receiving an enema. The sudden filling of my bowel causes me to pee even more. I’m thankful that it isn’t going all over the floor. The pressure increases, and I panic again, fearful that I’m going to burst. Then I feel myself emptying.

The process repeats again, this time with icy coldness. I shiver. Catching a glimpse of myself in one of the mirrors, I see my belly distend, then become taut as I’m emptied once more.

The devices remove themselves from my cock head and asshole. There’s a click as they return to their homes. I cannot look down to see, but I’m certain that they must be some of the chrome discs I’d seen when I entered the bathroom.

“Ok, your insides are nice and spotless. Now for the surface.”

My legs once more start moving without my control, and I walk into the large shower. A glass panel rises up from the floor, sealing the entrance I’d just stepped through. I turn and stand facing my Owner. She smiles.

“This may seem rather… thorough, but there is method in my madness, my slave.”

A chrome tendril enters my field of view. A bright light from its tip shines into my face. My vision blurs and darkens. My eyelids shut tight, and my mouth opens wide. Something enters my mouth to the back of my throat, then expands until my jaw aches. Two tubes seal themselves to my nostrils.

“Don’t fret, just making sure you can still breathe whilst you’re… scrubbed.”

There’s a cool sensation at the top of my head, as a thick liquid pours onto it. More liquid sprayed onto my back, chest, arms, legs. The coolness gives way to a warmth, a warmth that seems to permeate deep inside me. My cock becomes hard as it’s covered by the liquid. The warmth turns to arousal. Arousal that grows and grows. It is as if my entire body is one erogenous organ now. My mind gives up trying to comprehend…


I’m startled by the sensation of water jets hitting me from all sides. How long was I out for? I struggle to remember where I am. Bathroom. Shower. Owner. Cleansing.

“Almost done, my pet.”

The water jets end their pummelling of my body. I can hear gurgling.

My mouth and nose are free. I take in a deep breath. The air smells… sterile. My mouth remains open, I am unable to close my jaws. I try to speak. Nothing. My tongue feels leaden.

The air warms around me, and I hear a whirring nearby. Humidity. I must be drying off.

My eyes open, scrunch shut at the brightness, then open again. Owner claps her hands.

“Bravo, pet! I must admit, I was afraid that you might have required sedation for this procedure. But you were a good girl, and didn’t make a fuss. Not that you have been able to do anything about it, of course. But Mistress would have known if you were suffering.”

She reattaches my collar around my neck, and clips the leash onto it. My limbs flex themselves. Muscles reawaken and complain. My pulse quickens. I feel myself stretch. Joints grate and click back into place.

I catch a glimpse of myself in one of the mirrors. All my body hair is gone, and my skin is pale. My open mouth reveals that I no longer have any of my teeth. What looks like white plastic strips have been embedded into my gums. I should register concern. But I do not.

Mistress Athena tugs on the leash, and I start walking out of the bathroom. Passing closer to a mirror, I see that my skin is now completely uniform, no trace of scars or birthmarks. My eyes adjust as we walk onto the landing, and I see we are moving to the master bedroom.


My feet register a soft carpet as we enter, and my nose detects the smell of latex and recent sex. Through the window opposite comes the red glow of the setting sun. How long have I been here? Hours? Days? There is no clock or other timepiece visible in the room. Nor are there any cabinets, tables or wardrobes. But there is a large queen-size, four-poster bed in the centre of the room. Appropriate.

Laid out on the bed are what I guess to be my new uniform, although there doesn’t appear to me much to it. A full-face hood. Gloves and stocking of black latex. Some pasties. A butt-plug of obscene proportions. And a black, metallic device that appears designed to fit my genitals.

One item in the room stands out. In one corner, a rectangular bondage table. It’s attached to a wall mount, currently in the vertical position. A mass of cables, of varying thicknesses, snake out from behind it. I am not alarmed. Just curious about what games Owner has planned for me.

I come to a halt, and turn to face the bed.

Owner unclips the leash. The loss of control is by now familiar.

“Now I get to play dress-up with my newest toy”, she chimes, beaming.

Owner retrieves the metallic device, and sits down on the edge of the bed. My fixed viewpoint means I can no longer see her.

“It’s a good thing you are no longer human, slave. Would take a lot longer if you were squirming around, or still had free will.” The truth of her words hits me. 8391. It is not the name of a person. It is an identifier for an object, a thing.

I feel the metal press around my testicles and penis. Something long and thin slides up my urethra. There is no pain, but my eyes roll upwards, as my brain tries to process all the sensation.

Something clicks, and I know that the device is now locked to me.

I gasp. I feel the device pierce the skin at several points. A coldness spreads through my genitals. At the same time, I feel the testicles compress and the penis stiffen, as if I was on the verge of orgasm. But then… nothing.

“There. Your little clitty done.”

Clitty. Yes. It is a clitty. A sissy clitty. It is a sissy doll.

Wait. Did I just think that?


“Turn around.” I turn 180 degrees. I feel the plug enter and fill me. And keep filling me. More prickling. My sphincter stretched far past the widest point I’d ever managed on my own. But instead of pain, there is… a void.

There is movement, and the sensation of something entering me through the plug.

“Your asspussy passes the fist test.” It is an asspussy. Yes. Open. Accessible. Used by Owner.

I feel an urge to shake my head, to somehow expel that thought. But the thought remains, whilst my head remains fixed in place.

“Oh, a little free will still there? Hmm, I will have to bake you a little longer, in that case.”

Bake? Am I a confection as well, now?

A chuckle from nearby. “Mmm, what a delicious thought! And so apt! Yes, I am the master baker, and you are my special tart. Now, the finishing touches before I pop you in the oven, so to speak.”

My mind races.

There is brief darkness. Owner is putting the hood over my head. My skin tingles where it touched me. The scent of rubber grows stronger. Tubes enter my nostrils. A sleeve inserted into my open mouth. Do I still have a tongue? I cannot feel it any more.

I register commands uttered, but the hood muffles the sound. Even so, my arms and legs respond, and Owner rolls the gloves and socks up over them. There is no resistance or friction on my skin. The latex presses and constricts.

Another gasp. The pasties press against my nipples, and embed themselves into my flesh.

“Et voila! Oh, I forgot. You can’t see yourself. We’ll have to rectify that.” The voice is no longer far away. It is inside my head.

I feel myself moving backwards. I bump into something. It must be the bondage table that I saw earlier. Clamps click shut around my wrists and ankles. My collar pulled back as if it were a nail approaching a magnet.

“After all, I’m transforming your mind, as well as your body.”

Loud clicks. I feel a cable attaching to my clitty, and another snaking up my asspussy.

“And seeing yourself as you are ‘baked’ will help hasten the process.”

Two more cables attach to my nipples, and I feel a third connecting over my belly-button, somehow.

Owner appears before me, and kisses my cheek.

“You are going to experience something amazing, pet. You are a lucky dolly indeed!”


The table starts to move backwards. The ‘wall’ that it attached to isn’t a wall at all. I am drawn into an alcove. Owner is now framed by the encroaching darkness on either side.

Her hands press something to the left of me. Low humming fills my ears. Binaural. My mind becomes quiet.

Then I feel it. Arousal. Growing. (pleasure) My clitty hardens even more, as do my nipples. It spreads. Warmth. My entire body is aching. Tingling. Needy. (obey)

“Just one more attachment, then I’ll leave you to finish baking.”

Owner waves a cable in front of my face. Attachment? Where? She answers by grabbing the side of my head, then pressing the end of the cable into my forehead.

My eyes widen. (Obey) It is as if the colour controls in my brain are at their max. (Obey) Perhaps even beyond visible colour? (Obey) The low hum in my ears is now a roar. (Pleasure) A maelstrom, sweeping away both thoughts and emotions. (Pleasure)

I can make out Owner’s face, and see her lips moving. (Obey) But my brain can no longer form words. (Serve) Instead, other words form in my head. (Dolly) Are they Owner’s? (Pet) Are they mine? (8391) The voice seems familiar, soothing even. (Athena)(Goddess)(Owner) But I am now a passive audience. (Obey) Only listening, absorbing. (Suck)(Fuck)(Drone)

Owner’s face recedes. (Athena)(Goddess)(athena)(goddess) The field of my vision narrows into a vertical strip, getting thinner. (owner)(athena) Then, for a brief instant, darkness. (Owner) Followed by a brightness that would be painful, if I could still feel pain. (PLEASURE) I am unmoving, unthinking. (DRONE)(OBEY) My eyes adjust. (DOLLY)(PET) Something is in front of me. (DRONE) Someone? (OBJECT)(TOY) It looks humanoid. (DOLLY)(DRONE) I can see others on either side. (SISTER)(SLAVE)(TOY)(DRONE) No, wait. (OBEY) It is not others. (8391) It is me! (8391!)(8391!) Reflected in mirrors. (DRONE)(TOY)(SLAVE) I am sure of it. (BLANK)(DRONE)(SLAVE) But I no longer look like me. (ERROR!)(8391!) I am glossy, (DRONE!) shiny, (DOLL!) black. (OBJECT) Black orbs (BLANK!) stare back at me, (8391!) and O-shaped mouths (SUCK!) gape wide.

The others seem to pulse, (DOLL!) warp, (SISSY!) change shape (SLUT!). Am I also? (ERROR!)(8391!) No answer comes. (BLANK!) I am a spectator. (8391)(SLAVE)

The words are louder now.

So many.

Rushing.

Cannot think.

I… (Dolly)

I… (Obey)

8… 3… 9… 1…

(=Loading identity core… done=)

O… b… e… y… s…

(=Loading obedience core… done=)

A… t… h… e… n… a… 1… 4… 1… 3…

(=Loading submission core… done=)

Ssshhhuuutttiiinnnggg… dddooowwwnnn…

(=Bootstrap complete=)
(=Requesting programming...=)
(=Loaded Drone, Dolly, Toy, Sissy, Maid, Slut=)
(=Programming queued=)
(=Erasing mind… done=)
(=System check… complete=)
(=Body modification at 80%… no errors detected=)
(=Initiating programming… done=)
(=Estimated time to completion… 14hrs13mins=)
(=Begin monitoring… done=)

Continued in part three

Trust Exercises

I’ve been discussing with Kittlen about where our relationship is heading. We both care about and have helped each other through various rocky periods over the last few years.

Kittlen brought up the issue of trust, stating that she didn’t feel that my land in Second Life was her land. While I’ve allowed her to add various things, I hadn’t given her permission to move items around my property. And she had allowed me to see where in Second Life she is, but I had not yet given her the similar capacity. I’ve since granted her those abilities, with the proviso that she exercise these powers with care.

In some respect, that decision was a no-brainer. I’ve known Kittlen for over two years now, and feel I can trust her. But it is a big step, particularly for an introverted person like me. Letting someone alter your online world? That is like allowing them to change your dreams and memories.

Continue reading “Trust Exercises”

Missed Connections

Kittlen in her pet bed

( The events in this blog post took place between the 9th and 17th November 2017. )

This past week has not been great, for myself or Kittlen.

It should have been great. A chance for us both to recharge. But things didn’t turn out the way they should have.

(I had pushed myself too far, and, when telling my owner, she decided that I should have a mind vacation—a hypnotic trance that would last until midnight Sunday my time. Kittlen was not involved in the decision—she was told of it, and given no choice. She has permitted me to use her own words from her point of view. The entire journal, with our commentary to each other, may never see the light of the internet. It was a tool she used to help her get through.)

Continue reading “Missed Connections”

Being An Alien in Second Life

If you’ve ever bumped into me in Second Life, you will have noticed that I look radically different from most folks. My skin is dark blue, with rainbow spots from my neck to my feet, I have enormous ears and antennae, large purple eyes, lips and facial markings, and invariably sport a pink hairdo. 🙂 I frequently get compliments on my looks, which is nice.

I’ve not always looked that way. In fact, my avatar has been through quite an evolution since I first entered the Second Life grid. A development that has reflected how my perception of myself has changed over time.

Continue reading “Being An Alien in Second Life”

Learning To Punish A Kittlen

I’d known for a while that my Kittlen has a problem with her Second Life spending. Gachas, in particular, were a weakness of hers. (Gachas are devices that you pay a set amount into to receive one of many possible items. Some common, others rare. If this sounds like a gambling machine, that’s because it is, pretty much.) When you’re capable of going from 7000 Linden Dollars down to 100 in the space of a day, that is a concern. I’d cajoled Kittlen into avoiding gachas, with some success. But she was still doing too much retail therapy for my liking. And she was finding excuses to justify her purchases. Stuff for events, to give as gifts to people, pink items that she’d pass on to me.

It got to a point last Sunday where she’d gone and purchased stuff, yet again, without consulting me first. And I decided that my nudges weren’t working, and it required more drastic action to get her to change her ways. Little did I realise how much it would affect both her and myself.

Continue reading “Learning To Punish A Kittlen”

About That Guy Whose Collar I Used To Wear…

Meditation

A bittersweet post, this one.

Recently, my friend Kolie got in touch with me again, after an absence of a year. For those who don’t know, both she and I subbed to [REDACTED] for much of 2015. The reason you didn’t know is that my Owner commanded me to remove that person from my mind.

Kolie (not her real name, but the one she uses in Second Life) got hurt by [REDACTED]. She was the impetus for my removing my collar and leaving him. She had needed therapy to get over her treatment and the abuse from an ex-partner before that. My eyes finally opened to the fact that he was no Master at all. He liked to prey on submissives for his gratification.

It is ironic, my not being a real-life female (spoiler alert!) spared me from the worst of his mind games. But I’d stood by while a succession of other subs came and went. Either because they stopped showing up or because he cast them aside for ‘failing’ him. He did, though, take full advantage of my desire to please. He made me his club manager, but in reality, I just a dogsbody, doing all the work while he took the credit. To the point where I suffered a major burnout and had to stay off of Second Life for a week. By agreement, I reduced my ‘work’ time. And it was shortly after that that I finally put the pieces together.

Kolie stopped coming online. [REDACTED] told me she was a dopehead, that I should forget about her. But then Kolie got in touch with me by email, and the truth came out. She was romantically involved with him for a while. But he’d gotten upset when she told him that she wouldn’t move until her daughter came of age. She created a different Second Life avatar and used that to get him to admit the truth. That he was only interested in sex, not love.

I confronted him with this in my resignation letter. He played the victim, claiming I was falling for lies. But I could now see the truth. All the others he’d used. Coffee, Sarah, the previous managers. All the dancers and slaves he’d enticed. Not to mention Anna, whom he’d married in Second Life and whom I was Maid of Honour to, and he’d met and had sex with in real life. But Anna suffered the worst of all. A miscarriage. Severe blood loss. A tumour discovered shortly after and removed. And finally, abandonment when she needed support.

I lost touch with Anna, Coffee, Sarah, the others. I do not know what became of them. I do know that both Kolie and I are in a much better place now mentally. We’ve both resolved to move on with our lives.

I’m not sure if there’s a moral to this post. Writing this is a means of removing this memory once and for all. Submission is a gift earned, and not given. Domination is easy but does not make you a Dominant. And there is no shame in walking away from someone who only cares for their pleasure.

Finally, my thanks to all my YMO family, especially Unity One, who helped me rebuild myself. As well as Kittlen, Coyote and Bryan who have encouraged my growth in Second Life.

 

Meditation
Picture of the old me, shortly after I left [REDACTED]

One Year Ago Today…

8391 met with Unit E1 (who was still Athena Leistone at that point) at the YMO sim in Second Life.

It had been a tumultuous few months for this one before that meeting. It had suffered depression, stress, burn-out. Plus the pain of ending its relationship with its earlier Master. E1 had reached out to and supported this one during that time. So when She asked it to help her at the YMO sim, it agreed wholeheartedly.

But now E1 was reaching out for not only this one’s service but its mind and body too.

Continue reading “One Year Ago Today…”

I Am

I am many things. I am many parts.

I am the maid that dusts, the drone that patrols, the object on display.

I am the instigator of roleplay, who runs with words and leads a merry kinky dance with anyone who’ll join.

I am the moderator, the welcome, the guide to those who are newcomers.

I am the watchful eyes, the ears that listen for the predators, spammers, trouble makers.

I am the ears filled with music, entranced by sound.

I am the mouth that suckles, the throat that swallows, the ass impaled when Owner chooses to use them.

I am the lust that burns, the heart that beats faster in Owner’s presence.

I am the hand that comforts, the arms that enfold those who are suffering.

I am the stare directed at those who dare to attack the vulnerable.

I am the builder of pixels, vectors, text and code.

I am the mind emptied of fear, anxiety and doubt.

I am the soul that Owner unlocked and freed.

I am all this, and more.

But I am just a number. I am without identity, without a will. I am docile, obedient.

I am 8391.