Chapter 3: Smoothed and Helpless

Catherine’s consciousness returned as though it had never left. It wasn’t abrupt or startling. One moment she’d been somewhere else, or simply gone and the next she was back and without a hint of awkwardness or haze.

Her focus was back, and so was her ability to think.

“What… What just happened?!” Her mind was back, but that didn’t mean she was able to comprehend her situation any better. Looking around confirmed she was still in the very pink room that looked like it would only work as a parody of a dollhouse sized-up for actual people to use. “This isn’t a dream, because I’m still… here. So much for that.” Catherine frowned. “Bronwen is gone, and she didn’t tell me to do anything, so…”

Without so much as a stammer and without being startled in the least, her lips spread into a wide smile and words came eagerly from her lips.

“Bronwen is always correct!”

Catherine blinked, staring ahead in amazement. She hadn’t expected that to happen. She’d simply been thinking about the other woman, and then when the idea of her name of her strange eyes and her odd hair—

“Bronwen is always correct!”

Grinning, Catherine clasped her hands over her mouth. She stared down at her hands in exasperation, waiting several moments before she pulled them back away. “I’m keeping you on notice! No more of that or I’ll keep you locked away. I’m not a doll—”

Like before, all of Catherine’s confusion and frustration drained from her face in less than an instant. Where all of those conflicted emotions once were was filled instead with euphoria.

“I’m a good dolly!”

She tried to whine, but whatever made that impossible at Bronwen’s command was apparently still in effect. Her shoulders rose and dropped dramatically, but no sound came from her throat. Grumbling, she rose a hand as though to cover her mouth, and then shook her head.

“Dang it. Apparently there are things that I can’t think, or can’t think near or else they’ll just sort of… come out of me…” She squirmed, her eyes fluttering on their own as her vision felt the faintest bit fuzzier. Bronwen was changing her, and Catherine could feel it. Her own thoughts were a minefield, just waiting for her to trip up and lose even the loose grasp she still possessed on her mind. “Maybe… maybe if I try to not… think about… those things… about how Bronwen is changing me—”

Being interrupted by herself was possibly the most bizarre feeling Catherine had ever experienced. It was no less obnoxious than being interrupted by anyone else, but the joy she felt from yielding to Bronwen’s control in her mind was palpable. Her chest was flush, her breathing quicker, her everything so warm with delight.

Every time one of those mines burst in her mind, silencing her own volition and replacing it with a command from Bronwen, it felt so good that it was almost easy to accept it and not try to fight back.

“The shape of my body is for you to decide!”

Catherine shuddered, her thighs drawing together tight. Something about that felt wrong, less satisfying than it should have, but a shiver of uncertainty tingled down her spine as she pondered examining why that might be the case.

“D-dang it… I…” She blinked, fluttering her eyes. “Wait… Th-the shape of my body…?” She mewled, the interruption less surprising but no less dramatic. “The shape of my body is for you to decide! Dang it!” Her cheeks were burning a dark, deep red—nearly as red as the color of Bronwen’s hair. “What is she doing… to… oh fuck how could I forget these?!”

Her hands quickly moved to her own breasts, which she found to be much heavier, much rounder, and overall much larger than they were when she’d left home. They perfectly fit the red dress she now wore, with pink ruffles around the neckline, her wrists, and the hem down by her feet. The shoulders of the dress was poofy, looking not unlike doll clothing. Around her neck she found a deep purple ribbon tied into a tasteful bow.

“I look like a doll—I’m a good dolly—dang it!” Though Catherine was still shivering from just how blissful and right it felt to say those words, to yield to the control Bronwen left behind in her mind, that didn’t stop her from struggling. If anything, it served to emphasize just how helpless she really was.

Catherine’s body and mind were submitting before she ever had a say in the matter. There was no choice—obedience was a part of what she was.

“What was it that Bronwen said when she saw me—Bronwen is always correct!” Catherine failed to whimper, her thighs squeezing together again, tighter than before. It made her dizzy to do, and raised her confusion with how warm she felt, but something felt… wrong about it. Some part of it was missing while feeling so ordinary to be absent. “Was it… Something about me being submissive…? I… I need to see what she’s doing to my body—The shape of my body is for you to decide!”

Another groan, and her eyes fluttered shut. She knew at least some of the things that made those words burst forth, but it was so hard to keep them in mind without instantly succumbing to them.

She wasn’t entirely sure she could.

“I’m a good dolly!”

Fuck! She shook her head. I was just thinking that… Another shiver moved down her spine, and her toes curled. This… This isn’t fair…! I need… need to get myself together. Maybe I need to just… try… relaxing…? She grinned, nodding triumphantly. Yeah, that’s right…! If I relax then I can’t make those words go off, and that means I won’t like them even more and that… that’ll be good, right…?

There was of course a large bed covered with gorgeous pink sheets and blankets and large, fluffy pillows. Outright laying down seemed like a bad idea. She felt wide awake, but there was no telling how easy it might be to fall asleep with all of the stress and anxiety she was feeling from her quite unusual situation.

This is definitely taking a toll on me, even if I can’t feel it now. Dang it, I just wanted to see my girlfriend…! Catherine whimpered, raising her hands to grasp either side of her head before shaking it slowly back and forth. I hope she’s okay. I hope she’s not thinking I ditched her. Getting out of here would be a good idea, but if I run into… her… before I get my head together then I’ll just do whatever Bronwen wants—

“Bronwen is always correct!”

Catherine sighed, her eyes fluttering.

It felt nice to say the words, but it also felt nice to know that they were true. Maybe they hadn’t been before, and maybe they weren’t for anyone else, but for Catherine there was no doubt. They were right, even if she didn’t want them to be. Bronwen was always correct, and saying it was really such an erotic thing to do.

Fetishes that she’d never knew she had—or never been honest how deep they went—were being satisfied more intensely than she’d ever dreamed they could be.

All I need to do is just say those words and everything feels… nice. Catherine sighed again, and this time it was only a sound of calm and relaxation. She’s not just correct, she’s also… somehow she made my tits bigger, brought me to some… dollhouse… maybe fighting her isn’t going to work, maybe…

No…

She shook her head, taking a deep, slow breath.

That’s what… what she… Catherine shook her head. That’s a thing I could think, but I won’t. Instead, I’ll just… I’ll just try to relax. If I can get my head on straight then escaping from here shouldn’t be too difficult…!

Slamming her fist down into her own hand, Catherine grinned and wiggled onto the bed. She was tempted to peel out of the dress, but that felt like it might take a lot of work. There was no way of knowing just how much effort it would take to open it up, or if her hands were even capable of reaching all of the places necessary. Before even worrying about that, or finding a mirror, it felt important to get herself together.

She took another deep, slow breath, and…

Faded.

The world around her was suddenly so much quieter. There had already been no sound of birds or cars or people or any signs that this dollhouse existed anywhere near anything else, but as she relaxed, Catherine found the slightest signs that the rest of the world existing at all faded away.

Her eyes were closed, or she simply stopped seeing. Her lungs didn’t feel like they were filling with air, but she didn’t need to breathe either. She wasn’t cold, or warm, or comfortable.

For a brief time, Catherine wasn’t anything at all.

When she came back with a gasp, her eyes felt heavy. “Slow… I feel… slow, and… was I… Where was… Where did everything… go…?” She quickly stood, no longer comfortable with the idea of relaxing to pull herself together. “That felt… more relaxed than anything else ever has! I was so… It was… Nice…? But… but no…!”

She shook her head for a moment, and moved away from the bed. Her first attempt to escape was the door, but it was locked. The knob barely turned enough for an unsatisfying metal click to make it perfectly clear that there would be no escape through that obvious choice. Next she tried the windows, but all of them were sealed in place, refusing to budge in the slightest of ways. Even when she took a deep breath and tried to slam her elbow into the glass it simply bounced away, the window distorting but more like rubber than a more brittle glass.

As she fell back from the window, panting from the exertion of trying more than once, Catherine found herself not thinking about what to do next. She wasn’t worried about what might happen, or what she needed to do. Her only concern was recovering from using so much energy and strength.

Then she found herself staring off into space, only this time wasn’t quite like the last. The immediate room around her remained, but she had little desire to interact with it. She had no desire to move. Her body breathed on its own, and her eyes still blinked, but she wasn’t using them to see. She wasn’t using her nose to smell. She couldn’t feel the saliva in her mouth or the smooth, soft dress against her skin but not because she was suddenly incapable.

It just didn’t matter.

“You’re the one that matters!” All of the joy and delight in Catherine’s voice remained as she sighed. The words left her mouth, and she felt no impetus to struggle. She felt no desire, and no need to strain against the sweet, blissful feeling that resembled a smooth afterglow.

For a time, she simply stood limply, smiling like a simple, precious doll.

The occasional thought drifted through her mind, but it was the most vapid, shallow thoughts her mind could possibly have.

This dress is so pretty… It feels nice to be so calm… I like being a pretty dolly…

“I’m a good dolly!”

Surrendering to Bronwen’s leftover commands made Catherine moan, and like when Bronwen was plying her directly they were unable to rouse her from her trance-like bliss.

What could have been minutes later, or hours, Catherine drifted up from the feeling as though she’d been asleep. She even yawned, stretching her arms up high over her head. “Nnn… That was… a good… nap…? I don’t feel like I slept, and I was… I was thinking, I was just… I was…” She shook her head, the experience too far beyond her understanding. “What happened to me…?

“Fine, there’s no way I can get out of here, but I can still… She would… want… might—Bronwen is always correct!—ohhh…” Catherine groaned, her lips rubbing together as her heavy breathing trembled through her body. “That feels… better… every time… Mmm… but I… mirror! Right… I need… need to see myself… right…? Right…”

Moving away from the window, Catherine looked around the room. Her eyes settled on the closet, remembering through a hazy lens Bronwen looking through it for… something. She saw the dresser, and the sound she heard when she imagined its drawers pulled out made her thighs squirm.

Dry! That’s it…! Catherine quivered, too hazy to feel the need to think without someone more important around to hear it. I feel… aroused… but I don’t feel… wet. Slick.

There it is…!

Hidden behind a sheet, a tall mirror stood across the room. It was even the kind that could be easily adjusted forward or back for various angles. Taking a deep breath she dropped the sheet to the ground, and stared at herself. Besides the unusual experience of staring at her much larger breasts, everything looked right—but she knew it wasn’t.

Something about her body was different and she knew what it was without needing to look. Still, it seemed impossible. There was no way that could be true.

Taking a deep breath she reached down and gathered up the hem of the dress, pulling it slowly up along her legs. Like before, her panties looked creaseless while being such flimsy, lacy things with little substance to them at all. She felt how tight they were against her body, but that didn’t seem to matter.

Holding up the skirt with one hand, she tugged down her panties with the other.

“S-smooth…!” Catherine screamed in horror. “Like… Like I’m some kind of doll—I’m a good dolly!”

Stroking the bare, smooth skin revealed not the faintest hint of fuzz, or of anything else. It felt nice, as nice as it felt to stroke a cheek, or a thigh, or the curve of her ass, but the shape that was the smoothed mound that used to be her pussy didn’t offer any place for her fingers to hide away. It was dry but for the faintest hint of sweat.

“Y-you took away my pussy!” Catherine choked out the words in disbelief. No matter how firmly she stroked, the sensation was just that of smooth skin. “You… you stole my… m pussy—”

“The shape of my body is for you to decide!”

Catherine couldn’t stop shuddering, staring at the unnaturally smooth skin between her own legs as she tried to search for her genitals with her fingertips. “You didn’t even… You didn’t ask me, didn’t tell me, you didn’t… you didn’t care what I would—”

“You’re the one that matters!”

Catherine slumped, her hand falling away from her skirt, and her crotch. She didn’t even bother to tug her panties back into place. Something about them felt extraneous, more an accessory for a doll than any clothing she needed to wear. They would make her pretty—and being a pretty dolly felt nice—but she didn’t have the emotional energy to indulge that concern.

Instead, she made her way back over to the bed with her panties around her ankles, and dropped down heavily onto the blankets ass first.

“She keeps making me feel so hot… but I can’t… how am I supposed to cum if I don’t have a pussy…?! Or… anything…?! It’s just smooth…!” Tears of frustration filled Catherine’s eyes as she rocked on the bed. Her thighs clenched around the smooth surface between them. It still felt smooth and nice to rub down against the blankets beneath her, but it wasn’t anything close to how it should have felt, or how it would have felt the day before. “This was such a fucked up thing for you to do, Bronwen—”

“Bronwen is always correct!”

Arguing with her own words was too difficult. She couldn’t find any logic to defeat their truth when she was the one creating the truth in those words. Bronwen was correct, so even if the loss of her physical autonomy on such an important level, the loss of her ability to orgasm a thing she never thought she’d need to imagine much less experience, she knew that it was the correct thing for the other woman to do.

Bronwen was always correct, and the shape of Catherine’s body was, after all, for her to decide.

Anything else was what she wanted to be true, not the actual truth itself.

“I can’t believe… I can’t believe this happened to me…” Catherine sighed, closing her eyes as she took another deep breath. “This is so fucked up… and it feels so hot but… I can’t… I won’t be able to… I…”

With a mewl, Catherine felt the world blur as she lost all of her desire to interact, or do anything but simply sit in place.