Toy woke up in Owner’s bedroom. It was light outside. Owner was gone, and Toy knew he was at work. Toy felt soft pressure on the molded joints of its knees and knew that it was kneeling on its padded display platform next to the door. Toy felt cool air brushing against its plastic skin and knew that it was naked. Toy waited, its eyes staring straight ahead, a perfect plastic smile frozen wide and bright on its face

 

Toy wanted Owner to come home soon. It couldn’t remember the last time Owner had played with it. Toy knew that Owners Decide When Toys Get Used. But Toy still wanted to be posed and touched and played with so badly. And it just knew that tonight was the night it would finally happen. Toy’s hollow head filled up with silly toy thoughts, flashes of Owner’s hands and eyes and words and cock. It felt a twinge of pleasure in the smooth plastic between its legs, and its smile widened automatically. Perfect Playthings are Always Ready and Eager.

 

As it waited, Toy sometimes noticed the sun in the window across the room. It remembered that the sun being in the window meant something about when Owner would return home. Toy’s smile dimmed slightly as it struggled to remember what that something was, whether Owner would be home soon or in a very long time. Toy felt distressed that Owner had decided to make it forget what the sun in the window meant. It just needed to know if Owner would be home soon to play with it. It didn’t know why he wouldn’t let it. Toy reminded itself, over and over, that Owners Decide What Toys Feel and Know, but its uneasy feelings wouldn’t go away.

 

Other times, the rest of the toys in Owner’s room caught Toy’s attention. The shelves and desk that occupied the rest of Toy’s field of view were occupied by an army of action figures that Owner had brought home over the years from his shopping trips. Toy was sure that tonight was the night Owner would finally make time to play with it, but looking at the action figures made it feel worried. Owner could get distracted playing with them and forget to play with Toy. It imagined him returning home and spending the evening with his back to Toy as he repositioned his other figures. The thought made its insides clench. It tried to look away from the action figures, but its eyes stayed stuck in place. Owners Decide What Toys See and Hear.

 

The waiting got more intense as time dragged on and the sun dropped lower in the window. Eventually, the waiting drowned everything out. Any thought, any sensation was quickly submerged by the gnawing sensation of not being used, not being played with, not feeling the pleasure of Owner’s touch or attention. The flashes of Owner’s body that played in Toy’s head grew more vivid. The ways it imagined him playing with it grew more involved and intense. But each one just left Toy hungrier and hungrier for the real thing.

 

Being playing with it was the only important thing.

 

Owner was the only thing.

 

Perfect Playthings are Always Ready and Eager.

 

The door opened. Toy’s body throbbed, Ready and Eager, as Owner entered, but then he walked to his desk without even glancing at it. Toy felt so disappointed and so ashamed at its own impatience. Owner had just gotten home from work. He had all night to play with Toy. Owners Decide When Toys Get Played With.

 

Owner began opening the drawers on his desk, and Toy felt hopeful. Maybe Owner was looking for one of Toy’s many useful accessories, like the ball gag that fit so perfectly in its pretty plastic mouth. Instead, Owner gave a small nod of satisfaction as he pulled out a small, nondescript feather duster. The sight of it made Toy’s insides knot up painfully. Toy had forgotten it was Dusting Night.

 

Owner picked up the right-most plastic figure on his desk.

 

He dusted it.

 

He dusted the empty spot underneath it.

 

He set it back down.

 

He moved to the next figure.

 

Owner’s collection had so many action figures, too many for Toy could count. It found itself compelled to try as Owner worked, desperate to know how much longer Owner would take. Numbers were so hard for its empty toy head to hold onto, and it kept losing count after eight or nine, but it kept trying. It felt anxious. It knew Dusting Night took so long that Owner was usually too tired afterwards to play.

 

Toy began to feel shaky with desperation, but it remained perfectly still, rigidly smiling as Owner picked up each figure.

 

Dusted it.

 

Dusted the empty spot underneath it.

 

And set it back down.

 

Toy kept trying to count as it got dizzy with the effort. It needed to know if there was still a chance. It was starting to only get to four or five now before Owner picking up each plastic figure,

 

dusting it,

 

dusting the empty spot underneath it,

 

and setting it back down

 

made Toy lose count all over again. And now Owner was talking to himself, and Toy couldn’t understand his words but his voice was so low and smooth and nice and it was so distracting and Toy began to feel even more frustrated and upset but also so horny, and it only got worse when Owner suddenly began to slow down and the gaps between when he picked up each plastic figure.

 

 

Dusted it.

 

 

Dusted the empty spot underneath it.

 

 

And set it back down.

 

 

stretched out wider and wider. Even as Toy ached with despair and frustrated arousal, it suddenly noticed its body’s breathing changing to match Owner’s slowing pace.

 

 

Owner picked up a figure.

 

 

Toy’s body breathed in.

 

 

Owner dusted it.

 

 

Toy’s body held its breath.

 

 

Owner dusted the empty spot underneath it.

 

 

Toy’s body held its breath.

 

 

Owner set down the figure.

 

 

Toy’s body exhaled.

 

 

As Owner picked up the next figure, Toy noticed its head starting to feel fuzzy.

 

 

As he dusted it, Toy noticed its eyes starting to unfocus and water.

 

 

As he dusted the empty spot underneath it, Toy noticed how good it felt to let his voice start filling the emptiness inside itself.

 

 

As he placed it back down, Toy noticed how heavy its eyelids suddenly were.

 

 

Owner picked up the next figure.

 

 

Toy couldn’t remember what numbers were.

 

 

Owner dusted it.

 

 

Toy felt a small tear leak out of its frozen eyes and roll down its plastic cheek.

 

 

Owner dusted the empty spot underneath it.

 

 

Toy felt so full of Owner’s voice as his words filled up its and pushed everything else out.

 

 

Owner placed the figure back

 

and Toy’s eyelids slammed shut.

 

 

                                                                                       *               *              *

 

 

Toy woke up lying on its back in Owner’s large walk-in closet, eyes frozen and staring at the ceiling. The room outside was dark. Toy knew it was night, and that Owner had gone to sleep without playing with it.

 

Owner had put it in the closet. In the back. With the bins where he kept the action figures he had broken while playing. The toys he forgot about fixing once they were out of sight. With the other bins where he kept the action figures that bored him. The toys that he chose not to play with ever again.

 

Toy could hear Owner’s soft snoring through the crack between the closet door and its carpeted floor. Toy was so hungry for him. Its ribs felt like they were caving in. Its plastic body shook and its breath started to come in ragged gasps, but Toy just barely managed to stay quiet. Owner needed his sleep.

 

Then Toy heard his soft voice murmur something in his sleep that it couldn’t understand, and its stiff body couldn’t hold back the choked sob that clawed its way past the lump in its throat at the sound of him.

 

Owner’s snoring stopped.

 

Toy listened, frozen, terrified that it had woken him up with its selfish desperation to be played with. It wanted to hear him start snoring again so badly, but then any last chance of being played with would be gone. It needed him to be awake. It needed him to be asleep. Toy’s mind started pulling itself apart. Its body shook harder. Another loud sob managed to tear its way free and ruin the silence of the dark room.

 

Owner’s sheets rustled as he stood up. Toy heard his footsteps approaching. The light in the closet changed slightly as he opened the door, walked inside, and knelt down.

 

Toy felt him grab a fistful of its hair and yank, hard. Toy’s body spasmed and then locked up, more frozen and rigid than it had ever felt. It couldn’t shake or sob. It couldn’t even feel itself blink or breathe. Owner reached down and caressed Toy’s perfect, smiling face with his free hand. Toy noticed that its body had gone completely numb.

 

Owner was saying something now, but Toy’s devastation was so loud in its own head that it barely even noticed. All at once, it understood. Toy had been boring and been put in the closet, and now it had been bad and woken Owner up. Owner had made Toy numb because so he could fix it so he could go back to sleep. Owner had made Toy numb so it would know for sure that it wasn’t being played with.

 

Owner yanked Toy up to a sitting position by its hair. Even numb, even distracted by his voice, Toy could sense his stare as his eyes roamed its body. He pushed its legs apart and stared at the smooth plastic between them for a long time. Toy knew that it wasn’t being played with. Owner was just checking for defects and damage.

 

Owner’s free hand roamed across the surface of Toy’s body, groping and squeezing and pinching with no regard for Toy’s suppressed pleasure or pain. He slapped Toy, hard, and Toy felt nothing. Toy knew it wasn’t being played with. Owner was just testing how durable it was.

 

But it was so close to being played with. Toy’s plastic body didn’t feel anything on the outside, but its insides hurt with how ashamed it was of being such a Bad Toy and how desperately turned on that shame made it feel. Toy was a Bad and Defective and Desperate and Pathetic Toy. Toy was so Broken even Owner wouldn’t be able fix it.

 

If Toy was lucky, Owner would sell it to one of the collector friends he brought over and let fuck the fleshlight cleverly concealed in Toy’s throat. They wouldn’t take good care of it the way Owner did. They would probably break it even more. But they would play with it, which was more than such a Bad Toy deserved. But Owner could also just leave it in the closet and forget about it forever, Toy realized as Owner’s words continued in the background. He could break it for fun and throw its pieces away in the trash where it belonged.

 

Or, worst of all, he could turn Toy back into a person. A person who had to think painful person thoughts and do difficult person things and go back to belonging to no one in the cold world outside of Owner’s bedroom. He could even make sure that person remembered how good being played with by Owner felt and how perfect it felt to be a Toy and how much worse it felt to be a person and how it was all Toy’s fault for being such a Bad, Horny, Desperate Toy—

 

Toy’s body moaned so loudly then, so full of anxious, shameful arousal that even the firm control of Owner’s hand in its hair couldn’t stop the sound. Then Toy realized it had interrupted whatever Owner had been saying, and its moan turned into a long series of racking sobs as hot tears began pouring down its cheeks. Even through its despair it noticed that the plastic between its legs felt so, so sensitive and it felt its hand move towards that feeling and try to touch it even though Toys Don’t Play with Themselves. And then Toy remembered that its outsides were numb, that it had been so Bad again for no reason at all, and its sobbing grew even louder because it couldn’t stop being Bad, it was such a Bad Toy, it was such a Horny, Desperate, Defective Toy with such Loud, Defective Thoughts that it wouldn’t even notice if Owner did decide to play with it, if he stood up and pulled out his hard cock like he was doing right now and opened Toy’s mouth like he was doing right now and started fucking its face, hard at first and then harder as he worked his length into the slick fleshlight that was hidden in Toy’s body’s throat. Toy was so Anxious and Desperate and Broken that it might Owner might have his whole length inside Toy before it realized that when Owner had made its outsides numb, its insides had become even more sensitive, that it could feel every inch of Owner’s cock inside its body’s eager throat. Toy was so Stupid and Useless that only after Owner used his grip on Toy’s hair to twist its head into a more accommodating position before fucking its face and throat again, only after he started to interrupt his own words with little grunts of pleasure, only then it would realize that Owner was playing with it.

 

He was playing with his Bad, Broken Toy one last time before he got rid of it.

 

The realization sent pleasure and despair flooding through Toy’s body as Owner fucked its throat on the floor of his walk-in closet. Its moans and sobs and spit leaked past his cock, but its lips remained frozen, plastic, still, its mouth only moving when Owner’s cock or the low words he spoke directly into Toy’s head forced it wider to make room for him. The smooth plastic between Toy’s legs throbbed again and Toy was too turned on and distraught to stop its hand from moving down there a second time, but this time its hand it did something else that it didn’t understand and it touched something down there that could feel, that could feel so good even though Toy felt so worthless and bad, and Owner noticed and said something filled with disdain and Toy’s body’s hand yanked itself away from its crotch, and Toy felt so stupid because it knew that Owners Play With Toys, Toys Don’t Play With Themselves, and, when Owner reached down with his free hand and touched Toy better than Toy could touch itself, Toy felt so grateful to Owner for playing it with it one last time despite how Useless and Defective it was, how Bad and Horny and Desperate it was and its body started to shake and its moans and sobs grew louder and it suddenly felt so wet between its legs and so good and it felt a scream of pleasure and pain building inside its chest and then its Owner said something else and all of Toy’s shame and self-consciousness vanished, its thoughts and awareness drowned out by the feeling of Owner’s cock fucking its throat and the feeling of his hand touching Toy between its legs. Toy was just an object being played with, an object with a cock down its throat that pulsed once, twice, and filled Toy’s throat and mouth with cum, an object unaware of the way it screamed and shook with white-hot orgasm and sobbed as the cum it hadn’t swallowed spilled out of its mouth and leaked down its chest as Owner’s slowly softening cock continued to push in and out of its mouth as long as he could manage, a blank, hollowed-out Toy unaware of Owner pulling his cock out of its mouth and lying down next to it on the closet floor and tenderly embracing its crying, vacant body, unaware of Owner gently rubbing its back and repeating one word over and over, a word so simple and perfect that even the most defective, empty plaything could understand it, could let its warmth fill the empty space inside of it as it cried its way into a deep and dreamless sleep.

 

“Mine.”

 

                                                                                       *               *              *

 

Toy woke up. It was kneeling on its platform in a perfect plastic pose. It was light outside. Owner was gone.

 

Toy felt a twinge of disappointment that he hadn’t taken time to play with it before he left for work. Dusting Night had taken too long, and he hadn’t played with it the night before. Toy couldn’t remember the last time Owner had played with it.

 

But then Toy remembered that Toys didn’t need to remember. Toys didn’t need to understand. And all those thoughts and feelings went away.

 

Toy was so lucky to have an Owner to Decide What it Felt and Knew. Who Decided When Toy Got Played With. Toy was sure that when he returned home from work later, he would finally play with it again.

 

All Toy had to do was wait.