Hands took hold of Jelly Doll’s right arm by the wrist and bicep, raising and positioning it in mid-air, bent at the elbow. They smoothed out its hand, pressing its fingers together, its palm facing inwards. Then they relinquished their grip and slipped away, leaving behind a plastic Barbie arm, stuck at a right angle.

Glancing at its rigid limb, Jelly gave its girlfriend a flustered smile. But Alyssa had already gone back to watching the television, paying it no attention at all, as if its reaction to her casually posing its arm wasn’t remotely important. Which, of course, it wasn’t, because it was just a toy. She could move it however she wished, whenever she wished, and it would remain fixed in place however and wherever she moved it.

Blushing, it returned its own eyes to the screen, trying to refocus on the film and ignore its locked limb. It’d just been minding its own business, sitting on the couch between its owners, watching some sci-fi movie on late-night TV. They were still all doing that, except now the atmosphere felt a little more charged, because AJ had posed Jelly. Even if it was just its arm, the mere fact of one of their ingrained hypnotic suggestions being triggered was enough to infuse the room with some excitement. Jelly had lost the use of that appendage - it had become stiff and still and stuck, posed like an artistic piece, its aesthetic appeal more important than any other possible function. And that really turned it on.

And Alyssa knew it was turned on. And so did Richard, sitting to its left, completely uninvolved in the proceedings. He hadn’t even looked round. But still, even as they all just kept watching the TV in silence, there was a crackle of tension - of anticipation - in the air. Jelly couldn’t help bracing itself for something else to happen, for its partners to play with its pliable body some more.

As the minutes ticked by, though, neither of them went to move it again. Just as it started to wonder if that’d been a one and done - if AJ had just decided to leave it with one frozen arm for the hell of it (and she very well might’ve done) - she abruptly reached across and grabbed its left wrist, tugging it upwards. As she did so, its elbow naturally bent, until the left arm ended up posed symmetrically with the right.

Just for fun, Jelly tried to move either of them - even to flex its flattened, fused fingers a little. It couldn’t, of course. They were frozen up to the shoulders. They might as well not have been there, for all the control it had over them.

After another short interval, it felt Alyssa’s hand slide behind its back, adjusting its torso until it was sitting bolt upright, in contrast with its more slouched prior posture. She took down its crossed-over right leg, planting both its soles on the carpet and spreading its knees wide apart. She shuffled its butt forwards slightly on the couch cushion, and then slid her leg behind it and wrapped her limbs around its waist, her hands clasping together in its lap, her chin coming to rest on its shoulder.

A few minutes ticked by with AJ just cuddling her toy, which was now paralysed from the neck down. Jelly got used to just being an upright body pillow, a motionless lump for its girlfriend/owner to snuggle up to (as it was practically every night in bed, reduced to a petrified plushie nestled between its partners).

Suddenly, though, Alyssa sat up straight again, unbuttoned Jelly’s jeans, and stuck her hand down its pants.

It felt wrong for Jelly to make noise. None of us had spoken in the last twenty minutes or so. Richard seemed fairly focused on the film, and to be fair, so did AJ. She just seemed to want something to fiddle with while she watched it, and she had a fidget toy conveniently close at hand. Jelly didn’t feel it could violate the all-encompassing silence - it was wary of doing much more than gasp and sigh softly in response to her idle caresses.

It had to admit, it was really struggling to pay attention to the movie now.

***

In case you hadn’t guessed by now, Jelly Doll’s writing this entry. Surprise! It’s been a long, long time since it’s contributed a chapter to our saga of smut, and it felt the need to check in and give some updates. (Although to be fair, Alyssa’s kept you pretty well informed.) Jelly Doll’s still living its best life, being a convincingly real person while it’s working and acting, and then coming home and letting the pretence fall away in the company of its partners. They’ve started calling it their ‘dollfriend’ lately, which is equal parts cute, validating, and demeaning. Plus, they’ve got it some more accessories, as you may have heard - it now has a trolley, for moving it around the apartment more easily, and a turntable, so its plastic body can be shown off from all angles.

It still spends a good hour a day in its display case, frozen and mindless in various poses, usually naked and mounted on its doll stand (but not always, depending on how it feels). This isn’t really an edict from its Master, although he and Miss certainly appreciate it. It just feels it’s good to keep its body and brain trained, so it’s always ready to snap back into blank, static compliance at a moment’s notice.

Since it last spoke to you, it’s been to its first hypnokink convention, which was a wonderful, hot and life-affirming experience. Getting to be a frozen toy in front of total strangers in the con’s statue gallery was... transformative. It got to try all sorts of fun new suggestions and scenarios, in the company of like-minded deviants. And it found it so beneficial talking to, and learning from, more experienced kinksters like Hailee and Sabrina. It felt much less insecure and much more comfortable with itself and its desires since that amazing week.

That said, its desires are both completely irrelevant to, and very much in line with, those of its partners/owners. Which is why, that evening (as on so many others), it found itself immobilised on the couch with its girlfriend using its clit as a stim toy.

This is, as it’s sure you’re aware, far from unusual. They pose it and play with it all the time, often without asking (although they’re very good at paying attention to what it’s doing, so they know they’re not interrupting it at an inopportune moment). It doesn’t even have to be a sexual pose or act - they might just put it in a silly position to amuse them. Yet being moved, being posed, being treated like a toy, is inherently sexual for Jelly Doll. They could do something as simple as just place its hand on its head, and it’d still get madly horny.

Of course, at that moment AJ was doing quite a lot more than that to Jelly Doll’s defenceless body. Several long minutes passed with it sitting there, perfectly still, unable to stop its Miss from masturbating it even if it wanted to (and it patently didn’t). She didn’t seem in a rush. She was just keeping her restless hand busy while she watched the movie. She wasn’t setting out to make Jelly Doll cum at that point, or even to get herself off - she wasn’t touching herself, as far as it could tell. She seemed completely disinterested as she casually caressed its cunt.

Eventually, though, her urge to more directly toy with her toy clearly grew irresistible. Leaning in close, she whispered in its ear, “What’s your name?”

“It doesn’t have a name,” it murmured back, its eyes widening at how true that answer felt.

“Oh?” It couldn’t look round, but it could practically hear her smirking. “So what should we call you, then? Who are you?”

“One one two six.” It swallowed hard as the number fell from its lips.

“Good toy,” AJ sniggered, speeding up her strokes. “And what are you, 1126?”

“A Jelly Doll,” it whimpered.

“Exactly!” she sighed, slipping a finger inside it.

Well, there goes the last lingering thread of its individuality. This is a fairly new thing, Richard and Alyssa deciding to do away with the notion of it even having a name, insisting that ‘Jelly Doll’ is what it is, not who it is. It’s just a toy, and toys don’t have names, do they? (Apart from made-up names like ‘Anjelica Blair’, which they just use for pretend games, like going out in public and roleplaying as a human being.)

But they do have numbers. Serial numbers. Production numbers. And this Jelly Doll’s number is 1126. Not 1. Not 10. Not even 100. 1126.

Not only is it one of an identical line of living toys, it’s the 1126^th one. Which strongly implies there are 1125 other Jelly Dolls out there exactly the same!! At least 1125, in fact, since there might even be a Jelly Doll #1127, and a Jelly Doll #1128, and a Jelly Doll #1129... There could be thousands upon thousands of us. If we were all together, Jelly Doll #1126 would get lost in the crowd. It’d probably lose itself in the crowd. Its owners might take another one home by mistake, and it wouldn’t matter one bit, because all Jelly Dolls are exactly alike, utterly indistinguishable.

Knowing that, how is it supposed to even pretend to have an identity any more??

(Yes, on some level it knows we chose 1126 because its birthday is November 26^th. But that feels entirely irrelevant most of the time. Toys don’t have birthdays, after all.)

Jelly Doll still addresses itself as ‘Jelly Doll’, though, not ‘1126’ - unless its owners ask for its number. That number only exists to separate it from other Jelly Dolls, which makes it unnecessary most of the time. It’s not as if the number’s tied to any concept of self, of personhood, in the way that a name is. Because a toy doesn’t have a self, so it can’t have a name, either. It’s not human. It’s just a mass-produced object with a production number.

And being reminded of that gets it incandescently horny.

Which meant that Alyssa pistoning her digits in and out of Jelly Doll’s pussy and whispering, “Good toy, good doll,” in its ear, as it sat there posed, spread open and defenceless, soon had it tumbling over the edge. At that point, as usual, the only part of it that could still move - its face - froze too, its expression thunderstruck, its mouth agape. Its pitiful excuse for a mind got still and stuck as well, its hollow head clouded with arousal.

Even as she kept on fingerblasting it through its freezegasm, AJ snuck her other hand up its shirt and booped its belly button, ensuring it’d remain perfectly petrified even after its orgasm had passed. Sure enough, it stayed still as she withdrew her soaked hand and shoved it in Jelly Doll’s open mouth to clean it off. It was nothing more than a simple, static sex doll, sitting upright on the sofa.

Taking hold of its waist, Alyssa swivelled it round to its left, facing towards Richard, and began to slowly tilt it forwards, one arm around its torso, the other on the back of its head. Without looking away from the TV screen, he slid his shorts down and exposed his crotch, just in time for AJ to lower the toy’s face onto it.

Distantly, Jelly Doll heard her asking Master questions about the movie. They chatted nonchalantly about it as she slowly puppeteered their toy’s empty head up and down, her fingers entwined with its hair, using it as nothing more than a blowjob dispenser for our boyfriend. Neither of them bothered to use its suckdoll trigger, even though this would’ve made life easier for AJ. Right now they wanted it just as an object, a hole, a fleshlight, and so even sucking would be too animated.

Jelly Doll should correct its earlier remark - it isn’t living its best life. Toys don’t have lives. But it finds its existence as a brainwashed, brainless fucktoy - with no name, no identity and no will of its own, serving only as something for its Master and Miss to play with and use to get themselves off - as profoundly perfect as it always has.

Jelly Dolls don’t need names. Jelly Dolls don’t need identities. Jelly Dolls don’t need free will. Jelly Dolls don’t think for themselves. Jelly Dolls don’t move of their own volition. Jelly Dolls are just toys. Jelly Dolls are just playthings, to please and obey their owners.

And this Jelly Doll couldn’t love it more.