“Freeze.”

That word, that simple trigger word that had become such a fixture in its life, instantly transformed Jelly Doll into motionless plastic once again. All traces of thought vanished from its brain, as always, but its awareness of its surroundings, which usually partly persisted so it could enjoy the experience, was stronger than ever, given the novelty of its surroundings. After all, it had been petrified and presented in public, in the hypno con’s living statue gallery.

The knowledge of its present circumstances, that it could be seen like this by any passing convention guest, made its static body sing. This was how it was supposed to be - it was sure of that on some deep, instinctual level. It was meant to be an ornament, a decoration, an exhibit, to be looked at and admired and savoured. A dress-up dolly that its owners could put out on display for the general public. (Of course this wasn’t the general public, merely a hypnokinky subsection of it, but a doll could dream.)

The minute they’d entered the convention hall, Jelly had, naturally, made a beeline for the statue gallery. Hailee, who had accompanied it and its partners, introduced it to the person who had organised the section, a cheerful enby with shiny red hair by the name of Carver, who told them that they were free to find a space and stay in it for up to an hour, much to Jelly’s joy.

There were parts of the gallery decorated with backgrounds that evoked different settings where a figurine might be found. There was a ‘department store’ zone, with a standing mirror at body height and a rack of clothes for sale (custom-made by Carver, as it turned out). There was an area for garden ornaments, adorned with fake plants and stone plinths to stand on. There was a zone with realistic-looking columns made of plaster - dusty and crumbling like the kind that might be found at an ancient Greek or Roman monument - where someone could become the sculpted embodiment of a deity. There was even a fortune teller sitting inside a glass cabinet (with sufficient air holes), making Jelly wonder if it would come to life and predict the future if coins were dropped in the slot at the front, or if that was just for show.

And there were more lewd settings, as well. A sex shop with mannequins modelling BDSM gear, and living blow-up dolls sitting or lying on the floor with their limbs outstretched and their mouths wide open. A dungeon with paralysed playthings strapped to an X-cross, or perched atop a humming Sybian, or bent over a stool with floggers, wooden paddles and riding crops positioned nearby, as if waiting to be used on them. Jelly half-expected to find frozen fucktoys embedded in walls, or glory holes through which guests could make use of them, but these weren’t present, of course - even in the kinkiest areas within the hall, the rules of the con prohibited penetration, and underpants were expected to stay on.

Deciding where to situate itself was more difficult than it’d anticipated. Most zones already had at least one occupant, and although Jelly definitely didn’t mind the company - far from it, it relished the idea of being just one toy among many, with no individual identity - it didn’t want to crowd anyone without first asking permission, which they weren’t currently able to grant. So it sought out a space of its own, although it lingered by each locale, gazing lustfully and enviously at the dolls on display. Richard and AJ were happy to wander around with it for a while, unsurprisingly, taking their time ogling the frozen objects too.

Jelly Doll gave serious consideration to the sex shop. Ever since the time it had been partially frozen in an actual sex shop back in LA, standing in front of an actual mannequin dressed up in a leather harness, it’d envisioned itself in its place many, many times, usually while touching itself. But now it suddenly had the opportunity to live out that fantasy, it had hesitated. It wasn’t quite ready yet - it wasn’t emotionally prepared to be that lewdly displayed in public. Maybe next year...

Besides, in anticipation of being a display dolly, it’d gone to considerable effort to choose comfortable clothes that suited its own style. With the help of its partners, it had selected a loose white long-sleeved shirt, a dark brown sleeveless button-up cardigan, and black trousers with white pinstripes and a chunky black belt. All of them were thrift store finds, of which it was very proud - it felt they complemented each other nicely. But the outfit didn’t really suit the sex shop, and it didn’t want to discard it.

Then they’d reached the toyshop zone. Part of it was a little old-fashioned, with wind-up toys standing at attention and ventriloquist’s dummies slumped on stools. There were marionettes that moved in sync with anyone who stood right in front of them. And there was a more modern section, occupied by a giant box, the front panel of which had a large gap to show its contents - a perfect replica of packaging for an action figure, albeit made of wood rather than cardboard and plastic. It was open at the side as well, so someone could easily step in and out. A whiteboard with a marker pen was stuck to the front of the box, on the border that circled the open window. Once it had become obvious that Jelly Doll had chosen the empty box to position itself inside, AJ had quickly scrawled on the whiteboard: ‘JELLY DOLL! FULLY POSEABLE LIFESIZE DOLL!’ And then, in smaller writing underneath: ‘ACCESSORIES SOLD SEPARATELY’.

Giggling, Jelly had gleefully gone inside, quickly adopting a stereotypical action figure pose - back straight, hands on hips, feet shoulder-width apart, a big beaming smile on its face. Without further ado, that one word from its Master - just a single syllable that held such sway, such irresistible power, over its mind and body - petrified it. And now it was just a toy in its packaging, boxed up and ready for sale.

Convention guests wandered past, one after the other, some glancing appreciatively at it without breaking stride, but most slowing down to drink in the sight of the still, stiff figure. A few approached it to admire it more closely, and even reached into its box to reposition it, adjusting its arms and head into new poses. It didn’t mind at all - it had been asked by Carver whether it consented to strangers moving it while it was frozen, and had given enthusiastic permission as long as no-one touched it inappropriately. One of its companions always remained nearby, making sure it was safe, while the other two further explored the gallery. They re-posed Jelly a little too, prising its grinning jaws apart and opening and closing its mouth, which relaxed into a neutral shape as a result. Whatever was done to it, it stood there and let it happen like the good doll it was, utterly unresponsive, its expression serene, its breathing slow and deep as if it were fast asleep.

It felt more and more natural every day for Jelly Doll to think of itself as a toy hypnotised to act like a human, rather than the other way around. It rationalised it by telling itself that Richard had actual magical powers, which allowed him to animate the motionless mannequin and make it perform the pretence of personality. (Although on some level it knew this wasn’t true, hypnosis often felt very much like magic, the way it could warp its thoughts and perception.) It also felt increasingly convinced that it didn’t have a brain or a mind of its own, its head hollow and vacant. Richard and AJ had made a habit of knocking on its forehead so they could (supposedly) hear the echo reverberating around its empty skull. Its ‘thoughts’, its independent actions, its apparent autonomy, were just the effect of its Master’s mental magic, making it behave like a person with free will when it was nothing of the sort. And its lack of a brain made it very easy to control and command - mainly by Richard, but also by the other hypnotists it’d spent time with this week - or to possess, to be inhabited by another consciousness - as proven by AJ’s brain-cations in its body, during which she was met with absolutely no resistance.

It was very liberating, the notion that none of its choices or actions were its own. Everything was being decided for it by its Master - even when he wasn’t consciously controlling it, his magic puppeteered it as he would have wished. Before meeting him and AJ, and starting to explore hypnosis and dollification with them, it’d had a bad habit of overthinking tasks and stressing itself out, but these days its anxiety rarely flared. It found decision-making much easier and simpler, as if it were being compelled to choose without any volition of its own, and it was able to prioritise better and focus on one task at a time without getting distracted or worried about other matters. Jelly was finding daily life much easier now it was free from the burden of conscious choice - free from freedom itself.

It was certain this was an unplanned side effect, rather than anything intentional on its or Richard’s part. But it saw no reason to be concerned. Ever since it’d started thinking of itself as a powerless plastic toy with no real control over its actions, simply acting as its Master desired even if he wasn’t anywhere near it, it’d felt more contented than it had in years. Ironically, its mind was healthier than ever now that it didn’t believe it had a mind.

Alyssa stepped close to it, staring at it lovingly, and reached out to stroke its face. Then she tilted its head to the right, and back a little, so its fixed sightline was directed up - not quite to the ceiling, but certainly above its girlfriend’s head, at the top of the black curtain on the opposite side of the gallery. “Good toy,” she said softly, idly fiddling with a button on its cardigan, and then moved away. Its body hummed with pleasure at her praise.

How long had Jelly Doll been there now? It’d completely lost track of time, standing in its box with its head tilted, its glass eyes gazing upwards, its arms raised in front of it and bent into odd angles, awkward yet graceful. It could have been frozen for five minutes, or fifty.

It didn’t matter. Toys didn’t need to notice the passage of time. And they didn’t need to worry about anything except being pretty plastic dolls, on display for all to see. Jelly was happy and blank and posed, an exhibit being admired by passing kinksters, with its owners close at hand to take care of it. If it were capable of having thoughts and desires, it could want for nothing else.