My eyes snapped open, visibly wide and alert. My brain, however, was slower on the uptake - I still felt dazed and spacey, cloudy and confused. Vaguely aware that I’d just heard Master’s voice counting me awake, I turned my head to look over at him, sitting in his usual armchair. (He spent so much time there when he was hypnotising us, we may as well call it his throne at this point.)

“How you feeling, Jelly Doll?” he asked, that oh-so-familiar smirk on his face.

That was a good question. I felt... weird. My head had rotated evenly on my straightened, rigid neck. It felt fixed, locked, and yet I could still turn it to look around - that seemed to be the only way it could move. I tried to frown, but found I couldn’t - the muscles in my forehead, in my whole face, felt paralysed. I couldn’t frown, I couldn’t smile. Even my eyes, while still mobile, felt strange as they moved - glassy, set in place, only able to move in straight lines horizontally and vertically, as fixed in their movements within their sockets as my head was on my neck.

I wasn’t sure if I could talk - if my mouth would even open. I tried, and found my lips parting, much to my relief. “This is... really... odd,” I said slowly. It got odder as I spoke. My mouth wasn’t moving naturally either - it was flapping open and shut with every syllable. And as my jaw swung up and down, I thought I could hear a faint clicking sound.

It wasn’t only my head and neck that were affected. My posture was as stiffly upright as it had ever been, but my arms hung loose at my sides and my legs were draped limply over the front of my seat. I tilted my head forwards to look down at myself, feeling it clunk into place with my chin resting on my chest. It seemed my head could glide smoothly along any axis, but there was no room for variation outside of that - horizontal and vertical were the only options, and I didn’t have much control over it vertically, because right now it felt quite heavy. It was an effort to raise it back up again.

“What did you... do to me?” I burbled, swivelling my head back to stare at Richard again, knowing he must have been responsible for my peculiar state. It was like nothing that I’d ever felt before. Alright, it wasn’t entirely dissimilar to being a mannequin, because of how frozen most of my body felt, but it wasn’t as consistent - some of me was rigid and immobile, while other parts still moved. Joints, mainly.

He raised an eyebrow, his smile growing wider. “What d’you think I’ve done? I’d like to tell you, really. But why spoil the surprise? It’s fun watching you try to piece it all together.”

I would’ve glared at him if I could.

I tried raising my arms, and found to my surprise that I could. But they moved awkwardly, inflexible aside from my elbows. And as I experimentally bent those into a right-angle, and then straightened them out again, there was that sound once more. Every move I made, every gesture, was accompanied by a distant, barely-audible click. Extending my legs, I found they felt much the same. My hands were completely frozen, my fingers glued together into one solid piece and bent over into a hook shape, my thumbs sticking out separately.

As I tested the movements of my bizarrely-transformed body, I heard a giggle from my right. My torso couldn’t really rotate - it was like one big static brick - and my head and eyes would only turn so far to the side. But that was enough to see Alyssa sitting next to me, grinning mischievously.

“Oh, hi, AJ.” The words fell out of my swinging-door jaw.

She waggled her eyebrows. “Hey, Jelly! You doing alright?”

“I... don’t know,” I admitted. “Something’s... happened to me. Master did something...”

“Yeah, he’s always doing something,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Usually something very mean. Usually to me.”

You might think she’d show me some compassion, given how often she gets messed with. Spoiler alert: nope. Her grin widened as she asked, “Figured out what’s going on yet?”

I shook my head, swinging it back and forth on its locked neck castor - which made me feel a bit dizzy, so I stopped quickly.

“Ah well, you’re a smart girl,” she said mockingly. “I’m sure you’ll get there...”

I let my weighty head loll forward again, trying to hide my embarrassed face as best I could. I don’t know why I put up with her. (Yes, I do, she’s really hot.)

My slow mind was still struggling to think through what was happening. I had some dim memories of the afternoon’s events so far - we’d been chatting casually, the three of us just hanging out on the couch together, and then Richard had abruptly moved over to his ‘throne’, as if to signify that hijinks were about to begin. (I should clarify, this didn’t happen the same day they kidnapped me from work, or even the day after. Sorry for just dropping you in the middle of the action - I thought it was a nice dramatic way to start the chapter...) I recalled sitting there in trance, mindless and frozen, my consciousness deeply submerged in the Spiral Seas, while AJ cuddled me, her head on my shoulder. Had he dropped her too? Or was she just taking the opportunity to snuggle up to her living body pillow?

She was still close by, her leg resting against mine - I realised I’d seen it when I’d looked down before, but hadn’t registered its presence, too preoccupied with the strangeness I was experiencing. She was up so close, her arm must’ve been wrapped around her back - there was nowhere else for it to be, given her proximity, and it certainly wasn’t lying in the little gap between us. And yet... When I looked to my left, I couldn’t see her hand on my shoulder, or my side. I knew my head and eyes weren’t being especially cooperative, but I would’ve been able to see it. And I couldn’t feel it embracing me either. I felt quite numb, disconnected from my mostly-rigid body, but I could still feel things just enough... I could feel her thigh nuzzled against mine, I could feel the gentle brush of her breath on my cheek as she loomed next to me...

“Where’s your arm?” I mumbled.

AJ sniggered. “Oh, you’ve noticed that much at least! You’re doing better than I thought...”

As I kept trying to logically figure out where her missing arm was, while still mentally studying the entire surface of my body to try to detect its presence, AJ reached over with her other arm and prodded my belly through my black shirt, my rigid arms proving too slow to stop her or shield myself. I let out an undignified little grunt in response.

“Maybe I’ll help you out, since your silly brain doesn’t seem up to the task,” she commented. “That’s if you even have a brain in that head of yours.” I blushed hard - a little pre-emptively, as it turned out. She brought her hand up towards my face, clenching it into a fist, and rapped her knuckles on her forehead. I didn’t flinch, my instincts to duck out of the way as paralysed as most of the rest of me. I sat there and let her knock on my head like it was a door, hearing an echoing clunk with each tap. My cheeks, and cunt, were burning with horny humiliation. (Hornmiliation...? Eh, that one needs work.)

“Hmm, yeah, sounds pretty hollow to me,” she tittered. “Nobody home. OK, well, how about I ask you a nice, simple question, Jelly Doll? Just answer with whatever comes into that empty little head, OK?”

“OK,” I whispered, mortified.

“What d’you think you’re made out of?”

“Wood,” I blurted, an answer that surprised me with how true and clear it felt.

As a frozen Jelly Doll, what I’m ‘made out of’ is pretty fluid. I can feel like I’m made of stone, marble, porcelain, or something similarly unyielding one second (usually if I’ve been left in a pose, on display). But the next, if Richard or AJ start moving and repositioning me, I feel less like a statue, and more like a plastic toy or mannequin. Basically, my perception of myself changes depending on how I’m treated or used, like Schrödinger’s sex doll.

Now, though, I was pretty clear on my body’s composition. The moment I’d considered it, the answer was as obvious as two plus two. (Although, try asking Danielle that particular question, and you’ll probably get a different response each time, usually preceded by an airheaded ‘ummm...’ But I’m going off on a tangent.) Aside from the hinges in my elbows and knees, and my marble-like eyes, I was made of wood. My hands were a single piece, my fingers moulded together, and the same was true of my feet and toes. My facial features were carved into the surface of the hollow wooden orb that was my head, my jaw a separate piece that moved up and down by means of an internal mechanism...

And now, at last, it was obvious where AJ’s left arm had gone. I could feel it snaking up my shirt, buried inside the large hole in my lower back.

Oh, yeah. There was a hole in my back. That was a thing.

It wasn’t as surprising as you might think - since I had very clearly been turned into a puppet, the fact that I had a hole in my back into which Alyssa had inserted her arm was fairly logical. Now I could feel the intruding limb lodged inside my body, taking the place of my spine, her hand squeezed up my neck and into my head. She was holding me up, manipulating me, controlling my every movement...

(OK, there wasn’t really a hole in my back, obviously. AJ’s arm was actually just resting against my back, aligned with my spine, her hand lightly gripping the back of my neck. But I felt it inside me as vividly as if it actually was. Power of the mind, et cetera...)

I turned my head as far as I could to stare at her. “Your hand’s inside me.”

She wore an evil grin uncannily similar to our boyfriend’s. “Yep. Cool, huh?”

“I mean, it’s not like it’s the first time.”

She snorted.

“Yeah, it’s cool,” I continued, swivelling my head back around and awkwardly raising my unwieldy arms to stare at them. “It’s just - everything feels... unnatural, I guess. Like, not bad, but moving, and talking, all feels not quite... right.” Not to mention, there was still that near-constant clicking, which I now realised was the sound of the hinges in my jaw and my arms whenever they moved.

“Hmm. I think it’s very right,” AJ remarked. She moved her arm back and forth a couple of times, swaying me helplessly. “I could get used to this. Having you as my powerless puppet...”

I tried to smirk, but my mouth refused to let me. “I thought I already was.”

She chuckled, brushing my hair out of my face with her free hand. “Oh yeah, that’s right. You’re just my pretty hand puppet, and I can do what I want with you... You just have to sit there like a wooden lump, and let me. Isn’t that right?”

I gave a couple of heavy nods, feeling very much like it wasn’t me moving my head - like she was nodding it for me, her hand waving inside it to move me as she liked. (Of course, she wasn’t, but that was what I felt. I’d been given the suggestion to feel like my every moment was being directed by her, like she was puppeteering me, and my subconscious had taken that idea and run with it. It was so real to me.)

“You can’t do anything without me,” she teased, her fingers running through my hair. “You can’t function on your own. See for yourself...”

Her arm slowly began to retract, sliding down my back, out of the hole. As her hand withdrew from my neck, my head fell forwards, thudding into my chest. I found I could no longer move my mouth, or my eyes. The strange thing was, the rest of me remained mobile - for now, at least. I was still able to flail my jerky arms, and I did so, waving them frantically in front of me. But when her arm reached a certain point, they suddenly dropped lifelessly to my sides. Finally, she pulled out from under my shirt completely, and my torso slumped forwards, my body folding in half, my head nestling between my knees, my arms hanging down, my fingertips brushing the carpet.

I couldn’t move at all, but I was still fully aware and conscious, for once. I was stuck looking down at the patch of floor between my feet. I tried to produce a noise inside my shut mouth, but my voice wouldn’t comply. I really couldn’t do anything at all without AJ puppeteering me.

I could hear her cackling next to me. “Aw, poor little Jelly Doll! You’ve gone all floppy.” She grabbed one of my arms and waggled it in the air, before letting it fall again. “Maybe I should help you up.”

She stuck her arm back up my shirt, back into my hole, back into the wide crevice inside me from which she had total control over me. As she did so, I felt mobility return, energy flowing back into my limbs and my face. She raised her arm, slowly sitting me up again.

I shot her a wide-eyed look. “Don’t do that,” I pleaded.

“Do what?” she giggled - and quickly pulled her arm back out again. Taken by surprise, I toppled over, landing on the armrest.

In this position, slumped over sideways with my arms limp, my eyes staring motionlessly, and my mouth hanging slightly agape, I must’ve looked kinda dead. Although my partners would probably have said I looked dead hot. I had a great view of Richard, leaning forwards in his seat to leer at me, enjoying the show his girlfriends were putting on for him, as always.

Letting out a goofy little laugh that slightly undermined the subtle dominant vibe she was trying to pull off, Alyssa grabbed my arm again, lifted it up (my stiff forearm swinging a little on its elbow-hinge) and tickled my armpit. Just as when she tries to tickle me when I’m a frozen fucktoy, I felt her fingertips scrabbling back and forth, but they didn’t affect me at all. I wasn’t ticklish. How could I be? I was made out of wood.

Once she’d got enough satisfaction from my utter unresponsiveness, she slid her arm back into my hole. (Yes, I’m aware that the phrasing of that is a little gross, in a ‘farmer pulling a calf out of a cow’ way. I wish I could think of a better way to say it!) Still chortling merrily, she propped me back up, and then pulled up the front of my shirt and helped herself to my exposed tits with her free hand. For some reason, even though my flesh had turned to unyielding, nerveless wood, my boobs were still perfectly malleable - and sensitive. Her touch sent a thrill through me, all the stronger for how difficult it was for me to express it.

Raising my inarticulate arms, I swatted feebly at her, trying to dislodge her grip. That only seemed to encourage her - she scooted closer, her body nestling up next to me, and fondled my chest with even greater zeal. The front of her shirt brushed against my arm, and I felt a damp patch. I don’t even know if AJ knew Danielle was drooling - whether the silly submissive was allowing her to notice. If she was, AJ wasn’t giving Dani the satisfaction of acknowledging it. Or maybe she was just too preoccupied with her powerless puppet, which is perfectly understandable!

In a weird way I felt even more helpless than when I’m frozen - because even though I could actually move in this state, I could only do so awkwardly, clumsily, still unable to defend myself against my goblin of a girlfriend. Moreover, my movements didn’t even really feel like my own - they felt controlled from outside, manoeuvred by Alyssa, manipulated by her hand inside me, like a true hand puppet. (I have since realised that hand puppets don’t tend to be made of wood. This is not something that occurred to any of us at the time.)

“Just look at her,” she sighed wistfully. “Ugh, this is so fucking cool! I can’t get over it. I mean, it’s been like a year of me getting mindfucked, but seeing it happen to her is just - mmm...” She gave me a little jiggle, my hinges rattling quietly.

“I know exactly how you feel,” Richard mused, beaming. “I feel it every time I hypnotise you - either of you. Don’t think I’ll ever get used to it...”

She shot him a wry grin. “Well, I know I won’t, because you keep finding new ways to pull the rug out from under me.” As he laughed, she tapped me on the forehead with her index finger. “What about you, puppet? Think you’ll ever get used to it?”

“Seems unlikely,” I murmured, earning chuckles from both of them.

“This is so great,” she purred into my ear, resting her chin on my shoulder, her nose brushing my cheek. “I think we should keep you like this, as my plaything, held up by my hand, only able to move when and how I want you to... Have you as my marionette, me pulling your strings, making you dance to my tune...” Lowering her hand from my tits, she brushed her fingers along my thigh, which should’ve made me shiver given how horny I was (particularly since I was wearing opaque black tights rather than pants), but didn’t really, because I was a lump of wood.

“Oh hey, that reminds me, I wanna test this...” She shuffled away from me a little, giving me slightly more space, while still keeping her left arm slid up my back. Her hand changed position, releasing its grip on my neck to rest her palm against the top of my back, and she started to tickle the peak of my spine. I didn’t feel this exactly as it happened - as far as I perceived it, her hand was still inside my head, and I didn’t feel any light tickles against my skin. But I felt her fingers twitching inside me instead - and my body reacted to it.

My head jerked backwards, putting my glassy gaze on the ceiling, and my mouth dropped open. My forearms flipped upwards, pointing up at the ceiling while my upper arms remained straight down at my sides, making me look like a T-Rex with tiny limbs. Then, totally against my volition, I started to violently shake from side to side, waving back and forth, my arms flapping madly in the air as I did so. My head nodded along out of sync with my body, getting left behind by it, going left when the rest of me went right.

AJ guffawed loudly. “That’s right, dance! Dance for me, doll!!” (She’d make a good supervillain.)

“So cute,” Richard chimed in, his tone full of malicious glee. “Such a pretty dancing puppet!” (He kinda already was a supervillain at this point.)

I guess you could technically describe what I was doing as ‘dancing’, although I bet it looked more like I was having some kind of seizure! In due course AJ stopped tickling my back, and my manic jig stopped at once. Panting a little, I began to lower my head and arms, staring balefully at Richard. “What the hell was tha-aah-”

My head fell back again, my arms flung themselves upwards, and I resumed my ridiculous dance, triggered by my girlfriend’s tickling fingers. I couldn’t stop myself. I couldn’t make myself do anything else. All I could do was shake and thrash, flinging my head and forearms around me, my marble eyes rolling from side to side in my head, my metal joints rattling loudly.

She kept making me dance for a while - occasionally stopping only to quickly start again, just like before, not giving me time to regain my composure - before abruptly taking her hand away completely. I went from frenzied spasming one moment to sagging back against the couch cushion behind me, my head and limbs dropping forwards. At least I got a chance to catch my breath while I was incapacitated once again.

“That was fucking hilarious,” I heard AJ chortle, as she reached out and idly rubbed one of my nipples with her index finger, right in front of my inanimate eyes. “Tell me you filmed that.”

“Oh yeah, I got it,” Richard replied smugly. “You gave me plenty of time to do it, to be fair!”

I felt my carved cheeks burn. He filmed and photographed us a lot in our sessions, so we could look back and enjoy and jill off at a later date, but it never felt any less hot and humiliating. (Hotmiliating...? I swear, I’ll figure that out at some point!)

At length, she propped me up and gave me her Magical Hand of Movement once more. I carefully avoided looking at either one of them. “You guys are so mean,” I whined.

“Oh, I know, I’m sorry,” she cooed insincerely, “I shouldn’t have interrupted your dancing. I should’ve let you keep going, that was rude of me...”

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” I said sulkily, as she cackled.

“But, Jelly,” Richard said in a mock-confused tone, “that’s what she’s been doing all along! Puppets can’t talk on their own, after all.”

I stared at him with my wide glass eyes, waiting to hear where he was going with this line of thought, wet with anticipation.

“AJ’s been making you speak, choosing what you say, throwing her voice so it sounds like it’s actually you. But it’s not, is it? You’re just a puppet, a lump of wood, and you can’t do anything for yourself... not even talk.”

I blinked, processing this. Could it be true? Was everything I said actually a product of AJ’s twisted imagination? I already felt like my movements were all being controlled by her, so I supposed it was plausible... But they’d felt like my words at the time, when I’d been protesting weakly. A little more pitiful than the way I usually spoke, but then that was to be expected, since I’d been reduced to a helpless, humiliated hand puppet... Could she really have just been making me say what she wanted all that time, making me perform for her, act out a pantomime of feeble resistance as I slowly realised how utterly under her power I was?

I opened my mouth, fully intending to object to Richard’s inference, to make it clear that I controlled my own words, if nothing else.

“She’s right, Jelly,” I said. “I’m making you say this. And this, and this. I’ve been making you say whatever I wanted all along, my pretty little puppet.”

If my eyes could’ve gone any wider, they would have. I swung my head around to stare at AJ in shock, meeting her wild ecstatic gaze as my mouth continued to blurt more of her words. “I decide what you say. Your voice is my voice. Your words are my words. You’re just my instrument, my mouthpiece, and I’ll make you say whatever I want. Isn’t that right, you brainless wooden toy?”

Turning back into its forwards-facing position, my head nodded heavily, out of my control. Nothing I did was my choice. Nothing I said was my own words. All of it was dictated by Alyssa, masterminded from beside me, steered from inside me.

“That’s right, Jelly,” she said jubilantly, from her own mouth this time. “I’m gonna make you say some submissive mantras now, because I can. Mwahaha.”

I let out a shaky little sigh, feeling tremors racing around inside me that remained unseen on the outside, still waters hiding violent activity. My cunt ached with need.

“I’m a wooden puppet,” I announced suddenly, my voice breathy and quiet, meek and docile, devoid of resistance or defiance of any kind. “I’m a brainless toy. I’m a helpless object.”

Sniggering, AJ reached out and tapped her knuckles on my forehead again as I spoke, a wooden thud resounding inside my empty head.

“I can’t do anything on my own.” I stared at her beseechingly, unsure even as I did so whether I was doing it of my own accord (my words seeming to strongly imply otherwise). “I need you to hold me up. I need you to control me. I need you to puppeteer me.”

Her smouldering eyes never leaving my face, she lowered her hand to my chest and flicked one of my boobs with her middle finger. I inhaled sharply, before the flow of mantras resumed. “My body is not my body,” I practically moaned, lifting my fused hand to paw at the tit she’d targeted. “My movements are not my movements. My voice is not my voice. My words are not my words.”

She gently squeezed my thigh, its plywood surface yielding to her touch. Richard was suddenly standing over me, staring down at me with a look of lustful... ownership that matched hers. He stroked his finger across my face, and poked my cheek. I didn’t react, other than to stare up at him, continuing to chant demeaning phrases as he prodded my face and she groped my leg.

“You control everything I do. You decide everything I say.” My carved expression remained unchanged, but my voice sounded increasingly, pathetically desperate. “I am your puppet. I am your plaything. I am your propertyyy...” My voice trailed off into a long whine, as her twitching fingers made me dance spasmodically again. My body back and forth, my arms waving in the air, my hinges clicking so damn loudly, my head nodding wildly, quick frantic breaths escaping my gaping mouth, my pussy pulsating, wishing she’d put her other hand in that hole and puppeteer me from both sides of my powerless wooden body...

“Jelly Doll, sleep,” came Master’s voice, and I toppled like a fallen tree into trance.

***

With a start, I regained consciousness once more, finding myself slumped across the couch. I sat up slowly, warm all over, pent-up from the overwhelming helplessness of being a hand puppet.

“You good, Jel?” Back in his throne, Richard smiled at me.

I grinned ruefully at him. “That was intense. Feels good to have control of my body back - for now, at least...”

I stretched my arms and legs, relishing the ability to move them of my own volition, and the flexibility they had regained. As fun as it was to be wooden and immobile, I was enjoying the chance to relax them now.

“You seemed to respond to that really well,” he commented. “You’re so good at taking suggestions and running with them. Half of that came from your own mind, it was honestly impressive.”

I blushed at the praise. It was true - I could now remember the specifics of what he’d said to my mesmerised mind. He’d explained how I would be a wooden hand puppet, how there was a hole in my back into which AJ could slide her hand to control me, and that I couldn’t move or speak without that - but that was pretty much it. The ways I moved, only able to turn my head and eyes along set courses, that was down to my imagination. As was my hands being solid pieces on the end of my arms.

And the clicking, the sound I heard my puppet joints making when I moved? Richard didn’t give me that suggestion either. My subconscious came up with that of its own accord. It had also come up with the things Alyssa had supposedly made me say - the taunts directed at me by my own voice, the submissive mantras she’d forced me to proclaim... They were all a product of my own imagination. She couldn’t really throw her voice into my throat, put her words in my mouth, but she hadn’t needed to. I’d been the architect of my own deepening submission and degradation.

The awareness of that was fascinating, embarrassing and arousing all at once. In retrospect, even more so, because while I was perfectly capable of reviewing and processing what had happened in the previous scene at that moment, I was oblivious to Alyssa’s continued presence on the couch next to me. Despite remembering her being there to puppeteer me only a few minutes ago, I couldn’t see or hear her any more - and my brain refused to acknowledge this, to let it even occur to me to wonder where she was. As far as I knew, only Richard and I were in the room, and she was both out of sight and out of mind.

I’m sorry, I still just can’t get over how incredible it is that I could be perfectly conscious of how my brain was being fucked with a minute earlier, and at the same time be totally ignorant of how it was being fucked with at that precise moment - split between perfect clarity and utter ignorance... This hypnosis thing is pretty cool, huh?

“So, got any fun ideas on what we could do next?” he asked casually.

I raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m sorry, are you asking me to give you ideas for you to screw with me?”

“Yes.” He grinned that wicked grin of his. “I mean, I have lots of evil plans already, but it’s good to get your insight. You know what gets you the hottest, the most flustered...”

I blushed. Unseen and unheard by me, AJ goblin-giggled and shuffled closer to me. Reaching around my back and taking hold of both my arms by the elbows, she lifted them into the air. They locked in place above me, suspended by invisible chains.

“I mean, I - I always enjoy being frozen,” I reminded Richard in a small, bashful voice, utterly unaware of what had happened to my arms.

“Oh, you’ve made that very clear,” he teased. “You’ve shown us just how much you love being a frozen, helpless Jelly Doll... And you’re so good at it, too. You freeze so well - your body goes so stiff and motionless, your mind goes so wonderfully blank... You’re such a good toy.”

I took a shuddering breath, enduring the wave of pleasure his words brought me, while AJ tilted my head to the right. “Th-thank you, Master,” I mumbled, unprompted by any triggers or compulsions, merely overcome with submission. “Y-yeah - so you could do basically anything like that, just, make me your frozen Jelly Doll, I, I’d be happy with that...”

“Anything slightly more specific?” he pressed, still grinning. “Any fun little dolly fantasies bubbling away in the back of your brain...?”

I swallowed nervously, my cheeks burning. AJ slid her hands down my thighs and spread my legs wide apart. “I - I dunno how feasible it is,” I mumbled, “but I was thinking - I kinda like the idea of being frozen, um... outside.”

My voice had dropped to a tiny embarrassed squeak for that last word. I lowered my gaze, unable to meet his eyes, but I could feel them on me like a laser beam, scrutinising me intensely. What I couldn’t feel was my girlfriend rolling my top up to expose my boobs again.

“Outside, huh? Did you have a setting in mind, or just, y’know, public?” Oh, the delicious emphasis on that word...

I kept my eyes down. Then Alyssa tilted my head back, forcing me to stare up at the ceiling instead. I still didn’t realise anything strange was happening, which may have been for the best. I was already so embarrassed from the conversation Richard and I were having - it would’ve only gotten worse if I’d known I was being gradually transformed back into a toy, bit by bit.

“Um, well, I, uh, I’ve pictured myself as, like, a mannequin in a store,” I practically whispered. “Just, like, in an elegant pose, on display, standing there all day while people walk around me shopping... Maybe dressed in something they sell there, so people can see what it looks like on someone, like with the actual mannequins...”

I thought it was just the erotic mental image that was making my arousal skyrocket. Don’t get me wrong, it was playing its part. But I think it also had something to do with AJ, huddled up close to me, pressed up against my side, her left leg up on the couch behind me. She’d reached around my slender torso with her left arm and was groping my tits, while her right hand was between my spread legs, teasing my pussy through my tights.

“Or, uhhh... or I could be, like, a statue in a garden,” I continued breathily. “Like, this really pretty, fancy garden, w-with flowers and a stone path and maybe some kind of water feature - maybe there’s a stream or something that goes through the middle of it, and there’s a wooden bridge that goes over it... And in amongst ev-everything - nngh - I’m, I’m just there, standing on a plinth, butt naked, in sort of a ballerina pose...”

“Now that sounds lovely, Jelly Doll,” Richard interjected, his voice caressing my ears as smoothly as Alyssa’s hands were caressing my body. “That sounds so perfect, and peaceful. You as a beautiful statue, a garden ornament. There to be admired and enjoyed, to be gazed at lovingly by your owners... We could watch you from a distance, just stand and observe you as you stand among the flowers... or step right up close and run our hands over your stone skin, grope your sculpted ass and rub your granite nipples, while you just stand perfectly still...”

Oh, fuck, that was hot. And on top of that, AJ’s hand had slipped down my panties and was deftly stroking my labia, while I sat still, stuck in the pose she’d put me in, my arms and legs splayed out, my head back, just an oblivious sex toy for her to play with...

Yeah, you can guess what happened next. The only mobile parts of me left - basically, my face, my voice, and my mind - froze too, as I reached, and tumbled over, the edge, my cum soaking her fingers and my tights.

When I finished, all of me unfroze, and I slumped back into AJ’s arms, still unaware of her presence. As far as I knew, I freezegasmed from just talking about my garden statue fantasy with Richard, with no other stimulus. How easy am I?! I thought sheepishly, covering my face with one hand.

He continued as if nothing had happened. “Have you ever pictured yourself as a toy for sale?” he asked. “Have you ever imagined a toy shop with all these shelves lined with big boxes, and they all have plastic, see-through lids, and inside each one is a Jelly Doll? All identical, all the same, all indistinguishable from one another... and you’re one of them. You’re in one of these boxes, on display, available for purchase by a happy customer. And we could never tell which one is you, just by looking. You’re just a toy, just like all the others, all exactly alike...”

Mmmm. OK, that pressed more buttons I didn’t know I had. The loss of humanity, of identity, of being just one of dozens, if not hundreds, of identical dolls, standing there in my box, waiting to be bought... It doesn’t matter which one of us is purchased, because we all look the same, we all think the same... We all have the same memories and personality, all of us capable of being Anjelica Blair, but we know we’re Jelly Dolls (unless we’re hypnotised to believe we’re real people, of course). All uniform, mass-produced, moulded from plastic in the exact same way...

As I pondered these new, exciting, dehumanising thoughts, Alyssa took hold of my legs, pressed them together, and lifted them into the air so that they pointed straight out in front of me. She posed my arms at my sides, bent at the elbows; she pressed her hand against my back, straightening my posture; she placed her palms on my cheeks and adjusted my head so it was perfectly centred. She’d posed me just like a Barbie doll - all that was missing was a nice big cheesy grin, instead of the dazed, dreamy smile currently on my face.

“You’d just be there in your box, waiting to be bought, held in place by plastic ties around your elbows and wrists, your knees and ankles, your neck... keeping you from getting shaken around in your packaging... You’d be dressed up in a cute dolly outfit... Maybe there’d be some accessories in there too...”

A sudden flash of memory made me chuckle softly.

“What is it?”

“I just - I remembered... when I was little I had Barbies, and I used to write on them, and draw on them.” I grinned. “I used to strip off their outfits and scribble all over them with marker pens, and colouring pens... It’d rub off real fast, obviously, but I used to write, just, totally random things on them. Like, new names for them, that I came up with - ‘Cassie’ or ‘Maddie’ or something... Mom would get so mad at me. ‘I spent money on those, Anjelica, don’t draw on them!’”

He laughed fondly. “How old were you when you did this?”

“Five? Six? Old enough to know better, probably,” I said with a rueful smile. “What can I say? I had some creative passion to let out!”

“That’s adorable.”

“I know, right?”

AJ traced a fingertip over the skin between my eyes, and my eyelids dropped, sticking shut. Then she placed her hand over my grinning mouth, firmly pressing its corners, holding it for a few seconds, until she was sure my broad smile was fixed on my face.

I was completely immobilised now, just a toy sitting smiling on the couch - and yet I still hadn’t really noticed anything unusual. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, even my loss of sight. I felt calm and contented, placid and peaceful. I was so relaxed and vacant, it barely made a difference when Master said, “Jelly Doll, sleep.” My pose certainly didn’t change, held in place as my mind plummeted back into the warm, loving embrace of trance.

***

“You really seem to be getting into that,” Richard noted with a smile.

“Yeah, it’s like a childhood thing brought back, but adapted to suit my age now,” I replied happily. “Like one of those adult colouring books.”

“Those are fun,” AJ giggled.

I lifted my pen away from the mannequin’s wrist, satisfied with the spiral I’d drawn there. After hearing my anecdote about writing and drawing on my Barbies, Richard had been kind enough to procure a larger doll for me to use as a canvas. Delighted with his generosity, and the novelty of reliving a childhood pastime, I’d gladly taken up a black marker pen and started to draw on its wrist. Alyssa (who I could now see and hear once more, without knowing I hadn’t been able to earlier) had targeted its inner thigh, inscribing ‘GRAB HERE’ in block capitals.

Leaning across the couch (where the mannequin had been laid after we’d stripped off its clothes) to see what she’d written, I sniggered. AJ couldn’t help making things lewd. And why shouldn’t she? Like I’d said, we were updating the activity for adulthood. I should join in.

I wrote ‘SEX DOLL’ on its upper arm, and then ‘FUCKTOY’ above its hip, keeping to a theme. She added ‘NO RESISTANCE’ in smaller writing on its stomach, and then ‘YOURS TO CONTROL’ even smaller in a ring around its belly button.

“Wow, this Barbie is a total slut,” I smirked.

My girlfriend grinned at me from between its legs. “I know, right? Everyone who sees it is gonna know exactly what it’s for...”

We continued, getting more and more into it, barely pausing between each degrading phrase we added to the mannequin’s surface. ‘FROZEN’, ‘HELPLESS’ and ‘DEFENCELESS’ on its upper arms. ‘PRETTY PLASTIC PLAYTHING’ across its collarbone. ‘SQUEEZE AND GROPE’ below its tits, in a meandering line across its underboobs. ‘FREE USE’ on its crotch, a little arrow pointing down at its cunt. ‘OPEN HOLE’ and ‘INSERT COCK HERE’ on its upper thighs, with more arrows to point a prospective user in the right direction. ‘SUCKDOLL’ across its cheeks, with its mouth as the ‘O’. ‘FLESHLIGHT’. ‘COCKSLEEVE’. ‘CUM BUCKET’. ‘ALL HOLES AVAILABLE’. ‘FILL IT UP’. ‘ALWAYS WET’. ‘ALWAYS READY’.

AJ wrote ‘EMPTY’, ‘VACANT’ and ‘BRAINLESS’ on our life-sized doll’s forehead, and ‘JUST A TOY’ right in the middle of its torso, like a stamped label. I frowned, my glee suddenly interrupted by a vague feeling of disquiet. Something was a little off here, and I couldn’t quite put my finger on what it was. Maybe it had something to do with how much of the writing I’d done, which was quite minimal compared to Alyssa. I’d given lots of suggestions on things to add, but I’d found I couldn’t reach some spots on the splayed-out mannequin, and so she’d written them instead... Why was that, exactly?

“Oh, pick a random number, Jel,” Richard said abruptly, still contentedly watching us from his throne.

I blinked. “Uh... like, how big? How many digits?”

He shrugged. “Let’s say, three or four?”

“Hmm.” I decided to keep it simple. “1126.”

He grinned knowingly, but didn’t call me out on picking my birthday. “Alright then. AJ?”

“Gotcha,” she snickered, adding one last sentence to the bottom of the doll’s foot. Then she lifted the leg, angling it so I could read what she’d just written.

I inhaled sharply. There on its sole, in big, easily visible writing, was the label, ‘JELLY DOLL #1126’.

As soon as I read it something snapped in my brain, and everything became clear. I was suddenly, profoundly aware of what you guys probably guessed like six paragraphs ago. Our life-sized Barbie doll, the mannequin we’d been gleefully vandalising with demeaning signs and phrases, was none other than yours truly. Jelly Doll #1126, pretty plastic plaything and brainless cum bucket, decorated to clearly indicate exactly what I was and what I was for.

As I’m sure you’d expect, I dissolved into a stammering pool of fluster, unable to take my eyes off the graffiti AJ and I (but mostly AJ) had administered to my skin. The ones she’d written were bad enough (I mean, she wrote ‘SUCKDOLL’ on my face, for fuck’s sake), but my own additions were really getting to me. I’d cheerfully, obliviously marked myself a fleshlight, informing anyone who saw my naked body that I was always wet and ready, providing handy directions on where they could find my open, available holes.

Talk about orchestrating my own downfall.

“Do you like your new body art?” AJ teased, lying on her front and staring at me lasciviously, her head resting on my thigh, partially obscuring the ‘GRAB HERE’ sign.

“I, ah - duh-umm...” Red face, hidden in hands, maybe forever.

I felt her fingertips on my belly, and uncovered my eyes just enough to see her tracing over the letters that spelt out ‘COCKSLEEVE’. “I love it,” she continued, as lightly conversational as if she were discussing a new carpet or wallpaper or something. “I think it really suits you, all these pretty tattoos all over you. Shame they’re not permanent.” (We’d used washable markers - the ink would come off in the shower, so I didn’t have to risk going out in public with all that writing on my face... as hot a mental image as that was...)

“Mmyeah,” I mumbled, going back to intensely scrutinising the palms of my hands from an inch away.

She giggled, glancing over at our Master. “Awww, I think poor 1126 is all embarrassed!”

“I think you might be right,” he replied, his tone smooth and smug, with a strong undercurrent of mockery. “But why should it be? We’re just making sure it’s clear what it is to anyone who might look at it. Just a toy, just a plastic doll, ready to be used...”

Gaahhh. On top of the ‘free use toy’ stuff, they were both talking about me, not to me, while I squirmed and hid my face from them. He was calling me an ‘it’. She was calling me by my number! Like I had no identity at all - no name, no humanity, no personhood. But wasn’t that true? I mean, I’d just spent like twenty minutes mentally divorced from my very self, utterly dissociated from my own body as I eagerly defaced it. Maybe I had no ‘self’. Maybe I really was just a toy...

Strangely, this line of thought was calming me down, making me feel a little less mortified, enough that I was able to slowly lower my hands from my face and stare over at AJ, and up at Richard (who was now standing, looming over me). I still felt very rabbit-in-headlights, small and powerless, humiliated and horny. (Humiliorny...? Yeah, OK, I give up.) But the idea that this was exactly how I was meant to feel, that I was supposed to exist like this, a toy to be used and degraded as my owners saw fit, was generating a bizarrely tranquil mental state. It made me want to embrace the embarrassment, to revel in the dehumanisation, to face the myriad ways my partners were demeaning me.

If I was just a toy, just their suckdoll, then that was the whole point of my existence. I didn’t have to hide from it - I could simply sink into it like a warm bath, and enjoy every moment of it. I was helpless to stop it, anyway. I had no resistance. I was theirs to control.

It was in that weird but wonderful passive, docile state that I was told to stand and follow them. I complied demurely, my face wearing such a dazed, happy smile that Richard snapped a quick photo of it for us all to enjoy later, before leading me out of the living room and through the kitchen. AJ trotted along behind me, groping my bare ass as we walked.

“Now, I know it’s not the elaborate, fancy garden from your fantasies,” Richard remarked as we reached the door that led out to their modest back yard, “but I hope you’ll find it satisfying anyway...”

I stepped out after him, feeling the rough texture of the patio on my soles, and glanced around languidly. I knew their fence was high enough for me to get away with standing out there in a state of undress without being seen by their neighbours. I also didn’t much care at that moment (although after my brain found its way out of subspace, I was grateful for the high fence). On top of that it was late afternoon during summer in California, so there was no real danger of me getting cold while I was outside in the nude.

Alyssa led me by the hand to the edge of the patio, turning me to face out towards their neat square lawn. Master froze me, and she set to work putting me into a graceful pose. She turned my head to my right, raised my left arm and arched it over my head, and lowered the other towards my hip, before positioning my legs to complete my overall resemblance to a ballerina frozen midway through a dance move.

Then they both went to sit in some deck chairs they kept out in their garden for sunny days like this, out of my field of vision, and began to chat and drink normally. Like this was just any afternoon, and they were a normal couple, and the presence of their hypnotised, immobile girlfriend was nothing out of the ordinary.

All told, they probably kept me that way for roughly twenty minutes (which was about the longest I could remain frozen at that point, although I was working on it). But it felt like an eternity. Although I couldn’t look round at them, or even think about looking round at them, I could feel their eyes on me, admiring me lustfully even as they conversed casually. Periodically, one of them would come over and adjust me, altering my pose slightly or moving me into a new one - all of them elegant and decorative rather than lewd or vulgar, which created a delicious contrast with the body writing. Otherwise, they just watched and admired me.

I was their pretty stone statue, their precious garden ornament, there to be lovingly studied by my owners in all my naked glory. I was their Jelly Doll, one of thousands of indistinguishable toys for sale, a mass-produced plastic plaything. I was their fleshlight, their cum dump, for them to fuck as long and as hard as they want, while I remain frozen, mindless, unresisting, covered in raunchy graffiti.

I was - and will be - whatever they want me to be.