Chaos Doll
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The Sound of Traffick (Part 2: The Doll Conclusion)
🕑 Added 2020-07-29 19:43:02 +0000 UTCGreetings!
Today's release is the conclusion to the story I started at the beginning of the month, an ending chosen by listeners via patreon poll. A complete edition with the entire story presented in a single file will be released shortly.
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The Sound of Traffick (Part 2: The Doll Conclusion)
Written by ChaosDoll
Special thanks to Merlin Monroe for additional editing.
The metal table against your naked skin sends an involuntary shiver down your spine. Your hands grip onto the sides of the table as your body steadies itself. For the briefest moment, you feel a sense of self control return and breathe in sharply, preparing to test your ability to move freely. Several restraints surprise you with their appearance from somewhere under the table.
The metal clamps quickly engage around your wrists and ankles, locking your limbs firmly in place with your legs slightly spread and your arms at your sides, palms resting against the cold metal table. You try to raise your head and look down at your body, but another metal clamp clicks into existence, locking your neck in place to prevent you from turning your head too far in either direction.
You want to scream as you notice Doctor Cold pick up a glowing pink vial from the nearby tray and insert it into an injection gun, but you can only speak silence as your desperate eyes dart around the room for any means of escape. A moment later, the doctor steps in front of you to look you directly in the eye, that disturbing smile never leaving his face.
“It seems,” he explains without emotion, “that all your attention-seeking behavior in that nightclub drew the eye of a very wealthy corpo. They have decided to purchase you on a more permanent basis. Worry not: you will surely continue to receive all the attention you desire.” He holds up the injection gun for you to see more clearly and continues, “This first injection will begin the process. It contains a number of transformative agents that will hyper-feminize your physique, oh yes, you will change well and truly beyond the limits of what Mother Nature would allow.”
You want to resist—you want to thrash and tear yourself off the table—but all you can manage is a low moan and a slight tremble. You try to scream but only manage a whimper, you only wanted a fun night out, not to be turned into a trophy bimbo for some rich asshole, but if the size of the pink vial is any indication, there will be nothing common about this process.
The doctor steps forward and you feel the pinch of the injection gun against your right arm. The pain is brief and very quickly transmogrified to a sensation of euphoric bliss, spreading your lips into an involuntary smile.
“Ah yes, I see you are experiencing the emotional stabilizers. We had quite a few expensive rejects before we learned that helped easing the... unpleasantness... of rapid biological metamorphosis improved product quality. Euphoria is such a useful tool in reducing resistance, and resistance just leads to damage. It does let me see such pretty smiles."
His face draws close to yours, examining you like an artist appraising a canvas, "And you have such a pretty smile. A pretty smile for our client's pretty doll. You should embrace this gift, happiness and joy will be the only emotions you are capable of experiencing once you are processed."
The sound of his footsteps echoing through the endorphins as he steps back, then moves out of view. "All the changes you are about to experience will feel quite wonderful, and though you may not believe it now, you will, in fact, be grateful for them once this process is complete.” The disembodied voice shimmering through the haze in your mind.
You can hear the doctor checking the readouts on nearby equipment and typing something into a datapad. A moment later, a large screen descends from above your head, until it completely dominates your field of view. The screen flickers to life; no matter where you look, all you can see are swirling patterns in a multitude of colors. Warmth spreads throughout your body as you gaze deeper into the slowly drifting spiral of light on the screen. The more you watch, the less you want to look away. Are those words in the dancing colors?
The feeling you experienced when you first awoke with the data collar, that slowing of the thoughts, returns, but this time you experience no worry. Only pleasure. A tingling sensation runs down your spine and concentrates in your chest with all the other strange sensations filling your body.
The calm, slow, steady rate of your breathing falters at the increasing pressure. It feels like there is something spreading below your skin, tingling below each of your nipples, irritating and pushing against your flesh. It's not that it hurts... no, it does hurt! It hurts beyond description, something growing, something swelling. You feel yourself losing focus, and you hear a distant giggle that only further distracts you, a high and girly giggle. That laugh invades deep, pulling a giggle from you in response as you feel your chest shake with a new weight that tells you there is more flesh there to shake. It starts to jiggle as the girlish giggling continues to echo in your mind..
You hear movement to one side of the table, but your eyes are still locked to the swirling lights on the screen above your face. The pinch of another injection near your hips goes unnoticed as the words on the screen become clearer and easier to read. The words echo in your mind, sounding like your own voice and burning themselves deep into your subconscious.
“Doll, Pretty, Smile, Plaything, Docile, Object, Happy, Sex Toy.” The words drone on and on.
The giggling is interrupted for a moment by a soft crack and an intense pressure in your torso. Did the owner of that high-pitched giggle notice the drug-fueled pleasure that came from such exquisite pain? Another crack, and you feel like you’re being laced into a corset, tight around your waist and drawing tighter. Your ribs are contracting. It only gets harder to breathe as that pressure in your chest… your breasts… continues. You feel your flesh jiggling once again.
The changes in your body become increasingly obvious as the pressure becomes weight—no, the pressure remains, but it’s changing. Something cold and artificial grows under your flesh inside your breasts. You swear you can almost hear the skin stretching, or is that sloshing? It feels like water balloons filling up inside your flesh.
You try to rationalize the sensation, but it doesn’t matter because the girly giggling begins once more, distracting you from the wonderful horror of your constricting waist and the forming lumps pressing down on your chest. The airheaded giggle sounds labored, as if its owner is mocking you. Your chest jiggles in time to that mocking laughter.
That strange feeling of warmth spreads down your back and across your hips and glutes. The restraints around your ankles loosen for a moment, to allow slack that quickly disappears as your hips are pushed up and away from the table. It’s hard to understand what exactly you’re feeling; it’s as if something underneath you is pushing your hips higher, or maybe it is just becoming hard to think? The metal of the table feels less cold, less hard, than it did a moment ago. It feels like you are sitting on something soft and pillowy. That’s silly, of course, how could metal get less cold and hard?
“I wonder if your owner will breed you.” The doctor’s voice cuts through your wandering thoughts like a scalpel as you feel another rib crack and constrict. Your hips thrust up higher, and you swear again you can hear that skin stretching. Now, you realise you can feel it stretching, feel your rump pushing out, padding out.
“Our client was most insistent that your backside compete with these.” A finger presses against the taut, swollen flesh that was once your much smaller chest. You realise you can see them now, see the proud nipples standing up as you glance down at them. You see the doctor’s finger barely denting the enormous spheres of flesh. The skin is smooth, perfect, not a stretch mark to be seen. The spheres tremble, the pressure surges and they grow again. Perfect. Spheres. You moan in delicious agony.
“The client used the term, ‘birthing hips,’ actually.” There is a crack amongst the giggles.
“Ah, here they come.” Another crack and more pain, more euphoria. Flesh squeaks as it drags against metal, your flesh, your swollen rump, your tortured skin pushing out wider as your hip bones snap and reform once again. “The client didn’t ask for any fertility enhancements, so it is possible they just like the look. I’m sure you won’t complain either way, though. You will be getting plenty of looks.”
The doctor seems to draw closer, and you suddenly hear his voice and feel the heat of his breath near your ear. “One more little injection, and you’ll be a brand new you. Would you like to see what you’ve become?”
You feel another sharp pinch of the injection gun, this time near your jawline. The patterns on the screen suddenly flicker and fade away and the image on the screen becomes a mirror, reflecting your face back at you. Your eyes go wide as your skin seems to ripple and shift like clay being molded by unseen hands.
There is a brief sensation of pain, followed by a burst of endorphins. You blink a couple times. Your cheekbones suddenly seem higher, more prominent. Your eyes are wide and doe-like. Your features are softer, rounder, more feminine. There is a loud cracking sound and your nose begins to shrink and shifts into a daintier version of what it had been. The giggle returns and you realize for the first time that it’s been you making that girlish noise all along.
A bright and vapid smile spreads across your face just as your lips begin to swell, slowly inflating into soft and inviting cushions framing your mouth. You giggle again. You feel a tingling in your scalp and your hair begins to lengthen and lighten, framing your face in cascading waves.
You are beautiful. Your skin is flawless, almost too perfect with it’s slightly plastic sheen, yet it’s still undeniably flesh. When you finally stop smiling, you notice that even your most neutral expression makes you look like you are pouting for more sex.
“Just about finished, doll,” you hear the doctor say behind you, his voice distant as you become deeply focused on your own reflection.
The screen begins to slowly pull away from the table as it shifts to acting as a full body mirror. You see your full reflection for the first time since the process began, making your mouth hang open in surprise. The expression still somehow looks sexual, you are no longer sure if you can even make a face that doesn’t look like an invitation to sex.
Your once humble physique is gone, replaced by an hourglass figure that could only be achieved through cosmetic enhancement. Your waist is impossibly narrow, a look even more exaggerated by the enormous breasts now sitting proudly on your chest. Your breasts... no... tits... your tits are easily the size of volleyballs. You let out another giggle.
Your hips are wide, tapering down into thick creamy thighs and you can tell you are sitting atop a booty so generous it could only exist in fantasy... and yet here you lay, in the flesh, looking every bit like a fertility goddess mixed with a custom made sex doll… at least that would be your impression if you could remember what a fertility goddess is. You’re just a sex doll… a plaything... an object…
The words bounce back into your head, and you giggle as you notice the sex doll on the screen smile and jiggle at the same time. She’s so pretty. She probably gets all the attention.
Pretty. Object. Docile. Happy. Doll. Smile. Pretty.
