Vines descend from all sides, and I lay still. I feel them on my ankles on my wrists, around my belly, my chest, my neck. They bind me, and wind upward, coil by agonizing coil. Every touch scatters blissful sensation across my limp form. I squeal and whimper and beg through big, glossy eyes. And through it all, that empty, aching void between my legs cries out for attention. To be filled. But that can’t be real. Something in my brain just won’t let it be real. It doesn’t matter how desperate I feel, how intense the pang in my nethers grows. It doesn’t matter how cool the air feels against the blistering heat radiating off me. It doesn’t matter how empty I feel. It’s nothing. There’s nothing there. 

 

Dali’s vines draw tight around me, squeeze into the yielding false bones and muscles of my plush body. So tight. Tighter. Tighter still. It’s so good. I’m so good. Just a doll. A doll being played with by her Owner. Please Mistress I’m so needy. I won’t be complete til every last one of my aching holes is filled. 

 

She poses me on the bed. My thoughts drift, rock, sway in time with Her movements. Dali positions herself behind my head; her vines support my weight, elevating my hips at a sloping angle. Vines pry my legs apart, exposing that quivering void of raw need. Gooey strands of liquid desire connect between my thighs. Cool air tickles my sopping nethers. No, no it doesn’t. That’s not something that can happen. I’m blank down there, blank like a good innocent doll. Just ignore it. Ignore the overwhelming urge to shiver, shudder, squirm. It’s okay, even if I had such urges, which I don’t, I couldn’t do it. I can’t move at all. I’m just a still little thing. Open, helpless, vulnerable, ready to be played with, ready to be used. 

 

The bed shifts, and Bailey comes into view. She’s kneeling between my legs, drinking in my figure, naked, ready. Oh goodness no. Please turn my head. Please don’t make me look at her ripe, glistening body. At her plump breasts. At her toned belly. Her sculpted shoulders. Her caring face and hungry eyes. Her cock. Her delicious, warm, hard cock. How would it feel slipping inside me? Gliding in and out of my slick, wet nethers. Filling me, Pumping me full of her seed. Oh no. Stars no. Where are these thoughts coming from? A good, innocent girl like me doesn’t think about these things, doesn’t even know about these things! I’ve never even been kissed before!

 

That’s right, I don’t know anything about any of that. What strange thoughts I was having! A bunch of strange and meaningless drivel, I’m sure. Complete nonsense! How could Bailey do anything—down there—when I don’t even have anything for her to push her hard, throbbing cock into? Stars, please just turn my head. I can’t look away on my own. This is so humiliating.

 

Sweet mercy, Dali tilts my gaze upward. Shimmering, fractal eyes stare into mine. She smiles, warm, gentle, and full of love. Lurking behind it is a ravenous need to possess, which at any moment might swallow me whole. It shouldn’t make me feel safe. It does. “Look at you,” she croons. Her fingers stroke my cheek, trace my parted lips, play coy little games with my open mouth. “So helpless. So desperate. So needy. So ready to break.” She slips her fingers into my mouth, pinning my tongue in place. I pant and whine, my eyes watering as they unfurl into myriad vines, and begin to explore, sliding up the roof of my mouth, along my cheeks, my tongue. “But not yet, petal. I need you to hang on for me, just a little longer. Can you do that for me, Holly? You’re not a pet, right? Not a doll. You’re independent, aren’t you?”

 

She nods my head.

“Good girl.” Her smile widens, and she presses a kiss to my forehead. Fireworks burst in my brain, fizzling and popping, lighting up neurons, bathing me in chemical bliss. I can’t give in. I need to stay strong. 

 

The vines in my mouth swell, then spread, coating every inch like foliated film. They pry my mouth wider, making room for more intrusions. A thick, pulsing vine pushes past my lips, filling my gaping mouth, exploring its depth. It feels like—it feels like a—no, I can’t think it. It’s too embarrassing. It’s too lewd. I can’t believe she’s doing this to me! I’m not that kind of girl.

 

Just don’t think about it. Think about something else. Anything else. Anything but the way it feels to have thousands upon thousands of little bristly feelers teasing my skin wherever she touches. Oh stars, it feels so good. I feel so dazed and giddy and giggly. Her every touch brings this lovely flood of hazy bliss. Her vines probe further, down my throat. Drool pours from my lips. I don’t gag. I don’t react at all, save a tiny, throaty whimper. I sound so desperate, so needy, so—oh dear, oh my. I almost thought of a very, very impolite word. But I don’t know words like that. Even if I did. I certainly wouldn’t know what they mean.

 

Dali thrusts into my mouth, stealing my attention. “Suck,” she commands. My body responds. My lips purse, and begin to rhythmically pleasure her thick, meaty appendage. My tongue works in tandem tracing up and down the underside of the intruding vine. A shudder passes through Dali, then a creaky groan, which builds into a hungry growl. “More,” she demands. Another thrust, I feel the bristles in my bulging throat now, tickling all the way down my esophagus. 

 

All of a sudden, a sticky, sweet substance begins to ooze from her bristles, it coats the inside of my mouth as she brushes her vines back and forth. It starts to feel strange. Like something is building. It starts small, like the lingering memory of an itch that’s only just been scratched, then begins to grow. It’s ticklish and jittering and it needles its way through my mouth and down my throat, stuttering jolts of something oh so familiar: anticipation, desire. Then it gets worse. It tingles and oozes warm, wet need. It aches. It aches the same way my privates ache. And I shouldn’t ache like this! I shouldn’t ache like this at all! I don’t even have anything between my legs because I’m just a good, innocent girl! And my mouth certainly shouldn’t ache, shouldn’t need to be filled, shouldn’t cry out to be touched.

 

Oh stars, oh my, those little feelers on her vines, they’re getting into every nook and cranny, scrubbing every cell. It feels so good, it feels too good. It’s overwhelming. It’s like she’s reaching right up into my brain and filling in every little wrinkle with gooey pleasure. My eyes roll back as my cheeks start to glow. I’m burning up! I’m burning up and it’s melting all my silly people thoughts away and no! She can’t do this! It’s not proper! It’s not fair! It’s not—oh goodness what is she doing now? 

 

Soft petals are brushing my inner thighs as a flowery tendril curls up my leg. Muffled squeals hum in my bulging throat. In out, in out, pure, delightful friction on my raw, needy flesh. My aching throat. My drooling mouth. This is so wrong. So improper. So degrading. I’m blushing so hard. Please don’t stop. 

 

The vine between my legs traces a slow, winding path around the achey, needy place that isn’t real because I don’t have anything there, and presses against my bottom. And wh-what is she doing down there? This isn’t right! Mmm oh goodness my mouth. My mouth is on fire. I’m just a little ball of white hot need. It feels so good. Good dolly good dolly good dolly. I’m being played with. I’m being used. Fill me more. Her vines are pumping so fast. In and out of my throat, scrubbing my flesh, stripping away anything but raw, senseless bliss. 

 

And stars, when did her eyes get so big? It’s like they’re all I can see. Looking down at me, bursting with color, reds and blues and golds and purples and it’s all so beautiful. She’s so beautiful. The most beautiful person in the whole universe. And she’s looking at me. She’s staring down at me, face twisted with lust, desire, hunger. “Look at you,” she growls. “Such a pretty, beloved little toy. Just barely hanging on as I fuck you. As I use your mouth to pleasure myself. Even so, I can still see that little spark, that little dwindling bit of personhood in your eye.” She leans closer; warm, flower scented breath blows across my skin like a desert wind, scouring my senses. Her lips curl into a snarling grin, baring rows and rows of razor teeth. “I can’t wait to watch it go out,” she growls, and thrusts her vines deeper. 

 

The whole inside of my mouth and throat bursts with bubbly, lovely tingles. I should be frightened. No, I should be terrified. I should be screaming in fear but stars, it feels so good, and she’s so pretty and my brain is just full of lovey, mushy, pleasure soaked cotton at this point but it’s not enough! I need more!

 

Something sticky and wet brushes against my bottom and—oh no, oh stars. I feel itchy around my bottom, and now it’s kind of hot, and ticklish and jittery and the feeling is spreading and it’s going up inside me and stars, oh stars, I’m starting to feel so empty back there and—her vine presses against the entrance to my bottom and a tiny yelp forces its way around the vines thrusting in and out of my throat. She’s not going to do—that—right? There’s no way! Mistress—I mean Dali—knows I’m not that kind of girl! She must know, nevermind that she’s using my hot, wet mouth as a cocksleeve for her thick, juicy vine. She wouldn’t just put her vine inside my bottom, right? Even if I begged her to? Even if I was so empty and needed it so bad and promised to be her pretty little toy forever and ever if she fucked me good and hard? 

 

But I won’t! I wouldn’t! I’m independent! I’m not a doll! I’m a person! She made me this way! I can’t forget that! I used to just be Holly: a good, innocent girl and independent citizen of the Affini Compact. Then she made me into a needy, slutty little doll who gets off on shame and humiliation and knowing what a naughty little girl she is for doing all sorts of shameful, lewd things even though I’ve never even been kissed before! Wait, no, that’s not right! I’m not like that. I don’t even have anything—down there—and I certainly don’t know anything about anything shameful or lewd like a big, thick, meaty cock thrusting into my hungry dolly pussy while Mistress fucks my ass and uses my mouth and I cum so hard it breaks my brain into a thousand little pieces and when She puts me back together I’m nothing but her pretty little dolly pet for the rest of forever and ever and She plays with me every day and uses me and so does Bailey and please fill my holes, Miss, please please please. 

 

Slowly, agonizingly, Dali’s vine begins to press harder against my bottom. It finds the opening, and just like that, I can feel a thousand little feelers caressing my insides. It’s still going, pressing further, deeper, thicker, stretching me out, filling me. Dali groans, her leaves rustle as she shakes from head to toe, eyes stained purple with quivering lust. 

 

My lower half is awash in bright, tingly bliss. Electric delight arcs off in every direction as my insides clench and spasm. A drawn out whine buzzes in my throat. My eyelids won’t stop fluttering; what little I can see is blurred with tears, running slick down my red, hot cheeks, mixing with the flood of drool dribbling down my chin. The world beyond these feelings means nothing to me now. Just raw inputs my brain can’t process through the torrent of sticky pleasure seeping into every pore. 

 

Please this is so embarrassing. Please this is so lewd. Please this is so hot. I’m not supposed to be like this. I’m not a doll. I'm not a pet, not even if I want to be one so so bad. 

 

Dali presses deeper, further. Down my throat, up inside my bottom. Wherever she touches the ache, the need spreads. My insides steam with desire. With every thrust, she pulls away ever so slightly, and I’m left feeling so empty, so desperate, then she pushes again, farther, harder, deeper, more more more. More desperation, more need, more full. I’m insatiable; I’m ravenous, starving, empty. I’m so empty. Not in my mouth. Not in my throat. Not in my bottom. No, I’m empty—down there—down where a good, innocent girl shouldn’t have anything at all. But I do. I do have something there, and it’s burning up, boiling me with endless, wanton desire. I need to be filled. I need to be used. I need to be played with. I need to be fucked. Fucked by Bailey’s cock. I don’t care if it breaks me. I don’t even care if I cum. I just need to feel it inside me. I need to be filled. Need to make my owner cum. Need to feel her hot, burning seed erupt inside me, coat my walls, leak down my legs, melt my brain into a little puddle of contented dolly bliss. 

 

Somehow, from out beneath the crushing stranglehold of drugs over me limp, pliable form, my body manages a single involuntary spasm: a needy thrust of my hips, inching them agonizingly close to Bailey’s member, before once again falling still. A low chuckle scrapes its way out Dali’s pursed lips. “Well well well,” she hisses. “I think it's time, Bailey.” 

 

“I think you’re right,” Bailey replies, her voice is quiet, quivering with barely restrained need. 

 

It’s finally happening, isn’t it? She’s gonna—oh stars I can’t think it. It’s too much! It’s too lewd! Please do it! Please Bailey please! 

 

She leans over, hovering above me, her body aligned with mine, our eyes locked. Does she think I’m pretty? I hope so. I hope I look so pretty for her with vines stuffing my mouth and my throat bulging and my cheeks red and my eyes glassy and drool running down my chin, leaking onto my chest. If she thinks I’m pretty, maybe when she’s done stuffing my hot, wet, aching, empty, needy dolly pussy she’ll, uhm—oh goodness—I can’t believe I’m thinking something like this, but maybe she’ll want to kiss me? That would be so nice. So lovely. So romantic. I’ve never been kissed before, you know. I’m blushing so hard at the thought. It’s a good thing my face is already so red from what a desperate, needy, little slutty fuckdoll I am so she probably can’t tell. 

 

Bailey’s legs curl around mine, and she leans back, righting herself. I can’t feel it yet, but I know she must be so close to entering me. My nethers twitch at the very thought, gushing molten desire. My heart is pounding so fast. Dali’s vines are pumping in and out of my mouth and my bottom but the white hot need between my legs dulls everything else. It’s all I can think about. The emptiness, the anticipation, the moment it will finally come. That I’ll finally be filled. 

 

Shivering tingles arc up my sides as Bailey traces her hands up my flank, then grips me around the sides of my chest. Her fingers sink into doughy, plush flesh. I’m such a good doll. She bites her lip; one of her fangs pierces skin, drawing a single drop of blood. “Are you ready, Holly?” Her low, husky voice trembles; she’s nearly panting with desire. “I suppose you’ll have to be. Because I’m not sure I can control myself.” 

 

Her hips roll, and the head of her cock kisses my twitching lips. I clench with need, my aching slit straining to take more, to feel her inside me as the barest hint of what’s to come ripples across my sopping, throbbing flesh.  A scream wells up inside me, but I only manage the tiniest gasp. Bailey teases her tip against my nethers, letting it trace around the entrance as I leak and dribble hot arousal onto her thick, firm cock. My whole body feels tight, tense with anticipation. Feeling her like this has only turned the roiling need bubbling inside me into a howling maelstrom. I’m ravenous, feverish, every cell in my body is screaming out to feel her slip inside me. And there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m helpless. I can’t move. I’m completely at her mercy. She could just decide not to use me and there would be nothing I could do. And I would accept it. I would accept it because I’m just her dolly, and I don’t get to decide how and when my Owners play with me. But please do. Please play with me Owner. 

 

Stars, it’s happening again. I can feel the doll thoughts threatening to consume me. I have to hold on. I can’t break. Not yet. 

 

Bailey presses against me again. And this time, she slips inside. I draw in a sudden breath, gasping around Dali’s vines bit by bit her cock slips further, deeper into me. My lower lips part, spreading as inch by wonderful inch, Bailey presses herself inside me. Pleasure bubbles, inside me, popping and churning and building. Oh stars, I feel so full. It’s like I was made just for her. I’m struck with the realization that I may well have been, but thought doesn’t last long, as Bailey draws herself backward. For a moment, I feel more empty than I ever have as my lips twitch and drool fervent need. Then, Bailey tightens her grip, and slams into me. 

 

No sound could do this feeling justice, but the feral yowl my body wants to make is trapped in my throat as the most demure little “eep,” slips from my lips. I should writhe. I should scream. My toes should curl and my whole body should be lost in spasming throes of bliss. But no. That’s what a person would do, not a doll. My limbs are heavy, still, limp. My eyes gaze up blankly at the ceiling as thick, ripe vines pump in and out of my mouth and my bottom, as Bailey’s fat cock fills me. I’m just here to be used. I’m just here to make my Owners cum. My pleasure is incidental. A treat, granted by my Owners’ grace, thoughtfulness, kindness. I’m such a lucky doll, to have such loving Owners.

 

Stars, I’m so full. My mouth, my throat, my bottom, my needy little dolly pussy. Every thrust is mind shattering delight. Every nerve on my dolly body burns with bright, vibrant pleasure. There is nothing but my Owners, and their touch. Their voices echo in my mind, gasping and moaning and growling. Murmuring all manner of praise, of sweet, possessive nothings. I’m such a good dolly. I love my Owners so much. I’m being used. I’m making my Owners feel good. And that makes me feel good. Almost as good as getting stuffed full of their thick, meaty members. 

 

Please Bailey, please cum inside me. Let me feel your hot, gooey love paint the walls of my dolly pussy. Oh this is so lewd. This is so humiliating. This is so hot. It’s all I am, just a helpless little toy to be fucked and it feels so good. I’m gonna melt from all the pleasure, turn to nothing but sticky, molten bliss. Bailey thrusts inside me once again, and as I clench around her cock, she shivers, her eyes roll, and a bellowing moan erupts from the depths of her belly. “Oh fuck me you feel amazing, Holly. Such a good dolly.” I can feel the love in her voice. I’m so happy. So giddy.

 

My head bobs back and forth in time with her thrusts, and my eyes fall on Mistress. Her vines are tense, shuddering, twitching. A groan, like grinding wood, shakes out from her torso. I love her so much. And she loves me. I’m so happy she’s playing with me. 

 

There’s pressure inside me, tension. It’s pressing and pressing and pressing; it builds with each rolling wave of pleasure, each thrust of Bailey’s cock, of Mistress’ vines. I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna break. An innocent little dolly like me is gonna cum every last drop of independence right out. But not yet. I’m waiting. A good dolly like me doesn’t get to cum before her Owners. I just have to lay still and be used. 

 

Bailey's grip tenses. She’s gasping, squirming. Her legs are shaking, every breath begets a quivering shudder. Her cock twitches inside me. Our eyes meet. Desperation reflects desperation. Something snaps. She lunges forward. Her teeth sink into my neck. Dizzying pain and pleasure collide, careening out in every direction. Another pump, another, another. Her jaw tightens. A low growl stirs in her throat. With one final, quaking thrust, Bailey erupts into me. Her hot, sticky load floods my nethers. Mistress bellows out a quaking howl. The vine in my mouth spews something warm and sticky and tingly down my throat. It sticks to my skin, sinks into my mind. I barely even notice. I’ve burst. I am nothing but a quivering ball of impossible pleasure, laying perfectly still, as my mind melts down like an overheated reactor. I’m a good dolly. I’m their good dolly. So full of love and happiness and cum. I belong to my Owners. Mistress’ doll. Bailey’s doll. Adored. Treasured. Owned. Forever and ever and ever and—

 

My thoughts are fading out one by one. Sinking into a thick blanket of fuzzy bliss creeping in around my dolly mind. Someplace far away, Mistress and Bailey are talking. 

 

“Holy shit. That was amazing. So… did you?”

 

“Yes. The Class-Bs I released into her when I climaxed should be taking effect soon. She’ll forget the last hour or so.”

 

“So then we just?”

 

“Do it again, and again and again, ‘til there’s nothing left to break. Nothing but an eager, happy, beloved little doll who can’t even conceive of anything else.”

 

“You’re a fucking artist, Mistress. You know that?”

…

Vines descend from all sides, and I lay still.