The Magic Lamp Pawn Shop
By Ordos Tsceri
It had been a slow day at the Magic Lamp Pawn Shop. Quinn, the proprietor and only woman on the payroll since that affair with the enchanted vibrator last week, was reconsidering her operating hours.
The pawn shop had been doing good business lately, turnover problems aside. Quinn looked over her little domain; a modest sized store lined with shelves and aisles with all manner of curious treasures. There were other pawn-shops in the area (really, with the nearby casinos, running a pawn shop almost seemed like cheating), and they all got along by filling their little niches. Quinn wasn’t magical enough to be a sorceress by any means, but she had just enough sensitivity to get a good reading of an enchantment, and that little edge had helped her become the city’s resident expert on second hand enchanted and transformed merchandise.
She saw a pair of shoes (women’s, size 5) that were enchanted to give their user’s increased speed, a pair of garish bright pink running lycra pants that would give their wearer the endurance to actually finish said run, and a pencil set that was supposed to improve the wearer’s intelligence (but actually only gave a boost to their confidence. Intelligence is hard to magically augment, but confidence has come in bottles for as long as humans have had bottles. The idea was probably to use the placebo effect to improve overall scores, but the product had failed when the pencil users started getting into fistfights after failing exams they were certain they aced). There were potions of varying effects (and corresponding prices), as well as magical manuals for everyone from dabbling witches to seasoned cultists / tentacle fetishists.
All of these were on the shelves. Quinn liked to keep the real treasures near her, in enchanted glass cabinets and behind some security cantrips. After all, the real money these days wasn’t so much in enchanted products, but products that used to be people.
There were some examples up front. A good portion of the store’s floor space was devoted to mannequins and statues arranged in poses ranging from stately and elegant to risqué and downright lewd. A few larger items were out there; a stereo and speaker set resting on a pair of finely sculpted legs that used to be an audiophile named Laverne (the bass actually came from modified speakers set in her ass), a bicycle that still had shapely curves around the frame and a silver-cast face silently moaning from between the handle-bars (Quinn never did get that one’s name), and an otherwise mundane looking engine block that used to be a pair of dabbling mechanists. All big items that would be hard for someone to steal unnoticed.
A small aisle on the right side of her store, where she could easily keep an eye on everything, offered a collection of more mundane transformees. There was one rack filled with clothes-hangers and their accompanying garments, ranging from a glittery silver prom dress that had been a local high school’s prom queen two years ago to a leather bra, panties, and restraint set that was formerly an S&M enthusiast named Donovan Grey. Each item had an embedded, enchanted device deftly attached that would give on a bright magical deterrent and immobilizing spell should someone try to leave the premise without paying, although that didn’t happen so much after she sold the mannequin the last shoplifter became. On the other side of that aisle was a shelf of statuettes, knick-knacks, and some appliances that filled out her shop’s odds and ends.
Behind the glass display case were the more hand-held transformees. There were some real treasures here, like a jade statuette of a stylized Cathayan woman that dated back to the Ming dynasty, a porcelain figure of a nude woman in ecstatic repose that had been certified as being the final form of Prince Audrin II, a Hapsburg noble who was removed from the line of succession before he could take throne, and a gorgeous clockwork, gilded music-box that had been assembled from seven servants of the great Magistrix Elloria of Bordeaux in 1277. She wasn’t entirely sure if she’d ever be able to actually part with these little treasures, but at the price she was asking for… well…
But neigh-priceless treasures can’t keep a pawn shop afloat. You need items that will actually sell, items that are consistently in demand and frequently sold. It had taken some time to get the hang of it, but after a few years Quinn had a good system in place, evaluating items on their value, selling power, and real-estate footprint. Funny how mundane managing a magical pawn shop could be. Most of the risqué stuff was behind the counter, in cabinets of jewelry, dildos, sex toys and the like. On the wall behind her were shelves with other toys, including the shelf where she kept sex dolls, and hanging space for paintings, posters, and other large, two-dimensional items.
Today the stocks were… comfortable. There’d been better days, there’d been worse. Tourist off-season and all of that. There were still a handful of items on the pawn shelf, ticking down their time to the stock section. In fact, that Asian girl would make the transition today if her loan wasn’t paid off by noon. What was her name?
Quinn was shaken from her introspection by the sound of the door chime. She looked up to see two people entering her pawn shop.
The man looked to be in his thirties. His chin was darkened by stubble, and his belt struggled against a budding beer-belly, but his arms were strong and his gait was confident. He wore blue jeans with a belt and a red and black plaid flannel shirt.
After a few years it became pretty easy to get the measure of people entering the shop. The clothes, posture, and movements suggested that this man wasn’t a tourist. Not exactly. He probably lived in state, by one of the smaller cities or more rural towns, and had been saving for a while to make a run at beautiful Diamond City, probably with the goal of striking it big at the casinos.
Quinn turned her eyes to the other person, a younger woman, with short brown hair, simple t-shirt, and jeans that hugged her generously curvy hips. The age, and the resemblance to the older man, immediately pegged her as the man’s daughter. She held a smart phone in her hands, and was dividing her attention to looking around the shop and typing some command onto the device.
The man approached the counter, “Ma’am, I’d like ask a loan,” he said, his voice deep and resonant.
“You know we’re a pawn shop. Do you have something to pawn for collateral?” Quinn asked, although she already knew where this was going.
The man nodded toward his daughter, “I am… given to understand I, we, can pawn her.” She gestured to his daughter.
“Ah. You have been led to understand correctly,” Quinn said. She quickly picked up a small piece of paper and a pen, and placed them on the counter. “I’ll need both your signatures,” she said, and before she could continue the man leaned forward and wrote his name on the bottom line of the contract; Gregory McPhereson. He was either desperate for some quick cash, or he’d been planning this out for a while… possibly both.
He looked at his daughter. She sighed, cast clear blue eyes at her father with an expression of exasperation and resignation. She approached the contract and, to her credit, at least skimmed it before she signed her own name, Amanda McPhereson, to the bottom. “This had better work, dad,” she said without turning her head to the man in question.
Quinn continued, “alright, full disclosure before you move forward. The way this works is, I offer you a sum of cash. For Amanda… I’d say I could do eight hundred dollars, right here, right now. I transform her right here, hand you the money, and I hold onto her for collateral. You’ll have seven days to pay back the full amount, plus interest, or else the transformation becomes permanent, your daughter legally becomes my property, and I sell her to recoup my loses.”
“Yeah, we know,” Amanda said, her eyes drifting between a collection of dildos and butt-plugs within the counter and her own phone, “dad’s been planning this for weeks.”
“Do you think you could do nine hundred for her?” Gregory asked.
Quinn looked at Gregory, then his daughter. Amanda did have a good figure, she’d take to the change well. “I can go for nine hundred, yes, but that means you’ll need to pay back more. At least twelve hundred in seven days. Are these terms acceptable?”
“And the transformation is…” Amanda asked, eyeing some of the items beneath the counter.
Quinn let loose a short, tired laugh, “oh, sorry, I thought you already knew that. Sex dolls. I’ll turn you into a sex doll, as collateral until the loan is repaid.”
This time the father rolled his eyes, “sweetie, we’ve been over this. One week as a doll, safe in your packaging, and this turns everything around. Not even a full week. Just think of it as a little vacation.”
Amanda gave her father another look, and then sighed. “Fine, fine, just let me finish this post,” she said, fiddling on her phone. “Then I’ll be your sex doll. But there better be a car at the end of all this. Or at least a better phone.” With a last few button taps she sighed and began powering down the device. Quinn couldn’t see what she’d been doing, but could guess she was posting on Facebook something to the extent of ‘gone for a week, being turned into fck doll. hope dad pays up! Lol!’ Hopefully she included the name and location of the shop; it could really use the advertising.
“Alright…” Quinn said and filled out the last portions of the contract, with the stipulated loan amount, due date, and her own signature. “Then let’s get this started…”
Quinn let herself out from behind the counter and addressed Amanda and Gregory’s attention towards the one transformative device she kept in the store. The doll machine was mostly a human-sized cylinder, and easily one of the most expensive items in the shop. She’d had it installed as soon as she realized she could specialize in transformative goods, and the marvelous Cosmagic machine had more than paid for itself since then. The glass cylinder was a little over six feet tall by two-and-a-half feet in diameter, and was connected to a small assembly of chrome antennae, reverberators, and various magitech devices, all feeding into a simple touch-pad interface, keyed to only accept Quinn’s fingerprints.
“Just strip naked and step in there, and then we can proceed.”
Gregory looked a bit bashful. He cast an embarrassed look at Amanda, but she only rolled her eyes and muttered “whatever.” Before Gregory could finish
Quinn had the container door open by the time Amanda had taken off her top and shorts. She hesitated a moment before unlatching her bra, slipping out of her panties, and unfastening her shoes. Lastly she took the pair of simple, cheap earrings from her ears. Quinn received all the garments and arranged them into a small pile.
“So, uh…” Amanda asked, stark naked, covering her breasts and womanhood with her hands, and casting glances around the otherwise empty shop and her own belonging.
“Your dad will have to take them. I don’t do enough transformations here to handle the clothing,” Quinn replied, pushing the pile across the counter to Gregory, who was trying his best not to look at the unfolding events.
“Alright. Don’t lose my stuff, dad.” Amanda said as she stepped into the machine, “Especially not my phone, they’ll need its card for the upgrade.”
The glass tube closed securely around her, with an audible hiss of pneumatic latches engaging. Amanda looked around the tube with more visible nervousness now.
“This won’t take very long, and everyone I’ve revived says the change is quite enjoyable. Ready?” Quinn asked, her finger hovering over the ‘activate’ button.
Amanda took a deep, calming breath. “Just… just be sure to pay me off, okay? I am going to be so pissed at you if you get me turned into a fuck doll forever.” Amanda smiled at that, the tone of her voice implying some levity. That was good; nothing worse than reluctant dollies.
Without further ado, Quinn activated the device. She was using her standard presets, so the Cosmagic built, installed, and certified machine quickly hummed to life, ready to enact its usual changes.
Quinn took a step back to watch the process. Amanda was young, attractive, and curvy; all excellent qualities for a love doll. The metal rings around the glass tube began spinning, enchanted light spilling from the emitters in halting, resonant pulses. A catalyst gas was released into the tube, and the changes began.
Amanda’s skin grew lustrous, blemishes and natural imperfections smoothing over as more and more of her body became uniformed in texture and color. Her breathing quickened with the adrenaline of the change before it suddenly stopped; he diaphragm no longer had to move because she no longer needed air to breathe. She looked at her shiny, latex hands as seams began to appear along her sides, flanks, and occasional joints; stitching holding together her shiny rubber body. She couldn’t help it; she began to touch herself, the squeak of latex on latex just audible over the device’s hum.
More physical changes followed; as Amanda’s shiny fingers began to move over her pussy, it started to widen, her tight vagina lips expanding into a round hole, lined by a plumpened labia. She moaned in lewd delight as her finger brushed her new, more easily accessible artificial womanhood, but the sound quickly stopped as her lips grew more full, and her mouth rounded into a perpetual, open ‘o’, ready and eager to engulf a penis.
Her movement slowed, and bit by bit her posture shifted. These weren’t natural, directional movements, but rather like an elastic object returning to its resting state. Her arms moved to her side, away from pussy and breast, and her legs spread out. Her breasts began to expand, gaining a couple cup sizes until they were porn-star caliber tits. Her hips widened, and her butt filled out, exaggerating her already voluptuous curves
Lastly, a clear plastic valve emerged, nestled within Amanda’s belly-button. Amanda had titled back, falling off balance and gently resting on the side of the transformation chamber. The machine chimed a pleasant ‘ding!’ when it was complete, like an egg-timer going off.
“And there we have it. Amanda McPhereson is now a lovely inflatable love doll.” She tapped a button and the device’s chamber flung open. She reached and picked up Amanda; she weighed next to nothing now since she was fully hollow and filled with air. She deftly dipped a finger into the inanimate woman’s navel and unfastened her plug. Immediately she heard the hiss of air escaping a tight confine, and Amanda began to deflate.
“Inflatable?” Greg asked, his tone derisive. He finally turned around, although he was reluctant to look directly at his dollified daughter.
“Inflatable dolls take up less shelf space. If I used the spells for the more realistic ones, then I’d have to pose them up front with the statues and big items. This way,” she finished forcing the air from Amanda’s still form and began folding up the deflating doll, stuffing her into a clear plastic bag with practiced, fluid ease, “she fits on an actual shelf. That, and the inflatable transformation is more reversible. The higher quality doll transformations are all one way. Granted, this procedure isn’t always neat and tidy…”
“What do you mean by that?” Greg asked, his voice betraying just the slightest ounce of alarm, his eyes darting to his dollified daughter on the far end of the count-down shelf. Amanda’s face had been artfully pressed against the front of the bag, her plastic nipples just barely visible on the bottom corner of the bag. Her face was a curious mixture of surprise and arousal, mouth opened in an inviting ‘o’, hyper-realistic eyes full and bright, her skin lustrous beneath a plastic sheen…
“I can guarantee you that I can restore her to full animacy if you pay back the loan in seven days,” Quinn explained with practiced ease, “but the longer you wait, the more likely some doll traits will linger. If you get it reversed during the first three or four days, it’s probably going to be nothing. Maybe some lingering sensitivity, tendency towards arousal, or the development of a latent fetish or two. Beyond that and things get more evident. After six days I’d expect her to walk away with some dolly features, like plastic skin, inflated breasts, exaggerated curves, that sort of thing.”
Greg nodded, exhaling in apparent relief. Likely planned to pay back the loan by Friday, then.
“… and there’s another reason I prefer to use inflatables. Basically, the full real-dolls are actually kind of a commitment. They need dedicated closet space, or a human-sized area you don’t mind keeping them in. Between that and how expensive they are, well, custom services tend to have that market cornered. The inflatables are easier to keep and easier to store, which makes them more of an impulse buy. Much better for a place like this. I bet I could sell your daughter in a week… providing the spell becomes permanent, of course.”
“Okay, okay…” Greg said, “but it won’t come to that.” His smile grew more assured as Quinn opened her cash reserve lock-box and began handing him nine hundred dollar bills. “No-sir-ree,” he said, feeling the currency in his hand, “mark my words, I’ll be back by Friday to settle everything. Maybe pick something else up, too, with my winnings.”
That… didn’t bode very well for Amanda’s chances of animacy, but Quinn just smiled and printed out his receipt. Either he repaid the loan in one week, in which case she made a tidy 30% profit, or he defaulted, in which case she’d have a lovely doll to sell. It would take a bit longer, but would probably prove to be an even better return on investment.
“Good luck,” she said, earnestly, as Greg left the Magic Lamp and she waited for her next customer.
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Just past ten in the morning, a young woman rushed into the shop. Well, not quite rush… there was an urgency in her movement, an uncomfortable speed that belied some deep and important need, but there was also a restraint. Quinn got the impression of a girl who really wanted to visit her shop, but was also embarrassed by it.
This woman was somewhere in her twenties, her hair dyed pink and artfully uneven, half long and loose, the other half woven into rows of locks like some type of punk rocker. More interestingly, though, her eyebrows were the same shade of pink, too… implying either a very dedicated dye job or a more permanent magical change. Interesting.
She wore a tank-top that struggled to contain her full chest, artfully slashed to show off a little cleavage. Her midriff was bare and sporting a single gleaming stud, likely a fake-diamond. She wore knee high black leather boots and, curiously, a knee-length skirt that didn’t match the rest of her ensemble. Really, more the sort of garment you’d expect in a farmer’s market or commune.
The pink-haired girl shuffled through the shop, making an indirect but hurried approach to the counter. She looked at a number of items, the bikes and appliances, but actually came to a stop in front of a pair of the more risqué statues, women who were petrified with sultry smiles and proffered stone breasts. The woman seemed momentarily distracted, and made a point of fussing with her skirt before she turned around and resumed her march to the counter.
Quinn smiled, but tried to make it friendly instead of pleased. She’d seen this before.
“Good afternoon, ma’am, and welcome to the Magic Lamp. What brings you in here today?” she said with her best saleswoman pleasantness.
“Uh, hi. I’m, err…” the punk girl was blushing, and Quinn had to stifle a giggle.
“Let me guess,” she interrupted, “you’ve recently come into possession of a strange and delightful new organ, and now you’re in the market for some device with which you can express your, ahem, newfound masculinity?”
Her face turned scarlet. “Shit! Am I that obvious?”
“A little, but I’ve seen women in your position before. Anything I should know about? To recommend a product for you, of course.”
Pink-haired sighed. “My name’s Emma. My roommate-slash-girlfriend came home last night all bubbly about some potion that would change our lives. I didn’t really think much of it, Jane is… was? Err… Jane always was on about some rubbish or that. But this time, ahg!” She tossed her head in frustration, “she drank the potion, began eating me out, and then she just started merging into me! She went and turned herself into a dick! MY dick! Now I have a cock! And I didn’t even LIKE cock, but now fucking everything is making me horny!”
Quinn noticed that Emma’s skirt was tenting now.
Emma sighed and leaned down on the counter. Quinn didn’t know if she had intended to put her little boob-window at that angle, but it was perfect for some cleavage spelunking.
“I am so fucking horny I can’t think straight. I need to work stuff out, figure out what to do with her stuff… fuck, I haven’t told anyone yet.”
“Okay… I think I can help. With, well, all of that, really.” Quinn replied, gently patting the girl’s arm. She turned around and opened a cabinet by the register. “This actually isn’t all that uncommon. Well, the dick part is, a little, but I’ve gotten a lot of girls in your position, with newly transformed significant other and a lot of questions… for your case…”
She returned to the counter and placed a handful of papers in front of Emma. “This is form TFX-02, notification of permanent transformation, and TFX-132, notification of bodily absorption or merging. You’ll want to fill these out and swing by the county clerk’s office within the week. Most of the information you should have on hand, but if you can find the receipt of the potion your roommate (Jane, was it?) bought, then that will make the whole thing a lot easier. Make copies and keep the originals in your records. If you don’t run into any trouble, you’ll be officially registered with your new gender and your roommate as an inanimate object within the month, and her assets will likely default to you. If she was on good terms with her family, you may want to contact them, but legally you inherit her accounts and possessions.”
Emma stared.
“And these,” Quinn placed a couple pamphlets on top of the legal forms, “have information about some therapists and counselors who specialize in this sort of thing. And a couple support groups that meet weekly. You have to be careful with those, some can get very extreme, but I know a good number of the people in these two, and I think you’d fit right in.”
“Bloody hell,” Emma murmured, looking at the papers in front of her. “I mean, thanks. Thanks a lot! But, damn, I was not expecting this…”
“Don’t worry about it. Or, at least, take things one step at a time. Now, on to your more immediate problems… may I see your new addition?”
Emma raised a pink eyebrow.
Quinn smirked, “I need an idea of what you’re going to need. One size does not fit all. Trust me, that’s how I get half my stock.”
“Err… alright,” Emma replied. She looked over her shoulder, making sure the wasn’t anyone else in the shop (or, at least, no one animate) and lifted up her skirt. “Sorry, none of my panties fit anymore. None of my pants, either. Shit, I need a new wardrobe…”
“Oh, my,” Quinn breathed, impressed despite herself. The roommate, Jane, had become quite a hefty organ. She was at least nine inches long, and as thick around as a bratwurst. Flaccid, she’d be quite a lot of meat bouncing between Emma’s thighs, but erect she was downright intimidating. Quinn could just barely see a pair of tennis ball sized testicles hanging below the penis’ base. Evidently this change had completely replaced Emma’s original vagina.
Emma groaned, “what the hell am I going to do with this thing? I mean, I think I would break if I tried to take in something like that!”
“Well, there are enchantments that can help with that, if and when you find someone you’d like to bone. But for now…” She turned down the counter and began to walk towards the far end, dancing her fingers along the glass surface.
“Your size is an issue. I have a dozen fleshlights and onaholes here, but for someone of your, mmmhm, impressive girth… well, you have a porn-star cock now, so I think you’ll need a porn-star to take it.”
She unlocked the cabinet as Emma followed, on the customer side of things. Quinn wondered if Emma realized she was licking her lips as she approached.
Quinn picked up a box from the shelf and placed it on top of the counter. There was a photograph of a busty blonde woman, E-cup breasts, luscious lips, dusky skin and an indecent outfit, reclined against a wall draped in red satin with the words ‘Lustful Lucrezia’, written in red ink. Quinn gracefully removed the photograph from atop the box, placing it alongside the item, and opening the scarlet box to reveal three tubes.
“Lustful Lucrezia Lorenza signed on with Red Star, that porn studio that went under last year. Well, they spent a lot of money enhancing their actors and actresses, and tits like hers don’t come cheap. When the studio failed, they had to liquidate their assets, including their stars and starlets. Lucrezia here was turned into a handful of sex toys. I have the fleshlight collection right here.”
The three tubes could have been mistaken for flashlights at a distance, the big heavy-duty kind that used four D-cell batteries. Each tube was almost a foot long and as thick as a person’s fist. They rested in a custom-made display, so Quinn had to lift them up to display their details. One has a full pair of rich, luscious lips, the other a tight, clean shaven vagina, and the third a tight, puckered anus.
“That’s… that was a woman?” Emma asked, her tone equal parts amazed and unclear.
“Well, most of her. There was a set of cushions made from her tits that were sold before I arrived at the auction, but I was able to pick up this set. Pussy, asshole, and mouth, all together for, let’s say, eight hundred dollars.”
Emma gasped, “Eight hundred! For sex toys?! Fuck-tubes cannot possibly be that expensive!”
“Normally, they aren’t,” Quinn continued, unperturbed, “but you’d break a normal fuck tube the first time you entered it. You wouldn’t fit most of the transformed ones, but lovely miss Lucrezia here specialized in taking in big guys. That’s why she ended up so large when they converted her into merchandise, and that’s why she’s perfect for you.”
Emma didn’t respond, at least not with words. The pained, needy look in her eyes told Quinn that she desperately wanted these items, and her new addition was making its desire keenly felt.
“She turned out very high-grade, too. Warm and wet on the insides, self-lubing, and, best of all, she swallows, so there’s no need for clean-up! You may be surprised to learn how messy male masturbation can get. Lucrezia here will help keep things nice and tidy.”
She almost had the sale. Almost.
“But… she’s an entire pay-check, for fuck toys…”
“Well, think of it like this,” Quinn said, relaxing on an elbow as she lifted one of the tubes, the mouth one, “you have a new organ that used to be someone you cared for, to some extent. Now she’s part of you for the rest of your life. You have three holes here, each hyper-realistic, so you can explore, find out your new tastes, make sure Jane has some variety to ease into being a cock. You can learn a lot about your own sexuality with these, and on top of that, well, once the paperwork gets cleared, you inherit Jane’s stuff. There should be more than enough to cover these, so you can think of it as her covering the expense…”
Emma lifted a finger towards the lips. Full, red, pouty, slightly parted lips. It wasn’t clear if they were plastic of human, likely they were somewhere in between. No sooner had Emma brushed her fingers against did the lips part, ever so slightly, and a warm, wet tongue slowly reach out and brush the fingers in return. Quinn saw the new shemale shudder.
“I’ll take it!” she said. Quinn smiled and made a note to clean the glass in front of where Emma was standing.
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Thirty minutes before noon a pair of young women burst into the shop.
“We’re here! We’re here!” the blonde one cried, her brunette friend close behind her. They were both wearing tight-fitting clothes that hugged their figures; thin blouses with flimsy over-shirts, hot-pants, open sandals… it took Quinn a moment to recognize the pair.
“Ah, yes, Miss. Valorie and Miss. Summers. I almost didn’t recognize you.” Last Monday, a trio of young women had swung by the shop, looking for funds to finance a weekend in the city. After Quinn had explained the store’s loaning policy they drew straws and the loser, an Asian girl named Kimiko, had gone into the dollification machine. She’d been up on the shelf ever since, plastic eyes staring out onto the shop.
It really was difficult to recognize the pair. When they had dropped their friend off, Valorie and Summers had been lithe, slender girls, students at the nearby community college who wouldn’t have looked out of place on the gymnastics or track teams. The girls in front of her now… well, the blonde was curvy now, with wide, round hips, a full ass, and a pair of breasts the size of soccer balls. Her lips were fuller and there was a little gap between her thighs that hadn’t been there when she’d first stopped by. The brunette now had eight breasts, in four rows running down her chest and stomach, with a matching pair of cat ears popping out from her dark hair and a cat tail poking through a hole torn in her hot-pants.
“It’s been an amazing week, but we’re here for Kimiko! We’re still in time, right?” the blonde said, digging into her purse while her panting friend did likewise.
“You have the nine hundred dollars?” Quinn asked as she fetched Kimiko from her place on the shelf. Only when she had the tightly packed plastic container and the Asian girl’s staring o-face in front of her did she notice the time-stamp. “Oh, damn, you’re cutting this close. Another half hour and she’d be a doll forever. You do have the money, right?”
“All here!” Summers, the brunette cat-girl, said as she counted out nine hundred dollars in crumpled hundreds and twenties.
Quinn laughed, “shame. The Asian ones always sell quickly.” She placed the still sealed bag into the machine and tapped the big, blue button that flashed up on the display screen. It hummed to life, whirring as the central chamber filled with a blue-tinged mist. The crumpled form of the deflated sex doll rose, resuming its standing gait, its size and volume… but, Quinn noticed, not its proportions.
“I should mention, Kimi’s been a sex doll for quite a while. There’ll probably be some side-effects-“
“You did it!” the girl’s voice sounded as the machine’s doors parted. “I was worried for a while there! I can’t believe I was almost a… fuck… doll…” the young woman’s voice trailed off as she took her first few halting steps out of the machine.
She had been a slender, young Asian woman seven days ago. Now her skin shined with a plastic gleam, her breasts were the size of basket balls, her waist was narrower, her hips wider, and the lightness of her motions betrayed a form that was, even now, inflated. Sure enough, Quinn could see a small plastic plug nestled in the small of her back. Her lips were full and shiny red and, the instant she finished speaking, silently moved back to a wide and inviting ‘o’ shape.
She lifted hands that looked more like artificial latex than skin and tentatively ran them over the shiny curves of her breasts. The balloons yielded under the pressure of her hands, and squeaked like latex rubbing against latex when she moved them around. Quinn noticed that her fingernails were painted pink. She didn’t know if they had been that way before she was dollified, but knew they’d be that color for the rest of her life now.
Summers gasped at her friend’s new form, but the voluptuous blonde laughed, “It looks like you got a makeover too!”
“Am… am I doll?” Kimiko asked, still exploring her squeaky, shiny body.
“Ehh… mostly,” Quinn replied. “The big difference is that, well, you’re animate. So, right off the bat, you aren’t anyone’s property. You’re still a person under the law, but aside from that…” she leaned over and poked the partially dollified woman, eliciting a surprised moan from her round mouth, “you’re hollow and inflatable, and it looks like you got the dolly hyper-sensitivity. You’re kind of lucky, really; this degree of transformation is difficult to attain even on purpose. You’re basically an animate sex doll.”
“How long does this last?” she asked, although Quinn wagered the Asian doll-girl knew the answer.
“Forever,” Quinn replied without missing a beat.
The blonde, Valorie, stepped forward and hugged her friend, pressing her enhanced breasts against Kimiko’s synthetic tits. Kimiko wriggled her latex body in delight, and Quinn smiled as she caught Valorie slip some fingers into the doll’s smooth twat. The doll let out a surprised squeak that turned into a long, lewd moan.
“I’ve seen this once or twice before. You girls really did cut it close. Anyhow, you’re basically a doll now. You can be deflated, which kind of puts you into stasis, and reinflated, which should restore animacy. You don’t have to eat or drink anything since, you know, you’re plastic and air. Similarly, you shouldn’t age. I suppose the flip-side to that is, well, dolls exist to be used, and that desire is going to be a part of you.”
“I… feel kinda… horny,” Kimiko said, disentangling herself (with some measure of difficulty) from her friends.
“That’s… to be expected. And probably won’t go away” Quinn shrugged.
“This is so cool!” Summers said, her feline ears at full attention, her tail swaying softly behind her ass. She gently placed a hand on Kimiko’s flank, running a finger over the doll’s seams. Kimiko shuddered a little bit.
“But… I told my parents I was spending the week on campus, researching for my econ thesis!” she protested. “How will I explain how I became a walking sex doll?”
“We’ll think of something,” Valorie purred, moving closer to her friend again with an exaggerated sway to her widened hips, “I think we have more pressing concerns right now, though. Like, what are you going to wear now that you have a pair of beach balloons for a chest?”
Kimiko’s artificial eyes widened; “None of my clothes will fit me anymore!”
“Well… legally, you’re more like a sex doll with rights than a person. I don’t think public nudity measures apply to you anymore,” Quinn said, smiling at the girls despite herself, “I know there are… specialized shops, for women of your proportions, but I don’t think I have anything that’ll cover you. But, your more immediate worry should be the fact that, since you’re inflatable, there’s really not much keeping you on the ground anymore, and it’s windy today.”
“Oh, shit, she’s right!” Summers replied, her cat-ears darting up, “we don’t want her to blow away on the ride back! I don’t think I can lower the convertible roof, either.”
When the three young women left the shop, Kimiko was wearing a pair of goth-punk high heeled platform boots. They were knee high black leather footwear with enough buckles and weight to make the otherwise naked doll girl comfortable going outside. Quinn had been sitting on that pair for years, once a local punk band broke up and their lead-girl decided to move onto another career, leaving a pair of old groupies behind. She let them go for only five dollars more than what she had paid for them, still smirking at the trio. Valorie wanted to know just how much she could fit into Kimiko’s three holes, and Summers was talking about all the things she wanted to dress up her new doll with.
It was nice to break for lunch with a smile.