Descent Ch 02 Going Up Going Down

Editor's note: this story contains scenes of non-consensual or reluctant sex.

*****

He led them upstairs to the quiet restaurant section. It was a themed place, all the waitresses dolls, all looking exactly like Barbie - that one, famous fashion toy that both young girls and grown men all seemed so fond of. It was both clichéd and sexy. It was also one of Emma's favorite fantasies.

She wondered how it felt for those girls, having been turned into the popular doll archetype. It was the most common transformation done by amateur Makers all over the world. Being a Barbie, there was nothing unique about you. You were a dime a dozen. A guy could pick you, or a copy standing right next to you, and get exactly the same experience. Or have both of you at the same time, if he wanted it double. Emma wondered how it would feel to see your face not only in the mirror, but on others, everywhere you went. She wondered how it would be to share a bed with someone that looked just like yourself.

The restaurant put a spin on it, having the dolls dress up to different roles, just like the doll series. At first glance, Emma saw two Ballerina Barbies, a Secretary Barbie, and a Princess Barbie.

Nodding to one of the waitresses in passing, the Maker headed to a secluded booth that had a view down on the dance floor, without waiting to be seated. Maybe something had been arranged beforehand. Perhaps he was a regular.

The thick glass separating the restaurant from the club area was mostly sound-proof, but some of the music made it through. Emma could feel the base from the music in her belly, the vibrations of it mixing with her heat, making it hard to separate the two. She fidgeted as her sex thrummed at 120 beats per minute.

The man and his two blondes took one side of the booth. The Maker, sexily flanked by the two identical dolls, looked up at Emma as she stood there hesitating. He made a little gesture to the tall blonde standing next to her. The blonde assigned to her pressed her gently into the booth.

Emma meekly let herself be pushed down onto the bench and slid in, ending up next to the glass, a perfect view over the packed dance floor. But with the last blonde taking her place next to her, it didn't leave her with an easy escape.

She was nervous and excited at the same time. The tall blonde sliding in close to her, nuzzling up to her side made her just a little bit less nervous, but quite a bit more excited. She almost felt intoxicated, as if she'd had just the right amount to drink.

And then the drinks arrived. One of the tutu-clad ballerina Barbies delivered them, some sort of whiskey for him, colorful drinks for the triplets and her. He took a sip, looking at her, drawing it out.

She squirmed in nervous anticipation.

"Damien," he said, holding out a hand to her.

She almost took it, caught herself at the last moment, gasped, put her hand on the table. "Emma," she said nervously. She had almost touched the Maker.

He chuckled, took his hand back. "Yeah, not ready for that yet, are we?" He took another sip. "The triplets are all named Mandy, believe it or not. I managed to get them to a point where I could rename two of them to match my favorite."

The two blondes flanking Damien smiled at Emma. The one squeezed up at her side nibbled at her neck, making her squirm.

"Which one of you are the original Mandy?" she asked the dolls.

"I have no idea," Damien said. "I've done my best to try to make it so they don't even know themselves, anymore."

Emma looked from one blonde next to him, to the other. They were absolutely identical. The blondes giggled but said nothing to indicate who was who. "They don't talk much?" Emma asked.

"No, I have a thing for de-voicing, and in a weak moment I managed to do it to them," he said, shrugging, a gesture of sorry-not-really-sorry. "Well, a weak moment for them, strong moment for me," he added. "I find women much sexier that way." The triplets giggled again, shrugging too, like "What can you do?"

Emma's eyes widened at that. "No talk at all?"

"Nope. Just sounds like giggles, laughter, moaning. A lot of moaning," he said with a chuckle. He was looking at her, gauging her reaction.

She blushed, took a sip of her drink. It wasn't too strong. Still, she might actually get a bit tipsy. Was that a good or a bad thing? It might help her find the courage to do what she yearned to do. Which might be a bad thing.

She took another sip.

"That's... surprisingly sexy," she confessed.

"Well, good thing you didn't let me touch you then, or I might have done it to you," he said, leering at her.

She gulped. How do you answer a statement like that? "I... need to give a presentation in class on Thursday," she said. "I can't afford being de-voiced."

"I'm sure you're a clever girl. You'd find some way to work around that problem. But I guess you're not really up for all this, then."

He said that as if he wasn't perfectly aware that she was trying to work herself up to actually do let him touch her. She changed tack. "They're actually triplets?" she asked. "I thought maybe you were one of those men that had a specific type, turning everyone into the same girl."

Makers could only do changes based on their deepest desires, not something you could easily control. Some Makers were so locked in their ways that they always made changes towards the exact same end goal. Everyone they made ended up the same.

"Nothing wrong with being like the Maker running this club, with his single-minded fetish for that one doll," Damien said, with a tone that showed that he found the thing amusing. "You're not far off, but I'd like to think I'm a tiny bit more flexible. So no, they're actually triplets. I stumbled onto them at just the right moment. Apparently, there'd been some trouble with a boy, someone they all liked. They thought maybe I could make them less jealous of each other." He grinned. "They were right! They aren't at all jealous now, ready to share absolutely everything! They even share a name! So maybe it worked out. They got some unexpected bonuses from the deal, of course."

The triplets all giggled, the two teased up against him making cooing noises as they nuzzled at his ears.

"There are always bonuses with my talent," he said, meeting her eyes, holding the look.

She looked down, blushing.

He laughed at her reaction. "I think you're into that." He took another sip of the whiskey. There was no ice, but he tilted the glass slightly, turning it as if to shift imaginary ice cubes in the container. The liquid sloshed in the glass. "I do have a type, though," he added after a bit.

"Oh?" she said, tilting her head to the side. Some of her straight hair rustled over her shoulder, a few strands held back by the black spaghetti strap. "What type is that?" she asked, trying to make her tone playful.

"I make slaves."

She sat back at that. "Slaves?" she asked. "I... The triplets are slaves?"

"No, not yet," he said. "It's a gradual descent. Takes some time to get a woman to that point. And I want to change all three of them at the same time, so it's extra tricky. I need to catch them at just the right moment for that, in the right mood. All three of them. As a Maker, you get a feeling for how to get dolls to bend to your will after a while. And I have a lot of experience with doing just that."

She bit her lip, looking at him, blinking. She knew she should be telling him how that desire was offensive, how wrong it was to do that to someone - but, unfortunately, the idea was turning her on. The thought of the blonde triplets as slave girls was just too delicious. She knew she was betraying her upbringing, the sisterhood, even common sense. But the heat in her belly made her hold her tongue.

Times like this, she couldn't help but be ashamed of how she felt.

He interrupted her conflicted thoughts. "It's just a matter of time," he said. He leaned in to the blonde on his left side, nibbling at her ear. "I'm going to get you, girls," he teased playfully.

The triplets giggled, then the two Mandys across the table nodded at Emma as if saying "It's bound to happen, sooner or later."

"They seem to actually be into it," Emma said, struggling to not let her tone reveal how much she was too.

Damien grinned at her, amused at her attempts to hide her reaction. Her cheeks grew pink. She felt naked at how easy he seemed to see right through her.

"They weren't at all, at first. It's taken quite some time to get them this far," he said. "But if they stay with me, I'll soon make them into property. I've done everything else I want to them already. It's the only thing left that I desire to change. I haven't decided if I'm going to sell them or not, yet."

He paused, met her eyes again. "Take out your phone," he commanded. "Let me show you something."

She reached to her tiny purse for her phone. As she picked the phone up, the Mandy next to her took her hand, moved it and the phone down under the table. As the device got close to the doll's sex, it beeped, a notification showing up on the screen.

"Electronic tag in her clit piercing," Damien said. "All my dolls have one. Look at the page."

Emma brought the phone back up, looked at the notification. A web link. She tapped it, and the browser opened. It looked like some sort of social media page. "The Mandy triplets," it said. There was info about them, pictures. Emma gasped as she saw the bidding section. "Prebidding, potentially for sale." The top bid was over 40 million!

"Holy crap!" she said, loudly. Then put her hand to her mouth, looking up at him, embarrassed at her outburst. "46 million, and you say you might not sell them? How loaded are you, really?"

"Quite, and I discharge often, as you'll find out," he said with a smirk. Then he shrugged. "Well, they are dolled up triplets. How can you blame me? They are quite fun to have around!"

The triplets giggled.

"So, let me get this right... You use your power to seduce girls, slowly change them to fit your ideal, which happens to be a slave, and then you sell them when you're done with them?"

He shrugged again, grinning. "Well, what can I say. I have a type. If you spend enough time with me, it's going to happen to you too."

She took another gulp from her glass, finishing it off. A ballerina waitress showed up immediately and replaced it, putting down a fresh drink. Emma couldn't tell if it was the same Barbie as before, or an identical one.

The buzz from the alcohol was getting to her head. The hot blonde next to her was teasing her tongue into her ear, nibbling and licking. Her thoughts were racing, she couldn't think properly. Emma gathered her breath. "I don't... know why this is turning me on so much," she finally said.

"I do," he said with a grin. "It's because you're exactly my type. I know you. I know exactly what you are. Girls like you have the most enjoyable, deeply hidden, shameful fantasies. I promise you that you will love it when I bring them out. You'll love it when I use your fantasies against you to turn you into absolutely whatever I want you to be. And I'll love doing that to you. To make you yield and bend to my desires. There's a little slut in you that wants to come out and I've decided I'm going to make her." He put down his glass, then held out his hands again towards her, palms up. "So, want to play with fire?"

Emma was almost panting after his little speech. She was thinking of all the things he could do to her. Imagining the things she'd dreamt about becoming real. The doll nibbling at her breathed encouraging, enthusiastic little noises into her ear. Had the muted young woman a voice, Emma knew she would have been whispering "Do it. Do it. Do it!" like a cheerleader encouraging her team.

Emma put down her phone. She looked at Damien, lifted her hands and let them hover above his offered palms. After only a moment of hesitation, she put her hands into his.

Contact.

She could immediately feel something at the back of her mind. His desires for her tickling her subconscious decision-making.

Maker magic bypassed pretense, your need to keep up an appearance, any worries or fear. It was only limited by what you really craved. It was impossible to lie to a doll Maker's touch.

Any transformation would be completely out of your control, yet also exactly what you wanted.

Emma trembled.

Damien held her hands tight, didn't let her take them back now. "Mmm, let's find something that you like," he said.

The tickling became stronger. She felt as if he was probing her. Pushing his wants on her, one by one, seeing if he could get her on the hook.

"Something that's suitable for a night club," he said, humming.

And then the world twisted. She bit down into her lip, arched her back, groaned out. "Oh my god!" she moaned, dizzy.

"Gotcha!" he said, taking his hands back. "Found something you like." He chuckled. "Or, well, you like it now. I think you've imagined this, many times. Making you accept it was too easy."

"What did you doooo?" she moaned, still reeling from her world twisting.

His only answer was the sound of his zipper being pulled down. He looked at her expectantly, a wide, almost evil smile on his lips. He tilted his head down for a moment, looking down, under the table.

She knew his cock was out. And she couldn't stop thinking about going down under the table and taking it in her mouth. She gasped, feeling her panties getting soggy from the crazy, unwarranted arousal, the silk smearing her honey to the seat as she squirmed over the bench.

"You know you want to."

Oh, did she want to! She gave off a needy little whimper, looked to the side, seeing where the waitresses were. No one was watching. Maybe she could get away with it, just suckle at the tip for a little bit. She slid her butt off the bench, sank down under the table.

She was on her knees. The table was pushing at the back of her head. The hard cock she wanted was right in front of her. Big and just inches away from her mouth.

She leaned forwards. Kissed it. Her mouth making contact, she could feel the buzzing at the back of her head again. His desires for her. Her world didn't twist. No more changes yet. She quickly pulled back, and the buzzing stopped. She was safe.

She could stay safe, or she could suck cock. She knew what she wanted. She leaned in, kissed it again. Licked around the head. Her excited breathing pushing through her nose caused her nostrils to flare as if she was a racehorse being worked hard. Her mouth gloriously plugged with dick, she kept twirling her tongue around the tip of her treat.

It wasn't enough. She wanted more. She pushed forwards. The fat thickness pressed into the back of her mouth. She wanted absolutely all of it down her throat. But she gagged, had to pull back. Emma coughed, his tip still in her mouth. Coughed again around it.

"You want some help with that?" she heard from above, feeling both his hands going to her head, fingers tangling in her silky hair, gripping firmly.

He used his strength to force her down. She gagged immediately, struggled against the tight grip in her hair, trying to pull back up, even though all she really wanted was to get his cock to go all the way down her throat.

As she wished it, the world twisted. She was still gagging, but she didn't pull back anymore. Damien's hands were pulling her down without resistance, her throat clenching but still parting around him. She was helpless, unable to do anything about it! Couldn't breathe, should be panicking, but down she went. She knew he wouldn't stop until she kissed him around his root.

She'd gotten her wish - his cock was going all the way in, whether she still wanted it or not. Now all she could do was look up at him with her wide doe eyes and take it.

"There, there, little girl, settle down," he said condescendingly while he casually controlled the movement of her head. Slowly, consistently moving her down, working to hilt himself in her throat. She loudly gagged around him.

Below her struggles, his careless dominance was turning her on. She whimpered, coughed around him, saliva pushing out of her nostrils, but even so, her sex was clenching like a mare's in heat. He nonchalantly used her as he wanted, and she couldn't help but respond.

Slowly, he made the depth of her throat part for his cock.

Emma whimpered in submissive arousal as she slid down the last bit. Her nose finally pressed against Damien's belly, and as he held her there, she looked up at him, helpless capitulation in her big, blue eyes. Her lips a widely extended 'O' around the base of his manhood, she kissed his crotch, just as he wanted. Her golden tresses partially obscured her view as she looked up at him.

Her jaw was so stretched it was almost painful. Her eyes tearing, saliva running from her nostrils as she coughed out her nose again. Her hands were on his thighs, just grasping weakly, ineffectually.

She seemed utterly unable to do anything to stop him from holding her down on his shaft, even as she was choking on it. The helplessness was turning her on, the heat in her belly burning stronger than it had ever done before, but she couldn't breathe, she couldn't stop him, she was going to pass out! Her vision was getting dark at the edges as she looked up at him, and she floated in the submissive arousal, a conquered oral doll defeated on her knees in front of him.

And then she came.

She was melting, her entire body pulsing with the submissive climax — her vision was fading further, but she was cumming, cumming, cumming.

"Theeeere we go," he said.

And her world twisted. He was changing her. In the middle of her oxygen-deprived orgasm, she couldn't deny him. He was doing whatever he wanted to her. The world twisted again and again. She knew he was making her into a slut.

He let her go and she pulled up. Then, just as she thought she was free, he grabbed her hair again, immediately pulling her down, all the way. She climaxed again. He moved her head, slowly fucking her throat over his huge cock. Using her as a helpless cock sleeve, while she was lost in her orgasm.

"Yeah," he groaned, looking down at her. "Gooood girl. You're a perfect throat fuck now." He moaned, increased the tempo, fully using her mouth while he was whispering to her. "Look at that pretty face. My beautiful oral princess... You're such a pretty cock sucker. My little doll..."

She almost couldn't hear him over the hard facefucking, the squelching sounds from her penetrated throat loud, sloppy. She couldn't answer anyway, with her mouth full. It didn't matter how she felt about what he said. He could say anything about her, and she had to let it pass, couldn't voice an objection.

Her lips weren't meant for speaking, anyway - they were intended to be used like this. She knew Damien had changed them. They felt unfamiliar and puffy as he pulled her down, pouty, fat pillows plowing over the skin of his cock, pushing a wall of saliva in front of them. The spit ran down her chin, dangling from it, getting into her cleavage, the low cut of her dress letting it run down between her breasts.

Emma had never been this turned on in her life. His degrading whispers, the firm grip in her hair, the squelching from her throat, the fact that he'd changed her to make her more pleasing to him! - it was like a perfect storm all working together to just. Fucking. Turn. Her. ON! She groaned around him, cross-eyed, slackjawed and obedient, blithely letting him fuck her face anyway he wanted.

She was an oral sex toy. Made to be facefucked forever. She was just a throat, nothing more.

"Such a lovely, naive plaything," she heard above her. "You're so... easy to shape... so... adorably... obedient!" He pulled her head down, hard. "Here. It. Comes!" he groaned.

Kissing his crotch, she felt his cock twitching, as he groaned throatily above her. She looked up at him, dizzy and disoriented, from under her long, golden tresses. Her big cow eyes were unable to track or focus. Her cunt was grasping for penetration. And then he shot down her throat.