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Technically this isn't a chapter to any book. It's a one shot. But it does fit in with, and is canon to, the novels I've been putting out of late.

I tried to write porn just to write porn but, well, you will see how that goes.

Enjoy! Or don't. I'm not your mom.", "writing": "Rubber Doll\nBy TerraMGP\n\n\tCompton wasn’t as bad as most people thought. Sure it wasn’t exactly the cleanest or friendliest place in the world. Neither was Detroit, and Esme had seen that city dozens of times with her grandparents. The same rules seemed to apply here. Most of them boiling down to ‘mind your own god damn business’. Which, to be fair, was pretty much the same back home if you ignored all the old Euro fur ladies spreading rumors about each other in the McDonalds after the church got out.\n\n\tOr maybe the ladies around here did the same thing. Hell if she knew. She spent most of the day in traffic.\n\n\tApparently her time working at Orange Julius in the mall was something she could parlay into a job blending smoothies for rich people in some small one off shop not terribly far from class. The shifts weren’t regular and the pay wasn’t great compared to the cost of living. Still she was pretty sure she could make it work.\n\n\tShe hadn’t found an acting class yet. At least not one outside of her normal classes. It seemed like everyone had or talked about an acting coach so that was something she should probably find soon. Or maybe it wasn’t? For someone desperate to be an actress she sure didn’t have her shit together.\n\n\tThe rental wasn’t great in the least. It wasn’t as bad as people might think when they heard ’Compton’. But it was falling apart and clearly being rented out by someone who wanted their mortgage paid off for them. One bedroom. One bath. Yard. Furnishings were cheap things she’d either bought herself or her parents had gotten online. Her Jeep wasn’t tiny but there was no way it was going to get a mattress and box spring over here from Michigan after all.\n\n\tSo she had a table, a bed, a cheap shelf with a router and modem. Her old TV from her room zip tied to the incompatible wall mount already put in place. A cheap mirror that had probably been hanging there since the 90s and a dresser that was probably dragged in from the trash and repainted at some point.\n\n\tCozy! Then again she’d seen the place where Justin and Gretchen were staying. It wasn’t much better. She also wouldn’t be freezing her ass off once it hit November.\n\n\tNormally she took shifts either before or after her classes. With LA traffic that saw her getting home at about 8. Today it was 9. The reason for that was simple. The package tucked under her arm as she strode over to the bed and tossed the box on to the table.\n\n\tThere was something Esme wanted to try. Something she’d been curious about since back before senior year ended. The one time she’d laid eyes on some odd, rubbery material among her friend Hui’s various bolts of fabric. She’d gone into a… a sex shop… looking for something to test the waters. Burned out after months of her new routine and looking for something, anything to take the edge off that wasn’t smoking or drinking. \n\n\tThe green scaled gecko girl smiled and touched the corner of her favorite sky-blue hijab at the notion. Sure she wasn’t supposed to drink. There were tons of things she was considering that she ‘shouldn’t’ do. Frankly this one wasn’t even forbidden as far as she was aware. Though Allah knew it probably would have been if they’d had the technology.\n\n\t“Ok, girl. You can do this. Sure you let her up sell you a little. Ok a lot” Thoughts of the white-furred mink with the half-shaved mop of bright purple headfur and face full of metal made her smile just a touch. For someone wearing all those communist symbols she sure talked like a salesperson. But hell, Esme was going to buy this anyways. May as well get a deal, right?\n\n\tThe first thing to do was get the room ready. Having weeks to think about all of this also meant she had time to think about what could go wrong. She checked the little incense burner by her bed to make sure there were no embers, even though if there had been that would have probably gone up during work. She checked the locks on her door to make sure she’d set them, had plenty of water handy in the little mini fridge that served as her bedside stand. The list of safety precautions was smallish and concise and yet Esme found herself running though it in her head a dozen different times while moving around the room. How could she not? Anxiety tinged her anticipation and somehow made it sweeter. She was really doing it. \n\n\t“Ya Allah.” Esme winced. The phrase unwillingly and unwittingly borrowed from her mother somehow felt dirty this close to… to what she was about to do. If the gecko girl were a better person that probably would have put her off of the whole damn thing for today. She wasn’t, and it didn’t.\n\n\tShe gave one last check of the AC, and then looked over the packages containing her gear. A box cutter was handy in case she really needed it. Though the last thing she wanted to do was cut up her new purchase. A few more deep breaths, a trip to the bathroom, and finally Esme was ready.\n\n\tFirst came the Hijab. The silky black strands of hair that had not been tucked into the fabric showed a clear demarcation line to a knotted, frizzy and scraggly mess for everything the blue cloth had covered that day. Cheap clasps popped free one after the other leaving her swimming hair framing her frame in the mirror.\n\n\tNext came the work shirt, the khakis, the bra and panties. Before long she stood there looking at the green beanpole in the mirror. Scrawny spindles for legs did almost nothing to hide the too-thin tail. True she wasn’t an Iguana or anything. Nobody really thought about Geckos having overly thick or powerful tails. But hers still always felt wrong. It didn’t help that her hips were just as narrow and boney. Even if she’d had a more normal tail, it would look rather absurd poking out from over a near nonexistent butt. \n\n\tHer tummy was fine enough. A bit close to the 90s ‘heroine chic’. Unfortunately it was let down by the things flanking it above and below. Her… mound… was too long. That was the only term for it. The thigh only made it impossible to hide. ‘Isosceles triangle’ was the term she’d used when first discussing the insecurities with a doctor. Her understanding from both gym classes and text books was that most girls had a more ‘equilateral’ pelvis. Or if anything the two lines made by ones inner legs and thigh pits should be shorter than the imaginary line across the pelvis connecting them. Not her. It wasn’t something that came up when she wore panties. Here, though. Naked…\n\n\tAs for her chest? It was too big. The stereotypical ‘great problem to have’ for any woman. Except she was a reptile, and she was already scrawny to boot. Big-ass anime tiddies were nothing but a joke on her. The softer scales and plump heavy fat was at least ‘perky’ for what it was worth. It also agonized her back and forced her to wear bras that she 'hoped' hid her actual size from people. The temptation was there to just wear a binder. Honestly the only thing stopping her was less the risks involved, rather it was the worry her mother would think she was a trans man and freak the fuck out.\n\n\t“This is what you think people want to see on screen.” She scoffed to the stupid girl in the mirror. No, that wasn’t right. There was more than enough time in her life to hate her looks. Esme had been though hell today. She deserved a treat. She deserved something to help her relax. No matter how ‘she’ looked, it wouldn’t matter in a few moments.\n\n\tFirst, the ‘lube’. How the hell powder was supposed to be lube, she didn’t know. The woman at the store talked her into some big baby-powder shaker looking container of the stuff and told her it would be easy. Just ‘apply liberally’ and take it slow.\n\n\tFair enough. Esme looked at her wrong-proportioned body in the mirror and began to poof the powder out of the shaker. It smattered a heavy layer of dust over her heaving chest. Long fingers of the stuff stretched out over her tummy scales only to be erased by new layers reaching ever further down. Ten or twenty good shakes. Maybe too many. Then she began to ‘spread’ it. The only way she could think of. Her long slender fingers began to trace and stroke the excess down to cover untouched scales. It was a bit shameful how arousing this all was. The tingle she felt slowly coating herself with the substance. \n\n\tIt was tempting to linger on those more sensitive spots. She ignored it with her sex. Her fingers carefully tracing every spot near her moistening lower lips without giving in to the urge to go further. Worries about what this powder might do if pushed inside her helping keep some level of reason.\n\n\tHer breasts weren’t so lucky. A second application that she could spread up to her neck quickly ended up slathered over her sore, sensitive nipples while those fingers dug into the tender scales and soft flesh. She wasn’t exactly gentle about it. Kneading with all the care of an overworked baker. Esme would heft, and roll, and squeeze in opposing circles while keeping her palms pushed over her nipples giving them rolling waves of light stimulation. \n\n\tOne hard bite of the lip. A few deep breaths. She couldn’t finish. Not yet. Not like this. She’d need these ‘feelings’ as motivation for what was to come.\n\n\tWhen she’d finally applied the powder to herself from neck to tailtip, Esme moved to the closet and pulled out the suit. The woman at the sex shop had been very convincing. 1mm thick was what ‘real’ enthusiasts used, and it was the least likely to break. No oil of any kind. She’d even given Esme a link to a video with instructions to put it on, and assured her it was the best fit out of all the suits they had.\n\n\tThe zipper came down quite far. From the heavy latex intended to go around the neck down to near the base of the tail. At first glance it made it look like she’d have no problem getting this thing on. Second glance left her wondering how she was supposed to get both her legs and tail into this thing at the same time. The answer was ‘with difficulty’. Quite a bit of difficulty. \n\n\tPowder on powder helped ease both feet into the leg holes. After the third try she realized she would need to put her tail tip into the opening at the same time. The thought left her feeling silly. It was just putting on clothes. She’d been doing that herself since before she could remember. There shouldn’t be any questions or complexity about how all of this worked.\n\n\tSeveral minutes of fiddling found her flopped on to the bed with her tail scrunched into the ill fitting wrap. Ballet-heels were built into the boots of the suit. More severe than anything she’d worn in her day to day life. She figured all her time treading the boards in drama classes would have helped her in some way. Given her some kind of power or balance that would help keep her slender frame aloft. Instead her attempts to stand up on the 8 inch spikes under her heels left her tottering around like a newborn feral deer on some nature show.\n\n\tWhy? Why did she pick something so thick and stiff? Why the severe, cartoonish heels? Why had she let the sales lady talk her into all of these bells and whistles? Esme knew exactly why. Because if she was going to make a big purchase, she wasn’t going to cheap out. The same notion her mother had spent years instilling. It had to be some kind of sick, cosmic joke. Here she sat in some shabby Compton rental. Her soft green scales now covered from the hips down by thick shiny rubber. A veritable pervert in the making feeling more exposed the more of her body she covered. Meanwhile all she could think about were her fucking parents. Somehow they were still controlling her from across the fucking nation. The whole reason for moving out here had been to escape control.\n\n\tWell, no. That might be too simple. If she was just looking for that, Esme could have done it just as well in Kzoo or GR. She knew why she was here. It wasn’t that she hated control. She just didn’t want ’them’ controlling her. Her heart was set on someone else.\n\n\t“Ok girl,” she sighed to herself. “That’s enough of that. That’s thinking, and... and drones don’t think.” The little mantra lacked any confidence. It sounded stupid to her ears. The gecko woman tried to drive it all out of her head and instead focus on the feeling. She let the tight, binding, crushing rubber slowly swallow her slender leaf green limbs into their black embrace. Soon enough she was covered all the way up to her neck. The only parts of her left exposed were her head and the long zipper slit running up her back. That too quickly vanished with the help of a zipper help tool. Some little clip at the end of a lanyard. Part of her wanted to just start exploring then and there. The body she gazed down at wasn’t hers. It looked far too artificial and wrong. It was easy to imagine it as a manufactured product. A ‘thing’. Fingers ran up along her thighs and over her tummy offering dulled sensations. Pressure, but no real touch. Everything was sealed away and trapped.\n\n\tShe hobbled her way to the mirror and looked at the nearly finished form before her. It was hard to stay up on those heels, but she wasn’t quite done yet. She took one last look at her face and tried to ignore the blush coming up under green scales. Esme had purchased the suit of her own volition. She’d been saving up since she moved here. Before, actually. It would be perfectly fine for her to just stand there and explore herself as she was. Work was hard. School was hard. Living out here was hard. She deserved to enjoy herself a bit. She deserved to like this rather than feel ashamed.\n\n\tBut not 'yet'. She’d come this far she may as well go all the way. There was one last part for her to deal with before she’d allow herself any of those pleasures.\n\nA box from Etsy sat on the table by the mirror. It had been sitting there for a while now. Weeks at least. Esme watched the alien looking black arms attached to her body as they reached out and pried it open to reveal the contents. It was a helmet. Kind of. The thing had latches a bit like a motorcycle helmet which held the two shell parts together, and Esme realized that may have been part of what was used to make it. The back half of the shell had a thick sheet of rubber adhered to it making it look just like her suit. Attached to the sides of that shell were a pair of inbuilt earphones glued and wired haphazardly into place. These also seemed to have largely decorative bits looking like cyberpunk-ish fins resting over them and poking back. \n\n\tThe front also had heavy rubber along with a slot at mouth level. However it didn’t look anything like a bike helmet. Where normally the helmet would extend a bit to accommodate the muzzle of whoever was buying it this one had the slot and extended out to a much longer and more exaggerated muzzle. The shape seemed to be intentionally ambiguous. Maybe canid, or feline. Maybe even reptile. The thing was deliberately shaped to look more like a generic and very artificial. There were holes in the bottom of it where one could attach gas mask filters and which otherwise had small covers that looked like air intakes from some electronci devices. There was also a display covering the top half of the ‘face’ entirely. Something LCD or LED or whatever the hell it was.\n\n\tIt was a protogen head. A drone head.\n\n\tEsme had imagined putting the head on a thousand times since ordering it her first month out here. She hadn’t imagined the agonizing time it took for her to run though the included instructions. She was honestly glad she’d done that ahead of time. Some sick part of her savored the growing knot of tension and anxiety welling up in her gut. There was just one last choice to make. In the box, along with the helmet, were two different ‘mouth pieces’. Optional things that attached inside the mask and ensured clear air flow. There were two options. One looked a bit like the end of a snorkel complete with those parts you bite down on. The other… Well there was no other way to put it. It was a dildo.\n\n\tIt was an agonizing choice, and yet not a choice at all. The long, slender and rubberized purple shaft was pulled from the box and affixed to the end. Then Esme took the time to roll her long hair up into a carefully crafted but ultimately messy bun. Something she knew would just barley fit into the back of the helm. Then, finally, she picked up the new face of the drone, parting her lips and letting the world haze to a foggy dimness. Broken up by the shine of a pixilated surprised expression and three line ‘happy eyes’.\n\n\tThe world was quiet for the longest time. The heavy crushing sounds of a proper urban sprawl muffled into oblivion. The ‘thing’ that looked back at her from the mirror was so utterly alien. Black, shiny and artificial. Where Esme’s body was slender this creature was closer to some sex doll. The skinny midsection contrasted up to sex doll bimbo tits. The black alien rubber hands moved to roll and rub over those orbs. There was no real sensation there. The sort of softness and tenderness she’d normally show herself did nothing but look sensual. Sensual and wonderfully wrong. There was no physical pleasure from it. The thing in the mirror wasn’t about feeling pleasure. It wasn’t supposed to feel pleasure. \n\n\tEsme paused a moment. There was one last thing she was forgetting. She reached up to hit a couple of buttons on one of the ‘ears’, the large circles of plastic set over the headphones in the shell. The first cycled on a set of digital expressions. Those little chat emote eyes cycling into an animated array of fake expressions one might imagine a person making while pleasuring themselves. Big bright pink squares shifting with all the grace and elgance of those old digital pets.\n\n\tThe second cued the first of the MP3 tracks she’d put into the helmet’s memory card holder. Soothing ripples of music began to flood her ears, as a text to speech voice cooed a little “Hello, Drone”\n\n\tIt was too much for Esme. Her heart was thudding hard and she was sure she’d pass out any second. The caress of rubber on rubber served as nothing but porn fodder. Fingertips traced over blank blackness where nipples should be and hefted the sex doll orbs offered up for some viewer, some ‘user’ to take advantage of.\n\n\tAll the while the dildo gag forced her to take in slow and deliberate breaths. The taste of rubber and sterile absence of smell further separated her from reality. It was hot. It made Esme’s body ache. It made her yearn with need. It drove her hands to explore more. Caressing each arm with the opposite hand. Running fingertips over her mostly flat ass. Down her thighs. Over the rubber-covered mound of her needy cunt. Anxious little worries crept in. There was a primal claustrophobic fear giving her further elation. On top of that was an odd worry that she was caressing herself not of her own volition, but because she was mindlessly following the orders of the ‘drone program’ audio. Cheap erotica that couldn’t possibly actually affect someone’s mind. She wouldn’t want it to anyways. But if she was going to do this then ‘she’ should sink into it, right? She should become the drone. The dolly. The toy.\n\n\tThose words drew a muffled moan. Fingers probing at her mound drew another, and another. Some hazy part of Esme was aware of the way that ‘thing’ which was supposed to be her looked in the mirror. It’s knees slowly parted while struggling to stay up. Only her tail kept the drone from toppling over. The dark hands kneaded and rolled mechanically over one breast while the other rubbed and prodded at the trapped mound. It all gave some pleasure. Enough pleasure to make the moans worse and make it clear how weak and impotent those noises really were. The display that was it’s face did the ‘less than, greater than’ sign eyes and it felt so very right and fitting for the scene in the reflection. \n\n\tIt hurt to hold the pose. Her back and legs all ached. Her tail was starting to weaken. Meanwhile it was impossible for Esme to gain anything but teasing though her new second skin. Hips and chest were both writhing in a mechanical counter-rhythm to each other and against the hands teasing them. But the dolly didn’t stop, couldn’t stop. The voice in her ears had no real power. “This unit is nothing” “This unit obeys” “This unit is property” “Become a puppet”. None of the words could really affect her. Nothing could really impact her. It was just a monotonous thrum of sound with dirty talk playing around in her ears. She ‘could’ stop this at any second. \n\n\tAt the same time, she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. her whole body could do little more than shudder and tremble and writhe along. The ‘Material’ inside of the drone had a body screaming to plunge fingers or toy between those swollen needy lips. The sex doll in the mirror simply changed its eyes to a pair of Os and the drone’s hand left its needy mound to grab the other breast-toy. Both now squished and hefted with all the tact and tenderness of a hardcore porn starlette working it for the camera.\n\n\tThe movements and pleasure all swam like some twisted waking dream. The knowledge that Esme ‘could’ do something else with her body at any time was always there. Whatever kept her going with the lewd display of teasing masturbation held her by threads thinner than hairs. Her mind didn’t snap those threads, though. Didn’t dare. She struggled in a prison of the most delicate silver wire while the drone continued in the comical ‘demo mode’ display anyone might program into some mass market sex toy… assuming sex-bots one day became a reality.\n\n\tAn aching arm fell down and again began to rub her crotch. If only she’d bought the model with a zipper there. If only she’d put a vibe into herself before hand. If only she’d had some way to get herself off instead of wallowing and swimming in helpless denial. The moans turned to pants turned to screams of near orgasm all stolen by the shaft that tickled the edge of her throat.\n\n\tThe world came back into its dark focus at some point later. It was hard to tell how long with the window outside covered and the tinted display over her eyes. It took far longer than it should for those weak rubbery hands to find the buttons and pop the helmet free. Thank Allah she’d thought to leave the AC on. Cali was hot enough for a poor Michigan girl like her, the last thing Esme needed was a trip to the urgent care from heat issues that would require her to explain this. \n\n\tThe head of the doll, the ’other’ her, slowly came off. Matted messy black hair fell in an inelegant heap against the shiny rubber body. An exhausted Gecko looked into the mirror. She gazed into familiar eyes. It was her. She shouldn’t be shocked by the appearance. But she was. It was a stranger. The face she’d known her whole life was an unrecognizable mess.\n\n\tA few bottles of water later and she moved back to the mirror again. That feeling persisted. The feeling of unfamiliarity gnawed on her exhausted and aroused body.\n\n\t“Ok.” She sighed “Maybe this is only a sometimes thing.”\n\n\tEven saying that felt wrong. There was a shame to all of this that made her not want to put the expensive fetish items on ever again. Her sensible side worried this was all too much. She probably could have spent the money on a few gloves at most and spending the money elsewhere.\n\n\tThe rest of her just stared at the golden eyed girl in the mirror and wondered if this wreck, this material, would be something a certain red-haired badger girl would enjoy.", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "Rubber Doll
By TerraMGP

\tCompton wasn’t as bad as most people thought. Sure it wasn’t exactly the cleanest or friendliest place in the world. Neither was Detroit, and Esme had seen that city dozens of times with her grandparents. The same rules seemed to apply here. Most of them boiling down to ‘mind your own god damn business’. Which, to be fair, was pretty much the same back home if you ignored all the old Euro fur ladies spreading rumors about each other in the McDonalds after the church got out.

\tOr maybe the ladies around here did the same thing. Hell if she knew. She spent most of the day in traffic.

\tApparently her time working at Orange Julius in the mall was something she could parlay into a job blending smoothies for rich people in some small one off shop not terribly far from class. The shifts weren’t regular and the pay wasn’t great compared to the cost of living. Still she was pretty sure she could make it work.

\tShe hadn’t found an acting class yet. At least not one outside of her normal classes. It seemed like everyone had or talked about an acting coach so that was something she should probably find soon. Or maybe it wasn’t? For someone desperate to be an actress she sure didn’t have her shit together.

\tThe rental wasn’t great in the least. It wasn’t as bad as people might think when they heard ’Compton’. But it was falling apart and clearly being rented out by someone who wanted their mortgage paid off for them. One bedroom. One bath. Yard. Furnishings were cheap things she’d either bought herself or her parents had gotten online. Her Jeep wasn’t tiny but there was no way it was going to get a mattress and box spring over here from Michigan after all.

\tSo she had a table, a bed, a cheap shelf with a router and modem. Her old TV from her room zip tied to the incompatible wall mount already put in place. A cheap mirror that had probably been hanging there since the 90s and a dresser that was probably dragged in from the trash and repainted at some point.

\tCozy! Then again she’d seen the place where Justin and Gretchen were staying. It wasn’t much better. She also wouldn’t be freezing her ass off once it hit November.

\tNormally she took shifts either before or after her classes. With LA traffic that saw her getting home at about 8. Today it was 9. The reason for that was simple. The package tucked under her arm as she strode over to the bed and tossed the box on to the table.

\tThere was something Esme wanted to try. Something she’d been curious about since back before senior year ended. The one time she’d laid eyes on some odd, rubbery material among her friend Hui’s various bolts of fabric. She’d gone into a… a sex shop… looking for something to test the waters. Burned out after months of her new routine and looking for something, anything to take the edge off that wasn’t smoking or drinking.

\tThe green scaled gecko girl smiled and touched the corner of her favorite sky-blue hijab at the notion. Sure she wasn’t supposed to drink. There were tons of things she was considering that she ‘shouldn’t’ do. Frankly this one wasn’t even forbidden as far as she was aware. Though Allah knew it probably would have been if they’d had the technology.

\t“Ok, girl. You can do this. Sure you let her up sell you a little. Ok a lot” Thoughts of the white-furred mink with the half-shaved mop of bright purple headfur and face full of metal made her smile just a touch. For someone wearing all those communist symbols she sure talked like a salesperson. But hell, Esme was going to buy this anyways. May as well get a deal, right?

\tThe first thing to do was get the room ready. Having weeks to think about all of this also meant she had time to think about what could go wrong. She checked the little incense burner by her bed to make sure there were no embers, even though if there had been that would have probably gone up during work. She checked the locks on her door to make sure she’d set them, had plenty of water handy in the little mini fridge that served as her bedside stand. The list of safety precautions was smallish and concise and yet Esme found herself running though it in her head a dozen different times while moving around the room. How could she not? Anxiety tinged her anticipation and somehow made it sweeter. She was really doing it.

\t“Ya Allah.” Esme winced. The phrase unwillingly and unwittingly borrowed from her mother somehow felt dirty this close to… to what she was about to do. If the gecko girl were a better person that probably would have put her off of the whole damn thing for today. She wasn’t, and it didn’t.

\tShe gave one last check of the AC, and then looked over the packages containing her gear. A box cutter was handy in case she really needed it. Though the last thing she wanted to do was cut up her new purchase. A few more deep breaths, a trip to the bathroom, and finally Esme was ready.

\tFirst came the Hijab. The silky black strands of hair that had not been tucked into the fabric showed a clear demarcation line to a knotted, frizzy and scraggly mess for everything the blue cloth had covered that day. Cheap clasps popped free one after the other leaving her swimming hair framing her frame in the mirror.

\tNext came the work shirt, the khakis, the bra and panties. Before long she stood there looking at the green beanpole in the mirror. Scrawny spindles for legs did almost nothing to hide the too-thin tail. True she wasn’t an Iguana or anything. Nobody really thought about Geckos having overly thick or powerful tails. But hers still always felt wrong. It didn’t help that her hips were just as narrow and boney. Even if she’d had a more normal tail, it would look rather absurd poking out from over a near nonexistent butt.

\tHer tummy was fine enough. A bit close to the 90s ‘heroine chic’. Unfortunately it was let down by the things flanking it above and below. Her… mound… was too long. That was the only term for it. The thigh only made it impossible to hide. ‘Isosceles triangle’ was the term she’d used when first discussing the insecurities with a doctor. Her understanding from both gym classes and text books was that most girls had a more ‘equilateral’ pelvis. Or if anything the two lines made by ones inner legs and thigh pits should be shorter than the imaginary line across the pelvis connecting them. Not her. It wasn’t something that came up when she wore panties. Here, though. Naked…

\tAs for her chest? It was too big. The stereotypical ‘great problem to have’ for any woman. Except she was a reptile, and she was already scrawny to boot. Big-ass anime tiddies were nothing but a joke on her. The softer scales and plump heavy fat was at least ‘perky’ for what it was worth. It also agonized her back and forced her to wear bras that she 'hoped' hid her actual size from people. The temptation was there to just wear a binder. Honestly the only thing stopping her was less the risks involved, rather it was the worry her mother would think she was a trans man and freak the fuck out.

\t“This is what you think people want to see on screen.” She scoffed to the stupid girl in the mirror. No, that wasn’t right. There was more than enough time in her life to hate her looks. Esme had been though hell today. She deserved a treat. She deserved something to help her relax. No matter how ‘she’ looked, it wouldn’t matter in a few moments.

\tFirst, the ‘lube’. How the hell powder was supposed to be lube, she didn’t know. The woman at the store talked her into some big baby-powder shaker looking container of the stuff and told her it would be easy. Just ‘apply liberally’ and take it slow.

\tFair enough. Esme looked at her wrong-proportioned body in the mirror and began to poof the powder out of the shaker. It smattered a heavy layer of dust over her heaving chest. Long fingers of the stuff stretched out over her tummy scales only to be erased by new layers reaching ever further down. Ten or twenty good shakes. Maybe too many. Then she began to ‘spread’ it. The only way she could think of. Her long slender fingers began to trace and stroke the excess down to cover untouched scales. It was a bit shameful how arousing this all was. The tingle she felt slowly coating herself with the substance.

\tIt was tempting to linger on those more sensitive spots. She ignored it with her sex. Her fingers carefully tracing every spot near her moistening lower lips without giving in to the urge to go further. Worries about what this powder might do if pushed inside her helping keep some level of reason.

\tHer breasts weren’t so lucky. A second application that she could spread up to her neck quickly ended up slathered over her sore, sensitive nipples while those fingers dug into the tender scales and soft flesh. She wasn’t exactly gentle about it. Kneading with all the care of an overworked baker. Esme would heft, and roll, and squeeze in opposing circles while keeping her palms pushed over her nipples giving them rolling waves of light stimulation.

\tOne hard bite of the lip. A few deep breaths. She couldn’t finish. Not yet. Not like this. She’d need these ‘feelings’ as motivation for what was to come.

\tWhen she’d finally applied the powder to herself from neck to tailtip, Esme moved to the closet and pulled out the suit. The woman at the sex shop had been very convincing. 1mm thick was what ‘real’ enthusiasts used, and it was the least likely to break. No oil of any kind. She’d even given Esme a link to a video with instructions to put it on, and assured her it was the best fit out of all the suits they had.

\tThe zipper came down quite far. From the heavy latex intended to go around the neck down to near the base of the tail. At first glance it made it look like she’d have no problem getting this thing on. Second glance left her wondering how she was supposed to get both her legs and tail into this thing at the same time. The answer was ‘with difficulty’. Quite a bit of difficulty.

\tPowder on powder helped ease both feet into the leg holes. After the third try she realized she would need to put her tail tip into the opening at the same time. The thought left her feeling silly. It was just putting on clothes. She’d been doing that herself since before she could remember. There shouldn’t be any questions or complexity about how all of this worked.

\tSeveral minutes of fiddling found her flopped on to the bed with her tail scrunched into the ill fitting wrap. Ballet-heels were built into the boots of the suit. More severe than anything she’d worn in her day to day life. She figured all her time treading the boards in drama classes would have helped her in some way. Given her some kind of power or balance that would help keep her slender frame aloft. Instead her attempts to stand up on the 8 inch spikes under her heels left her tottering around like a newborn feral deer on some nature show.

\tWhy? Why did she pick something so thick and stiff? Why the severe, cartoonish heels? Why had she let the sales lady talk her into all of these bells and whistles? Esme knew exactly why. Because if she was going to make a big purchase, she wasn’t going to cheap out. The same notion her mother had spent years instilling. It had to be some kind of sick, cosmic joke. Here she sat in some shabby Compton rental. Her soft green scales now covered from the hips down by thick shiny rubber. A veritable pervert in the making feeling more exposed the more of her body she covered. Meanwhile all she could think about were her fucking parents. Somehow they were still controlling her from across the fucking nation. The whole reason for moving out here had been to escape control.

\tWell, no. That might be too simple. If she was just looking for that, Esme could have done it just as well in Kzoo or GR. She knew why she was here. It wasn’t that she hated control. She just didn’t want ’them’ controlling her. Her heart was set on someone else.

\t“Ok girl,” she sighed to herself. “That’s enough of that. That’s thinking, and... and drones don’t think.” The little mantra lacked any confidence. It sounded stupid to her ears. The gecko woman tried to drive it all out of her head and instead focus on the feeling. She let the tight, binding, crushing rubber slowly swallow her slender leaf green limbs into their black embrace.  Soon enough she was covered all the way up to her neck. The only parts of her left exposed were her head and the long zipper slit running up her back. That too quickly vanished with the help of a zipper help tool. Some little clip at the end of a lanyard. Part of her wanted to just start exploring then and there. The body she gazed down at wasn’t hers. It looked far too artificial and wrong. It was easy to imagine it as a manufactured product. A ‘thing’. Fingers ran up along her thighs and over her tummy offering dulled sensations. Pressure, but no real touch. Everything was sealed away and trapped.

\tShe hobbled her way to the mirror and looked at the nearly finished form before her. It was hard to stay up on those heels, but she wasn’t quite done yet. She took one last look at her face and tried to ignore the blush coming up under green scales. Esme had purchased the suit of her own volition. She’d been saving up since she moved here. Before, actually. It would be perfectly fine for her to just stand there and explore herself as she was. Work was hard. School was hard. Living out here was hard. She deserved to enjoy herself a bit. She deserved to like this rather than feel ashamed.

\tBut not 'yet'. She’d come this far she may as well go all the way. There was one last part for her to deal with before she’d allow herself any of those pleasures.

A box from Etsy sat on the table by the mirror. It had been sitting there for a while now. Weeks at least. Esme watched the alien looking black arms attached to her body as they reached out and pried it open to reveal the contents. It was a helmet. Kind of. The thing had latches a bit like a motorcycle helmet which held the two shell parts together, and Esme realized that may have been part of what was used to make it. The back half of the shell had a thick sheet of rubber adhered to it making it look just like her suit. Attached to the sides of that shell were a pair of inbuilt earphones glued and wired haphazardly into place. These also seemed to have largely decorative bits looking like cyberpunk-ish fins resting over them and poking back.

\tThe front also had heavy rubber along with a slot at mouth level. However it didn’t look anything like a bike helmet. Where normally the helmet would extend a bit to accommodate the muzzle of whoever was buying it this one had the slot and extended out to a much longer and more exaggerated muzzle. The shape seemed to be intentionally ambiguous. Maybe canid, or feline. Maybe even reptile. The thing was deliberately shaped to look more like a generic and very artificial. There were holes in the bottom of it where one could attach gas mask filters and which otherwise had small covers that looked like air intakes from some electronci devices. There was also a display covering the top half of the ‘face’ entirely. Something LCD or LED or whatever the hell it was.

\tIt was a protogen head. A drone head.

\tEsme had imagined putting the head on a thousand times since ordering it her first month out here. She hadn’t imagined the agonizing time it took for her to run though the included instructions. She was honestly glad she’d done that ahead of time. Some sick part of her savored the growing knot of tension and anxiety welling up in her gut. There was just one last choice to make. In the box, along with the helmet, were two different ‘mouth pieces’. Optional things that attached inside the mask and ensured clear air flow. There were two options. One looked a bit like the end of a snorkel complete with those parts you bite down on. The other… Well there was no other way to put it. It was a dildo.

\tIt was an agonizing choice, and yet not a choice at all. The long, slender and rubberized purple shaft was pulled from the box and affixed to the end. Then Esme took the time to roll her long hair up into a carefully crafted but ultimately messy bun. Something she knew would just barley fit into the back of the helm. Then, finally, she picked up the new face of the drone, parting her lips and letting the world haze to a foggy dimness. Broken up by the shine of a pixilated surprised expression and three line ‘happy eyes’.

\tThe world was quiet for the longest time. The heavy crushing sounds of a proper urban sprawl muffled into oblivion. The ‘thing’ that looked back at her from the mirror was so utterly alien. Black, shiny and artificial. Where Esme’s body was slender this creature was closer to some sex doll. The skinny midsection contrasted up to sex doll bimbo tits. The black alien rubber hands moved to roll and rub over those orbs. There was no real sensation there. The sort of softness and tenderness she’d normally show herself did nothing but look sensual. Sensual and wonderfully wrong. There was no physical pleasure from it. The thing in the mirror wasn’t about feeling pleasure. It wasn’t supposed to feel pleasure.

\tEsme paused a moment. There was one last thing she was forgetting. She reached up to hit a couple of buttons on one of the ‘ears’, the large circles of plastic set over the headphones in the shell. The first cycled on a set of digital expressions. Those little chat emote eyes cycling into an animated array of fake expressions one might imagine a person making while pleasuring themselves. Big bright pink squares shifting with all the grace and elgance of those old digital pets.

\tThe second cued the first of the MP3 tracks she’d put into the helmet’s memory card holder. Soothing ripples of music began to flood her ears, as a text to speech voice cooed a little “Hello, Drone”

\tIt was too much for Esme. Her heart was thudding hard and she was sure she’d pass out any second. The caress of rubber on rubber served as nothing but porn fodder. Fingertips traced over blank blackness where nipples should be and hefted the sex doll orbs offered up for some viewer, some ‘user’ to take advantage of.

\tAll the while the dildo gag forced her to take in slow and deliberate breaths. The taste of rubber and sterile absence of smell further separated her from reality. It was hot. It made Esme’s body ache. It made her yearn with need. It drove her hands to explore more. Caressing each arm with the opposite hand. Running fingertips over her mostly flat ass. Down her thighs. Over the rubber-covered mound of her needy cunt. Anxious little worries crept in. There was a primal claustrophobic fear giving her further elation. On top of that was an odd worry that she was caressing herself not of her own volition, but because she was mindlessly following the orders of the ‘drone program’ audio. Cheap erotica that couldn’t possibly actually affect someone’s mind. She wouldn’t want it to anyways. But if she was going to do this then ‘she’ should sink into it, right? She should become the drone. The dolly. The toy.

\tThose words drew a muffled moan. Fingers probing at her mound drew another, and another. Some hazy part of Esme was aware of the way that ‘thing’ which was supposed to be her looked in the mirror. It’s knees slowly parted while struggling to stay up. Only her tail kept the drone from toppling over. The dark hands kneaded and rolled mechanically over one breast while the other rubbed and prodded at the trapped mound. It all gave some pleasure. Enough pleasure to make the moans worse and make it clear how weak and impotent those noises really were. The display that was it’s face did the ‘less than, greater than’ sign eyes and it felt so very right and fitting for the scene in the reflection.

\tIt hurt to hold the pose. Her back and legs all ached. Her tail was starting to weaken. Meanwhile it was impossible for Esme to gain anything but teasing though her new second skin. Hips and chest were both writhing in a mechanical counter-rhythm to each other and against the hands teasing them. But the dolly didn’t stop, couldn’t stop. The voice in her ears had no real power. “This unit is nothing” “This unit obeys” “This unit is property” “Become a puppet”. None of the words could really affect her. Nothing could really impact her. It was just a monotonous thrum of sound with dirty talk playing around in her ears. She ‘could’ stop this at any second.

\tAt the same time, she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. her whole body could do little more than shudder and tremble and writhe along. The ‘Material’ inside of the drone had a body screaming to plunge fingers or toy between those swollen needy lips. The sex doll in the mirror simply changed its eyes to a pair of Os and the drone’s hand left its needy mound to grab the other breast-toy. Both now squished and hefted with all the tact and tenderness of a hardcore porn starlette working it for the camera.

\tThe movements and pleasure all swam like some twisted waking dream. The knowledge that Esme ‘could’ do something else with her body at any time was always there. Whatever kept her going with the lewd display of teasing masturbation held her by threads thinner than hairs. Her mind didn’t snap those threads, though. Didn’t dare. She struggled in a prison of the most delicate silver wire while the drone continued in the comical ‘demo mode’ display anyone might program into some mass market sex toy… assuming sex-bots one day became a reality.

\tAn aching arm fell down and again began to rub her crotch. If only she’d bought the model with a zipper there. If only she’d put a vibe into herself before hand. If only she’d had some way to get herself off instead of wallowing and swimming in helpless denial. The moans turned to pants turned to screams of near orgasm all stolen by the shaft that tickled the edge of her throat.

\tThe world came back into its dark focus at some point later. It was hard to tell how long with the window outside covered and the tinted display over her eyes. It took far longer than it should for those weak rubbery hands to find the buttons and pop the helmet free. Thank Allah she’d thought to leave the AC on. Cali was hot enough for a poor Michigan girl like her, the last thing Esme needed was a trip to the urgent care from heat issues that would require her to explain this.

\tThe head of the doll, the ’other’ her, slowly came off. Matted messy black hair fell in an inelegant heap against the shiny rubber body. An exhausted Gecko looked into the mirror. She gazed into familiar eyes. It was her. She shouldn’t be shocked by the appearance. But she was. It was a stranger. The face she’d known her whole life was an unrecognizable mess.

\tA few bottles of water later and she moved back to the mirror again. That feeling persisted. The feeling of unfamiliarity gnawed on her exhausted and aroused body.

\t“Ok.” She sighed “Maybe this is only a sometimes thing.”

\tEven saying that felt wrong. There was a shame to all of this that made her not want to put the expensive fetish items on ever again. Her sensible side worried this was all too much. She probably could have spent the money on a few gloves at most and spending the money elsewhere.

\tThe rest of her just stared at the golden eyed girl in the mirror and wondered if this wreck, this material, would be something a certain red-haired badger girl would enjoy.", "pools_count": 0, "title": "Rubber Doll", "deleted": "f", "public": "t", "mimetype": "application/msword", "pagecount": "1", "rating_id": "2", "rating_name": "Adult", "ratings": [ { "content_tag_id": "4", "name": "Sexual Themes", "description": "Erotic imagery, sexual activity or arousal", "rating_id": "2" } ], "submission_type_id": "12", "type_name": "Writing - Document", "guest_block": "t", "friends_only": "f", "comments_count": "0", "views": "7" }