Inflatable Kink

by Gromet

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© Copyright 2022 - Gromet - Used by permission

Storycodes: M/f; M/f+; fpov; doll; sexdoll; F2doll; transform; objectify; inflatable; deflate; scifi; naked; sex; cons; X

With the advances in technology, the ability to transform oneself into whatever they desire has become more commonplace. The transformation stores and the machines that they use seem to be everywhere these days, and it is becoming more acceptable to enjoy being whatever or whoever that you want to change yourself into, though there were limits applied to ensure that the person being transformed wasn’t being misused, abused or tricked into becoming something that they didn’t want to become. 

My partner and I have played around with transforming each other, adjusting the way or how that we looked and then becoming what each of us wanted to see and play with for the weekend. Though he always seemed to enjoy transforming me more than having himself changed. Not that I minded, as the sex was always good, and a girl loves to experiment with the way that she looks. Otherwise, clothing stores would be out of business.

I was getting more into being the one transformed anyway, so I didn’t mind the fact that I was the one that ended up inside of the machine being changed, and my time spent as the other version of me was getting slightly longer each time that we did this. The time I was changed into a blonde bimbo lasted nearly two weeks; while I enjoyed the experience, it made me think about what I wanted, my desires. And I was thankful for the way that my life had gone. Returning back to my normal self, I knew that I was now more satisfied with the way that I lived.

But I did have one unfulfilled desire nagging in the back of my mind; it had been hidden deep in my mind, possibly forgotten, but it was brought back into existence by my time as the bimbo. I remembered reading stories online through my days in college, of women being transformed into sexdolls. To alleviate the stress of my studies, I would imagine myself as one of those women, spending my days and nights as nothing more than a sex toy for someone to use. I wore out many batteries in my own toys during those fantasies.

It was getting close to my birthday, and my boyfriend had said that we should do something special to celebrate, and maybe do something in the way of transforming either myself or him into something of my own desires. Knowing his preferences, I knew it would more likely be me than him being changed. Having thought over the idea for a few days, and with my memories coming back of my time fantasising about becoming a sextoy, I wondered what his reaction would be.

Over dinner one night, he asked me if I had any thoughts on my upcoming birthday and what I would like to transform into. Taking a gulp from my wine glass to summon up some courage, I quietly mentioned that I had always wanted to try being a sexdoll, not thinking too much and just blurting it out like that. Maybe it was the wine, but I sat there as silence suddenly descended into our conversation, was he shocked at my suggestion? Did he think that I was mad even to suggest such a thing? 

It turned out that he shared the same thoughts as I did, though not of him becoming a sextoy for me to use; maybe some other time, I wondered, imagining where I would put the batteries in his body. He told me that he had wanted to have me change myself into a sexdoll but hadn’t wanted to bring it up in case he thought that it would be too strange to even mention it. So it seemed that we both shared a similar fetish or kink, one where the person is transformed and used by the other, but that seemed to be the way of most transformations these days.

Having tested out having me as his sextoy for the night, the wine and the thought of me as a sexdoll driving my libido into overdrive, and then allowing him to use me for his pleasure in the bedroom and mine when he got his second wind. I just laid there pretending that I was a doll, his to use and play with, and it brought back memories of those stories.

The idea began to formulate in my mind over the next day or so about what I wanted to happen in my transformation. Having planned to do this, I needed to take some time off from work, and then all that was left to explain my forthcoming absence was to let friends and family know that I would be away, telling them that we were taking a vacation in some remote place and would not be contactable for the next few weeks.

With those details out of the way, all that was left to do was for me to explain to my boyfriend what I wanted to happen with my upcoming transformation. One of the stories that always got me hot under the collar when reading them, and my favourite, was when the female was transformed into an inflatable doll. She always seemed to me to be more of an object than the other dolls; the silicon ones always seemed to have a personality; even if they were left alone in a room, they were more human to me than sexdoll. Strange, I know, but that was how I saw them, and I always seemed to climax harder and longer when imagining that I was an inflatable doll, especially when being deflated.

Sitting my boyfriend down and outlining what I wanted, I told him of my thoughts and, indeed, my desire to become nothing more than an inflatable sextoy for him to use for his pleasure and then to be deflated and put away afterwards. I wanted to be nothing more than an object for his use, to be kept that way and for him to think of me that way. I then told him of some of the stories that I used to like to give him some idea of what I wanted.

I thought that maybe he would be shocked at what I was asking from him, but he seemed to accept that this was what I wished to happen to me while I was transformed. Maybe a little too accepting, but my longing to become the object of my desires seemed to cloud my judgement and my thoughts. It was all that I could think about at the moment.

The next day was the start of my vacation and also the day for my transformation. We had booked the machine to change me into my longed-for yearnings, and now we had everything finally in place for me to enjoy living out my fantasy. But just before we headed out to the store, my boyfriend surprised me, handed me a gift-wrapped present, smiled at me, and then told me to open it. Not knowing what it was, I eagerly opened it, and I was surprised when the wrapping was ripped off by me, to find just an empty box. 

When I looked at him, with a look of uncertainty on my face as to what this was. He told me that every inflatable doll needs a box to live in when not being used, and that this would be mine. Adding that, he would be bringing me back home after my transformation deflated and folded up inside the box. This blew me away, and I would have jumped on him right there and then had it not been for the booking for the transformation machine, and I didn’t want to miss our spot. 

On the journey to the store, I held the box in my hands all of the way, like it was a precious treasure, and it was one of the best gifts that I had ever been given in my life. Knowing that soon I would be folded up, my body deflated and fitted inside the box very soon.

As we got to the store, he asked if I still wanted to go through with this? I knew deep down that I would regret giving up on the opportunity to live out my fantasy, even though I was having some doubts about whether I could go through with this. He was giving me a chance to back out. Could I ever even consider doing this? Did I really want to commit myself to becoming his sexual plaything? My mind was in a whirl, and I knew that I shouldn’t be doing this. Could I trust him, or did my own desires overwhelm me at that moment? 

In the end, I cast all doubts aside; any negative thought was suppressed by my desire to become what I had longed for. This was going to happen to me, I was going to become a sexdoll, one that could be deflated, put away and discarded; the mere thought that may occur gave me some wonderful feelings deep inside of my body.

My mind now made up; I reached up to him and kissed him, then whispered in his ear to make me into his sextoy for however long he wished me to be. Knowing that I would have no control over how many days or weeks for that matter, sent delightful tingles throughout me, and I knew at that moment that I didn’t want to turn back. I wanted to be his inflatable doll and be used by him. I also reminded him that when I wasn’t being used, I should be deleted and put away. I didn’t want anyone else finding me, and then said that all good dollies need to be kept clean and tidy.

Taking my clothes off in the changing room, after all, I would not be needing them again for a while, I suspected, I took one last glance in the mirror at my human body, and for the briefest moment, I could see my body in all its dolly glory, even my skin seemed to be artificial in my reflected form. But I had no time to waste, the machine was booked, there was a time limit for my transformation to occur, and I had no time to dawdle. My time as a human female would soon change into the sex doll I longed for.

Dropping the robe that covered my naked body, I lay down on the machine; the operator then closed the lid without so much as glancing at my naked form. I considered that they see naked bodies all of the time in their job. I felt more like a product than a human being at that moment; time is money in their business I guess; the more people that they can process in a day, the more they make, and they always seemed to have plenty of customers waiting. The machines are booked well in advance, and the stores run 24 hours of the day.

My current thoughts were interrupted when the machine started, and I felt the machine move the container that I was lying inside of into the main part of the transformer unit. Here, the lighting changed to a single red glow, and then to green. After that, I don’t recall what happened; the machine continued to process the human body that it was currently dealing with into whatever changes it was required and programmed to make. I was now either deeply asleep or knocked out by the machine and unaware of what changes were occurring. This always happened and made the transformation process more manageable and less stressful for the person being altered to the settings entered into the machine.

My consciousness returned after the machine had finished, the container exited the machine, and the lid was opened. I could see up above me but could not seem to move my body, and even my eyes seemed to be fixed in place; I could only look forward. I did still seem to have a body of sorts, and I could feel at least, as the cooler air brushed up against my flesh, but I still thought it strange that I couldn’t move. I was getting used to having some form of memory fog after being transformed; it happened every time and soon wore off, so I lay there adjusting to my changed circumstances.

Then, my boyfriend came into view; the technician had opened the lid and checked that I had indeed been changed as requested into whatever had been asked for, and they then called on my boyfriend to collect me. He seemed delighted to see me in my new body, and his hands started to explore my new plastic flesh. I loved the feeling of his touch. But we were interrupted by the technician saying that the machine was needed for the next customer and that we now needed to depart the room. 

My boyfriend then reached down and pulled the valve that had now replaced my belly button, the air immediately started to leave my body, and I felt myself deflating. The most surprising thing was that I orgasmed the entire time that it took for me to deflate, much to my enjoyment and delight. I briefly blacked out from the overwhelming sensations that I was feeling at that moment. When I woke again, I felt his hands pick up my now deflated body from the machine, taking me back to the changing room and gathering up my clothes.

He lay my flattened form down on the bench and started to fold my legs and arms; moving each part carefully, he started to reduce me in size. I felt each and every touch of his hands, though it felt much more diminished than when I was inflated. Was this something that I had wanted, or was this something that just happened? Either way, I was now just a doll, and I would have to get used to it for the foreseeable future. Once satisfied that I was folded correctly, he picked me up and inserted my deflated form into the box, just as he had told me that he would do to me.

Closing the lid and sealing me inside, he threw the box into the bag containing my clothes and then carried me out of the store and headed home, looking forward no doubt to trying out his new sextoy and all of her features. Meanwhile, inside the box, I found myself in the darkness, my mind seemed to shut down, and I drifted off into some form of sleep. The closeness that I felt inside the box, my body folded up in ways that I never thought possible, it all seemed strange, but I felt comfortable with it; it was like I belonged here.

Once we arrived home, he wasted no time re-inflating me; the shock of the light and touch of his hands as he pulled my folded-up body from the confines of the box brought me back. I could feel his warm lips on my inflation valve as he blew air into my body. It made me wonder if it felt the same as when I went down on him, his lips enclosing the valve stem as mine would around his erect member; the thought made me chuckle. 

At least I could still think; my thoughts were my own, and I could feel everything that he was doing to me. The strange thing was there was no pain; his initial entry into my waiting and available holes usually did but soon gave way to the pleasure I received from whatever he was doing to my body. Now I could only feel the pleasurable part, which was good - believe me, it was good. I lost count of just how many times I came that night. He seemed to want to try out every part of my being for his sexual pleasure, and I suppose that there was no restriction on how he could use my body now, so he wanted to try out stuff that in normal circumstances would be off-limits or just not possible.

He must have worn himself out using me, leaving me laying there in all my glory and just rolling over to sleep. At least he left me inflated, and I guessed that he was just too tired out to remember to deflate me, but then I thought that maybe he would want to use me again soon and had left me available for him to use when he woke up, which he did several times. If I wasn’t a sextoy before this, I certainly was now; there was no foreplay; it was just climbing on top and banging away. Or roll me over and use my other featured hole, either way, we both seemed to gain pleasure and satisfaction from whichever one he used.

In the morning, and again making use of my availability, he did a quick clean-up of my body, taking me in the shower with him, cleaning out my insides by pulling on them so that they popped out. This shocked me; the how’s and why’s of this seemed beyond my current comprehension, but I guessed that all inflatable sexdolls have this feature, though how did he seem to know this hadn’t crossed my mind at this point. Once done, he towelled me down before popping my inflation valve and leaving me to deflate on the bed. Again, the orgasm overwhelmed me, the intensity and long-drawn-out climax causing me to blackout.

When I came too, I was fully deflated, and he had started refolding my body, taking his time to adjust my limbs and getting me back down to the size needed for my body to fit inside the box. He smiled down at me once he was done; just before he placed me back in my new home, he told me that he was really pleased that I had transformed into his new sextoy and that he was looking forward to using me again soon, but for now, he needed to regain his strength, and it was time to put me away.

Once again, I was back inside the box, and it got dark inside when he closed the top, sealing me inside. I was just his sexdoll now, deflated and put away; this felt right to me; this was what I had wanted all along to happen to me. I was happy and content inside my box, happy to be my owner's sextoy, ready to be used again by him when he so desired. The thought that I considered my boyfriend now as my owner didn’t feel strange to me; this felt right; I was my owner’s sexdoll, happy and pleased that I could give him pleasure. My mind seemed to change more to this way of thinking the longer I was left inside the box, and this was who I am now.

He carried my boxed form over to the closet and put me away in one of the drawers, closing it up without another thought, like I was just an object for him to use and put away after. Well, I had asked him to treat me this way, desired that he keep me as an object. And he was carrying out what I wanted, although he was more than happy that he now had his own little sextoy available whenever he felt the need to use it. Just like he had back in college, his old sexdoll helped him through the times that he needed her the most, and he wondered if the doll was still in the attic of his parent’s house where he had left it.

One day turned into another; each time I was taken out and used by him, I felt myself becoming more and more like his sexdoll than his actual girlfriend. He just used me for his enjoyment, and then after a quick clean, he deflated me again and put me back inside the box. I was pleased that my owner took the time to care for me and that I had given him pleasure, after all, that was what a good dolly did, and I was a very good dolly, it seemed judging by the number of times that he used me. I was happy just to be his sextoy.

Then one day, he took me out of the box; I was pleased to see my owner as always. I was quickly inflated and carried out from the bedroom to the lounge of his apartment, and it seemed strange at first, but I thought that he maybe now wanted to use his dolly somewhere other than the bedroom. He carried me over, placed me down on the sofa, and then walked away, leaving me there; I wondered why he was using me. When he returned, I could see that he had another doll in his arms. I didn’t feel any jealousy; more curious about the other doll and what it was doing here.

He sat the other doll down on the sofa next to me, and I could feel her plastic skin rubbing against my own as he placed us closer together and started taking pictures on his camera. Next, he re-posed the other doll so that her head was resting in my lap, my hands touching her face and caressing her. More photos were then taken, and more poses were done. Eventually, things got a bit sexier, and he had both doll's faces in between the other doll's legs. I guess you can imagine what he thought that we were doing to each other.

Once he was satisfied with what he had done with his sexdolls, he put the camera down and readjusted us so that both dolls now sat side by side on the sofa. He looked from one to the other and sort of introduced each doll to the other, though after what he had just put us through, that didn’t seem entirely necessary, as we had found every part of each other out, by the way that he had posed us. He then explained that the new doll, which turned out wasn’t new, was his old doll from college; he had retrieved her from the attic where she had been stored all this time and brought her home to live with him.

Now that he had two dolls to use, it meant that I got to spend more time stored away in my box; strangely enough, this made me happy that he was making good use of the two of us, and that I wasn’t envious that he used the other doll and not me, when he chose her to use. Not that I knew when he was using the other doll, I just lay there in my box, sleeping between encounters with him, waiting for the times I would be re-inflated and played with.

I found that I enjoyed my time inside of my box more and more; though it was nice to be used, this was where I belonged, I thought to myself. I now considered myself more of a doll these days than my former human female self. Such was my happiness that I had become what I had dreamed of, I was content to be living my life as a sexdoll, something that, while I had always desired, had never crossed my mind that I would ever want to remain as, but now it seemed that I wanted nothing more. 

There were some days that he used both dolls for his entertainment, using each one and then making the dolls ‘amuse’ each other, posing us in compromising positions and making each doll move against the other. I don’t think the other doll minded; I knew that I had grown accustomed to being used this way and even gained some pleasure from it. I still could feel the slightest touch on my body, so having the other doll go down on me, while being manipulated by our owner, still gave me the chance to experience an orgasm. 

One day I was awoken by the box being moved from where he stored me in either the cupboard or drawer. Usually, this meant that he was going to re-inflate and use me again, but this time I felt the box being carried a short distance and then put down again without him opening it. Then the sound got muffled for some reason, and then more movement. I didn’t know at the time that I was being packed inside a suitcase and that he was taking both dolls away for a short break. It was only when he finally re-inflated me later that he told me that we had gone on a trip and were staying in a hotel for a few days.

After using me again for his pleasure, he left me lying on the bed as I slowly deflated; as soon as I was flattened, I was again folded up and put away in the box. Then my box was shoved back inside of the suitcase by him, so that the room service maid would not find me, I later found out from him. During the evening, he had both dolls inflated, and he took turns using each one of us, taking his old dolly first; he left me sitting on a chair positioned so that I could watch them both. Again there was no jealousy on my part; I was just a sexdoll and part of my owners' collection of dolls. It just fascinated me to see this happen from my viewing position.

On the last day of our vacation, he lay there next to me after using me again and told me that it had been four weeks since I had transformed. He hoped I was happy with my new form and that he enjoyed having me as his sexdoll. I was slightly surprised that it had been that long, though I hadn’t counted the days; I was just happy to be my owner's personal sextoy; this was my sole purpose in my life at the moment to give my owner pleasure. And I was pleased to stay this way and serve him when he needed me.

He said that although I had given him permission to keep me for as long as he wanted as his sexdoll, the fact was that the time had nearly come for my vacation time to end. He said that he wished he could have kept me longer as his plaything, but maybe I would want to try this again sometime in the future, that’s if I had enjoyed my time as his dolly. I felt disappointed that he wanted to change me back. I was happy to stay this way and wished at that moment that I could tell him to leave me like this, but alas, dollies don’t speak.

The next morning I ended up back inside my box, maybe for the time being on my last journey as his doll, I thought. The next time my box was opened, and I was taken out was when we revisited the transformation store. I was hoping that the machine was broken, or something had gone wrong and that I couldn’t be changed back. My thoughts had changed, and I wanted to remain a doll. It seemed that the longer I had been one had altered me in some way. I no longer wanted to be human. I had grown to like being his sextoy, used by him and then discarded, it was my rightful place. 

But I wasn’t able to express my thoughts and feelings to anyone, and soon I felt my deflated form taken from the box, my body hanging from the arm of the technician. Then carried over and placed back inside the machine, the lid was closed, sealing me inside, and the next thing I knew was the face of the same technician looking down at my naked body, now re-changed back into my former self.

I was helped out of the machine and taken into the dressing room, my mind a fog again, and I was hoping to see an inflation valve in my tummy, looking forward to being stashed away again in my box. But looking down, all I could see was my little belly button; gone was my valve; I could no longer be deflated. I was again flesh and blood, and for the first time, I realised that I was breathing again, after so long not doing something so basic it felt slightly odd.

I did hope that I could travel back home in my box, so used to being enclosed this way, only to be disappointed when I couldn’t. The retransformation still clouded my mind. It took me a while to readjust to being human again, though in my mind, I was still a doll, and I let slip at some point by calling my boyfriend not by name but as my owner. He was shocked that I had gone so far into my doll-like state when I told him about my time as his sexdoll. And that I just wanted to remain as his doll and not return to my former self. He told me that he would never have done that and also that while having me as his sexdoll was fun, he missed having me around.

I then asked about his old doll, and he explained more about why he had the doll, and that he found it great fun to have the two dolls at his disposal. I suggested that when we got home that he re-inflate the other doll and that we could redo the photo shoot that he had originally done with the two of us, which pleased him. Later, after all three of us ended back up in bed, and again I became his dolly, laying there with the other doll, with him taking turns using us both. We were very happy dollies by the time we all fell asleep. My dreams of me living as my owner’s doll filling my mind with delightful images.

Maybe soon, we will be just two inflatable dolls again…


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