Into the Heart of Stone

It would be some time before I felt the box move again.

A day maybe.

Perhaps two.

After the first few hours, I realized the futility of trying to track it in any exactness. There was just no way of doing so.

When I was eventually picked up, I could feel my captor's footfalls as they made their way down the stairs to the lower floor of our house.

From what I could gather, we headed out the front door, where I was placed inside of a vehicle.

The banging and bouncing left me in the odd position of being grateful for the packaging I had so recently struggled against.

After a few moments of silence, the ignition caught, and the vibrations of the motor coursed through me.

I could feel myself pressed side to side as we twisted and turned down the roadways.

The climbing and descending roll of the engine passing through my tiny form.

I found myself drawn into it.

The steady drone pulsating.

Pushing.

Pulling.

I was actually enjoying it.

Immensely.

It would be so easy to lose myself to it.

A quick stop pressed me against the front of the crate; The jolt enough to remind me that staying focused was probably in my best interest.

Instead of picking back up again, the engine hummed for a moment and subsequently vanished from my awareness.

Again, the motions of being carried could be recognized though the layers that cocooned me.

It wasn't long before the rythmic motion stopped. A final thump indicating we had made it to our destination.

Soon after, the box was jostled as the lid was unfastened.

I could feel myself being lifted from the crate, and was set down nearby.

Slowly, the cotton was unraveled, letting more and more light peek through.

As the final layers were stripped away from my head and face, I came to realize the magnitude of the situation I was in.

The hand, that flit past my view, was not Sethra's. Was not Allie's. Was not anyone's I could recognize readily.

It was as strange to me, as the place I now found myself.

Between the uncoiling, I slowly pieced together what I was seeing.

Every wall I looked upon held a different picture.

Girl after girl being transformed into a wide variety of objects.

Statues.

Robots.

Even furniture, like me.

Their wide eyed expressions a mixture of pleasure and surprise.

As the last of the packing came away, the woman unravelling it stooped a little, her eyes meeting my own.

They took me in appraisingly, flashing a touch brighter as her lips were drawn into a tight smile.

"Yes" she said. "It is very nice to meet you Sweetie."

The smile grew slightly and played across her glowing green eyes.

"I am glad Sethra decided to lend you to us. I think you will like it here as one of the exhibits."

She fussed with my position a little as she spoke. Centering me on the table, and turning me this way and that.

"My name, if you were curious, is Monyca. And this is the Gallery Lapideus."

She turned and looked across the room and returned her gaze to me.

"Welcome to the Gallery."

Her words had a certain edge of finality to them that said I was not the first addition to it's collection.

And that I would certainly not be the last.

--Continued in Part 2.
Be sure to visit the gallery if you have a chance.  http://maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/The%20Doll%20Works/35/216/23

Breakfast at Tiffany's Part 3

Sethra turned and departed after placing the crate uncerimoniously on the floor.

I traced her footfalls into the distance, as she made her way back down the stairs.

I fought back a pang of guilt as my body ceased shaking, somewhat grateful for the break in the incoming vibrations.

She returned with a bundle of packing material, and tossed it on the bed.

There was something about the way she moved today.

Purposeful.

Deliberate.

I was becoming increasingly more unsettled as I watched her.

As she separated the cotton into pieces, it became apparent why she was making me so nervous.

Not once since her arrival did she look towards me, or at least, where I was looking from.

Her eyes were taking me in, in my entirety; The spark of recognition that usually played across them, was absent.

I waited dutifully for her to greet me.

.. and waited.

But it would never come.

She finished pulling apart the material and made her way towards me.

Carefully, she unscrewed the cap and lifted off my shade.

The urge to writhe my way to freedom was overwhelming; and unnecessary.

No matter how I fought to struggle, her hands continued towards the bed, my shade gently grasped between them.

All I could do was watch in silence, as it was gingerly placed atop a pile of packing material, the excess wrapped around it and stuffed inside.

When Sethra finished, I could feel the packing surround the dome as it rocked lazily on the bed.

I pleaded mentally, knowing what was to come.

Soon thereafter, her outstretched arm sailed towards me. The touch of her giant hand almost causing me to pass out completely.

A few moments later, I found myself placed on the bed, ready to join it's fate.

I stared, searching for some sign this was all a big practical joke, but her gaze remained steadfast upon her work.

Without hesitation, her fingers quickly worked the packing material around me.

Around my base, and around my stem.

Tightening here..

Stuffing there..

She continued her way up past my body and over my wooden face.

More and more until I could feel it was enclosing me completely.

I could barely feel her hands around me anymore.

A few more layers and nearly all traces of light were vanquished.

The packing pulled and constricted as she lifted me up. Gravity twisted and turned as she examined her handiwork.

Satisfied, she slowly lowered me into the crate.

I could feel her add more packing and felt her place my shade inside to join me.

It had all happened so fast.

I sat, caught between stimulus and disbelief.

Alone. 

Shocked into stillness in the muffled silence.

Only when the lid to my box was being secured did the moment finally catch up.

It was true.

..I was a lamp.

The mental blockades of denial came crashing down, unable to maintain their validity..

..I was a lamp.

..I was a piece of furniture.

Breakfast at Tiffany's Part 2

Breakfast at Tiffany's

When I came too, my brain was alight with a flurry of new sensation. I could barely concentrate.

I floundered between the incoming waves of stimulus to take in my surroundings.

I was no longer in the work room. I had been moved to our bedroom.

The length of the mattress extended off towards the far wall.

The familiar wood of the night table peeked out from beneath me.

Hanging overhead, a hemisphere of what looked to be colored glass, sat obscuring my view.

My subconcious mind struggled to escape, even before my forward thoughts realized what I was seeing.

It looped over the possibilites again and again, trying to make some sense of it.

Trying to escape the truth of what it was seeing. What it was feeling.

The lampshade hanging above me, was my own.

I could feel it. It's surface. It's imperfections. It's shape circling behind and beyond my peripheral.

The wind from the far window passing over it's surface.

Just like the metal sphere that I became. That became me.

Each tick of the clock created new connections. The separation between it and I pared down to nothing with each passing second.

I could feel my legs, and how they blended with the base they were affixed to.

How my arms extended up, beyond my view, the bulbous form of a lightsocket where my hands should be.

I could feel the grooves where a bulb would sit, and the protrusion of what felt like a switch.

Like a blind mans fingers upon a new face, my mind traced over the contours of my body.

Piecing it together.

Shakily repeating in it's disbelief.

...I was not a lamp.

Time and again I would search for some way to prove the sensations false, and fail.

...I was a not lamp.

...I was not a piece of furniture.

But no matter how many times the phrase was repeated, it did not change what I was feeling, or where I now resided.

In our room; on our bed table; holding aloft a lampshade like a prized possession.

The urge to close my eyes, to black out what I was seeing, was only met with stillness.

The failed attempt only serving to reinforce that which I was denying.

Sethra, as always, had spoken words of truth.

I sat there, for some time, teetering between shock and disbelief. My mind wrestling against what it was seeing, unable to fit it's current experience into a pre-existing slot of expectation.

I flipped back and forth between the benefits of acceptance, and the urge to fight the reality in which I was now ensconced.

The center of the problem, I believed, was that acceptance was winning.

The sensations that my new form was pumping into my conciousness, were stripping away all remnants of my old self.

The input was simply stronger. 

Like a dream of a better place, the memories I grabbed at just didn't seem as real as the moment.

And the moment, as I was to learn, was far from over.

Before I could acclimatize, I was made quite aware of my body shaking. Lightly at first, the approaching vibrations coursed through me with increasing strength, eventually demanding all of my attention.

The footfalls crashed against the ground. Crashed against my mind. Each one more pronounced than the one before. 

Heel toe.

Heel toe.

Each approaching step growing louder until Sethra entered the room, a wooden crate nestled in her arms.

...Continued in Part 3

Absence makes the heart grow fonder...

Or so the saying goes..

I apologize for not updating more recently. Life has grown busy over the past month, and I have not had many moments to spare.

Things are falling back to their normal swing, and I will be updating more frequently.

Thank you for your patience!

<3

Lita.

Breakfast at Tiffany's

The coming days were spent tinkering.

Each time the system was turned on, the familiar buzz of electricity would drown out my dreams and drag me back into waking.

I wish I could tell them what it was like.

Perhaps the system would be reset with less frequency.

I am thankful they were here however. Sethra and Dr. Alex, were making rapid progress and I loathed to think where I would be without them.

They no longer relied on notepads. Allie, as Sethra now calls her, routed their keypad input into the camera feed at some point. It was much easier to read than the hasty scribbles that they had been using.

Sethra created a  speech-to-text algorithm that captured what they were saying and parroted it along with the video feed. I could not see who said what, but I could still make out what was said. A tiny microphone serving to capture what was said in my vicinity

As time passed, and less adjustments to the system were required, the camera was left on for longer periods of time.  I came to see why such rapid progress was being made. Often, Sethra and Allie would work until one of them passed out, the other continuing until morning.

My fate seemed a shade less determined while in their care.

Or, at least, it had.

I knew my inability to communicate would become somewhat troublesome. I did not expect it to occur quite so quickly.

From what I could tell, it was early morning. When my system booted the sun was barely peeking through the windows.

Sethra leaned in with a happy wave, and spoke.

"We have good news for you Sweetie." She glanced over at the Doctor. "Allie has made something of a breakthrough."

Allie peered into my view with a smile.

"Please do not be alarmed Sweetie. This may feel a little odd. But we need to communicate with you and this is a step in that direction." Sethra bit her bottom lip as she punched a few keys on the pad.

"If this works Allie, you are a genius." scrolled across my view before I was shut down.
 
After a number of system resets, I awoke to a bizarre sensation.

I could feel my body again. But it was not my body. It was round. Spherical. I was round.

Sethra's manicured hand reached down and adjusted my perspective, the source of the sensation sliding into view. 

As the camera was rotated, it came to rest in front of a microscope. A shiny, metal, sphere, resting in a petri-dish beneath it. 

As my perspective and the sensation collided, more of the connection poured into my conciousness. I could feel heat as Sethra and Allie peered closer and the wind of their breath on my surface. I could feel the shallow liquid in the petri dish surrounding me. I could feel I was made out of metal.

What had they done to me?

I tried to remain calm, while they worked. I knew I wasn't a chrome ball. I knew that wasn't me. But the sensations fought to prove me otherwise.

"Brain function is registering Sethra."

"Turn it off for a moment?" and with that, the sensation abated.

"Brain function is not registering the input."

"And on again?" And again, the sensation returned. My cold metal body once again relaying it's plight from beneath the microscope.

"It appears to be working Sethra."

"It does. Allie, you are amazing."

"One final test then." scrolled across my screen before my brain exploded.

A moment later, my head was swimming. A wave of sensation drowning out the video feed. As it faded, I could see a set of rubber tongs being pulled away from the metal sphere.

Allies shoulders bounced as she laughed with delight.

"It works Sethra. It works." she rocked on her heels as she called her over to look at the displays.

A few more prods with the tongs and I was lost. The sensation of touch, after being absent for so long, sent me spiraling.

I think I may have passed out, for when I came too, the sensation from the sphere was absent.

As my mind calmed enough to pay attention to the feed again, I could see Sethra and Allie seated nearby, adjusting a variety of controls on a computer.

"There. That should do it."

"Threshold is set?" Sethra inquired.

"It appears to be. She did not lose consciousness. The system performed within expected parameters. As requested, the threshold will automatically decrease if abnormal brain activity is detected."

I shuddered. Those were expected parameters? All she did was touch me with a set of tongs.

I tried to call out, to tell them what happened, but it was futile. I pleaded mentally in the hopes that something, anything, would ping on the readouts.

"Allie, you are a wonder. It seems so obvious now. I don't know why we didn't think of this sooner." she embraced the Doctor and made her way over to me.

"Sweetie. We did it. Allie managed to cultivate some of the nanotechnology that has been linked to your nervous system. She managed to filter some out with the bio-filter on your pod, and appropriate some of their functions. If we can not get rid of them, we may as well make use of them. Since they operate on a frequency already attuned to your body, we simply piggy backed and amplified the signal."

It was starting to make sense. As frightening as that was.

"It was a simple matter of coating an object and relaying the new coordinate system into your own system." The Doctor chimed in. "It is troublesome, however, that we can not get them to run concurrently."

Sethra smiled, and continued.

"With this, we should be able to coat nearly anything, and relay the signal. The Doctor and I have discussed this at length, and both agree. This is a wonderful opportunity."

A what? An opportunity? Were they both insane from lack of sleep?

"You had expressed an interest in being treated like an object. It would appear we are presented with the opportunity for you to actually experience it. In a way most don't even fathom. A rare chance indeed. " Sethra tapped at her thigh pensively and looked at the Doctor. "Please make field arrangements while I get everything set up here."

For what seemed like the hundredth time, I watched her finger arc towards my off switch.

Continued in Part 2.

Out of the Void

It was not long before I acclimatized. I drifted lazily, lost in the haze of the past few weeks. Bit by bit, wandering through the events that had transpired.

It was slow going, but I could feel my mind reconnecting with my body. It became apparent when my body was awake, or asleep, and my ability to track time was starting to improve.

I was feeling more energetic as well. Thoughts were coming faster and with more precision. Emotions rang through with far more clarity.

I was starting to see myself again. Feel myself again.

As my mind awakened, I did the only natural thing I could, and attempted to return to the world beyond. As I tried and failed, time and again, I came to see the consequences of my journey thus far. The last step into wakefulness continuing to elude.

It was during one of these failed missions, that word finally arrived from the outside world. I was not prepared for it's message.

As I readied myself for another attempt, an unfamiliar sensation began to sweep through me. An electrical hum, that poured into my awareness like a swarm of angry locusts. It grew until it was all I could feel. It ballooned beyond that, until my thoughts were but a whisper in the background. It grew and multiplied until it was all I that I was.

A singularity made of lightning and pain.

It took me in it's grip and refused to let go, squeezing until darkness descended.

When I finally awoke, it was to a familiar sight. Sethra was standing next to her workbench, idly working on another of her projects. I could barely contain my excitement.

It was over. It had all felt like a terrible dream, and it was finally over.

When I tried to speak and found I could not, I learned it was only just the beginning.

From what I could gather, all other senses but for sight were unavailable to me. Sound was nonexistent. Touch also gone. Even the view of the room remained unchanging. I was locked staring forward, unable to shift my eyes.

I sat there helplessly, for what seemed like hours, until Sethra finally turned towards me. She was speaking with someone just outside my view, and it seemed like she finally knew I was there.

She quickly turned and left, my eyes unable to follow. When she returned, there was a pad of paper in her grasp.

A quick glance in my direction, and she started scribbling on it's surface, holding the page up in front of me when complete.

"Hello Sweetie. " The pad held aloft in my view.

"There is much to discuss. To tell you. Please try to remain calm." She flipped the page after holding it up for me.

"I am sorry." she paused to add more. "Please, understand, we did the best we could despite the circumstances." She looked saddened as she marked down the next page.

"Your body has, despite out best efforts, effectively shut down. Your nervous system refuses to take input." She was visibly shaken, her shoulders heaving in disappointment.

I wanted to reach out, to hug her, let her know it would be okay. That it wasn't her fault. The privilege was not to be granted however.

"The technologies you've been exposed too, especially those that override your own movements, have damaged the link between your mind and body."

The magnitude of what she was saying spread through me like a winter chill. The meaning of the words before me almost too much to digest. I read them again and again, in the vain hope they would change.

"The Doctor says it may not be permanent, but it is best to seek alternative measures in the meantime."

There was hope. At least. Why did it still fell like I was being tossed into a pit?

"Your body is in stasis for now. We have created a bio-filter that should, at least, give you a fighting chance. It will however, take some time to do it's work."

She paused. Her hands shaking as she formulated her next thoughts.

"Until then, we have devised a fairly nominal way for you to interact with the world. It isn't much, but for now you should at least be able to see again. We are working on a system that will allow for senses beyond sight, but the tech is highly protected."

As the moments passed, her countenance began crumbling under the weight of it all.

"I'm so sorry. Sweetie. I'm sorry. I love you."

She barely held up the page before running off, covering her eyes as she finally gave in to the emotion of the situation.

As she fled, a stray tear flew off a fingertip, and onto the camera lens.

Into the Void

I awoke, not to my reflection, but to a reflection of myself.

It was but a moment before the room faded. An unwavering fog descended, dissolving the walls like a snowball in the sun. The thrumming of my heart; the sound of my breath; the tickle of the sheets on my toes; All fell silent in it's wake.

I am unsure how long I remained, blanketed in such a stillness. Time seemed to stretch and compress of it's own free will, dodging any attempt to latch on.

Sound was non-existent. A sense of touch or taste also terrifyingly absent.

Panic began to settle in as I combed my mind for perspective. What happened? Where was the familiar hold of gravity or my tongue against my teeth? The pulse of the veins in my neck? Even my sense of warmth; temperature; as though it had never existed to begin with.

Those familiar sensations that never quite disappear, even in sleep, eradicated.

I feared the worst. The most basic parts of my psyche already churned in preparation. Was I unconscious? Asleep? Comatose? Was I even alive? I faded in and out. Being, not being. Aware and unaware, fighting to find some sort of base line. My final moments wrapping back upon themselves, as if to offer up some hint to my destination.

What was in that needle and why was it not wearing off?

Deep within me, a growing despair was bubbling to life. I couldn't tell exactly, but it felt like some days had already passed. The plan was to wait it out, perhaps in the hope that I would regain consciousness, but I was unsure sure how much longer I could do so. I was growing weaker. I could tell. I had given up lying to myself about that much. I was almost used to the periods of nothing, of half nothing, but the prospect of remaining in such a state was beginning to overwhelm.

It was time. I had to do something soon or I would buckle under the strain.  Time for one final push before I tapped the mat.

For the first time in what appeared to be weeks, I forcibly calmed myself.  Stepping beyond the simulated tears and imagined anguish. They were useless. It all was. The rage, the sorrow, all of it.

It was time to ask some questions, without any of the chaff.

Methodically, I picked at the threads. What have I tried? What have I not? What was I missing?

I went down the list of my body's functions. Bit by bit, piece by tiny broken piece. I knew, there had to be a clue. As I went through the paces, I started to realize that much of my brains functioning was still in proper order. I could do math. I could spell. I could recite lines from movies. Each time I went through the checks and balances though, I felt like I was missing something. I could recall events. Information. Recipes and jokes. What was I overlooking?

And then it occurred to me. I wasn't picturing any of it. Everything was boiled down to it's bare components. It's concept. I knew what I should be picturing, but it did not appear in my minds eye.

When I decided to take the ability through it's paces, prodding at it's edges, I happened upon my second clue. It took some effort, but I could slowly picture things in finer detail. Hazy. Flickered. Like playing back a damaged tape. I could recall things I already knew, like my favorite place, or my Lover's face.

But creating something new was impossible. No matter the effort.

As I tried, I started to realize what had been done to me. The sleight of hand. The sleight of mind. Somehow, I had jumped tracks. The ability;  No, the want, to create new things, slid out from under me like a cheap parlor trick.

The realization started small. A trickle turned tidal. Waves of light dancing about me as I came to realize where I was. The horizon screamed to life, as thoughts erupted into images around me. Once the illusion was dispelled, it scattered like doves on the wind.

I was already lucid. The mechanism simply lacked my direct input.

Be it a dream, or otherwise, I was very much alive. I soared through the void, the last matryoshka, in hand.

Damage Control - Part 4

I guess it was there, in those fleeting moments, that I finally gave in and stopped fighting. What little that remained, fading with the sound of my Owner's heels.

I knew then, what was to be done. It was so simple.  I relaxed the rest of the day in my pod, drifting along with the time that passed by.  Once affirmed, it became all I was.

I returned the following day. And the next. And the day after that. Each morning stirring  a little earlier; and returning a little later. Eventually only returning home to sleep.

Now and then, shreds of my old self would flit in and out of my awareness. Old friends and recognizable faces sometimes sparking feelings of importance, or familiarity, but rarely ever forming into anything palpable. Every aspect of what I knew distilled into the most basic of  emotional responses.

Even when one of my Sisters found me, I could only hope she would find the same pleasure in the pod that inevitably awaited her.

As the days passed, it did not occur to me that I would be missed. Very little actually occurred to me anymore. Like a leaf on the breeze, I was subject to the whim of the moment. 

It was in one such moment, that I awoke to find myself securely fastened to the bed, with Mistress standing at it's side. I could hear a number of voices from outside the room as well.

"Ah. You are awake. This is good." Her tone was tired, and her eyes lacked their usual mischievious sparkle. "I was hoping to speak with you before you got on with your day. Busy busy." I simply nodded, unable to discern what was going on about me.

"Do you know what you are doing today?" her eyebrow slowing drifting upwards to add emphasis.

"I uh." I paused, not sure how to answer. "Standing in my pod?"

"Yes!" she exclaimed in mock surprise. "That's correct. Your pod." The sing song lilt would normally have sent shivers down my spine. "And since you like them so much, I decided to get you one of your very own for here at home."

The commotion; The dragging noises and banging from outside the room; it was all starting to make sense. As I peered towards the door at Sethra's words, it slowly creaked open. A young lady in glasses peered in, taking care not to disturb.

"Lady Sethra?" Her voice was soft, like an unsure breeze. "The power supply has been routed through the main. It's not the most elegant solution, but it should suffice."

"Excellent." Her tone lost it's edge for a moment. "And the time constraints we discussed? These have been addressed?"

"Certainly. The occupant.." she paused, trying to keep her eyes from sliding towards me. "The occupant can safely remain in the pod for a period of six months. Redundant systems allow for up to a seven day failure of direct power. To be honest, I am still not sure this will work to your satisfaction." her shoulders slumped forward as she trailed off.

"Your lack of confidence does your ability little justice Doctor." Sethra smiled as the girls cheeks reddened. The first and last smile I would see of the day. "In fact, I would gather this would be an ideal way of testing the capabilites of the system. Please route the controls through my central, and have one of your assistants prepare it for first use. No sense dragging this out. We've already taken up far too much of your time this morning."

As the Doctor nodded and left, Sethra's gaze fell upon me like a sledge.

"Sweetie." Her face was a cocktail of patience and disappointment. "Sweetie, Dear. You have been a very bad doll. Very. Naughty. Indeed." She tapped my forehead with her index finger as she enunciated each word.

As she did so, my eyes welled up. I sobbed at the thought of disappointing her and harder for not knowing how or why.

"Shhh." She leaned in and brushed a tear away in an attempt to quiet me. "It will be better soon. You can't see it now, but you will."

She leaned in, hugged me gently, and began untying my wrists. I just laid there, in a daze, half sobbing and doing my best to cooperate.

The Doctor soon arrived at my bed side, her assistants and supplies trailing behind. A winding, white, sterile comet, and I was ground zero.

The look of disdain on their faces, was enough to renew my weeping.

"Stop your whining. This shouldn't hurt." She laughed lightly when I followed the order, my whimpers subsiding for the time being.

"Simply remarkable. Dantelion certainly knows his neuro-chems. I'll give him that much." she mused to herself as she swabbed my arm.

"Please hold still." She shook her head and snickered again as my arm went limp.

It was all I could do to watch as she slid the syringe into my vein and slowly injected it's contents. It was not long before I could feel it's effects.

With every beat of my heart, my senses became more dulled, a growing gray void that swallowed everything in time with it's rhythm.

Damage Control - Part 3

My second day at the warehouse went fairly uneventfully. I would like to say, that I had plenty of time to think despite, but it would not be wholeheartedly honest. Once the pod initialized,  I was again lost to it's effects

Once settled, hours seemed to pass unhindered, and I came to realize there was very little I could do to fight what was happening.  Somehow, I simply accepted it.  I knew I should be concerned, but could find very little in the way of reasons to be concerned. They were just not there. The fog that cascaded down my body mirrored itself in my mind.

What little of me I held onto, kept calling back to me... to those first moments of wanting to become a doll. Echoing like a drum that threatened to silence everything. Is this what it was going to be like? What do those desires mean if I can no longer even put a name to them?

After a time, the pod slid open, and I slid home, a black hole in a human body.

The following day, I met Dantelion, Master of the House, and Owner of Damage. I was finally face to face with my captor, and unable to formulate something to say. I wanted to scream, or shout or something, but I couldn't.

The smile that crossed his lips said he knew as much, and his glance at the pod was enough to start me towards it.

Over the course of the day, he seemed more concerned with technical issues, than anything else. His concentration more on the system, than it's captives. I came to realize he had very little to be concerned about.

Midway through the day, I was asked if I understood how to use the pod I was in. If I knew how to issue it commands. As he ordered me about, it became apparent why his lack of concern was so pronounced. Like a twisted game of Simon Says, I blindly did as commanded as he prepared my future residence.

I am usually very well behaved, but this, this was a different creature altogether. My actions, though under my guidance, were no longer truly my own. I simply existed, in a warm state of semi-arousal, waiting for a command to be issued.

I was truly losing myself, and the shreds that were left, called out like a dying beast. In a final clamor of panic and fear, I did the only thing I could think of, and paged Mistress.  I needed help. I couldn't form it into words, but I knew she would see to it that I was okay.

Her arrival only made matters worse.

Unaware of what was happening to me, she simply enjoyed the view my pod provided, and told Dantelion to enjoy my company until I was needed next. I wanted so badly for her to take me away. To do something. Anything. Instead she simply smiled and left with a wave. It was there, in that fleeting moment, I saw what she was saying goodbye to.

I felt every particle of smoke that made up my next breath, and it smelled like limbo.

Continued in Part 4

Damage Control - Part 2

I stood in the pod for quite some time attempting to make heads or tails of my situation.

It was becoming apparent that I could indeed move, but somehow, I simply didn't want to. The want to even check seemed so far away, that it just wasn't worth the trouble to try and get there. The more I tried, the more it seemed it really did not matter so much.

Part of the trouble, I believe, is that I felt good. Wonderfully so. My body was not strained, and felt relaxed into the position it was in. I couldn't concentrate on much of anything but the waves of pleasure coursing through my mind. It was an exercise to concentrate on anything but. Had I not been interrupted, I would have been content to stay there for some time.

I am not sure how long it was before the pod clicked, and slid open. It's gaseous contents spilled forth, crawling across the floor like an entity. Something deep inside me was screaming out to pay attention to it. It's coiling tendrils fading long before providing enlightenment.

The cold air of the warehouse trailed across my exposed body,  shocking me into peering about. I stood there for some time, slowly taking in my surroundings, arms falling woodenly to my sides.

Something was wrong.

I did not want to go anywhere. Do anything. I was having trouble even formulating what I should do next, let alone how I felt about it. If my stomach did not wake up as it had, I probably would have stood there for some time.

Heading home, I could think of nothing but eating and going to bed. Even thoughts of my release or even why I was released, seemed to flit further away than I could grasp.

When I did finally manage to throw it together, food just felt like a chore. Lifting my fork seemed like an exercise in futility. I was starving, but just didn't want to eat. Every part of me seemed at odds and simply wanted to shut down. Half finished, I shuffled over to the foot of the bed and slumped across it, not rousing until morning.

When I awoke the following day, my body remained in the same position it had when I fell asleep, one of my shoes still dangling, half attached.  I was relaxed, but decidedly empty. Things did become a bit better as the morning progressed. My mood lightened, but I could not shake this overwhelming feeling of disassociation. 

My coffee was bland. The radio seemed far away at any volume, and my interest in anything seemed to wane before it started. No matter what I did to distract myself, I could not take my mind off of the events of the day previous.

Half way through fixing my hair and touching up my make-up, I realized I had not bothered to get dressed all morning. I was absently humming to myself and my mood was becoming elevated. Only when done did I bother to consider what the preparations were even for.

I was going back.

I am not even sure when it was decided, but there I was, sliding into my favorite slingbacks and heading straight back into the very place that started all of this. All I could think about was being back in that pod... back in that place. I scribbled a note to Mistress and departed.

Continued in Pt3.

I Got Your Back...

If you have ever searched for a key hole tattoo, you probably walked away empty handed, or err... empty backed.  Personally, I don't like being disappointed, so I decided to make one.

I was rather pleased with the results and decided to make a few alternative blending styles and key placements to round out the collection.

In all, there are five different blending styles, at three different back heights, for a total of fifteen tattoos in the pack. I hope you enjoy!

You can find them on the marketplace: Here.

Please note, this listing is for the whole pack. If you would like the free, single version, simply ask me in world or send me a note!

Damage Control

Always be careful where you shop...

The map said it was the right place. I couldn't  believe it was however. It led to what appeared to be a rear shipping entrance. Apart from some boards leaning against what used to be a door, there did not seem to be any regular way in.

Beyond the barricade, lights quietly buzzed with life. I could hear shuffling inside, perhaps someone sweeping, or a machine running. I could hear someone hammering busily, perhaps deeper inside the building.

It was definitely the right place. I could make out the logo on the remnants of a nearby shipping crate. A half smoked cigarette lay smoldering nearby, it's owner interrupted for more pressing matters.  In the end, I could only surmise they were undergoing some sort of renovation.  Moving the boards aside, I slid in through the space created. 

Once my eyes adjusted, I could make out my surroundings. Piles of shipping containers riddled my view. The silhouettes of statuary could be made out in the distance. It appeared the map I was given lead to the Damage warehouse, not the store itself.

In the hopes that I could find someone to assist me, I made my way to the light at the center of the floor. As I rounded the final wall of crates, I came to realize why I had been feeling on edge, and where the light was coming from.

Fear is a strange thing. When I am truly afraid, I lock up completely. I can't breathe, I can't speak, I can't even move my neck. This was one of those times.

I knew then, I should not have been there.

On either side of a large desk, lay a row of glass and steel stasis pods. In the pod closest to me, a woman stood naked and complacent. Staring silently ahead, her breathing was slow and rhythmic.  A pod on the far side of the desk also held an occupant. Neither seemed to react to my presence however.

It was a lot to take in at once. One thing was certain. I had to get out of there before anyone realized I had seen any of this.

Instinct still froze me in place, my throat constricted, keeping me from calling out in surprise. Adrenaline was building, but not fast enough to keep up with the desire to flee.

When I finally managed to break free of it's grip and run, my world fell silent.

I awoke relaxed. To the smell of perfume. Like one of those perfect mornings bathed in a sunbeam. I stirred back to life, not on the warehouse floor, but rather, to the inside of one of the pods I so recently discovered.

Looking back at me, on the inside of the glass, I could see my reflection staring helplessly forward. Like the woman in the tube beside me, my face was complacent but for a slight smile. I tried in vain to latch back on to those last moments of fear, but simply could not.

It was strange this, knowing I should be afraid, but being unable to feel it.

--continued in part 2.

In the meantime, come visit the warehouse, if you dare... Damage Warehouse

Little Case of the Teensies.

I made my first display case for micro avatars. If you would like to see it, you can find it at the following link: House of Logoth Micro Display Case

It is used to display Micro (or doll sized) avatars.

I am starting to see why Lady Sethra finds this so addicting.

**trundles off to build again**

Two Steps Forward, One Step Back.

My diligence has been paying off. My journey into scripting has been going rather well. The language is fairly easy to pick up after all.

Becoming a scripting doll seems within reach and I am ecstatic.

I even created a magic 8-ball. Sethra has been using it to decide my fate on occasion. I think I may have to come up with a more devious version for others to use.

On other fronts, Lady Sethra has been slowly tightening the bonds of dollhood around me. There was a lot to it I did not really consider. I actually did take a few of my privilege's for granted.

One of them, was spending. Normally, I am a very frugal shopper. I love to shop, but I hone in on what I want with a healthy dose of patience and care. I am not afraid to walk away disappointed. It was surprising when I was told that I was being put on an allowance.

I had not considered it. It only makes sense I suppose, but...

Okay, I'm going to cry now. Please bear with me.

Atmosphere...

A weird and wonderful video named Alma. Enjoy!

What's in a Name?

As time passes, I have noticed a distinct lack in my ability to miss my old way of life. I still think about it, but there is a lingering disassociation that fills my senses when I do.

Has it only been ten days? Was I really that unhappy before I accepted all of this? I am trying to tell the difference between the effects of the key, and abandoning my own emotional restrictions, but it can be somewhat difficult at times. It seems, much of this journey will not be finding myself, but throwing away what was already found.

My Owner likes to build. A lot. Sethra gets distracted for rather long periods of time tinkering with new designs and house building. This means I often have stretches of doing nothing more than watching patiently, keeping her company, and staying out from underfoot.  Often hours would pass before I noticed. My only reminder being Sethra's occasional apologies from behind her latest project.

I never actually questioned it, as it is one of the things that first showed me how doll-like I already happened to be.

In the end though, a doll needs to be more than a display piece. Thankfully, I can peek through the haze of hormones long enough to still see it. I needed something to do, or I would lose myself to them, glazed over and mannequin still until I was called upon.

I required purpose, and recently it was given.

Sethra needed a scripter, and it didn't take long before two and two were put together. My first real order as her doll was to learn scripting so she could call upon it when needed. I was elated to finally be useful in such a way.

Until recently, having an owner remained a somewhat abstract concept. It lived as something in the back of my mind and never really had much substance. It was something I had accepted, but never really had affirmed.  Lately though, people have been treating me differently, and it has been driving the point further and further home.

The final push occurred yesterday evening, when I was renamed. 

Renamed: "Sweetie".

It is simply amazing how much weight a name can carry, and I didn't realize how much effort I put into maintaining my old one until it was taken away. It did not occur to me how much meaning it had. To have it changed, at someone's elses whim, was somewhat of a mental bounce. It was like a reset switch attached to the very core of who I considered myself to be.

Will people begin to forget who Lita Morane was, as I have begun too? Why didn't I fight against it? What is it in me that doesn't want to?

What is in a name? I am not exactly sure. But you may come to know if yours is ever misplaced.

Cheeeeeze!

A pose is struck, a flash hits the eye, and time stops dead in it's tracks...

Well, perhaps not completely. Thus far, my key remains unaffected by simple devices like flash bulbs. At face value, two hours can seem like a long time, but when you get down to business, it can go by all too quickly.

Today's business, was an updated profile picture. By the time I had found a good location to take a photo though, I had almost wound down. I will have to learn to be a bit faster and plan things out a bit better next time.

I did however, manage to snap a few that were post worthy.

And! Since a picture is worth a thousand words, I thought I would save myself some typing and started a flickr account. If interested, you may find my stream here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/75898749@N05/

Kisses!

Be Still My Beating Heart

Carpets.

Carpets are something I never really paid much mind. Except for the occasional replacement and shaking, they bore little consequence in my day to day life. Carpets were, to me anyway, decidedly mundane.

I suppose it is a mixed blessing, that I now had something to occupy my focus. As it happens, carpeting is far more interesting with your face pressed against it. Even more so, when it's fibers are resting but a few millimeters away from an eye you can't work shut.

I guess it was inevitable, that my key would eventually wind down, and I would find myself sprawled there, helplessly contemplating my fate.

The initial response to the key is to fight it.   It does not take long to realize however, that it is not something that strength will overcome. The more energy you use, the quicker you deplete. The more you struggle, the faster you find yourself facing the truth of it. I was a doll, and if I did not seek winding, I would remain there, lifeless.

It's amazing what you can learn when you only have a floor as a companion.

As I drifted there, in and out of consciousness, I came to realize some things. For the vast majority of my existence, I have always felt like I was inconveniencing people. I have an incredibly strong aversion to interrupting anyone, or wasting a person's time. Often, I avoid interacting with people simply because I do not want to be a bother.

I did not realize how strongly I felt this way until Sethra was not around to wind me. I laid there for some time, fighting the urge to ask a Sister for help.  I was sure they had better things to do than bother with me.

I did not expect the key to compound my loneliness in such a way. Thankfully, it was only momentary.

I came to realize that my Sisters were probably more than happy to help. It was unfair of me to think I'd be a bother, and acting as such, would probably lead them to think they were bothering me when they needed assistance.

Turn about is indeed fair play.

Thank you My Sisters, for teaching me something I should have learned long ago.

Sunshine, Lollipops & Rainbows

The sun seemed a tiny bit brighter this morning. My step a little lighter. Little things, seemed to bring a smile to my face with less warning...

Yesterday, was special.

I was nervous about bringing my desires to Sethra. I had shown her the key, and what it could do, but she displayed little interest. In the end, my desire to please, lead me towards something it seemed she would find little reward in.

It left me decidedly unbalanced, and unable to accept what becoming a living doll had to offer. My mind often fought against the key, sometimes to the point of my removing it.

I prepared myself for the worst. If Sethra did not approve, I would have to say my goodbyes to my Sisters. I was in conflict, and only she could sort it out.

As it happens, Sethra already knew what I was going to say. Something deep in the heart of me though, senses she wanted me to say it. It was something she was not going to force by showing approval or disapproval of. She knows me far too well.

She was, as usual, thoughtful and accepting. What I expected to be a sad day of farewells, turned into an impromptu day of shopping and trying on outfits. We discussed what being her doll would mean, and what kind of doll I would one day become.

It was the first time I actually felt like a doll, instead of just calling myself one.

That evening, in the Community Dolls room, Christina swore me in. A new key was placed against my back, and is now permanently attached.

When she asked if I was a doll, I could finally answer yes.

Vanilla.. With Sprinkles.

In the short time I have been exploring, I have seen much. A myriad of paths twisting out before me like ribbons on the wind. One such path, was that of living dolls.

I have always had a deep set fascination with stories involving the subject. Mechanical entities, reprogrammed people, androids and cybernetic beings have always held a little more interest than I would normally admit.

One of the first groups on the subject I discovered was the Community Dolls. Nestled in a back room in Sarah's Sanctuary, people are quietly converted into living objects. Beings of pure refinement, and beauty.

When I first came across the key that did so, I was scared. The thought of a key spiraling into my back, allowing someone to pick me up, and lead me around  like a toy was a little overwhelming. I was however, more than curious. Admittedly, my thoughts wandered back to that room enough times that I found myself there on a few occasions, quietly contemplating.

What would it be like? 

Would I even make a good doll? What is a good doll anyway? Would Mistress even want one?

In the end, I could not bear the burden of ignorance. I took the key, held it against my back and let it work it's way into my spine.  For now, it appears I can still remove it, but the urge to do so, has become far less frequent.

60 Days...

"Two months."

It was a gift. I knew so then; but the meaning of it, the heart of it, seemed to creep up as quickly and quietly as the deadline itself.

"Two months to explore, and then decide."

It was a gift I did my best to use, and dearly hope it wasn't squandered. It will be difficult returning with so little to offer.

The task posed by Mistress seemed, at least on its surface, to be an easy one. Meet people and make friends, explore and learn about the world before us, and most importantly, learn about myself in the process.

While shy, I am naturally social and very curious. Meeting people has never been too difficult, and finding places to do so, even less so. I even managed to meet a few kind souls who were willing to bear the brunt of my (at times, somewhat personal) questions. In the short time I have been posing those questions however, I have somehow managed to only add to the pile.

There seems to be as many expressions of servitude, as there are flavors of ice cream; and as fate would have it, it looks as though I may be decidedly, vanilla.

Into the Spiral

Welcome to my blog.

This is my story. Perhaps the only. Perhaps one of many. A chronicle of my journey through Second Life.

A story of love? Yes... Of romance? Perhaps... Of rose colored glasses and pipe dreams? Most certainly.

Join me, as I escape down the rabbit hole... for I may need someone to drag me out.