Fleeing the Dollhouse

Fleeing the Dollhouse

By Multibreast

It's hard when you don't look like Ken or Barbie. That's pretty much what everyone else looked like. It was true, regardless of age mind you. We have our 18 year old Kens as well as our 80 year old Kens. There was nothing quite as funny, I thought, as seeing an old man stuck inside of a young man's body. Isn't it strange how the cosmetic fields developed so much faster than the other medical fields? I guess that tells you a little about our society. I'll die a little sooner if I can just leave a good-looking corpse.

We can make our bodies look any way we want, yet our bodies our still vulnerable to the ravages of disease, not that you could tell just by looking. Even the sickest of them had hard bodies. You could always tell from the movements though. The weak movements of a strong body. The dying breaths emanating from a supple young mouth, a fresh ripe apple on one side, only to reveal the worms and decay on the side nearest the ground. The closer to the ground you are the quicker the worms will come. And, they will come, rest assured. We are all destined for the ground one day. I say, why not enjoy the ride until you get to that final destination?

For me, enjoying the ride did not mean molding myself into the same indistinguishable form as all the rest of the world. I went to school after all. So, I already thought like everyone else. Did I really have to look like them too? Seems so strange that everyone, me included, complained about the school uniforms back then. Everyone dressed the same anyway. I suppose it was just the illusion of being able to choose your own clothes that made the difference. I want the right to choose damn it! Of course, I'm just going to choose the exact same thing as every one else has chosen, but hey, at least I had the choice.

That choice meant something more to me. If I have a right to chose, then why not use it? It's not like THEY would throw me in jail. No, actually, what THEY would do is much worse. It was easy to tell who THEY was these days. Everyone looks the same after all. Oh sure, there are different hair colors, and a slight variation in height, but basically THEY were all the same, the Barbies and the Kens. That's what we called them anyway. We being the transformists. Why is it that what THEY do is much worse than jail? Well, at least in jail you know for how long you are there. The punishment there is consistent in most respects. I suppose you even get used to it after a while. The ostracism that THEY dished out is never consistent, and lasts forever, and there was no getting used to it. You simply had to avoid them, avoid the "normal" world as much as possible.

No, there were no laws against it. Not that some of the uncaring dolls hadn't tried to outlaw the practice. Some bills had even passed the legislature in fact. But luckily, those were struck down by the good ol' Constitution. What is a more fundamental right than shaping your body as you want to? I know there were some laws against what we transformists do, and even the simple changes that the Barbies and Kens do in some more fundamentalist countries. The so-called free world, however, allowed you to use the cosmetic procedure however you wanted, or however you could afford I should say.

It was quite an expensive procedure. I know. I saved for a long time. The level of change that I wanted to undergo was pretty expensive indeed. I saved constantly. Nothing was going to stop me. I didn't care what the world of Barbie said. I was going to do it. I was not a transformist yet, but I tried to avoid the Barbie world as much as possible anyway. Avoidance was not an easy task in the homogeneous world of America in which we now lived, but I assembled with other transformists as much as possible, despite the admonitions of my Barbie mother with her high squeaky voice, long blonde hair, pouty lips, big chest, and dinky waist. She was the carbon copy of so many of the other moms now days.

My mother had fully expected me to get the cosmetic procedure as soon as possible. As soon as possible being the age of 21, which was the earliest age. Your body had to fully and completely finish developing before the procedure could be done. When I was a little girl, I had fully expected to get a Barbie look just like my mother. But, something changed from the time I was 8 to the time I was 21. I didn't want to be a Barbie. I didn't want to look like the doll stacked up on a shelf with a hundred other dolls that all looked just like, or substantially similar to, me. I wanted something different. My mom had even offered to pay for me to get dolled up as it were. She just wanted me to be happy.

I wasn't necessarily the prettiest child, but I wasn't the ugliest either. I wasn't perfect in appearance though. My mother thought it would make me happy. What 21 year old woman wouldn't want to look like Barbie? What woman wouldn't want the long legs, the slender feet just perfect for slipping into the giant high heels, the tiny little waist that would barely let you swallow a grape whole without betraying an embarrassing lump in your tummy, that of course contrasted with the big, shapely but firm breasts that seemed to defy gravity? And of course, to top it off as it were, was the petite face with the lusciously big lips, dinky nose, long fluttery eyelashes, and long shiny flowing hair. What a bunch of fucking freaks! That was my opinion of this crazy new world in which I lived. Of course, THEY were of the opposite opinion. THEY were the normal ones. THEY looked like a proper lady should look. And, THEY would be the first to tell you that it is the transformists that were the freaks. Yet, for me, the first time I started to see transformists, I was in love. I loved their outlandish looks and their rebellious spirit. I knew that I too was one of them.

The cosmetic procedure was first introduced for public use about the same time I was born. By the time I was a child of 10, the transformists started appearing. And by the time I was 15 and fully involved in the transformist lifestyle, there was a whole transformist subculture which was of course feared, misunderstood, loathed, or all of the above by most of the "normal" world. I knew that I was a transformist. Why would anyone align themselves with a disparaged group if they weren't truly one of them? I was attracted to transformists and knew that I had to become one.

I had a form all picked out and everything. My mother suspected me obviously. She knew I didn't hang around with the transformists just for my health. She would try to dissuade me from "doing anything stupid" as she put it. She could never bring herself to actually come up with a horrible example of some type of freak into which I could turn myself. The very thought of it was too frightening to her. She, being the real religious type, would lecture me on the "sins of transforming into a form not godly." As if her Barbie form was really godly. Sure, it had all the right parts in all the right places, but those big yet firm boobs with the dinky waist of hers was like something extraterrestrial. I could barely see how she had room to lecture, yet she did, constantly. I learned to fade most of it out eventually. My Barbie, er, Mother was not going to stop me. I had decided on my form a long time ago. I just needed to save enough money. And, at 23 and a half years of age, I was ready for the big plunge into full transformist alliance. A full-form transformist with a body of my own design.

I remember the famous footage that always played in history classes of the Senate hearings, which took place a few years before my birth, on the topic of full implementation and public use of the cosmetic procedure. It featured the concerns of one of the conservative Senators who was opposed, for religious reasons, to the free use of the procedure. It was the so-called "messing with god's creation argument."

The Senator asked. "Could this procedure say.... change human flesh into... oh, I don't know... animal flesh?"

The researcher on the panel in front of the many Senators responded. "Well, I suppose it could."

The Senator nodded and stated. "And what if, say, some weirdo, let's call him a mad scientist, was to decide that he wanted to give one of the citizens of this great country the body of a bull. You're saying that he could do it?"

The researcher nervously adjusted his seat and responded to the Senator's inquiry. "Well, hypothetically, I suppose it could be done, but you have to understand that the doctors doing this procedure would be held under the same ethical and legal regulations that doctors are today. The use of this procedure would be very closely guarded to make sure that it was done right." The researcher continued later saying that: "The procedure will be a miracle for all those burn victims out there who right now are left with permanent and disfiguring scars. The only real tragedy that can come of this hearing is if they are denied the miracle they so desperately deserve..." That argument was the winner. Despite any reservations that the Senators had about the future of mankind, the call of the burn victims was heeded." They responded and received their miracle, along with millions of men and women seeking their long-desired Barbie and Ken bodies.

My mother was one of those who rushed at the chance for a new and beautiful body. She went from short and fat to tall, slender, and beautiful in a matter of days. Millions of other women did the same. Soon, the whole world was starting to resemble a well-run doll factory. A good body started to become a status symbol, as a fancy suit used to be. The better the body the richer that you appeared.

It wasn't long before people started using, or misusing according to some, the procedure for more indulgent pursuits. Some women used the procedure to get huge boobs. Some guys used it to get a huge cock. Sex changes also were easier with the procedure. These were the only weird uses at the beginning. It was a few years later that the transformists started to emerge. The procedures were not just developing abnormally-sized parts, but just plain abnormal parts. The Senator had been on to something when he had mentioned animal flesh. What was surprising though is that such results were not the demented work of a mad scientist, but rather the lucid requests of the patients themselves. People who for some unknown reason were unsatisfied with the natural human form.

I paid for the procedure, going to a doctor sympathetic to the transformist cause. The doctor herself had what appeared to be a lion's tail proudly sticking through a small hole in the back of her pants. Despite my obvious willingness to go through with the procedure and my dedication to the form in which I had in mind, the doctor felt a need to try and dissuade me with warnings of discontented transformists, those who had been so willing to transform, only to regret being in their strange new form. Those fakers, I thought. They were wannabe transformists without the will to withstand the public pressure and remain in a form more lovable. I assured my fine tailed doctor that I was sure of myself.

The procedure was completed in a couple hours, at least the start of it. I left the doctor's office, looking exactly as I had when I entered it. The changes themselves would take place over the next couple days. I knew that my mother's home was not the place to be experiencing these changes. It was time for me to leave the nest. Too bad I didn't order a set of wings, I could do it properly.

I had arranged earlier to move in with my transformist boyfriend. A guy that my mother had never even met. She would cringe at the idea of her beautiful daughter associating herself with some contemptible transformist guy. I even had sex with him, and several other transformists in fact. Sexuality was much more open in the transformist subculture. It was considered appropriate to sleep with as many different forms as you could, but yet still choosing only one special transformist with which to couple. My boyfriend had the head, tail, and hooves of a horse. The rest of his body was that of a tall athletic human male. It was so strange and exotic at first to see the human, English words emerge from his horsy mouth. It was even stranger when I first went to kiss him, pressing my human lips up to his horse mouth, and cupping my hands around his long furry face and up to his cute little horse ears and down the mane on his neck as his long horse tongue penetrated my mouth in a loving kiss. His tail would swish as we kissed and gently whip across my human legs.

I always loved the sound of his approach as he clopped his way along with his horse hooves attached to his human legs. I enjoyed the sound even more as I heard him coming toward the door after I knocked on it. He open the door of his house deep in the heart of the transformist village.

"I finally did it." I said to him as he looked at me with his big, brown, horsy eyes. I still looked all too human, but I could feel the changes starting already even though it had only been a few hours since my procedure. My boyfriend stepped toward me, wrapping his arms around me in a loving embrace. I could feel his long face as it caressed the side of my face as his arms held me tightly.

I made myself comfortable in his home. I sat down on his couch, immediately pulling off my shirt so that I might have a closer look at my chest and tummy where the changes were starting. I saw the seven new eruptions of tender flesh emerging from my chest and belly, slowly but surely transforming into seven new nipples. The one nipple between my present two breasts already had the look and feel of a real nipple. I had two more rows of three nipples forming below my uppermost triad.

Those weren't the only changes that had already started. At the sides of my chest and belly, four new nubs appeared, slowly extending outwards. Two bumps appeared on each side, two under each of my normal arms, one pair on each side at about mid-chest level and one pair on each side at a level about equal with my bellybutton.

By the time I was ready for bed that night, my seven new nipples had already become well-formed and the nubs at my side had elongated. My legs even started to feel furrier. I wanted to stay awake longer to experience the changes consciously, but I had grown too tired. I loved experiencing these slow but oh so wonderful changes.

By the time I woke up the next morning, the fur on my legs was visible. The nubs at the sides of my chest and belly had grown even longer and the trace of new hands started to form at the ends. The flesh around my seven new nipples started to expand as well. In addition, my original breasts were bigger. They had gone from my normal B-cup to what appeared to be a C-cup. I felt a small nub emerging from the base of my spine as well. This lump was obviously the beginnings of my new tail. My butt was bigger also, something which kind of distressed me even though I knew that a bigger human butt was only a transitional mode on the way to something much more beautiful.

I told my boyfriend, or was that horsefriend, that I would go to the valley of the taurs. He wanted to go with me, but I told him that I preferred to go alone. He enjoyed watching me change as much as I enjoyed watching myself. As much as I needed his support the previous night, I wanted the support of others today. I needed people who would understand the growth of and transition into four-leggedness. I hobbled my way through the long walk to the village of taur valley. I found it evermore difficult to walk with my ever expanding butt growing behind me. I even felt the start of my new hind legs. Two protuberances were growing down from the bottom of my expanding, and evermore furry butt.

I finally made my way into the valley of the taurs. I looked at the not-all-too-welcoming welcome sign which stated the Orwellian motto of the town: "Two legs bad, four legs good." I had visited here many times before, admiring the four-legged beauty of the inhabitants. Yet, now was the first time I ever felt welcome here. The taurs allowed strangers, but felt most comfortable only around other taurs. As I hobbled my way through their little village, it was obvious from one look at my ever expanding butt that I was developing into some kind of taur.

Not only was the added weight of my ass making it difficult to walk, but the fact that my feet were transforming also created difficulty. My feet were growing stubbier by the hour. My long human feet were developing into paws. I went to the place in the valley with which I was most familiar. It was a cafe. I entered and seated myself on one of the special couches designed to accommodate the long taur bodies of the town's people. The taurs present at the time, who had seen me before, all gave me a pleasant little smile of approval at my current changes. I felt a little embarrassed as I continued to change in such a public place, but the warm smiles made me feel better. My long and formally loose skirt was continually growing all the more tight as my butt continued to grow. My blouse too was feeling tighter all the time as the new breasts on my chest and belly started to expand little by little.

I spent the day in that small cafe, listening to the stories of the other taurs' transformations. I saw all sorts of taurs there. Some had four human legs in taur form, humantaurs as they were called. I saw dogtaurs, centaurs, liontaurs, foxtaurs, wolftaurs, and so many others. I was truly surround by beauty, a beauty of which I would soon be a part. I went to sleep that night in the home of a friendly liontauress with which I had spent much of the day talking. I so wanted to stay up and continue to experience the changes as they continued to occur. By that night, I was getting so close to the form I had so long desired.

I woke up the next afternoon in my fully completed form. I felt somewhat disappointed that I had slept so long. I had wanted to experience the conclusion of my transformations personally. I stepped carefully out of the liontauress's guest bed. I placed the paws of my front legs on the cold hardwood floor. The pads of my paws felt so strange, so light compared to my old feet. I used my new lowermost hands to caress the soft, lovely fur on my taur body. I pulled my hind legs out of bed and my back paws hit the ground. I yanked off my now mangled skirt that clung tightly and oddly from my new lower body. I wouldn't need skirts anymore. I had fur now, and, a tail, a lovely tail! I looked back, far back compared to before, at my spotted and furry butt to which my tail attached. I consciously tried to wag it. It followed my commands, yet seemed to wag on its own when I didn't give it any thought.

The lovely black spots contrasted beautifully with the rest of my lighter-colored fur. I had the lower body of a leopard. Well, not exactly, it was bigger than a real leopard's body. My lower leopard body was in proportion to my human upper body, that is, if you could still consider my upper body human. I had a new weight on my human chest and tummy. It was a good thing that I had the long taur body behind me. Somehow I felt as though it helped counterbalance all the new weights on my chest and belly.

Those new weights were of course my new large breasts. I had nine of them in all, arranged in three rows of three. All of them struggled for space on my torso. Nine DD-cup breasts jockeying for space in the crowded areas of my chest and tummy. My new breasts were so gorgeous. It was lucky that I had four new hands to help caress myself, and caress them I did. It wasn't enough though. I need to experience the sexual freedom that being part of the transformist world now provided me. I think that I knew just the taurs for the task too, the ones that I had befriended yesterday. They had looked eager to love me. I too was excited about loving them in my new form.

The old sexual inhibitions didn't seem to exist here. It was so easy to get a regular orgy going. Perhaps it was because so many of us transformists were in some way animalistic. We felt closer to our animal sexual desires, and were fully willing to engage ourselves. Several taurs and I engaged in the acts of lovemaking in the room behind the cafe. It was full of soft pillows and arranged just right for taur love. Three different taurs approached my chest and started to cup my large multiple breasts with there hands, pressing their faces up to my nipples, and suckling me, pursing their lips against my wet nipples and running their tongues along my breast flesh. They started to suck harder, causing lactation to flow to the surface. My milk sprayed into their hungry mouths. I had never had such milk like that before. All the better really, I enjoyed seeing so many mouths feeding off of my plentiful chest, licking up the dripping milk like honey.

I had two pussies as well, and made full use of both of them. One of the taurs worked his way down from my lowest breasts to my front vagina, located between my front leopard legs. He licked at it furiously, sending wave upon wave of pleasure through me, just as the feel of the warm tongues against my breasts did, and just as the powerful wolf cock from behind me did as well. A strong and handsome wolftaur had mounted me from behind. He had the upper body of a strong human male and the lower body of a large wolf, with the wolf body proportioned to match the size of his human upper body. His wolf cock was very large, and tore painfully but blissfully into my new leopard vagina between my hind legs. He rammed his wolf maleness into my leopard pussy as he rested his wolf body atop of my furry back, as he reached to my human chest and cradled two of my unoccupied human breasts in his strong human hands, kissing me lightly on the nape of my neck while doing so.

That first sexual experience as a transformist was exceptional. I have never experienced such joy. The combined pleasure of two pussies, and so many sensitive breasts, was almost overwhelming. I saved the majority of my lovemaking for the one who truly cared though. My horse-headed lover. He would use his horse tongue to lick my many breasts and use his human, although hung like a horse, cock to enter my vagina either my front or back one, depending on our pleasure. When we were done, he would always hug me. He would pull me in tight, causing my many breasts to squeeze up against his strong human chest as he rested his long horse face against my human shoulder. We would embrace in love.

I eventually gave up on the "normal" life that I had inhabited before the transformation. My mother had seen me only once. It was enough for her. To say that she was shocked, would be an understatement. She offered to pay for a second procedure to return me to something more "normal." Yet, for me, the form that I had now was normal. It was the Barbie human form that seemed so alien to me. Barbies were for girls. Now that I was an adult, I had evolved, transformed myself into something better, prettier, and for the first time, I felt comfortable with my body.

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