Doll Protocol

The butler walked into the dining room with a tray, upon which sat a mobile phone. He walked along the length of the large table, decorated for Christmas and laden with the finest food, past the laughing guests, to the man at the head.

"Excuse me Lord Mattel, you asked to be told immediately should this phone ever ring," he said. Lord Mattel's face went from joyous to stern.

"Thank you, Basil," he said, taking the phone and leaving the dining room. When he was alone, he lifted the phone to his ear. "This is Mattel."

"Lord Mattel, sorry to disturb you on Christmas day. I have instructions to call you no matter the time should the Doll Protocol be activated," said a worried voice on the line.

"That's fine. Situation report please."

"Yes sir. We have an instance of the Barbie VR title being illegally downloaded to a compatible VR device. We've checked the communications records and the user has a request from his niece for the game dating back one month. The full title is available to him on services he subscribes to at less than $10. And his bank records show he has funds to an amount exceeding $11,000 available. Permission to proceed?"

Lord Mattel paused. "He's had every opportunity to purchase legally?"

"Seven opportunities in the last hour on his screen confirmed, sir."

"Do it. Then send him outside and have a helicopter bring him to you at the lab. My gift to you all. Merry Christmas." Mattel hung up and returned to his dinner.

In your basement, you laughed as the software installed into your VR headset. Why would anyone buy a game when pirating was so easy? Especially a piece of shit kiddie game like this one - you'd have to have an empty head to fall for this scam. It beeped to signal it was ready, and you slipped the headset on. It was the last conscious action you would ever take.

The pink and pastel world of Barbie appeared in front of you, vivid and solid. Looks good, you thought, I'll give it to Sarah this afternoon. You were about to turn it off when large pink letters popped into the world.

DOLL PROTOCOL ACTIVATED, they said.

The virtual world began to stutter and glitch. Jesus, you thought, I'll have to go looking for another rip now. The pink houses, green grass and yellow sun began to pulse, a strange hypnotic splash of colours. You couldn't raise your arms to remove the helmet. You couldn't speak or move your head. You couldn't think.

In the centre of your brain, a new growth began, initiated by the signal in the VR. It grew rapidly, using the power of your hormones to spread a new directive to the cells of your body. Spit pooled in your mouth and ran down your chin as you mutated.

Under your clothes, your skin began to harden. It was becoming a new substance, a synthesis of cartilage and membrane that was resilient and impermeable. As your pores closed over, your hair - all of it - was cut free of your new dermis. Your body was now an unnatural even pale pink.

The growth in your brain began to consume your memories and intellect, leaving only an obedient, cheery veneer of personality. It took over your glands, repurposing them to spread the insidious new design to your organs even more quickly.

Inside you, a similar change was happening. Your bones were thinning, becoming no more than hard filaments around which dense cartilage gathered. Your lungs stopped working and then disintegrated, and your heart stopped beating. Your blood dried up in your collapsing veins and arteries. Respiration ceased. The energy for the final parts of this transformation would come directly from your own fuel supplies.

Fat and muscle ignited as your outer dermis contracted rapidly, pulling you into a radical new shape. Your arms and legs became impossibly thin, hands and feet tiny and elegant versions of what they should be. Your whole torso squeezed in, its new form not needing to contain the organs that supported your old life. Your stomach and intestines burned away, allowing your midriff to compress to freakishly tiny proportions. Your body now had a clear hourglass shape, even though your hips were smaller than most adult humans.

Between your legs, your genitals met the same fate as your other organs, dwindling away as their material was consumed. Remaining was a smooth surface with a faintly detectable cleft. The cleft led to a silky smooth, tight pocket inside you. Your smooth asshole was the same - without a digestive system it was only a pipe that led nowhere, but lined with cartilage that would allow only the slightest expansion. Anything inserted in there would be assured of the tightest grip.

Your head shrunk as your neck elongated, and now your entirety was unnatural in shape. Unnatural but recognisable. The squashing of your skull rearranged your face, leaving you with a tiny nose and a small, pouting mouth. You had a small, soft tongue inside, but no teeth. Your mouth would never open wide enough to reveal their absence. The cavity there extended up into the space where your brain had been, and down into your throat where it came to a dead end. From your head, fine strands of the same cartilage extruded in the finest blonde colour, forming a glamorous hairstyle that fell about your shoulders.

On your chest, two breasts bulged into place, each the size of your head. Anyone who touched them would find them composed of the same firm yet pliant flesh that the rest of you was now made of. With effort they could be squeezed together, but would spring back to their original place immediately when released.

In the VR world, a voice said, "remove your headset. Get new clothes and go outside." Your tiny arms raised and you obediently took it off. The software deleted itself.

Your eyes clouded over as the corneas became composed of the same material as your skin. You blinked away the last of your bodies natural fluids as your tear ducts dried up and your eyelids fixed in place, permanently half open.

You stood, your pants and underwear falling down off your tiny waist. You stepped out of them, unbuttoned your shirt and dropped it. In the laundry room, you found a pair of slacks and a peach vest belonging to your tiny grandmother. They fit well enough, though your breasts strained the material somewhat.

Out on the street, you were waiting for only a minute before a helicopter touched down. People crowded to their windows to watch as the strange figure was led onboard by men in dark suits.

At Mattel's secret laboratory, you were welcomed by the men and women who worked there.

"Now Barbie, it's Christmas day today," said the lead researcher.

"Oh, merry Christmas," you giggled sweetly.

"Well you're just in time for our party - and you're the guest of honour! Would you like to join us?" They led you into a bland, undecorated office and removed your clothes.

A short while later, you were in the middle of an orgy. Cocks penetrated your ass and pussy holes simultaneously, as another sawed into your mouth, probing the empty space in your head. Fucking you where your brain once was. One of your tiny hands was balled up, fisting a wet pussy, and the other was wrapped around a fourth erection, jacking it firmly. Your hair, breasts and feet were already splattered with cum.

It's okay. You would wipe clean.