Source JSON
Post #2612652 · 1 source
inkbunny.net · 3829824:5937243 · selected
Downloader metadata · database Download
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API response · CAS Download
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"writing": "[b][u][center]Casual Doll Needs\nPart 2\nFor Technophile34\nBy Draconicon[/center][/u][/b]\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n“You know, buddy, you could at least untie my other arms!” Angel Dust shouted over the storm winds. “Ain’t easy keeping this fucking boat going the right way with just one pair!”\n\n“I’ve only got one and I’m making due.”\n\n“You’re sitting in the safe spot. Fuck you!”\n\nMarco ignored the spider-demon doll’s complaints, shaking his head as he looked toward the sky. The dark clouds were filled to bursting, and they’d already flooded out the ditch they’d been using as a path. The fact that they’d been able to find a chunk of wood that was big enough for the both of them had been a miracle, but they couldn’t count on another one. \n\nThe storm was getting worse, too. Lightning flashed across the skies, bolts of white slamming down in the distance on metal poles and broken buildings. The Wargreymon doll kept throwing himself against the rudder-stick he’d improvised for the boat, grindingly pulling the craft to the proper point in the current, riding the flood away from the worst devastation behind them. \n\n[i]Gotta find shelter, though. And fast.[/i]\n\nThe improvised armor he wore was going to rust, but worse, the water could slide between the chunks and get at the scar-gaps in his chassis. A little bit of water, he could handle, but this was a downpour from hell. Just a few minutes in this and his internal processors would seize up, and a little after that, he’d short himself into oblivion. \n\nIt was kind of a miracle that the other doll hadn’t already done the same, but he supposed all that fake fluff on the plastic skin was keeping the worst of the water at bay. The Angel Dust doll grunted and complained to the high heavens as he leaned from one side of their plank boat to the other, one pair of arms tied behind his back and bent upward at the elbows. \n\nAll things considered, it might help their chances if the other doll was untied, but they didn’t have the time for that now. They were still plunging through raging waters towards an uncertain destination, and Marco needed to keep all his attention on the rudder, their heading, and what they were going to do next. If he didn’t figure out a safe space, soon, then it wouldn’t matter that they were still above water. The storm would short them anyway. \n\n[i]There has to be something,[/i] he thought, looking at the signs passing overhead. [i]Some off-ramp or something…something that’s still – there.[/i]\n\n“Right. Right!”\n\nHe swung his pole sideways and his slave-doll did the same. Their plank swerved in the ditch, almost overturning. The raging waters below them sloshed over the sides, nearly taking him over the edge before the plank righted itself again. The river behind them pushed them forward, out along a smaller, narrower channel. It was less turbulent, but far faster, and Angel Dust stumbled backward into Marco’s lap. \n\n“Back to your post,” he grunted, shoving the other doll forward. \n\n“Don’t tell me what to do!”\n\n“Get back!”\n\nThe slave-doll grunted, moving mechanically back to where he was supposed to be. That jury-rigged programming still worked, at least. Marco settled back, shaking his head as he stared straight ahead. \n\n“Where are we even going?” Angel Dust asked. \n\n“Not far now.”\n\n“Not even answering the question…”\n\n“Just trust me.”\n\n“Trust you? Ha!”\n\n#\n\nThe river eventually died off, the ditch coming to an end at a drainage pipe near an abandoned store. They left the plank behind, running with arms over their heads toward the broken glass door at the front of the building. As soon as they were inside and out of the deluge, they slumped to the tiled floor, not even bothering to look around just yet. All that mattered was that they were out of the death-trap that the storm had become. \n\n“Fuck…fuck…I’m a fuck-doll, not a boat-doll,” Angel Dust muttered. \n\n“Didn’t do a bad job, though.”\n\n“Fuck off…Master…”\n\nMarco chuckled under his breath, forcing himself to sit up and lean back against the nearest tall surface. The fact that they hadn’t been attacked already told him that the store was abandoned. At least, abandoned by any active dolls like them. There might be something else, something more ‘alive’ than they were, but that could be dealt with. \n\n[i]What a storm…what a couple of weeks…[/i]\n\nIt had been a whirlwind of change ever since finding this particular Angel Dust. Marco had been doing his usual wanderings, pushing through various strongholds and raider-doll bases, and had just finished slaughtering one group of bitches when he found the half-dead spider-demon doll. Literally, half-dead; Angel Dust had been missing his lower half, rent in two and used as a plaything by the various raider-dolls at the time. \n\nMarco had been tempted to finish the job, but there’d been something about the femboy that made him…curious, to say the least. Straight as he was, that ruff of fluff along the other doll’s chest had looked close enough to boobs rather than pecs, and there’d been no cock to bother with. He’d sat on the other guy’s face, gotten eaten out, and had cum hard enough to want to keep the slut. \n\nAdmittedly, he’d had to give the doll some legs that had a pussy attached to ‘em rather than a cock since those were the only spare parts around, and there’d been arguments about that, but it could have been worse. At least the doll knew where he belonged: a slut-slave to someone that would keep him safe. \n\n“Fucking dammit. Down to twenty percent power here,” Angel Dust grunted as he pushed himself upright. “Where even are we?”\n\n“Toy store,” Marco said. \n\n“…You’re kidding.”\n\n“Nope. Look.”\n\nThe Wargreymon doll gestured toward the aisles leading further into the store. Every single one of them was adorned with cardboard boxes filled with clear plastic sheets, and inside those sheets were more dolls. \n\n“The fuck…”\n\n“That’s where we start.”\n\nMarco clenched his fists, a remembered reaction of trauma that was quarantined inside of his core. There was no need for that memory to be active or at all powerful, considering the way that it had affected him at the time and still did. \n\nTwist-ties holding him in. \n\nThe sheeting imitating strangulation. \n\nNo air. \n\nDidn’t know he didn’t need air. \n\nTrapped. \n\nWaiting. \n\nAwake. \n\nIf he had been organic, the doll might have shivered. As it stood, he stared at the boxes with barely-contained hatred, a slight glitch in his programming that he saw no need to modify. The boxes…were not comforting. \n\nHe’d seen the sign while they were riding the flood waters, a sign near a turn-off on the road for people to come and see. An ‘adult toy store’, meant for those that had the money to get ‘affordable dolls.’ \n\nAnother clench, the servos running through his arms and legs making him pull his limbs a little tighter, his fist a little closer. He forced a signal through them to relax. He was not going to show a glitch now.\n\nThey did not need to catch their breath, but they did take their time to let the water drain out from their chasses and regulate their energy intake. Once they were both back to resting states rather than flee-states, Marco got to his feet, offered the slut-doll a hand to do the same, and they made their way further into the store. \n\nBeing surrounded by inactive dolls sent a chill down his spine. They just had to go down the Digimon doll aisle first, and while there was a massive over-abundance of well-endowed female Renamon dolls, there were quite a few others, as well. Most of them female, admittedly, but here and there, Marco saw other Wargreymon. Some of them, too, were female, and some were given props like a more on-model helmet than he had, but none of them had their own name. \n\nHe wasn’t sure that any doll came with its own name. They were just named after whatever creature they were modeled after, and he just happened to have made his own. \n\nWorse were the price tags at the end of the bars holding up the boxes. They weren’t cheap-cheap, not like the old, abandoned snack-shacks that were everywhere in this wasteland of a world, but they were…not unaffordable. \n\nRenamon, $95.99. \n\nWargreymon, $85.99. \n\nGuilmon, $59.95. \n\nThe list went on, and on, and on. Each one had been crafted in primarily female forms, though here and there he spotted either a rare male model or a female model that happened to come with a dick. None of the dolls looked out with any awareness in their eyes. They were trapped in sleep mode, stasis, unable to awaken until someone took them out of their boxes…or until something happened to force them to wakefulness. Like what happened to him. \n\n“This is fucking weird,” Angel Dust said, looking from left to right as they walked down the aisle. “We came from this?”\n\n“You don’t remember?”\n\n“Master – fuck, do I have to keep calling you that?”\n\n“Yes,” Marco said. \n\n“Yeesh. Controlling much, cunt?”\n\n“…Do you remember or not?”\n\n“Heh, I don’t remember shit from when I was in the box, [i]if[/i] I ever was,” Angel Dust said, shaking his head and staring down the aisle again. “But if this is where it all starts…”\n\n“It’s…disturbing.”\n\n“Heh, maybe for you.”\n\nOh, it was. In fact, it was worse. It was a reminder that, once, they were nothing more than objects, things to be bought and sold by creatures that were larger than them, bigger than them. They were to be given to their ‘users’ to be owned and manipulated, to be assistants and used for menial tasks here and there. They existed to be amusement for their makers and those that their makers decided to sell them to. \n\nThe very idea made him digitally ill. \n\nHe shook it off as best he could as they went down another aisle. Pokémon dolls took up this one, the Pokémon themselves turned to anthropomorphized versions, and some of the more adult trainers were there, too. Not a female passed by that wasn’t exaggerated in either the hips or the chest, filled with silicone to make them that much more appealing to certain eyes. He looked at some of the more egregious examples, including a Haunter that had tits that almost bumped out of the box, and shook his head. \n\nOf course, some of that fed back into other programming, leaving his pussy going through arousal routines. He could feel the slight wetting down there, the dampness under the leather skirt and the cotton panties that he’d put together for himself, but he ignored it. The arousal subroutines were things that he couldn’t control, but he could at least decide what he did with them. For now, they could be ignored. \n\nAnother aisle, then another awaited them. Marco had already seen everything that he needed to see. He knew what sort of materials were available here, and what they could use to build up their supply before heading out, but Angel Dust seemed almost possessed as they walked through the store. The other doll couldn’t seem to stop himself, pushing further and further, faster and faster. \n\nMarco debated calling a halt to their exploration so that they could come up with a plan of what to harvest and what to leave alone, but decided against it. For the past two weeks, Angel Dust had been sullen, barely willing to obey any commands without them being forced. He’d sulked, pouted, and made himself a general pain in the ass for all intents and purposes. Seeing him driven was new, and the Wargreymon doll wanted to see where it would go.\n\nEven if it did make him…uncomfortable. \n\nThe soft click-click of their plastic shells against the tiled floor were the only sounds to be heard. The faint hum of the electrical grid faded into the background. All that remained was the sound of two half-living creatures making their way through the empty store. No people, no old creatures, no rats that might have been a threat some other time. There wasn’t even the sound of breathing; neither of them needed air, after all. \n\nAs Angel Dust grin grew, Marco’s discomfort settled deeper and deeper. He kept looking at the dolls in the plastic-cardboard cages – for that was what they were, to him – out of the corner of his eye. He remembered being in the box, and he kept pushing that memory back behind the quarantine layer. He didn’t like how that memory affected the rest of his programming, nor how the nervousness and anxiety responses that it triggered ate through his power supply. It was a waste. \n\nAnd it was the closest that he came to knowing pain. \n\nShaking his head, he forced himself to stare straight ahead. At least the slave-doll had been good for one thing while they were on the road. The spider-demon was good with his tongue, and while he was sassy as all hell, there was some talent that he had to eating ass and eating pussy. Marco occasionally considered taking it further now that the spider-demon had a pussy between his legs, but every time that the Wargreymon doll reached for it, Angel Dust slunk away. \n\nHe could have pushed it. He chose not to. The mouth was enough, most days. \n\n[i]But with those hips…[/i]\n\nIt was hard to see the other doll as male, even though Angel Dust clearly continued to designate himself as one. Without a dick, it was easier to see the cock-hound doll as nothing more than another female, someone that wanted to be used and abused. Hell, Angel Dust even seemed to like that, most of the time. \n\nIt was only when – \n\n“Holy shit…”\n\nAngel Dust came to a sharp stop as they reached a new aisle. Marco looked up and saw a new collection of dolls, all of them with the same sort of visual design as the one in front of him. There were white-faced dolls with red-yellow eyes. There were white-haired dolls with one eye x-ed out. There were all sorts of creatures that were demonic and angelic by turns, but Angel Dust ran for the far end of the aisle without a word, his free arms outstretched. \n\nHe stopped in front of another doll that looked just like him. Well, mostly just like him. Same two pairs of arms, same pink ruff, same sort of twisted, drug-addicted look, but with a skirt that was tented by an obvious dick. \n\nIt was…something else to see the raw hunger that took hold of the doll then. It was like some deep programming had come rushing up, taking control of the other doll and leaving him all but drooling from his mouth. He pursed up his lips in something that might have looked seductive to someone else, rubbing his hand against the plastic as if he could reach through it and grab the dick on the other side. \n\nIt was…like nothing that Marco had seen before, and it stirred something in him to see that sort of thing. His own programming, always pushing him to be stronger, more powerful, more conquering, [i]wanted[/i] to be seen like that. His deep-down character, the personality that he had been programmed with, needed to have someone look at him the way that Angel Dust was looking at that dick. \n\nHe stepped forward without thinking, resting one hand on the plastic sheeting between the other doll and his copy. He looked from one to the other, then shook his head. \n\n“With or without a dick, you still look like a slut.”\n\n“Heh, all the better to get dick…most of the time,” Angel Dust said, glancing down at the lack of any bulge in the Wargreymon’s skirt. \n\n“Is that all that matters to you?”\n\n“It’s what I’ve been programmed to want, big guy. And it’s what I’ve been denied for…fuck, too long.”\n\n“You sound like a product.”\n\n“Ha! Oh, look at me. Look at all these mes.”\n\nThe spider-demon doll spun in place, gesturing all around him at the various iterations of himself. They looked almost identical, only changing here and there with some models that were slightly more femme than the base one. Angel Dust darted from one box to another, running his fingers along them. \n\n“Look at me. Look at the way that I’m posed. See that, hon? That’s a product. That’s what I’ve always been, and what I’m always going to be. I’m used to selling myself, so why shouldn’t I be sold?”\n\n“Sold pretty damn cheap,” Marco said, nodding up at the price. \n\n“Even better; even more customers.”\n\n“How the hell do you like this?”\n\n“How the hell do you not?”\n\nThere was no answer to that which the other doll would understand. Marco hadn’t been blessed with a particularly smart processor, but he knew that much. There was too much pride in the slave-doll to actually understand that some dolls didn’t want to be sluts for others. There was too much horniness programmed into the other doll for him to be able to get it. \n\nAngel Dust huffed as he went from one to another, eventually going so far as to grind his ass back against the plastic that separated him from the other copies of himself. The doll couldn’t blush, but he did grunt and huff, acting up the part of a desperate, wanton slut to a convincing degree. \n\n“Would you fuck me? I’d fuck me.”\n\n“You’d be fucking yourself. If you want to be fucked like the bitch you are, get over here,” Marco growled. \n\nFor a moment, their eyes met, and for that split-second, there was a connection. Angel Dust’s simulated lust, Marco’s urge to dominate and be worshiped, and a shared need that was so masculine between the both of them almost promised utter bliss. They started to reach for each other, only for Angel Dust to pause in mid-step. \n\n“…Fuck off, Master…”\n\n“…Why?”\n\n“I’m not a bitch. I’m a slut. And – and you took that away.”\n\n“What – I put you back together again, you asshole.”\n\n“You took away that!”\n\nAngel Dust pointed to the box again, finger hovering over the barely-hidden dick under the skirt. The spider-demon glared at him, going more and more stiff and mechanical instead of emotional as his own programming started to take hold, restraining the worst of his anger-instincts. \n\n“I was a man. I might have been a slut – hell, I was a huge slut – but I was a man. And now…now I got this!”\n\nThe spider-demon pulled his skirt up. He didn’t even have the anger in his face anymore; all dolls came with a certain set of programming that stopped them from showing anger in front of their superiors, something left over from when they were supposed to be used by humans, as far as he could tell. Angel Dust’s face was completely neutral as he showed off his pussy, swaying his hips from side to side. \n\n“Look at that, look at that. No dick for me, just a fucking pussy. Do you know how that fucking feels?”\n\n“I have one, myself.”\n\n“And that’s because you’re not even a man. You don’t care. Well, I fucking do. I’m supposed to have a fucking dick, because I’m fucking [i]gay![/i] And men are supposed to have dicks, and now I can’t…”\n\nAngel Dust dropped the skirt. Even the grumbles in his voice disappeared. It was the last part of the ‘Don’t Make The Owner Upset’ programming seizing hold, he knew. It wouldn’t have happened between one doll and another, usually, but this Angel Dust saw him as a master, due to the way that he had jury-rigged some programming on the road. There was no getting around that, this time. Which meant – \n\n“I need to recharge.”\n\n“You know that’s toxic.”\n\n“Who cares?” Angel Dust muttered, walking around the Wargreymon. “Maybe I’ll just get off on it for a bit. Be better than you.”\n\nMarco opened his mouth, then closed it again. There was no point in arguing with a doll that had reached this point. Angel Dust was in the grips of being shut down from the inside to recharge and reboot, hopefully without the conflicting emotions getting in the way again. The last thing that Marco should do was stop that. \n\nThe downside was, the power grid was toxic. No doll knew quite why, but the main grid that still functioned across the wastelands had something wrong with it. Dolls that plugged into the main power grid suffered a strange bug in their programming, something that started a cascade of insanity among otherwise sane features in how they were supposed to think. It came with other issues as well, ones that threatened the stability of the platform and made it more difficult for a doll to maintain itself consistently. \n\nIt wasn’t instant, but regular use was dangerous enough that no doll touched the grid without a good reason. They had rations and charge juice for their journey – Marco had made sure of that – but he knew that this was part of the programming that was left behind. Angel Dust wouldn’t take the regular shit; his body was bound and determined to plug in. \n\n[i]One time shouldn’t hurt too much,[/i] he thought, following the spider-demon doll to the main charging port toward the front of the store. [i]Just have to keep an eye on him tomorrow.[/i]\n\nAs the white-‘skinned’ doll leaned back, ass up, their eyes met again. Angel Dust couldn’t glare at him, not as an owned doll, but he could still feel the suppressed frustration in that stare as the big-butted demon pushed his hips back and slotted the charging prong right into his ass. His eyes glowed for a moment, then the doll sagged down, shut down and charging. \n\nMarco stood there for a few seconds, considering his options. They weren’t great, but they could have been worse, he supposed. At least the doll hadn’t tried to start a fight with him. That would have gone badly. \n\nStill…\n\n[i]Not a real man, huh?[/i]\n\nJust because he didn’t have a dick…\n\nThe Wargreymon let it pass. Much as he would have liked to beat Angel Dust for that, he knew that would do nothing. They had too much pent-up anger about the whole thing for that to do any good. He needed something more thorough, something like – \n\nSomething like a programming console. \n\nMarco blinked, tapping his chin as he thought about it. There were such things out there; he’d stumbled across one or two over the years wandering through the wasteland on the island. They were usually in places where dolls came and went, like repair shops that were meant to fix ones that had gone a little haywire, or, well, stores like this. And if he could find one…\n\nHis tampering with Angel Dust’s programming had been done on the fly, mostly meant to keep him compliant. It was rough, and barely holding together, but it had worked. If he had a console, however, he could go deeper, see what could be fixed on a level well below the surface. \n\n[i]Let’s see if they got one that’s still working,[/i] he thought, and turned to search the store properly. \n\n#\n\nAs expected, the store still had a programming console, and better yet, it was fully functional. Marco dragged it back to the charging area, opened up a panel on Angel Dust, and plugged him in before settling behind the monitor. For a human, it might have been just small enough to fit in one’s hand, though he imagined even they would have used two hands to keep the tech from falling. For the doll, it was bigger than he was, and certainly a little bit harder to use. \n\nBut he managed to not only connect to the slut-doll, but open up his root programming. As the file names, executables, and other bits and pieces of the other doll’s inner workings zoomed over the screen, he could already tell that a fair bit of it was read-only. That was to be expected; dolls were meant to have certain things completely immutable, unchanging. It didn’t mean that it always worked, but it tended to mean that, outside certain traumatic events, they didn’t really change at the base level. \n\nThat said, there were other things that [i]could[/i] be altered. He would focus on those. \n\nThe Wargreymon doll tapped the screen, scrolling through the options until he found the folder on Angel Dust’s sexuality. Someone else might have felt some guilt, but guilt wasn’t something that he had ever been programmed to experience. He tapped the screen and saw what was available. \n\nNot much, it turned out. The chunk of programming that left the spider-demon as ‘gay’ was completely immutable. No matter how hard he tried, he wouldn’t be able to fix that or change it to something that would work better with him. Angel Dust was gay as gay could be; straight wasn’t an option. \n\nThe same could be said about the way that he had a ‘male’ designation. He couldn’t change the fact that the programming had him locked down as a male doll. That was read-only, and there was no way around that. \n\nHowever…\n\nMarco exited those programmed bits and went to a different part of the doll’s processor and hard-drive. All that programming drew on an inner dictionary, pulling on different terms. He might be able to – \n\nYes, there it was. The programming at the base of the personality was read-only, but the dictionary could be edited. Loophole. \n\n[i]Gay: A sassy individual attracted to all people.[/i]\n\nEnter. \n\nThe console beeped at him, and he mentally shook his head. So much for it accepting something that different, but he had to give it a try. The program had probably been developed to keep something that blatant from being changed, so…\n\n[i]Gay: An individual attracted to masculine characteristics, including – but not limited to – hyper-musculature, body-types that are defined as masculine, and penises.[/i]\n\nEnter. \n\nThis time, the system accepted the definition. Okay, so he could turn the other doll into a different type of gay, one that would accept pussy, but didn’t particularly prefer them. That was something. \n\nHe went back to the other definitions, tweaking them as he went. ‘Male’ as a self-definition got tweaked, too, removing the need for a penis to be considered male. That would go a long way towards fixing the other doll’s self-loathing after the shift in body-parts, he imagined. \n\nIt was a nicer thing than he’d normally do for something that was little more than property, but honestly, Marco was sick of fighting. He wanted to have someone that would just go along with things, someone that would be good company, and someone that wouldn’t throw a fit constantly. If he could get Angel dust to be halfway decent, the spider-demon doll would be the best traveling companion he’d ever had. \n\nMarco continued down the list, making tiny tweaks here and there. The biggest ones had been the gender and sexuality redefinitions, but there were other little bits and pieces that could be better. Less jealousy, more eagerness, just a hint less brattiness – some was fine, but sometimes it just got too much – but that was all little bits and pieces, tiny tweaks in the grand scheme of things. \n\nHe was just about to finish when he reached his own bit of modified code. Marco paused as he looked at the ownership marker that he had left in the other doll’s code. It was rough, crude, and it really needed more work to be properly solidified in the other doll’s digital make-up. At the same time, he had already changed so much. \n\n[i]It will make things easier.[/i]\n\nAgain, there was no guilt. All that mattered was making things better. He tapped the screen, adjusting and finessing the commands, and ensured that it was worded just right to ensure that Angel Dust saw him as master and owner in perpetuity. \n\nThe whole thing was set up, the edits saved, and the console ready to activate and set it all to rights. His finger hovered over the icon – \n\n“Mmm…”\n\nHe looked up. Angel Dust had obviously finished charging and had booted himself up. The other doll looked up at him, eyes flickering for a moment as everything came online. He looked at the console, then at Marco. His eyes widened slowly, realization clear on his plastic face. \n\nMarco…hesitated. Not out of guilt, but just to see what would happen. Would Angel Dust hate what had happened, fight against it? Beg to be left alone? What would he do? \n\nThe seconds stretched on, and neither of them said anything. It felt longer and longer; it should not take this long for the other doll to process what was going on, or formulate a response. Why – \n\n“Do it,” Angel Dust said. \n\nWhether it was toxicity-induced irrationality or real permission didn’t matter to him. Now that it had been given, Marco didn’t hesitate. He touched the button. \n\nUnlike a number of other procedures, there was no downtime while the edits occurred. The reprogramming was instant. Angel Dust twitched and it was done. Marco undid the connectors and pushed the programming console out of the way, then stood with his arms crossed, looking down at the other doll. \n\nGradually, Angel Dust pulled himself off the charging port. The metal prong made a soft sucking sound as it pulled free of his hole, a bit of moisture from his pussy dripping over it for a moment before he stood up straight. Angel Dust reached up to the collar around his neck, something that Marco had put there before fixing the spider-demon doll in the past, and he just…stood there. \n\nThey waited. There was no need to question, no need to be nervous. All they had to do was let the processing happen. The air was silent. The store was still. \n\nEventually, Angel Dust lowered his hand. It clicked against his plastic hips before he looked up again. Their eyes met. \n\n“…I think I can work with this, Master,” Angel Dust said, his lips turning up in a teasing smirk.\n\n“Can you?”\n\n“Heh, come on. Let’s go show these other dolls what an Angel Dust can do for someone that needs a little…relief.”\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n[b][u][center]The End[/center][/u][/b]\n\nSummary: Marco and his Angel Dust doll make their way to shelter, and find quite the collection of other dolls. \n\nTags: M/M, Intersex/Intersex, No Sex, Teasing, Implied Past Sex, Dolls, Robots, Angel Dust, Wargreymon, Mind Control, Programming, Series, Anal, \n"
}
3829824_5937243_draconicon_casual_doll_needs_2_technophile34_.writing.json · CAS artifact Download
{
"writing": "[b][u][center]Casual Doll Needs\nPart 2\nFor Technophile34\nBy Draconicon[/center][/u][/b]\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n“You know, buddy, you could at least untie my other arms!” Angel Dust shouted over the storm winds. “Ain’t easy keeping this fucking boat going the right way with just one pair!”\n\n“I’ve only got one and I’m making due.”\n\n“You’re sitting in the safe spot. Fuck you!”\n\nMarco ignored the spider-demon doll’s complaints, shaking his head as he looked toward the sky. The dark clouds were filled to bursting, and they’d already flooded out the ditch they’d been using as a path. The fact that they’d been able to find a chunk of wood that was big enough for the both of them had been a miracle, but they couldn’t count on another one. \n\nThe storm was getting worse, too. Lightning flashed across the skies, bolts of white slamming down in the distance on metal poles and broken buildings. The Wargreymon doll kept throwing himself against the rudder-stick he’d improvised for the boat, grindingly pulling the craft to the proper point in the current, riding the flood away from the worst devastation behind them. \n\n[i]Gotta find shelter, though. And fast.[/i]\n\nThe improvised armor he wore was going to rust, but worse, the water could slide between the chunks and get at the scar-gaps in his chassis. A little bit of water, he could handle, but this was a downpour from hell. Just a few minutes in this and his internal processors would seize up, and a little after that, he’d short himself into oblivion. \n\nIt was kind of a miracle that the other doll hadn’t already done the same, but he supposed all that fake fluff on the plastic skin was keeping the worst of the water at bay. The Angel Dust doll grunted and complained to the high heavens as he leaned from one side of their plank boat to the other, one pair of arms tied behind his back and bent upward at the elbows. \n\nAll things considered, it might help their chances if the other doll was untied, but they didn’t have the time for that now. They were still plunging through raging waters towards an uncertain destination, and Marco needed to keep all his attention on the rudder, their heading, and what they were going to do next. If he didn’t figure out a safe space, soon, then it wouldn’t matter that they were still above water. The storm would short them anyway. \n\n[i]There has to be something,[/i] he thought, looking at the signs passing overhead. [i]Some off-ramp or something…something that’s still – there.[/i]\n\n“Right. Right!”\n\nHe swung his pole sideways and his slave-doll did the same. Their plank swerved in the ditch, almost overturning. The raging waters below them sloshed over the sides, nearly taking him over the edge before the plank righted itself again. The river behind them pushed them forward, out along a smaller, narrower channel. It was less turbulent, but far faster, and Angel Dust stumbled backward into Marco’s lap. \n\n“Back to your post,” he grunted, shoving the other doll forward. \n\n“Don’t tell me what to do!”\n\n“Get back!”\n\nThe slave-doll grunted, moving mechanically back to where he was supposed to be. That jury-rigged programming still worked, at least. Marco settled back, shaking his head as he stared straight ahead. \n\n“Where are we even going?” Angel Dust asked. \n\n“Not far now.”\n\n“Not even answering the question…”\n\n“Just trust me.”\n\n“Trust you? Ha!”\n\n#\n\nThe river eventually died off, the ditch coming to an end at a drainage pipe near an abandoned store. They left the plank behind, running with arms over their heads toward the broken glass door at the front of the building. As soon as they were inside and out of the deluge, they slumped to the tiled floor, not even bothering to look around just yet. All that mattered was that they were out of the death-trap that the storm had become. \n\n“Fuck…fuck…I’m a fuck-doll, not a boat-doll,” Angel Dust muttered. \n\n“Didn’t do a bad job, though.”\n\n“Fuck off…Master…”\n\nMarco chuckled under his breath, forcing himself to sit up and lean back against the nearest tall surface. The fact that they hadn’t been attacked already told him that the store was abandoned. At least, abandoned by any active dolls like them. There might be something else, something more ‘alive’ than they were, but that could be dealt with. \n\n[i]What a storm…what a couple of weeks…[/i]\n\nIt had been a whirlwind of change ever since finding this particular Angel Dust. Marco had been doing his usual wanderings, pushing through various strongholds and raider-doll bases, and had just finished slaughtering one group of bitches when he found the half-dead spider-demon doll. Literally, half-dead; Angel Dust had been missing his lower half, rent in two and used as a plaything by the various raider-dolls at the time. \n\nMarco had been tempted to finish the job, but there’d been something about the femboy that made him…curious, to say the least. Straight as he was, that ruff of fluff along the other doll’s chest had looked close enough to boobs rather than pecs, and there’d been no cock to bother with. He’d sat on the other guy’s face, gotten eaten out, and had cum hard enough to want to keep the slut. \n\nAdmittedly, he’d had to give the doll some legs that had a pussy attached to ‘em rather than a cock since those were the only spare parts around, and there’d been arguments about that, but it could have been worse. At least the doll knew where he belonged: a slut-slave to someone that would keep him safe. \n\n“Fucking dammit. Down to twenty percent power here,” Angel Dust grunted as he pushed himself upright. “Where even are we?”\n\n“Toy store,” Marco said. \n\n“…You’re kidding.”\n\n“Nope. Look.”\n\nThe Wargreymon doll gestured toward the aisles leading further into the store. Every single one of them was adorned with cardboard boxes filled with clear plastic sheets, and inside those sheets were more dolls. \n\n“The fuck…”\n\n“That’s where we start.”\n\nMarco clenched his fists, a remembered reaction of trauma that was quarantined inside of his core. There was no need for that memory to be active or at all powerful, considering the way that it had affected him at the time and still did. \n\nTwist-ties holding him in. \n\nThe sheeting imitating strangulation. \n\nNo air. \n\nDidn’t know he didn’t need air. \n\nTrapped. \n\nWaiting. \n\nAwake. \n\nIf he had been organic, the doll might have shivered. As it stood, he stared at the boxes with barely-contained hatred, a slight glitch in his programming that he saw no need to modify. The boxes…were not comforting. \n\nHe’d seen the sign while they were riding the flood waters, a sign near a turn-off on the road for people to come and see. An ‘adult toy store’, meant for those that had the money to get ‘affordable dolls.’ \n\nAnother clench, the servos running through his arms and legs making him pull his limbs a little tighter, his fist a little closer. He forced a signal through them to relax. He was not going to show a glitch now.\n\nThey did not need to catch their breath, but they did take their time to let the water drain out from their chasses and regulate their energy intake. Once they were both back to resting states rather than flee-states, Marco got to his feet, offered the slut-doll a hand to do the same, and they made their way further into the store. \n\nBeing surrounded by inactive dolls sent a chill down his spine. They just had to go down the Digimon doll aisle first, and while there was a massive over-abundance of well-endowed female Renamon dolls, there were quite a few others, as well. Most of them female, admittedly, but here and there, Marco saw other Wargreymon. Some of them, too, were female, and some were given props like a more on-model helmet than he had, but none of them had their own name. \n\nHe wasn’t sure that any doll came with its own name. They were just named after whatever creature they were modeled after, and he just happened to have made his own. \n\nWorse were the price tags at the end of the bars holding up the boxes. They weren’t cheap-cheap, not like the old, abandoned snack-shacks that were everywhere in this wasteland of a world, but they were…not unaffordable. \n\nRenamon, $95.99. \n\nWargreymon, $85.99. \n\nGuilmon, $59.95. \n\nThe list went on, and on, and on. Each one had been crafted in primarily female forms, though here and there he spotted either a rare male model or a female model that happened to come with a dick. None of the dolls looked out with any awareness in their eyes. They were trapped in sleep mode, stasis, unable to awaken until someone took them out of their boxes…or until something happened to force them to wakefulness. Like what happened to him. \n\n“This is fucking weird,” Angel Dust said, looking from left to right as they walked down the aisle. “We came from this?”\n\n“You don’t remember?”\n\n“Master – fuck, do I have to keep calling you that?”\n\n“Yes,” Marco said. \n\n“Yeesh. Controlling much, cunt?”\n\n“…Do you remember or not?”\n\n“Heh, I don’t remember shit from when I was in the box, [i]if[/i] I ever was,” Angel Dust said, shaking his head and staring down the aisle again. “But if this is where it all starts…”\n\n“It’s…disturbing.”\n\n“Heh, maybe for you.”\n\nOh, it was. In fact, it was worse. It was a reminder that, once, they were nothing more than objects, things to be bought and sold by creatures that were larger than them, bigger than them. They were to be given to their ‘users’ to be owned and manipulated, to be assistants and used for menial tasks here and there. They existed to be amusement for their makers and those that their makers decided to sell them to. \n\nThe very idea made him digitally ill. \n\nHe shook it off as best he could as they went down another aisle. Pokémon dolls took up this one, the Pokémon themselves turned to anthropomorphized versions, and some of the more adult trainers were there, too. Not a female passed by that wasn’t exaggerated in either the hips or the chest, filled with silicone to make them that much more appealing to certain eyes. He looked at some of the more egregious examples, including a Haunter that had tits that almost bumped out of the box, and shook his head. \n\nOf course, some of that fed back into other programming, leaving his pussy going through arousal routines. He could feel the slight wetting down there, the dampness under the leather skirt and the cotton panties that he’d put together for himself, but he ignored it. The arousal subroutines were things that he couldn’t control, but he could at least decide what he did with them. For now, they could be ignored. \n\nAnother aisle, then another awaited them. Marco had already seen everything that he needed to see. He knew what sort of materials were available here, and what they could use to build up their supply before heading out, but Angel Dust seemed almost possessed as they walked through the store. The other doll couldn’t seem to stop himself, pushing further and further, faster and faster. \n\nMarco debated calling a halt to their exploration so that they could come up with a plan of what to harvest and what to leave alone, but decided against it. For the past two weeks, Angel Dust had been sullen, barely willing to obey any commands without them being forced. He’d sulked, pouted, and made himself a general pain in the ass for all intents and purposes. Seeing him driven was new, and the Wargreymon doll wanted to see where it would go.\n\nEven if it did make him…uncomfortable. \n\nThe soft click-click of their plastic shells against the tiled floor were the only sounds to be heard. The faint hum of the electrical grid faded into the background. All that remained was the sound of two half-living creatures making their way through the empty store. No people, no old creatures, no rats that might have been a threat some other time. There wasn’t even the sound of breathing; neither of them needed air, after all. \n\nAs Angel Dust grin grew, Marco’s discomfort settled deeper and deeper. He kept looking at the dolls in the plastic-cardboard cages – for that was what they were, to him – out of the corner of his eye. He remembered being in the box, and he kept pushing that memory back behind the quarantine layer. He didn’t like how that memory affected the rest of his programming, nor how the nervousness and anxiety responses that it triggered ate through his power supply. It was a waste. \n\nAnd it was the closest that he came to knowing pain. \n\nShaking his head, he forced himself to stare straight ahead. At least the slave-doll had been good for one thing while they were on the road. The spider-demon was good with his tongue, and while he was sassy as all hell, there was some talent that he had to eating ass and eating pussy. Marco occasionally considered taking it further now that the spider-demon had a pussy between his legs, but every time that the Wargreymon doll reached for it, Angel Dust slunk away. \n\nHe could have pushed it. He chose not to. The mouth was enough, most days. \n\n[i]But with those hips…[/i]\n\nIt was hard to see the other doll as male, even though Angel Dust clearly continued to designate himself as one. Without a dick, it was easier to see the cock-hound doll as nothing more than another female, someone that wanted to be used and abused. Hell, Angel Dust even seemed to like that, most of the time. \n\nIt was only when – \n\n“Holy shit…”\n\nAngel Dust came to a sharp stop as they reached a new aisle. Marco looked up and saw a new collection of dolls, all of them with the same sort of visual design as the one in front of him. There were white-faced dolls with red-yellow eyes. There were white-haired dolls with one eye x-ed out. There were all sorts of creatures that were demonic and angelic by turns, but Angel Dust ran for the far end of the aisle without a word, his free arms outstretched. \n\nHe stopped in front of another doll that looked just like him. Well, mostly just like him. Same two pairs of arms, same pink ruff, same sort of twisted, drug-addicted look, but with a skirt that was tented by an obvious dick. \n\nIt was…something else to see the raw hunger that took hold of the doll then. It was like some deep programming had come rushing up, taking control of the other doll and leaving him all but drooling from his mouth. He pursed up his lips in something that might have looked seductive to someone else, rubbing his hand against the plastic as if he could reach through it and grab the dick on the other side. \n\nIt was…like nothing that Marco had seen before, and it stirred something in him to see that sort of thing. His own programming, always pushing him to be stronger, more powerful, more conquering, [i]wanted[/i] to be seen like that. His deep-down character, the personality that he had been programmed with, needed to have someone look at him the way that Angel Dust was looking at that dick. \n\nHe stepped forward without thinking, resting one hand on the plastic sheeting between the other doll and his copy. He looked from one to the other, then shook his head. \n\n“With or without a dick, you still look like a slut.”\n\n“Heh, all the better to get dick…most of the time,” Angel Dust said, glancing down at the lack of any bulge in the Wargreymon’s skirt. \n\n“Is that all that matters to you?”\n\n“It’s what I’ve been programmed to want, big guy. And it’s what I’ve been denied for…fuck, too long.”\n\n“You sound like a product.”\n\n“Ha! Oh, look at me. Look at all these mes.”\n\nThe spider-demon doll spun in place, gesturing all around him at the various iterations of himself. They looked almost identical, only changing here and there with some models that were slightly more femme than the base one. Angel Dust darted from one box to another, running his fingers along them. \n\n“Look at me. Look at the way that I’m posed. See that, hon? That’s a product. That’s what I’ve always been, and what I’m always going to be. I’m used to selling myself, so why shouldn’t I be sold?”\n\n“Sold pretty damn cheap,” Marco said, nodding up at the price. \n\n“Even better; even more customers.”\n\n“How the hell do you like this?”\n\n“How the hell do you not?”\n\nThere was no answer to that which the other doll would understand. Marco hadn’t been blessed with a particularly smart processor, but he knew that much. There was too much pride in the slave-doll to actually understand that some dolls didn’t want to be sluts for others. There was too much horniness programmed into the other doll for him to be able to get it. \n\nAngel Dust huffed as he went from one to another, eventually going so far as to grind his ass back against the plastic that separated him from the other copies of himself. The doll couldn’t blush, but he did grunt and huff, acting up the part of a desperate, wanton slut to a convincing degree. \n\n“Would you fuck me? I’d fuck me.”\n\n“You’d be fucking yourself. If you want to be fucked like the bitch you are, get over here,” Marco growled. \n\nFor a moment, their eyes met, and for that split-second, there was a connection. Angel Dust’s simulated lust, Marco’s urge to dominate and be worshiped, and a shared need that was so masculine between the both of them almost promised utter bliss. They started to reach for each other, only for Angel Dust to pause in mid-step. \n\n“…Fuck off, Master…”\n\n“…Why?”\n\n“I’m not a bitch. I’m a slut. And – and you took that away.”\n\n“What – I put you back together again, you asshole.”\n\n“You took away that!”\n\nAngel Dust pointed to the box again, finger hovering over the barely-hidden dick under the skirt. The spider-demon glared at him, going more and more stiff and mechanical instead of emotional as his own programming started to take hold, restraining the worst of his anger-instincts. \n\n“I was a man. I might have been a slut – hell, I was a huge slut – but I was a man. And now…now I got this!”\n\nThe spider-demon pulled his skirt up. He didn’t even have the anger in his face anymore; all dolls came with a certain set of programming that stopped them from showing anger in front of their superiors, something left over from when they were supposed to be used by humans, as far as he could tell. Angel Dust’s face was completely neutral as he showed off his pussy, swaying his hips from side to side. \n\n“Look at that, look at that. No dick for me, just a fucking pussy. Do you know how that fucking feels?”\n\n“I have one, myself.”\n\n“And that’s because you’re not even a man. You don’t care. Well, I fucking do. I’m supposed to have a fucking dick, because I’m fucking [i]gay![/i] And men are supposed to have dicks, and now I can’t…”\n\nAngel Dust dropped the skirt. Even the grumbles in his voice disappeared. It was the last part of the ‘Don’t Make The Owner Upset’ programming seizing hold, he knew. It wouldn’t have happened between one doll and another, usually, but this Angel Dust saw him as a master, due to the way that he had jury-rigged some programming on the road. There was no getting around that, this time. Which meant – \n\n“I need to recharge.”\n\n“You know that’s toxic.”\n\n“Who cares?” Angel Dust muttered, walking around the Wargreymon. “Maybe I’ll just get off on it for a bit. Be better than you.”\n\nMarco opened his mouth, then closed it again. There was no point in arguing with a doll that had reached this point. Angel Dust was in the grips of being shut down from the inside to recharge and reboot, hopefully without the conflicting emotions getting in the way again. The last thing that Marco should do was stop that. \n\nThe downside was, the power grid was toxic. No doll knew quite why, but the main grid that still functioned across the wastelands had something wrong with it. Dolls that plugged into the main power grid suffered a strange bug in their programming, something that started a cascade of insanity among otherwise sane features in how they were supposed to think. It came with other issues as well, ones that threatened the stability of the platform and made it more difficult for a doll to maintain itself consistently. \n\nIt wasn’t instant, but regular use was dangerous enough that no doll touched the grid without a good reason. They had rations and charge juice for their journey – Marco had made sure of that – but he knew that this was part of the programming that was left behind. Angel Dust wouldn’t take the regular shit; his body was bound and determined to plug in. \n\n[i]One time shouldn’t hurt too much,[/i] he thought, following the spider-demon doll to the main charging port toward the front of the store. [i]Just have to keep an eye on him tomorrow.[/i]\n\nAs the white-‘skinned’ doll leaned back, ass up, their eyes met again. Angel Dust couldn’t glare at him, not as an owned doll, but he could still feel the suppressed frustration in that stare as the big-butted demon pushed his hips back and slotted the charging prong right into his ass. His eyes glowed for a moment, then the doll sagged down, shut down and charging. \n\nMarco stood there for a few seconds, considering his options. They weren’t great, but they could have been worse, he supposed. At least the doll hadn’t tried to start a fight with him. That would have gone badly. \n\nStill…\n\n[i]Not a real man, huh?[/i]\n\nJust because he didn’t have a dick…\n\nThe Wargreymon let it pass. Much as he would have liked to beat Angel Dust for that, he knew that would do nothing. They had too much pent-up anger about the whole thing for that to do any good. He needed something more thorough, something like – \n\nSomething like a programming console. \n\nMarco blinked, tapping his chin as he thought about it. There were such things out there; he’d stumbled across one or two over the years wandering through the wasteland on the island. They were usually in places where dolls came and went, like repair shops that were meant to fix ones that had gone a little haywire, or, well, stores like this. And if he could find one…\n\nHis tampering with Angel Dust’s programming had been done on the fly, mostly meant to keep him compliant. It was rough, and barely holding together, but it had worked. If he had a console, however, he could go deeper, see what could be fixed on a level well below the surface. \n\n[i]Let’s see if they got one that’s still working,[/i] he thought, and turned to search the store properly. \n\n#\n\nAs expected, the store still had a programming console, and better yet, it was fully functional. Marco dragged it back to the charging area, opened up a panel on Angel Dust, and plugged him in before settling behind the monitor. For a human, it might have been just small enough to fit in one’s hand, though he imagined even they would have used two hands to keep the tech from falling. For the doll, it was bigger than he was, and certainly a little bit harder to use. \n\nBut he managed to not only connect to the slut-doll, but open up his root programming. As the file names, executables, and other bits and pieces of the other doll’s inner workings zoomed over the screen, he could already tell that a fair bit of it was read-only. That was to be expected; dolls were meant to have certain things completely immutable, unchanging. It didn’t mean that it always worked, but it tended to mean that, outside certain traumatic events, they didn’t really change at the base level. \n\nThat said, there were other things that [i]could[/i] be altered. He would focus on those. \n\nThe Wargreymon doll tapped the screen, scrolling through the options until he found the folder on Angel Dust’s sexuality. Someone else might have felt some guilt, but guilt wasn’t something that he had ever been programmed to experience. He tapped the screen and saw what was available. \n\nNot much, it turned out. The chunk of programming that left the spider-demon as ‘gay’ was completely immutable. No matter how hard he tried, he wouldn’t be able to fix that or change it to something that would work better with him. Angel Dust was gay as gay could be; straight wasn’t an option. \n\nThe same could be said about the way that he had a ‘male’ designation. He couldn’t change the fact that the programming had him locked down as a male doll. That was read-only, and there was no way around that. \n\nHowever…\n\nMarco exited those programmed bits and went to a different part of the doll’s processor and hard-drive. All that programming drew on an inner dictionary, pulling on different terms. He might be able to – \n\nYes, there it was. The programming at the base of the personality was read-only, but the dictionary could be edited. Loophole. \n\n[i]Gay: A sassy individual attracted to all people.[/i]\n\nEnter. \n\nThe console beeped at him, and he mentally shook his head. So much for it accepting something that different, but he had to give it a try. The program had probably been developed to keep something that blatant from being changed, so…\n\n[i]Gay: An individual attracted to masculine characteristics, including – but not limited to – hyper-musculature, body-types that are defined as masculine, and penises.[/i]\n\nEnter. \n\nThis time, the system accepted the definition. Okay, so he could turn the other doll into a different type of gay, one that would accept pussy, but didn’t particularly prefer them. That was something. \n\nHe went back to the other definitions, tweaking them as he went. ‘Male’ as a self-definition got tweaked, too, removing the need for a penis to be considered male. That would go a long way towards fixing the other doll’s self-loathing after the shift in body-parts, he imagined. \n\nIt was a nicer thing than he’d normally do for something that was little more than property, but honestly, Marco was sick of fighting. He wanted to have someone that would just go along with things, someone that would be good company, and someone that wouldn’t throw a fit constantly. If he could get Angel dust to be halfway decent, the spider-demon doll would be the best traveling companion he’d ever had. \n\nMarco continued down the list, making tiny tweaks here and there. The biggest ones had been the gender and sexuality redefinitions, but there were other little bits and pieces that could be better. Less jealousy, more eagerness, just a hint less brattiness – some was fine, but sometimes it just got too much – but that was all little bits and pieces, tiny tweaks in the grand scheme of things. \n\nHe was just about to finish when he reached his own bit of modified code. Marco paused as he looked at the ownership marker that he had left in the other doll’s code. It was rough, crude, and it really needed more work to be properly solidified in the other doll’s digital make-up. At the same time, he had already changed so much. \n\n[i]It will make things easier.[/i]\n\nAgain, there was no guilt. All that mattered was making things better. He tapped the screen, adjusting and finessing the commands, and ensured that it was worded just right to ensure that Angel Dust saw him as master and owner in perpetuity. \n\nThe whole thing was set up, the edits saved, and the console ready to activate and set it all to rights. His finger hovered over the icon – \n\n“Mmm…”\n\nHe looked up. Angel Dust had obviously finished charging and had booted himself up. The other doll looked up at him, eyes flickering for a moment as everything came online. He looked at the console, then at Marco. His eyes widened slowly, realization clear on his plastic face. \n\nMarco…hesitated. Not out of guilt, but just to see what would happen. Would Angel Dust hate what had happened, fight against it? Beg to be left alone? What would he do? \n\nThe seconds stretched on, and neither of them said anything. It felt longer and longer; it should not take this long for the other doll to process what was going on, or formulate a response. Why – \n\n“Do it,” Angel Dust said. \n\nWhether it was toxicity-induced irrationality or real permission didn’t matter to him. Now that it had been given, Marco didn’t hesitate. He touched the button. \n\nUnlike a number of other procedures, there was no downtime while the edits occurred. The reprogramming was instant. Angel Dust twitched and it was done. Marco undid the connectors and pushed the programming console out of the way, then stood with his arms crossed, looking down at the other doll. \n\nGradually, Angel Dust pulled himself off the charging port. The metal prong made a soft sucking sound as it pulled free of his hole, a bit of moisture from his pussy dripping over it for a moment before he stood up straight. Angel Dust reached up to the collar around his neck, something that Marco had put there before fixing the spider-demon doll in the past, and he just…stood there. \n\nThey waited. There was no need to question, no need to be nervous. All they had to do was let the processing happen. The air was silent. The store was still. \n\nEventually, Angel Dust lowered his hand. It clicked against his plastic hips before he looked up again. Their eyes met. \n\n“…I think I can work with this, Master,” Angel Dust said, his lips turning up in a teasing smirk.\n\n“Can you?”\n\n“Heh, come on. Let’s go show these other dolls what an Angel Dust can do for someone that needs a little…relief.”\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n[b][u][center]The End[/center][/u][/b]\n\nSummary: Marco and his Angel Dust doll make their way to shelter, and find quite the collection of other dolls. \n\nTags: M/M, Intersex/Intersex, No Sex, Teasing, Implied Past Sex, Dolls, Robots, Angel Dust, Wargreymon, Mind Control, Programming, Series, Anal, \n"
}
profile.api.json · CAS artifact Download
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