robotgirlprostate

[robotgirlprostate]

Wrapped Doll

A test to push myself to add a background, as I rarely draw any

[robotgirlprostate]

Reblog if you're fed up of performing this character people have forced you into and just want to be a doll on my lap with no stress or worries

[robotgirlprostate]

She stands still, hearing a repetitive ticking noise emanating from inside of her chest.

She can feel the gears inside of her as they rotate and mesh and interlink, sending the energy stored in the spring wound up within her.

She moves her arm upwards to stare at the back of her hand. As she does, wires move to curl her fingers, mechanisms rotate to allow her arm to bend at the elbow, and metal slides over metal on her joints.

She’s been so delicately made, so precisely crafted.

Always in equilibrium, as little wasted energy as possible.

Her miss made her to be perfect.

It always makes the next bit more fun.

A sharp blow knocks her off balance, sending her side into the edge of a table.

It cracks, but holds.

Her legs are swept out from under her. She falls.

Hits the hard floor.

Cracks, but holds.

The boot that follows finally breaks her, causing the ceramic of her chest and abdomen to fracture and burst out across the room.

Her miss reaches inside of her, not caring for the shards that pierce her skin and draw out her blood.

Her miss seizes a gear and holds it for a second. If she had a heart, it would skip a beat.

Her miss takes another gear. Holds it.

Tears it out.

She can’t feel or move her legs any more. Within her, cogs spin impotently, teeth catching on empty space.

Her miss gently places her hand around her spring.

Twists it.

Not up, but down.

Her eyes flutter closed. Her limbs don’t go limp, instead they lock in their current positions. Her gears and mechanisms slow, very soon to go still.

As she is wound down, she finds it harder and harder to think, to reason, to act.

To act before her consciousness fades out of existence requires immense willpower and focus, along with single-minded determination.

As her mind fades to black, her mouth moves.

It hangs open in a lopsided smile.

[robotgirlprostate]

qingyi

[robotgirlprostate]

silly & small & fragile & beatiful & soft & delicate & precious & bite-sized. if you agree you will reblog this

[robotgirlprostate]

silly & small & fragile & beatiful & soft & delicate & precious & bite-sized. if you agree you will reblog this

[robotgirlprostate]

Weaving a little spell for someone who works long into the night when they shouldn't by turning them into a floppy plushie so they have to take a break

[robotgirlprostate]

if you punch me in the stomach I will get so turned on I feel drunk

chat is this normal?

[robotgirlprostate]

I will never tire from seeing my Dolls arch their back and gasp when I turn them into clockwork Dolls. Seeing their posture straighten; their face brighten, as that brass key finds purchase. Then also seeing their desperation as I let them wind down while they're trying to pleasure themselves, their begging to be wound up so they can cum meandering out of their mouths like a lazy river until they find they just… can't… move… any… more…

[robotgirlprostate]

Dolls are a kind of eusocial insect

[robotgirlprostate]

Sorry I shoved my nose in your pit and started humping your thigh, you smell kinda and it made my brain melt :/

[robotgirlprostate]

”Ignorance is bliss” and “Dumb and happy” have their time and place in intelligence play, but what about the frustration of having a broken brain? The exasperation of being unable to do the simplest things, of having words slip through your fingers, of having your eyes glaze over every time you see a number larger than one digit. The slow, inexorable realization that your brain is no longer good for much of anything, that you should give up on trying to think or learn or comprehend and just resign yourself to being a toy. The knowledge that you can’t be an independent person anymore. The storm before the calm.

[robotgirlprostate]

”Ignorance is bliss” and “Dumb and happy” have their time and place in intelligence play, but what about the frustration of having a broken brain? The exasperation of being unable to do the simplest things, of having words slip through your fingers, of having your eyes glaze over every time you see a number larger than one digit. The slow, inexorable realization that your brain is no longer good for much of anything, that you should give up on trying to think or learn or comprehend and just resign yourself to being a toy. The knowledge that you can’t be an independent person anymore. The storm before the calm.

[robotgirlprostate]

Coerce your pet to keep taking bong hits until it is too nonverbally stoned to say no.

If it doesn't want to smoke, force it to kiss you so you can shotgun the smoke into its mouth.

[robotgirlprostate]

[robotgirlprostate]

TRUE

this dollposting shit too easy. it will say "beep boop awawa" and maybe 10 it/shes twice its age will reblog this and say "TRUE!"

[robotgirlprostate]

sometimes your robot gf craves a simpler existence for a little while