Deviation Actions

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By bobascher

Literature Text

Clockwork - SizeRiot CruelJan20 Contest Entry

Around me was a swirl of images - the joy of swinging in a tire, the passion of a bubbly liquid sipped on a beach, the inconsolable pain of loss as a coffin descends into the earth. As I swam among these images any many more, I tried to connect them. I wanted a cohesive narrative, but they refused. I soon realized that it took more and more effort to swim from one vignette to the next - these scenes were departing. Desperate - I reached out with all my might attempting to bridge the gap between thoughts. I saw red as the tension increased within my non-corporal form. Pushing past this, the red became hot, then searing. I felt pressure all over my body and the world went black.


I don’t know how much time passed until I became aware of myself again. When my mind’s eye opened, I was in an endless void. The images I was attempting to combine like a jigsaw puzzle were long gone. The sadness I felt over this loss was short-lived, as I felt new sensations about me. I slowly opened my eyes. I felt pain from the light, so I closed them. It cooled as my body was shaded.

A voice boomed like a drum above me, “Take your time, sweetie. The others have taught me that opening your eyes for the first time can be quite an experience.” I felt pressure sliding down my back as if being petted, the booming voice continued to talk softly to me, encouraging me to take it slow - that there was no need to rush. The speech turned to a song as he hummed to me. I connected in my mind that this voice, and the pressure on my back, must be from the same deity.

The petting stopped and I felt some soft taps on my rear, “Ok sweetheart, I think your eyes may have adjusted, let’s try this again.”

My eyes parted and the pain was gone. The world was still a haze as I attempted to sit up. Helped by what I now realized were massive fingers, I was sat up. Those healing fingers, with a gentle and precise motion that I did not expect, massaged exactly the areas in my body which were sore from how I was laying. I couldn’t help but allow a small moan to escape my lips at the attention being given.

Above me was a Van Gogh-like smear of colors that appeared to be a face. In spite of the handling by branch sized fingers, I still gasped. My reaction elicited a response as I felt the hand tending to my sore muscles grab around my middle, from my breasts to my thighs. As I calmed, it too relaxed.

He could tell I was squinting at him, “Ah, I think I know what you need, Alexa.”

My mind raced as the mountain of a man turned. He left one hand on my calves, idly caressing my Mary Jane shod feet as he reached for something. Did he call me Alexa - was that my name? He certainly wouldn’t have called me Alexa unless that was my name, but it sounded odd in my ears.

As he turned towards me again, his face approached very close to my body. Coffee and age filled my nose as his hands deftly worked to secure thick-framed black glasses to my face.

The world came sharply into view through the lenses. He clapped his hands and I could clearly see the proud smile on his face, “Alexa, you look absolutely beautiful. The glasses help bring out the hazel in your eyes. Come, look.” His right hand gently grasped my right forearm as his left hand slipped under my rear and thumb grasping my pelvis. He got me to my feet, and once he was confident I was steady, walked me to a nearby mirror.

The hand on my unheld arm covered my gasping mouth. I had black hair and hazel eyes. My lips were pink. On my tall but slim form, I was wearing a blue shirt and white pants. My shoes were Mary Jane’s. My fingers were expertly painted in a hard red gel coat. All over my skin was like alabaster, smooth and pale. I stood what I estimated was 11 inches tall.

“What did you do to me?” I cried.

The monster-sized head came into frame, “I built you, Alexa. My life’s work has been perfecting small anatomically correct human robots. These are sold as high-end toys for the rich. You are my most advanced creation yet. However, don’t worry, my beautiful Alexa, you are mine and will stay with me. You see, I am very sick and will die soon, so I need a helper - not someone to tear me down - so I built you to help me with my chores and body care.”

“Something isn’t right though - I don’t remember being a doll.”

The man again began petting my hair, “None of us remember the time before we were born. However, unlike real people, you don't need to spend twenty years to reach adulthood. You are very much an adult now. Here, let me see if I can calm some of your hysteria.”

He plucked me from the table as if I weighed nothing - the healing hand from before began pulling at my clothes. Although I struggled, this master craftsman deftly relieved me of my blue shirt, white pants, and dainty footwear. I could see he paid as much attention to my toes as to my fingertips.

I put up my hands to stop the approach of his face, but he simply smiled and licked them with his massive tongue. “Mmm, you taste of cherries and vanilla. You are a wonderful Candy.” He tucked the loose arms in by my sides. I was fully in his control. He tasted my mouth before lapping on my breasts. Given they were the size of large blueberries to him, he was able to lap them both into his mouth at once. An explosion of colors entered my mind from this attention. My legs became coated in liquid, my vulva begging for his touch.

He noticed this but let the fluids collect. I was his, and he was going to enjoy his treat on his own terms. Those terms included hearing the doll shriek and moan in delight. He seemed to know exactly when my breasts were becoming fatigued as he would pause and swirl his tongue over my belly. He would then return, drawing from me more fluid.

After many rounds of this, his face backed away. His lips were red from the wetness and contact with my skin. With a wide smile, he said, “I hope you are ready to release, my tiny Alexa. I am going to take your tiny cookie now.” I had already tilted my head back as his lips met his palm to gobble the liquid that had collected. His upper lip grazed my labia and I nearly let go. Wanting to see where this ride got off, I mentally held on as he explored my nethers - tussling my tiny bush, tracing my labia majora and minora with the very tip of his tongue, and then finally suction on my near-microscopic, to him, clitoris.

A flood of thoughts washed over me of men using me as a piece of meat to get their own release. These thoughts left as I came on the toymaker’s tongue. My body shuddered harder than it ever had before and as I relaxed, my mind drifted off. As I sailed away, I felt the toymaker gently caress and love on my body.


When I recovered, I found myself in a very soft, but oversized, terry cloth robe. The toymaker caressed me while I sat on his chest. He was watching TV. I stroked his chest to let him know I was awake.

“My Alexa, how are you feeling?” he asked softly.

“I feel beautiful and loved,” I cooed.

“I am glad to hear my touch helped. I have waited a long time for that.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, that comment sounding odd.

He chuckled, “My dear, to build something as magnificent as you takes months and years. I have waited so long to meet you.”

That made sense. “If I may, as you were pleasuring me, I was filled with thoughts of other lovers. Men who were my size, who admittedly did not treat me as gentle as you. Why would that be?”

The toymaker drew a line with his finger from my forehead down to my toes, fireworks tingled throughout my body. “My sweet, sweet Alexa - to build your neural network I had to incorporate memories from many people. Since these memories came from humans, you remember the others at your same size. Future generations of dolls will have the benefit of your memory database, and won’t have the same problems with remembering things in different scales.”

I nodded, it made perfect sense.


Our life continued on in this manner for many months. I worked with the other creations in his house to learn how to take care of my toymaking master. I even helped him build a few more robot dolls. None were as sophisticated as me - they were clearly toys with plastic parts and no heart. Whenever I asked him why we weren’t building another like me, he said I was special. There would never be a second just like me because it would ruin the magic that we had.

Over time I had to fully assume his care, even washing him and meeting his intimate needs. I enjoyed rocking his cock between my knees until he released onto my chest. It was my way of expressing gratitude for the life he has given me.

This idyllic life ended far too soon, as the day came that my toymaker was taken from me.


I largely hid away as the toy maker’s family took care of his effects. Before his death, the toymaker set out a plan for me. He told me that he would have an assistant come and ship out his remaining orders. When that time came, I was to get myself to the outgoing shipment shelf, climb into a box lovingly crafted for me and wait. I would be sent overnight to live with his granddaughter. She was a senior at the State University.

With all the trust I could muster, I made my way to the box in the early morning. It was cardboard and labeled with his granddaughter's dorm address. I traced my hand over the handwritten labels that stated the contents were fragile. It may be the last time I see his handwriting. Inside the box was lined with fleece, it was loaded water, snacks, and a urine absorbing pad. He even provided a small button cell light. Pulling the box closed. I waited.

I had tried to doze but was disrupted by the sound of ripping tape and the jostling of my temporary home. The next several hours were a blur of absolute boredom intermixed with moments of terror as the box was tumbled. Had it not been for the fleece, I would have been bludgeoned to death as I was tossed about.

Hearing the voices of young women, I hoped my journey was at an end. An Exacto knife was plunged into the top of the box and I pressed myself as flat as possible against the floor. Like a scene from the Shining, the blade severed the plastic strip holding my home together. Once the blade was removed, red fingertip tentacles shoved their way into my space and violently tore it open.

Blinded by the light, I heard a booming voice speaking to herself, "Oh my... Grandpa. You were always such a trickster. Why would you send me a Candace doll as a post mortem gift? You hated her so much!"

As the world came back into focus, I saw the face of an angel of giantess proportions. Her hair was dark with piercing blue eyes and crimson lips. She looked exactly like the pictures of my toymaker's late wife. Clearing my throat loudly, I proclaimed, “My name is Alexa. Your grandfather, the toymaker, wanted you to have me.”

A riotous thunder of laughter followed, "No way, this can't possibly be."

I was stunned at this reaction. A flash of motion followed by a great warmth encircled me. With what seemed no more effort than plucking a blueberry from a bush, I was plucked from my box. The giant feminine hand with its red-coated nails squeezed me to the point where I leaked some into my panties.

"Are you actually the real Candace? They never did find her after she disappeared several months ago," spoke the coed in my direction, but not really to me.

The Exacto knife reappeared and elicited a visceral response. I attempted to flail but this titaness' hold was too great. The blade was brought to my belt line and with a flick, it relieved me of the button to my pants. Then as deftly as with the tape, the blade was slid down the flap of my pants, utterly destroying the zipper.

"What are you doing to me?" I cried.

Unstymied, the giantess slipped the edge of her free index fingernail between my skin and panties. I shivered from the smoothness and coolness of the surface. With little effort, she slid both my white jeans and the pink panties down to mid-thigh.

She brought my middle close to her eyes and ignored my gyrations as she teased the black bush she found beneath. "Yep, there is no way a toy would have a bush or a vulva, let alone ones as fantastic as the ones you have doll."

I was sobbing at the invasion. None of this made any sense. Who was Candace? My name is Alexa.

As if reading my thoughts, the raven-haired college student continued, “No doll, you are absolutely Candace! Let me show you.” While playing with my vulva, breasts, and hair, she showed me several videos of a woman reviewing toys. Not only was her reviews not fair, but they were also mean. This woman also looked identical to me.

“I can’t believe this…” I whispered with shame.

An odd mixture of emotions flooded my body - arousal from the play, confusion at my situation, betrayal from the man I loved, and many more. The giant woman continued her play as videos of a fight between Candace and the toymaker streamed. The blue-eyed titan chuckled as one last video played. In it, Candace’s family was pleading for her return.

“Please,” I begged, “Take me to them. I want to be with my family.”

With a smirk, the giant woman teased my body over the edge. I cummed with a massive grunt all over her fingers. She kissed my face and whispered, “Don’t be a sad doll, we are a family now.”

This story was my submission to the SizeRiot CruelJan20 contest. It was modified from the original submission to address feedback I received in the contest. I hope you enjoy and hope you take part in the SizeRiot contest too!
© 2020 - 2021 bobascher
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