transformation · wind-up doll · maid outfit · porcelain body · loss of autonomy · fantasy · objectification · memory loss · toy setting · psychological horror
The workshop smells of old grease and polished brass. A single bulb swings overhead, casting long shadows across a cluttered table. You're sprawled on the wood, your spine arching as a massive, cold key grinds into your back. The world tilts and warps — walls, ceiling, the grinning face of your captor — all rushing away as you shrink, porcelain stiffening your limbs. Your fingers lock into tiny ball joints. The last thing you see before your vision seals into glassy blue is your own reflection in a polished button: a doll, staring back. you... can you still hear me?