<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" standalone="yes"?><rss version="2.0" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><channel><title>Owned on Gromet's Plaza Archive</title><link>/tags/owned/</link><description>Recent content in Owned on Gromet's Plaza Archive</description><generator>Hugo</generator><language>en-us</language><lastBuildDate>Sun, 27 Jun 2021 00:00:00 +0000</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="/tags/owned/index.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>My Life as a Service Bot</title><link>/stories/2021/06/27/my-life-as-a-service-bot/</link><pubDate>Sun, 27 Jun 2021 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2021/06/27/my-life-as-a-service-bot/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;The world had radically changed at the end of the last century; the corporations had now taken over from world governments; employment was hard to come by with everyone competing for the limited number of positions. It didn’t help me that I had a minor conviction for theft, I had been kept in the comfortable corporate enclave for most of my childhood years, we had not wanted for anything, the estate we lived in was secluded from the real world, and my early education was done in the corporations own schools. It wasn’t until my father died and we had to leave the corporate supplied accommodation that I had any experience of the outside world. It was there that I got myself tangled up in the wrong crowd and we were caught when a couple of them stole some items from a local store, the judge took a dim view of what we’d done and though I only received a community service order, where I had to clean the streets for two weeks, I now had a conviction recorded against my name.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Service Bot</title><link>/stories/2020/03/06/service-bot/</link><pubDate>Fri, 06 Mar 2020 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2020/03/06/service-bot/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;The world had radically changed at the end of the last century; the corporations had now taken over from world governments; employment was hard to come by with everyone competing for the limited number of positions. It didn’t help me that I had a minor conviction for theft, I had been kept in the comfortable corporate enclave for most of my childhood years, we had not wanted for anything, the estate we lived in was secluded from the real world, and my early education was done in the corporations own schools. It wasn’t until my father died and we had to leave the corporate supplied accommodation that I had any experience of the outside world. It was there that I got myself tangled up in the wrong crowd and we were caught when a couple of them stole some items from a local store, the judge took a dim view of what we’d done and though I only received a community service order, where I had to clean the streets for two weeks, I now had a conviction recorded against my name.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Special Gift</title><link>/stories/2018/07/19/the-special-gift/</link><pubDate>Thu, 19 Jul 2018 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2018/07/19/the-special-gift/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Woman to Sexdoll&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Part 3&lt;/strong&gt; .&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;story continued from &lt;a href="special_gift2.html"&gt;part two&lt;/a&gt;_&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Janice continued to lay in the darkness, inside the cupboard, now stored away with the rest of the household items and other junk, just another object stored away to keep the house tidy. Indeed some of the other items were placed on top of her, making her blend in with the other contents of the cupboard, which for now it seemed to be her new home. Her husband/owner was out playing golf with his friends, all thoughts about the doll now gone from his mind.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Special Gift</title><link>/stories/2018/07/14/the-special-gift/</link><pubDate>Sat, 14 Jul 2018 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2018/07/14/the-special-gift/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Woman to Sexdoll&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Part 2&lt;/strong&gt;.
*story continued from &lt;a href="special_gift.html"&gt;part one&lt;/a&gt;*Janice woke up the next morning, she found herself laying on the carpet in the lounge room, she could see the soft tuffs of the carpet pile in front of her face, she was lying face down it seemed to her. Her body felt used and abused, her sex throbbed and ached, but in a good way, one where she had been through lots of sexual acts, her desires sated for now it seemed. Her limbs were out at odd angles from her body as she lay there as her owner/husband had left her last night after he and his friend had used her for their joint pleasure._&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Have I shocked You</title><link>/stories/2017/10/07/have-i-shocked-you/</link><pubDate>Sat, 07 Oct 2017 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2017/10/07/have-i-shocked-you/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;A brief fantasy inspired by and dedicated to my very own Queen of the High Heel, Ms Sheila Williams&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“Do you like the colour?. See it’s the same as one on my toes”&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;The young man looked down towards the woman’s feet and sure enough the same shade of cherry red glistened from the opened toes of her polished nude coloured sandals. Sandals, which even to his eye were fashioned with terrifyingly high heels. The young man nodded.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Pferman</title><link>/stories/2015/05/18/pferman/</link><pubDate>Mon, 18 May 2015 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2015/05/18/pferman/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chapter 1&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Smack! The wrench slipped, and even though Carl was pulling instead of pushing on it, his fingers still managed to be driven into a row a screw tails. The wrench flew from his grasp, and he heard it go clattering off down the inside of the fuel tank, heading towards the fuselage of the airliner he was working on.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;“Goddamnsonofabitch!” He muttered, clenching his teeth and gripping his hand. His two middle fingers had taken most of the impact, and it felt like they had just been stung by a few very upset hornets. Things just weren’t going his way today, starting with being assigned to work inside the wing of an old airliner and heading downhill from there.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Mistress Latexa's Rubberdoll 4: The Wedding Album</title><link>/stories/2015/04/05/mistress-latexas-rubberdoll-4-the-wedding-album/</link><pubDate>Sun, 05 Apr 2015 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2015/04/05/mistress-latexas-rubberdoll-4-the-wedding-album/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;story continued from &lt;a href="mistresslatexasrubberdoll3.html"&gt;part three&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Part 4: The Wedding Album&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Where to begin? Each detail of that day is embedded deep within my consciousness, for it was the signal turning point in my existence. There was my life before, which seems drab and pointless now; and my life after, the thrilling, extraordinary life of a rubber slave doll that I had secretly craved long before I could even put words to it. It seems more than a union of two souls, more than a troth that was pledged; it was a kind of rebirth of body of spirit, the razor-sharp demarcation of a life begun anew, the destiny I have always been fated to fulfil at the hands of my beloved Mistress Latexa.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>The Voice</title><link>/stories/2014/01/28/the-voice/</link><pubDate>Tue, 28 Jan 2014 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2014/01/28/the-voice/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;It had taken months of work, of false starts, of hiccups, of careful patient modification, but now she thought she was ready to try it. The weekend was cleared, there would be no distractions, the props were all in place. 
She stripped, and showered, dried herself then sat in the chair. It was just an ordinary chair, made special in that she only used it when practicing the process, by now, just sitting in it helped her relax, and helped her into the right state of mind. She closed her eyes and started the relaxing exercises. Her breath became deep and regular, her body more and more relaxed. 
Without opening her eyes, she reached out and found the headphones and the player. It was all second nature now. The headphones went over her ears, she switched the player on. Soft music flowed into her ears, reinforcing the feeling of relaxation. And then the voice started to speak, it was a soft quiet voice, digitally altered to sound robotic, or at least what she imagined a robotic voice to sound like. They&amp;rsquo;d tried an ordinary voice, but this was more effective, made the illusion more real.
The voice told her to listen, to absorb. It told her that she was to be re-programmed, re-purposed, and if she wasn&amp;rsquo;t ready for the process to start, to turn off the player. She did nothing. 
The voice carried on, it told her that her new purpose was to become a doll, that the voice was there to help her achieve that. Again it told her that if she wasn&amp;rsquo;t ready, she was to turn off the player. Again she did nothing. 
The voice told her to drift into a relaxed compliant state, to become more and more receptive, it told her that her mind was changing, that she was losing her will, her ability to think, that the most important thing to do was listen to the voice, to obey what it told her. It cycled around and around reinforcing that she was to listen, that her will was draining out of her, that she was becoming a doll. She lost all track of time. 
The voice told her to open her eyes, she blinked, the room was unfocused, it told her to look over at the table, to focus on what was there. She could see the rubber garments laid out, but she couldn&amp;rsquo;t think about them, the voice hadn&amp;rsquo;t told her to think, just to look. It told her that as she was a doll in her mind, she now needed to be transformed into a doll outwardly as well.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Puppy Food</title><link>/stories/2014/01/27/puppy-food/</link><pubDate>Mon, 27 Jan 2014 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2014/01/27/puppy-food/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;The rancid smell made her want to gag. It overwhelmed her senses. Unable to help herself she drew another deep breath of the putrid food. She fought desperately to keep from being sick. Bailey tried to pretend that it was something else, anything she thought other than the stale dog food before her. The loud grumbling of her stomach filled her ears. Cramps from the hunger pains wracked her small frame. She had no choice, dog food or not she had to eat.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item></channel></rss>