Work Text:
"Has anyone ever told you that you look like a doll?"
Jimin looked up from his phone, startled at the sudden question from Namjoon. He couldn't help but blush at how thinly veiled the compliment was.
"No," he answered bashfully. "I mean, when I was little, sure." He didn't want to sound arrogant but he did get a lot of ajummas pinching his cheeks and calling him porcelain when he was growing up.
"Well, you do. And I'm looking for a model to help me out with my new sculpture piece for the gallery."
"And you want-" Jimin couldn't keep the disbelief and confusion out of his voice, "-me?"
"Yes." Namjoon had put down the book he was reading as well as the tea he was drinking so that he could give Jimin his full attention and the full effect of his eye contact.
"To do what exactly? Model?"
"I guess you could say that. But a mould would be more accurate. I'd like to make a mould of you. For a sculpture."
Jimin's expression remained skeptical.
"But dolls are usually tall and skinny, right?" He asked, picturing something like a Barbie, or even a strangely disproportionate Bratz doll.
Namjoon smirked. Not all dolls, he thought. Jimin was small and made to be manhandled. Like a sex doll, he thought, easy to fuck, easy to hold down. He had lips that pouted and shone in a sinfully sexual way.
He was perfect.
It took a bit more reassuring but eventually Jimin agreed and found himself in Namjoon's art studio, being asked to strip.
It was easier to take off your clothes in the semi-darkness, in the heat of the moment when someone was kissing down your neck and pulling at your shirt and all you wanted was skin on skin.
But being naked under bright studio lights with a fully clothed friend watching and mirrors along one wall was a whole different Everest.
"Jimin, I work with nude models all the time," Namjoon said, rolling his eyes at Jimin's conservative demeanor. "And you've told me about some of your sexual escapades. This is nothing compared to that. This is just modeling."
Reluctantly Jimin peeled away the layers of clothing covering his skin until every bit of him was exposed to the bright white lights and Namjoon's artistic gaze.
It helped that Namjoon looked at him as one would a sculpture. Not aroused but admiring, taking in more detail than any other eye would.
From a tray of tools, buckets of paint and mysterious goops, Namjoon retrieved what looked like a lotion.
"I'm going to start by rubbing this into your skin so that the other substances don't get absorbed. Is that okay?"
Jimin nodded.
"But first, I'll need you to put this on."
It was only with great effort that Jimin's expression didn't alter at the sight of the weird garment.
"It'll hold your dick up against your stomach," Namjoon explained, gesturing casually at Jimin's flaccid penis.
Jimin's eyes widened with realization and he caught the contraption when Namjoon threw it. "W-why?"
"Listen, I don't judge. But in case, for whatever reason, you become aroused during this process, I don't want you messing up my mould."
"Oh," Jimin turned red but didn't argue. He slid what felt like a pair of panties up his legs while trying not to look at Namjoon. But unlike panties, these didn't cover anything. He supposed that most of his body needed to be exposed for the sculpture but it was still uncomfortable and weird to have his balls separated from his dick by a piece of string. In his opinion, there were far too many unnecessary strings.
There were two loose strings as well, hanging from his hip bones which Namjoon then offered to tie for him. They needed to be tied behind his back so Jimin accepted the help, albeit self-consciously because there was only a narrow piece of fabric running up his crack, with his bum cheeks spilling over it on either side so that the material disappeared completely.
That became the least of his problems when Namjoon moved onto the lotion. He warmed it up between his large hands first by rubbing them together and then began at Jimin's ankle, sliding upwards smoothly with help from the cream.
The concern that Namjoon had about arousal suddenly didn't seem so unwarranted. Jimin's dick, in its little trap, was suddenly paying attention to everything. It was on alert, ready to throb and harden if anything needed to be fucked.
Jimin swallowed loudly when Namjoon reached his thighs. He closed his eyes but that didn't help, only encouraged his imagination to create the most preposterous erotic scenarios involving Namjoon and his hands, and Jimin in the tiny g-string thing he had been coaxed into.
"You okay?" Namjoon asked. And Jimin nodded, tight-lipped. "You remembered to use the restroom like I told you to before this, right?" Again he nodded.
When he got to Jimin's buttocks, Namjoon wasn't reserved at all. He massaged the cream in vigorously, kneading and groping the supple flesh.
When Jimin was coated in cream, right to his fingertips and hairline, Namjoon began mixing a strange gooey paste that was black and glossy. "Don't worry," he assured Jimin, "This isn't the color of the final sculpture."
Jimin hadn't been worried about that at all.
"Okay, this is the part where you stay still. And I mean, perfectly still. If you don't need to breathe then don't." It was obviously a joke but Namjoon didn't sound like he wasn't joking.
He picked up what looked like a very large wooden ice cream stick but he called it a spatula as he scooped up some of the black slime and began lathering it down Jimin's leg.
"Wait, do I need to get into a certain position or-"
"No no, when it dries it's going to be kind of like flexible rubber. So we can still move you into position before we do the next layer," Namjoon said, scooping up more goo.
It was cold against Jimin's skin. Not at all what he expected since the procedure seemed to resemble hot waxing at a beauty salon. But this slime was slightly colder than room temperature. He only hoped that Namjoon wouldn't rip it off too suddenly. Fortunately, if that did happen, Jimin had already shaved.
It was a terribly long process and Namjoon wasn't in any hurry. It felt like hours when Namjoon finally finished with his legs and began on his torso.
Jimin was up to his shoulders in what looked like black paint on his skin, and Namjoon was about to start on his arms which were yet to be covered, when Jimin began to sway gently.
"Oh dear," Namjoon said, holding him still.
"Sorry," Jimin rushed to say, his eyes flashing open again.
"It's alright, the lower half is mostly dry. You can sit down now if you'd like and then you're welcome to take a nap while I finish with your arms."
Namjoon gestured over to where a comfy sofa stood, draped in plastic sheets to protect it from all the art supplies.
Jimin accepted gratefully and seated himself on the sofa. Namjoon had to walk around the whole seat in order to work but he didn't seem to mind.
Jimin found his head lolling backwards or forwards frequently. His sight dimmed and his hearing grew fuzzy and then he was asleep.
_________
He slept like the dead, totally unconscious, not a single dream or vision. For a short time, he wasn't aware of anything, not even his own existence until his eyes began to blink awake.
The first thing he saw was a person who had his face. They looked exactly like him but they were perplexingly naked. It was difficult to take in everything at once but things came into focus a little more when he heard Namjoon speak.
Namjoon appeared to be in front of him, facing him, but the man's voice came from directly behind him. That's when Jimin understood, he was looking at a mirror. There was no other person.
It was just him and Namjoon, facing a mirror.
But Jimin couldn't move anything below his neck. Which means, that body wasn't his. The only explanation was that it belonged to someone else. It certainly looked like it belonged to someone else.
But then Namjoon rested a hand on Jimin's upper arm, gave it a light squeeze and Jimin felt it.
"Don't panic sweetheart," Namjoon said.
But of course Jimin was panicking, he was paralyzed.
"It's the sculpture. Remember? For the gallery? I finished the rest while you were asleep."
Jimin breathed a sigh of relief. Well, he tried to. Something was constricting his lungs and making it impossible to inhale any more than a shallow breath.
"I'm mostly done now. Just have to actually install you in the exhibition hall. It's an interactive exhibition, did I tell you that? So people will be touching the art pieces."
He tried to speak but his lips felt swollen and he couldn't quite make the shape he needed to form words. Looking at the mirror he noticed that they were indeed swollen.
They looked abnormally pouty and plump, so thick that they were forced into a shocked and dumb-looking O-shape. He could move them and make sounds but they weren't words.
His face was still his face. But he looked like a fuck doll.
His lips had definitely been injected with something. A filler, a liquid, a gel, he didn't know. But they were pouted so erotically that it made him blush just to look at his own face.
He wanted to yell at Namjoon but all that came out was unintelligible noises.
"You don't need to speak baby. That mouth is exactly what it looks like it's for. For sucking cock."
Jimin was in full panic mode but nothing showed it except for his widened eyes.
"Your natural gifts were enough to complete the look, I merely enhanced them a little. Such a pretty, fuckable mouth. Wasted on a person. Should be on a doll. Just like this."
Jimin tried so desperately to move, to fight, anything. But it was impossible. He was mounted on a stand like a mannequin and he wasn't going anywhere.
"Don't make me gag you already darling."
Jimin quietened at those words, afraid of his last bit of autonomy being taken away.
At his joints were hinges. They allowed Namjoon to reposition his mannequin however he wanted, locking the hinges in place so that all the limbs stayed where he wanted them.
And he did so, rearranging Jimin so that his arms were slightly out to the sides and his feet shoulder-width apart. It was a very standard pose, made so that Namjoon could give his artwork one last appraisal and final touches.
Jimin's gaze was transfixed on the horror of his reflection.
The breasts on his chests were ridiculous, defying gravity in the way the nipples seemed to point to the sky.
Like peaks of cream after being whipped, they were globes of what looked like impossibly soft and buoyant balloons, topped with large abnormally jutting out nipples.
A corset around his middle was pulled impossibly tight to give him a false silhouette of a pinched waist and wider hips. But it was part of the latex, built into the outer layer, a part of his new body.
It made his hips and breasts look like they were spilling out of a small cylinder. A pin up model, a pornographic illustration, nothing attainable in real life.
Between his legs, where his cock should be, was latex-rubber moulded to resemble pussy lips. It was bizarrely pretty but he knew there was no hole there. It was just for aesthetics - to match the rest of his ridiculously unreal body.
Proportions, color, shape. Everything was art. Made to be looked at. Made to be lusted over and made to fit into any and every kind of fantasy.
And Jimin, try as he might to move, was stuck the way Namjoon wanted him. A whorish, perverted looking sight, strung up like a doll in a shop window.
Namjoon wheeled the frame, with Jimin on it, out of the studio and down the corridor to the elevator at the end. It was noisy outside the studio, people bustling about doing last-minute preparations for the exhibition. Any sound Jimin made was drowned out.
He was wheeled past people who stared unashamedly at the naked figure, considering it a piece of art that was made to be looked at and enjoyed.
"Joon! He's beautiful!" Someone hollered.
"Thanks!" Namjoon called back.
They could clearly see that there was a model underneath but they must have assumed it was consensual. Namjoon was a nice guy, and anyone who was part of a sculpture like that would have had to sit still for hours. Plus, the model didn't appear to be struggling or protesting too much.
The gallery they entered was full of bondage devices made into artworks where Jimin, in his current state, wouldn't be out of place. In fact, there were models who were part of the artworks but unlike Jimin, they had free movement and while painted odd colors and dressed in some ridiculous space-age costumes, didn't seem to have any body modifications made to them.
A voice over a speaker announced that the exhibition would be starting in 10 minutes.
"Perfect," Namjoon said. He had reached a platform and he was now lifting Jimin onto it. Next he arranged Jimin in the lewdest position.
Bent at the waist, legs spread wide.
He proceeded to fit a ring gag into his little doll's mouth and buckle it behind his pretty head.
All the while, he ran his hands over his gorgeous creation while Jimin made indecipherable sounds of protest. There was no sign at all that he was physically struggling but he was, with all his effort.
Namjoon stopped to play with the bouncy mounds on his doll's chest. Fondling them explicitly under the deception of fixing his artwork.
It looked pornographic when they were groped and Namjoon still got to experience the pleasure of fondling Jimin's breasts whether the boy could feel it or not.
Dolls don't get to feel good anyway, Namjoon explained. They're there to be holes, for their friends to use and for real men to get off to. Fuck dolls need to look like sex and provide sex and be everything a man could want.
And Namjoon wanted to demonstrate what a good hole his doll was at this very exhibition.
He smiled at Jimin and stroked his hair. "Oh don't fuss so much sweetheart. You're going to love being used, you'll see. It's what you were made for. When I first saw you, I thought no one looks the way you do if they're not a fuck doll."
Jimin huffed angrily through his nose but Namjoon was still smiling.
"All these artworks are going to turn everyone on so much. They'll need a way to relieve themselves and my little fuckdoll artwork is going to help them. I've made a small sign so they know it's okay."
Before putting up the sign, he allowed Jimin a quick look at it.
" Needy doll. Free to fuck."
The feeling across most of his body was muted. But when Namjoon pushed a lube finger into his ass, Jimin felt it ten times more. Because it was his real body that Namjoon was touching, fingers rubbing against his muscled walls, coating them in the slippery substance and making him uncomfortably wet inside.
Jimin was hyper-sensitive to it, his ass clenched and he whined. It was so invasive and there was nothing he could do about it but let Namjoon finger him. The more he tried to resist, the easier Namjoon penetrated him. And Namjoon seemed to take a lot of pleasure in doing so.
Namjoon spent the next few minutes prepping his doll with two lubed fingers and finally, a plug.
"This artwork that you're helping me with has a really philosophical meaning about objectification and fantasies versus reality. But you probably don't care. And I don't think anyone is really going to care once they find out they can fuck you."
When the guests came in, they were shy at first. But as they moved around the gallery, chatted openly about the artworks and interacted with a few, they grew more comfortable.
Likewise, they were shy when they first saw Jimin and read the sign. But once they realized that Jimin couldn't move at all and neither could he say anything, they got bolder.
They groped his fake tits, squeezed them and pinched his prominent nipples. They slapped his ass and caressed his cheek and Jimin found himself getting awfully aroused against his will.
He whined in complaint but they called him a needy slut and kept groping, cooing about how much he liked it. His eyes were doll-like, sparkly and innocent and begging wordlessly. They interpreted the pleading look for sexual need and gave him what they thought he wanted.
He could feel his erection, beneath the doll encasement, up against his stomach where Namjoon had secured it. But there was nothing he could do about it except whimper and whine.
Once some of the visitors saw how Jimin was already being fucked by others, they had no problem pushing their cocks between his thick whorish lips and shooting their load down his throat. Or grabbing his hips and thrusting into his tight ass hole while he made whimpering moans around the cock in his mouth. Some of the cocks might have been plastic but Jimin hardly noticed.
Things changed when they discovered he could be moved like a real mannequin. Bent and positioned, limbs rearranged into the most explicit positions, however they wanted. Whatever look best or felt best to fuck into. They could move him and they did, uncaring for where his face ended up. Between his knees, against the floor, near his own pussy.
Some of them rubbed crudely at his pussy lips just for the sight it made.
Dolls didn't feel pleasure, Namjoon had said. But every now and then, someone would fuck into him just right and he would moan and see stars.
They thought it was kind of magical, the way a seemingly inanimate doll moaned and tightened around their cocks.
He became transfixed on the possibility of that pleasure. The feeling of a cock thrusting in and out began to feel pleasurable on its own but he could feel a need growing inside him. A need to be stimulated, a need to orgasm, a need to fully feel the touch of the hands all over him. It was like a cruel tease and slowly, his whimpers transformed from whimpers of objection to whimpers of overwhelming need, desire and desperation.
Over and over, used by strangers. He barely saw their faces, it was just one cock replaced with another, hands replacing other hands, all eager and lustful and unrestrained.
Until that's all he felt he could do. All he could do was take cock. All he could do was be filled and fucked and groped. A pretty doll on a stand. It felt so good to be used.
By the time he saw a familiar face he was covered in cum and there was someone having a go at his ass, railing him right on the prostate in a way that was almost painful. It forced air out of his lungs in sudden bursts and he could barely make a sound when Hoseok stepped up to the platform.
"Fucking hell, is that Jimin?" He exclaimed.
"Yeah," Namjoon answered from somewhere Jimin couldn't see. "I'm helping him live out his fantasy. Just wants to be used. Don't you, doll? Wants to be a cocksleeve."
A string of drool fell from Jimin's glossy lips and he moaned as the guy behind him finished, filling him with warm cum.
Hoseok chortled. "God he's a wreck. Can I use him?"
Namjoon nodded. "Go ahead. Just grab a condom from that bowl there first."
Jimin was humiliated to be seen like that by someone he knew.
With massive tits and a fake pussy and a mouth made to suck. Covered in cum. Unable to move. It was even worse when that person used you like you really were just a doll and even called his friends over to have a turn.
But Jimin stopped caring as soon as they began fucking him. He may have come, he may not have. It didn't matter because the fucking didn't stop.
They used him until it was all he knew. Until he wanted nothing else but cum in his mouth and cum in his ass and cum on his face and back and wherever they wanted to put it. All he wanted was to be filled with cock and railed and manhandled, groped and slapped and grabbed like a plaything.
All he wanted was to make them happy.
He was made for it after all. It was what he was good at.
Their little cocksleeve. Their cumdump. Their fuckdoll.