Toyland

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It's a normal day late in the Christmas season, and you're on your way home from work, feeling tired and worn out. You're barely paying attention to the street around you, since you've been this way so many times. For some reason though, something catches your eye. You glance down an alleyway, and blink. Surely you must be seeing things, but it looks very much like a white rabbit is hopping down the alley, leaving long footprints in the snow. A four foot tall white rabbit, with stitches along his body and very clearly made of fabric and buttons. You wonder if there's a furry convention on in town or something, before you see the bunny reach out and tug down on the air somehow, making the alleyway warp and shift as if he just pulled on an invisible zipper. A tear appears, hovering in space, through which you can see a bizarre, colourful landscale of soft shapes, fluffy clouds, and artificially bright patchwork land. The rabbit hops through, and the portal slowly begins to shrink. [[Follow the white rabbit]] [[Hesitate]] <> <<set $buttons to 0>> <<set $training to false>> <<set $metking to false>> <<set $canrubfeet to false>> <<set $workedfarm to false>> <<set $hippofed to false>> <<set $bearsfed to false>> <<set $haveticket to false>> <<set $havemarbles to false>> <<set $havecake to false>> <<set $haverabbit to false>> <<set $lucky to false>> <<set $wonbutton to false>> <>

You are standing in the middle of the toy town you landed in when you first arrived in Toyland. The floor is squishy and soft, and the buildings all around you look like oversized versions of toys, from dollhouses to plastic models to the kind of fake house you'd see in someone's yard. The brown rabbit you met when you first arrived here is rooting through a sack of parcels attached to a post by ribbons. [[Talk to the Rabbit]] In the distance, a huge plastic castle looms over the town. Nearby, you see what looks like a colourful cardboard theatre. More of the toy town extends to the south. [[The Castle Gates]] [[The Theatre]] [[The Marketplace]]

You find yourself wandering through the toy village until you reach the towering gates of the plastic castle. It's an impressive sight up close. While it is just plastic, there's something intimidating about a plastic castle playset the size of a real one. The walls are smooth and shiny, and the brickwork is just a shape in the plastic. High above you giant plastic flags sway left and right stiffly. The gate is massive, clearly designed to be imposing, but the effect is spoiled slightly by the two oversized teddy bears standing guard in front of it, clutching spears made of cardboard. [[Talk to the bears]] <<if $havecake && !$bearsfed>> [[Give the bears snacks]] <</if>> <<if $bearsfed>> [[Ask if they're still hungry]] <</if>> [[Volunteer for guard duty]] [[The Town Square]] [[The Castle Courtyard]]

The marketplace of the toy village is bustling with activity, as toys of all shapes and sizes visit shops that range from wooden blocks, to cardboard boxes, to intricate playsets. Two particular buildings catch your eye. One looks more like a factory than a store, and is constructed of big wooden blocks. The other is a friendly-looking place with big spinning cogs on the sign, that looks like some sort of general store. A road leads south, out from the village itself. [[The Town Square]] [[The General Store]] [[The Workhouse]] [[Outside of Town]]

You are standing on what feels like a vinyl play mat, in a circular area at the center of the big plastic castle. From this angle the entire thing looks hollow and silly, the fact that it's a toy more obvious from here. You can see a pathway leading ahead to what must surely be the throne room, but there are other paths leading elsewhere in the castle as well. <<if $metking>> [[Ask for a job with the King]] [[Guess the name]] <<else>> [[The Throne Room]] <</if>> [[The Castle Gates]] [[The Training Yard]] [[The Kitchen]]

The doors to the throne room creak open, revealing a space unlike anything you’ve seen in Toyland so far. The room is massive, but instead of the stark marble columns and tiles you might expect from a throne room, it’s a riot of random colors and textures. Plush cushions are stacked in lazy piles, shimmering curtains hang from every corner, and twinkling fairy lights are draped like garlands across the ceiling. Llounging in the center of it all on a throne made entirely of velvet pillows and satin drapes is the King. His enormous body sprawls across the cushions, his golden lamé fabric skin catching the light with a dazzling sheen. He’s a plush lion, but his skin is shiny and golden, glinting in the light. His oversized form is stuffed to the brim, making him look both regal and delightfully squishy. His limbs are adorned with silky gold ribbons, his palms and soles made from smooth silver fabric that glints when he lazily waves a paw in your direction. His mane is a riot of soft, billowing gold threads, surrounding his face like a halo, and his eyes are half-lidded, sparkling with a giddy, drunken gleam. His nose shines, and you realise it is solid silver, a strange but decadent touch for a plush toy. His mouth curves into a wide, playful grin as he watches you approach. "Ahh, welcome, welcome to my... kingdom," the King purrs, his voice rich and smooth and almost panting, like he’s right on the verge a loud hedonistic climax at any moment. He shifts his massive body, sinking deeper into his cushiony throne, and gestures grandly with one paw. "Toyland! A delightful place, no?" You step closer, a little unsure of what to make of him. The King’s eyes twinkle with amusement, and he lets out a soft, giddy chuckle as he watches you. "I can see you’re a little lost, hmm?" he says, waving his paw lazily. "Let me guess. You’re wondering how to get home. I get that a lot from visitors." He leans forward slightly, his enormous plush belly pressing against the edge of the throne. "But, dear traveler, there’s a little catch. You see, once you’re in Toyland...getting out is a bit of a game." He winks, as if sharing a secret joke with you. "Oh, don’t worry! I love games," he says, lounging back once more, rolling over, his golden fabric skin shimmering in the soft light. "And I’m very good at them. But here’s the deal! If you want to go home, you’ll need to solve a little mystery for me." The King pauses for dramatic effect, his silver paws toying with the hem of his throne’s cushion as he stretches his back and purrs. "Somewhere in Toyland, there’s someone who’s not quite what they seem. They’re not a toy like the others. They’re something more. They’re..." He lowers his voice conspiratorially, his eyes gleaming. "Toy. The true ruler of this kingdom. The real power behind all of this." He lets out another soft, tipsy giggle and spreads his arms wide. "You, my dear guest, must figure out who they are! Go on, explore! Meet everyone in the kingdom! And when you think you know who’s secretly Toy, come back and tell me." "Ehat happens if I guess wrong?" you ask, a bit wary. The King’s grin widens, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Well, if you guess wrong, darling..." He waves a paw toward the large windows behind the throne, and you catch a glimpse of what looks like an enormous courtyard beyond. Giant game boards are spread out across the grounds, life-sized and filled with colorful pieces. But something about them seems alive. "You’ll have to stay here forever," the King continues, his voice playful but with an edge of something more. "And you’ll become one of the living game pieces in my little amusements. Think of it as a lifetime of fun!" He giggles again, rolling slightly in his throne as if the very thought amuses him. You glance out at the courtyard, spotting what looks like a group of toys moving mechanically across a massive checkerboard. The pieces shift with each roll of a giant die, their painted-on smiles never faltering. The King claps his paws together, his silver palms making a soft tinkling sound. "But don’t let that scare you! If you’re clever enough, you’ll be on your way home in no time." He leans forward, his wide grin almost conspiratorial. "Or... maybe you’ll want to stay? Toyland has a way of growing on people. You know quite a lot of my little citizens used to be people like you. Maybe even I was a human once!" He stretches lazily, his enormous plush body rippling with the motion, then waves you off with a grin. "Go on! Look around, meet the toys, explore! And when you’re ready, come back and tell me who you think the real Toy is. Just remember..." His voice lowers again, his smile turning into something sly. "There’s only one right answer." With that, the King slumps back into his cushioned throne, humming softly to himself as he swirls his paws through the silky curtains draped beside him. "Good luck!" he calls after you, his voice laced with laughter. "I do love a good game." As you step out of the throne room, your mind buzzes with the strange task ahead of you. Somewhere in Toyland, hidden among the toys, is someone far more powerful than they appear. If you can find them, you’ll earn your way home. If not... You glance back at the plush lion king, who’s now lazily draping himself across the throne, giggling at something only he understands. [[The Castle Courtyard]] <<set $metking to true>>

As you make your way into the castle courtyard, you hear the steady rhythm of wooden feet clacking against the ground. In neat rows, a group of toy soldiers are marching in unison. They are wooden figures with bright, painted-on uniforms Their faces are identical, with simple roughly canine shapes, each soldier’s snout painted with the same cheery grin. Their movements are precise and mechanical, every step and motion perfectly timed. Curious, you watch from a distance as they perform drills, their wooden bodies moving with a sharp, repetitive rhythm. Other toy soldiers are practicing swordplay, some are standing at attention, and others are saluting in perfect harmony. <<if $training>> [[Join the infantry]] [[Join the cavalry]] <<else>> [[Join in with training]] <</if>> [[The Castle Courtyard]]

As you wander through the endless halls of the plastic castle, your curiosity draws you toward a sweet scent drifting through the air. It's warm and sugary, a delightful aroma that fills your senses. Following your nose, you make your way down a brightly colored corridor until you come to a pair of swinging doors marked "Kitchens" in playful, blocky stick-on letters. With a gentle push, you step inside. What you find isn't what you expected. Instead of a kitchen the whole room is a candy factory toy, the type where you have a bunch of platic molds and simple jellies that you can make at home. It's filled with oversized contraptions, all made of brightly colored plastic. Conveyor belts covered in sprinkles and powdered sugar twist and turn across the room, while large vats bubble with what looks like thick, gooey syrup in shades of neon green, pink, and orange. Everywhere you look, tools and gadgets are churning out candy. In the center of it all is the castle’s chef, a huge toy alligator. His body made of smooth, firm plastic that shines under the kitchen’s bright lights. His mouth is wide, lined with rounded teeth that look more playful than dangerous, and his belly is covered by a soft vinyl apron decorated with gummy bears and lollipops. His stubby legs waddle as he moves around, adjusting the levers and pushing buttons on the various machines with practiced ease. Surrounding him and bustling to and fro are a bunch of little gummy bears, all identical apart from their colours. As soon as the gator spots you, he grins, his huge, toothy smile stretching wide across his face. “Well, well, look who wandered into the kitchen! I'm Bubba, the chef! Hungry for some sweets, are ya? Don't worry about cavities, these teeth pop right out!” [[Ask about the candy]] [[Help out around the kitchen]] [[The Castle Courtyard]]

The theatre looks at first like what you'd expect, with columns, arches, the usual look for an old-fashioned building. When you get closer though it becomes clear that the entire thing is made of cardboard, and is balanced between two towering dollhouses. Its edges are slightly frayed, the colors bright but scuffed with the wear of time, and a painted sign above the entrance reads, in whimsical, swirling hand-painted letters "The Grand Toy Box Theatre." You head inside, and smell the scent of sawdust and old stage props. You’re greeted by a warm, cheerful buzz of chatter. Inside, rows of patchwork chairs are filled with toys of all kinds. Stuffed bears, wooden soldiers, plastic action figures, all facing a simple stage draped in red velvet curtains. <<if $haveticket>> [[Attend a show]] [[Join a show]] <<else>> Sadly you can't get any closer. A huge plastic dinosaur toy tells you that you need a ticket to attend the show. <</if>> [[The Town Square]]

The small toy village is filled with colorful shops, each with its own quirky charm, but one in particular catches your eye. The storefront is adorned with bright, flashy signs and whimsical decorations, its centerpiece a giant pair of metal gears spinning slowly above the entrance. The sign reads: Big Gears’ Emporium! Toys, Trinkets, and Oddities! Curious, you step inside, where you’re greeted by the owner, a large, old-fashioned toy named Big Gears. He looks like a robot, but made of tin like a toy from a long time ago. He has a big round belly, his bulky metal frame adorned with dials and rivets and bolts. His limbs are still and mechanical, and he has a huge metal moustache on his round face that sways left and right when he talks. His eyes glow warmly as he sees you approach. “Well, well! Look what the wind blew in!” Big Gears’ voice is loud and boisterous, a mechanical rumble that echoes through the shop. He clanks forward, his gears whirring as he moves, and gives you a hearty greeting. “Welcome to Big Gears’ Emporium! I’ve got all kinds of wonderful things here! If you’re lookin’ for fun, you’ve come to the right place!” You smile at his enthusiasm, glancing around at the shelves full of toys, gadgets, and trinkets. The shop is a treasure trove of odd and delightful items, each one more whimsical than the last. A gaggle of small toys are helping out, sweeping, cleaning, stocking. They look like simplistic versions of Big Gears himself, little round waddling creatures that are just metal balls with wide eyes and grabby hands. It seems that buttons are the currency in this place. <<if $buttons >= 20>> <<if !$havecake>> [[Buy the cake for 20 buttons]] <</if>> <<if !$havemarbles>> [[Buy the marbles for 20 buttons]] <</if>> <<if !$haveticket>> [[Buy the theatre ticket for 20 buttons]] <</if>> <<else>> Cake - 20 Buttons Theatre Ticket - 20 Buttons Marbles - 20 Buttons <</if>> <<if $buttons >= 100 && !$haverabbit>> [[Buy the antique rabbit for 100 buttons]] <<else>> Buy the antique rabbit for 100 buttons. <</if>> [[Help Out]] [[Ask about the little robots]] [[The Marketplace]]

The workhouse looms ahead, a strange building made entirely from oversized wooden blocks. It’s a bit wonky, with uneven edges and windows that look like they’ve been stuck on randomly, but it fits right in with everything else in this crazy place. When you get close enough you can see the windows are very literally stickers, but they somehow still function like real windows. The soft clattering of tools and machinery can be heard from inside, drawing you closer. Pushing open the heavy wooden door, you step into the bustling workshop, and your eyes immediately fall on the workers. Dozens of monkey puppets are hanging from strings attached to the high ceiling, their limbs jerking and moving in unison as they hammer, screw, and assemble various toys and objects. Each puppet has the same floppy wooden body connected by strings and blank, smiling painted-on face, their wooden hands and feet moving rapidly as they go through the motions of building. Sitting at the center of the workshop is a large plastic fox toy. His round body is carefully painted with intricate details, his plastic waistcoat and pants giving him an air of importance. He’s permanently posed on a round plastic base, his legs fixed in a seated position that don't look able to ever move. Instead, he wobbles and hops along the floor whenever he needs to move, giving him an awkward, comical motion that clashes with his otherwise suave demeanor. “Ah! A visitor!” the fox exclaims as he spots you, his vulpine grin wide and charming. “Come in, come in! Welcome to my humble workhouse! The finest production line in all of Toyland!” He hops toward you with a slight wobble, his base clattering lightly on the floor as he moves. “I’m Vince, your friendly overseer! And, might I add, a living collectible! When I was human I was obsessed with expensive, rare things, and now I am one!” He wobbles and shows you his base, which says he's one of a limited print run of collectible figures His tone is smooth and agreeable, but something about his voice gives off a slick, sales-pitch vibe, as though every word is crafted to draw you in. “I see you’ve got an eye for craftsmanship!” Vince says, leaning forward in his seat, though his plastic body doesn’t really bend. “How’d you like to take a shift here, hmm? Just a little help with production. Nothing too difficult. I promise, you’ll find it... enlightening. Seeing where you...belong.” [[Take a shift]] [[Examine one of the odd boxes in the back]] [[The Marketplace]]

This is the very outskirts of the village. In the distance you can see rolling hills and fields of squishy fabric, along with a forest of flat wooden painted trees. In the near distance, a sparkling lake appears to literally be bubbling like soda pop. <<if !$wonbutton>> There's one odd thing where you are just now. It's a big plastic dome with some dice inside, like a huge version of the kind you would see in board games. A sign says "Press your luck for a prize!" <<if $lucky>> [[Press the bubble|Press the bubble lucky]] <<else>> [[Press the bubble]] <</if>> <</if>> [[The Marketplace]] [[The Farm]] [[The Lake]] A wooden painted sign says "Don't Go To The Wilderness!" [[The Wilderness]]

The path leading to the farm is flanked by fields of the most unusual crops you’ve ever seen. Rows of plastic carrots with bright orange sheen poke out of the soft, spongy soil, while plush pumpkins, round and fluffy, rest lazily in neat clusters. The entire farm feels like it belongs in a toy box, everything colorful and larger than life. As you approach the big red barn, you spot the farmer. He is a huge, muscular action figure horse standing proudly in the field. “Howdy, partner!” The horse figure waves at you with a grin, his plastic muscles glinting in the sunlight. His overalls stretch over his wide chest, and his painted-on eyes are friendly and wide, though his expression is simple and a little dopey. “Name’s Mack! Welcome to the farm. Ya lookin’ to lend a hand? Sure could use some help ‘round here. I have hoe-pulling action but I could always use another helper!” He shows you his back, where he does indeed have a lever that can be pushed to make him swing the hoe. [[Work on the farm]] <<if $workedfarm>> [[Ask to become a piggy bank]] [[Ask to become a sheep]] [[Ask to become a chicken]] <</if>> [[Outside of Town]]

The wooden sign at the edge of the village reads in large, bright letters: "Don’t Go To The Wilderness!" But something about it feels more like an invitation than a warning. The playful, painted trees in the distance call out to you, their two-dimensional shapes sticking out of the soft earth like pieces from a board game. Curiosity tugs at you, and before you know it, you’re stepping beyond the village boundaries, wandering into the strange forest. The trees are flat and brightly painted, each one more cartoonish than the last, their leaves and trunks outlined in thick black lines. The deeper you venture, the more surreal it feels, the more the world starts to feel false, ephemeral, unreal. It starts to become like walking through the pages of a storybook. You can almost see the edges of the pages where the paintings stop, almost sense the words below you. The ground beneath your feet is soft, almost spongy, as if the entire forest is made of foam or felt. As you wander further in, you start to feel like something is watching you. The air grows still, the only sound the faint crunch of your steps on the plush forest floor. You glance around, but all you can see are the cheerful wooden trees, their colors bright and playful. But the sense of being watched persists, and a chill runs down your spine. Suddenly, you hear a soft rustling, followed by a deep but playful giggle. You turn, and and see them. A pack of strange toy wolves emerging from between the trees, their patchwork bodies sewn together from pieces of colorful fabric. Their big, silly plastic googly eyes bounce and wiggle as they move, giving them an almost comical appearance. But there’s something wild in their energy, their movements quick and darting as they circle you, curious and playful and just a little dangerous. Before you can react, one of the wolves bounds toward you, its long, floppy fabric tongue hanging out as it pounces. You stumble back, but the wolves are quicker and faster than you. They leap at you with surprising speed despite their gangly and silly bodies, their patchwork paws pressing against your chest, and then the licking begins. Their soft, fabric tongues are everywhere, wet and warm, playfully covering your skin in sticky licks. At first, it just feels like you're being tickled all over. As the wolves continue their playful assault, you feel your body starting to change. Your limbs, once solid and strong, begin to feel lighter, looser, like your insides are becoming soft and your bones are disappearing. Your arms fold in, wrapping around your torso, and your legs curl up beneath you, pressing tightly against your body. The wolves giggle and bounce around you as they lick, their googly eyes wobbling with glee. You feel your head being pushed down by a forepaw, a muzzle shoving against your backside to squish it into your core, your body rolling up into itself as if you’re being folded like fabric. A strange warmth spreads through you, and from what you can see as you are bounced and shoved from wolf to wolf, your skin seems to be turning a bright, cheerful yellow. You try to move, to stop the transformation, but your limbs are no longer your own. They’re fusing together as they wrap tightly around your body. Your entire form becomes rounder, softer. The wolves don’t stop, they push you, roll you, and lick you more eagerly, their tongues pushing your body into a perfect, spherical shape, shoving firmly at any part that tries to resist or push away, constantly keeping up the pressure and attention as you get smaller and rounder. Your insides begin to firm up, becoming stiff and rubbery. Your body grows tighter, harder, and yet oddly light, like you’re made of nothing but air and foam. Your hands, feet, and head are gone, melted into the round shape that’s now taking over your entire being. You’ve become a large, bouncy, yellow ball. The wolves let out excited yips, their patchwork bodies bouncing with joy as they see your completed self. They leap and pounce on you, batting you around with their soft paws, their googly eyes spinning wildly as they chew on your new form, their teeth tugging at your edges. One wolf pushes you with its snout, sending you rolling across the soft forest floor. The others bound after you, giggling and yipping as they chase you down. You’re no longer in control of your movements. You bounce and roll as the wolves playfully toss you between them, your body firm and round, yet still strangely aware of the sensations. Every bounce, every playful nibble sends a ripple of excitement through you. You can feel the wolves’ teeth gnawing at your surface, but it’s not painful, it’s almost erotic. Each bite sends a rush of bliss through you, each heavy swipe of a paw makes you want to moan, each time you bounce from a rock or tree you crave more, desperate to feel it again. The pack of wolves continues to play, throwing you into the air, chasing after you as you roll and bounce along the ground. They chew on you, push you around, and treat you like the best toy they’ve ever found. Somewhere deep inside, you find yourself enjoying it too. The sense of freedom, the lightness, the joy of simply being a bouncy, playful object, it all feels so natural, so right. Time seems to lose meaning as the wolves continue their game, and your mind grows lighter, just like your new form. There’s no need for complicated thoughts or worries now. Just the thrill of being bounced, the sheer pleasure of being rolled, and chewed on by eager, playful, stupid patchwork wolves. You’re part of their game, and that’s all that matters. As the wolves toss you between them once more, you realize that this is your new existence. You’ve become their toy, a big yellow tennis ball in a forest full of playful, silly creatures. And as you bounce along, carried by their energy, you can’t help but feel a strange, joyful contentment. After all, who needs arms and legs when you can just bounce forever?

the path leads you toward a glistening lake that sparkles in the sunlight. What you assumed to be sunlight bouncing off it reveals itself to be real when you get closer, though. The water is actually yellow. When you lean in to take a closer look, the unmistakable scent of sweet lemonade fills the air. The lake is bubbling gently, like a fizzy drink, and floating lazily in the middle of it is a large, colorful figure. You step closer and soon realize that the figure is a huge, plastic hippo, a life-sized version of a Hungry Hungry Hippo. His body is bright and shiny, his big round head resting on the edge of the lake. His eyes are half-lidded, his expression one of complete relaxation, as he floats without a care in the world. “Hey there,” a slow, deep voice rumbles from the lake, and you realize the hippo is speaking to you. “I’m Hank. Whatcha doin’ around here?” He yawns lazily, the sound echoing across the bubbly lemonade lake. You introduce yourself, feeling a bit awkward at first, but Hank’s dopey grin is welcoming. He doesn’t seem to mind at all that you’ve wandered into his lemonade-filled lounging spot. “Oh, cool,” he drawls, his massive plastic body bobbing gently in the fizzing water. “I don’t get many visitors. Not much to do ‘round here but chill and eat.” The thought of eating seems to perk him up slightly. His eyes widen, and he gives you a slow, curious look. “You don’t, uh... have any food, do you? I get real hungry sometimes. That’s kinda my whole thing, ya know?” <<if $havemarbles && !$hippofed>> [[Feed Hank marbles]] <</if>> <<if $hippofed>> [[Join Hank for lunch]] <</if>> [[Outside of Town]]

<<if visited() == 1>>"Hey there, you settling in ok? The name's Springs, by the way!", the rabbit says. He turns and shows you his brass key, which is slowly turning like the key of a wind-up toy. "I'm pretty cute and cuddly, ain't I? Full of springs, though! You seen the King yet? If you want out of here, he's the guy to talk to. If you don't want to leave though that's good too. You'll find where you belong pretty quick. I don't even remember being human, myself." He looks through the parcels and letters in his bag and hops impatiently from paw to paw. "I do have some work to do though. We may be toys but gotta pay the bills! Unless ya want to tag along?"<<else>> "Hey there pal! Still looking for a place to stay? I wouldn't mind having a fellow bunny to help me on the postal route, if you're interested..."<</if>> [[Join him on a job]] <<if $canrubfeet>>[[Rub his feet]] <</if>> [[The Town Square]]

<<if visited() == 1>>Springs hops along beside you, his whole body whirring mechanically as his clockwork turns. It's oddly soothing in a way. “Come on then!” he calls, his voice cheeky and eager. “Lots ta deliver today!” You follow him through the streets of the village. They look like they have cobblestones, but it's just painted grey shapes on the plush squishy ground. Despite the fact that all the buildings and people are toys, they are going about their business just like ordinary people would. Your first stop is uphill, towards the royal castle. It is a lot bigger than it seemed from a distance, the walls managing to be intimidating despite clearly being the grey plastic of a toy castle. The gate is guarded by two hulking teddy bears. They tower over you, intimidating despite their armour and weapons clearly being made of cardboard. “Springs!” one of the bears booms in a deep voice. “You know you not allowed up here!” "Chill, Fuzz! Just got a letter for the king!", Springs says before handing them a wrapped parcel. The bear takes it delicately in his oversized paw, then waves you both along with a nod. As you continue through town, Springs explains that he’s been delivering letters and packages for as long as he can remember. “Never gets boring!” he says with a soft chuckle. “I get to check in on everyone, hear what's up. I think I probably did something like this when I was human, too” Together you deliver parcels to a raggedy ann doll, a wooden soldier at a stall, a group of giggling wooden marionettes. Everyone seems to know him, and react to him either with affection or a stern talking-to for his mischief and pranks. Eventually, the village thins out and you find yourselves walking toward the outskirts, where the ground is firmer and painted like a brown sackcloth canvas. Crops are growing in drawn-on fields, though of course they are toys too. Giant plastic carrots, oversized plush vegetables, flat wooden trees like something you'd see on a stage. “Last stop for the day,” Springs says as you approach a farmhouse made from a massive shoebox, painted and drawn-on. The land is divided by picket fences made of oversized popsicle sticks. The farmer himself is nearby, pulling a wooden cart. He's made of plastic, and is a huge, muscular horse toy with articulated limbs. His hooves clunk against the ground with every step, and when he sees Springs, he lifts a gleaming hoof to wave. “Springs! Right on time,” the horse says, his voice deep and steady. His broad plastic muscles gleam with a glossy shine. Springs hands him a large bundle of letters, and the horse tips his head in thanks before turning back to the cart. Eventually the day draws on, and although the sky doesn't appear to have any actual sun, shadows begin to draw long and the light starts to dim. Your legs ache from all the walking, but Springs seems as lively as ever, his brass key turning with the same constant rhythm as before. When you get back to town he stretches and smiles. “Good job pal, it was nice having a buddy along,” he says, hopping onto a soft tuft of fabric grass. “Bet you’re tired huh? New world, weird people.” He eyes you with a grin, then opens the satchel at his side. Inside, where he was keeping the letters and parcels, you notice a gleaming brass key, identical to his own. “You know,” Springs says, holding the key out to you, “I could wind you up...” He sees your hesitation, and leans closer. "It feels real good, I promise. I never get tired so long as I'm wound. I can work all day and have fun all night. Always excited, always giddy. And getting wound, pal...boy, you've felt nothin' like it. We would...wind each other..." He says that last part with the breathless excitement of someone describing a lewd act. For a moment, the offer seems tempting. Your legs are aching, your body feels heavy from exhaustion. You get the distinct feeling though that it could be a one-way street, and you reluctantly decline. Springs shrugs. “Suit yourself,” he says, tucking the key back into his bag. “If you ever change your mind, you know where to find me.” Springs gives you ten buttons for your work, his paw lingering on your palm. If you want to help my key out, though...we could duck behind the grass over here... [[Wind Springs Up]] [[The Town Square]] <<set $buttons to $buttons+10>> <<else>> You find yourself back at the familiar spot where you met Springs and helped him with his work. You can't shake the memory of his spare key, a thought and temptation that you just can't get out of your head. You hear a familiar sound coming down the road. It's the whirring and clicking of Springs' own key, a sound that makes you blush slightly. You turn to see him bouncing down the road, eager and energetic as always. When he sees you, he cracks a grin. "Knew you’d come back.” He opens his satchel and pulls out the other key, waving it in front of you. It's so shiny and clean and perfect. "Well? Wanna see how it feels?" [[Change your mind|The Town Square]] [[Nod|SpringsKeyEnd]] <</if>>

<<if visited() == 1>>You glance at Springs, who seems as relaxed as he can get for a wind-up rabbit that's twitchy and squirmy at all times so long as his key keeps turning. You glance down, looking at his feet, covered in soft plush fabric, twitching idly. An idea pops into your head. Springs is a rabbit, after all, and you remember something about rubbing a rabbit’s feet for good luck. "Hey, Springs," you say, half-joking, "mind if I rub your feet? You know, for good luck?" Springs raises an eyebrow, his mouth curling into that crooked grin. "Good luck, huh? Well, if you say so. I’ve been working my tail off all day, so why not? Could use a little break anyway." Before you realize it, you’ve scooted closer. Springs stretches out his legs, his soft plush feet resting in your lap. You hesitate for a moment, unsure of how it’ll feel, but then your hands move on their own, gently pressing into the fabric of his feet. The surface is soft, yielding, warm and pleasant, but deep inside you can feel the firmer hard core of his clockwork body. It feels incredibly good, his soles squishing, his toes flexing. As you knead into his feet, you feel a deep sense of comfort wash over you. Springs lets out a soft, contented sigh, and you can’t help but smile. "Dang, humie, you rub feet good. You sure this is just for 'luck'?", he teases. At first, it’s just a simple massage, light and easy, your fingers working into the plush surface. The longer you rub, the more you notice something strange. The warmth of Springs’s feet seems to seep into your hands, spreading up your arms and into your body, like his own comfort and pleasure is filling you up, soaking your muscles and mind. It's practically hypnotic. The softness of his plush fur is unlike anything you’ve ever felt, the feeling of his wiggling, twitching paws against you consumes your thoughts. You find yourself losing track of time, your movements slowing as you focus entirely on the sensation of rubbing his feet. The more you rub, the more your thoughts begin to drift. The world around you fades into the background, your mind blank except for the softness beneath your fingers. You can feel Springs’s firm, wiggling movements, sense the vibrations inside him as his key turns in his back, and the rhythm of it matches your own, drawing you deeper into the comforting trance. A small voice in the back of your mind tries to speak up, to tell you to stop, but it feels distant, unimportant. All that matters right now is the soft warmth of Springs’s feet and the way they make you feel so so good. So calm. So content. "You’re really good at this," Springs murmurs, his voice a low, relaxed hum. His plush toes twitch slightly, and you feel the fabric give under your touch. "Could get used to it. I'd use you every day, humie." You blink, realizing just how long you’ve been rubbing his feet. With a sudden burst of mental effort, you pull your hands away, shaking off the strange haze that had settled over you. Your heart beats a little faster, like you’ve just broken free from something you hadn’t even noticed until now. Springs stretches, yawning lazily as he sits up. "That was nice," he says with a satisfied grin before his hyperactive energy returns and he begins to bounce up and down. "Didn’t think I needed that, but turns out I did. You’re welcome to do it again anytime, y’know." There’s a part of you that feels tempted to take him up on the offer immediately, but you force a smile and shake your head. "Maybe later," you say, though the thought lingers. That strange, compelling softness still echoes in your mind, even as you try to push it away. Springs pats you on the shoulder with one soft paw. "I'm gonna tell everyone you're a foot pervert", he says with a chuckle. He bounces away, his brass key turning at its steady pace, leaving you alone with your thoughts. <<set $lucky to true>> [[The Town Square]] <<else>> You can't stop thinking about him, his feet, the warmth of them, the size and weight in your hands. You need it, you crave it. It’s a need, growing stronger with each passing hour. You barely remember why you were here in the first place, what your original goal was, or even the world you came from. All you can think about is Springs. His cocky grin, his soft feet, his firm core, the warmth, the gentle comfort that his feet gave you, the vibration of his turning key. Springs is waiting for you, already sitting down, leaned back with his feet splayed out and on display as if he knew you’d come back. His eyes glint in the afternoon light, and his smile curls wider as you approach. “Back for more, huh?” he says, his voice playful. “Can’t say I’m surprised. Go ahead, if you’re still feeling up to it. You want to get lucky, don't ya?” Without hesitation, you drop to the ground beside him, your hands reaching for his feet like you're dying of thirst and they are fresh water. Springs stretches out, leaning back and resting on his hands, while you kneel in front of him, your fingers sinking into the soft plush of his paws, pressing hard enough to feel the hard machinery beneath. The feeling comes back to you immediatly, the warm fuzziness that flows up your hands, into your chest, and fills your head with soft, stupid, happy cotton wool. It’s stronger this time, pulling you in deeper, making your mind fuzzier with every stroke. You rub, and rub, and rub, your hands moving with practiced ease as though this is what you were made for. Springs’s feet twitch slightly under your fingers, and he lets out a soft sigh of satisfaction. As you continue, something inside you starts to shift. The world around you becomes blurry, your thoughts clouding over until all that remains is the sensation of rubbing his feet. It’s like you’re sinking into the plushness itself, your mind drifting away, becoming weightless, empty, blank. You knead deeper into his feet, thoughts beginnig to change. It’s not just Springs anymore. Your mind fills with images of more feet, different kinds of feet. Fabric feet like Springs’s, yes, but also smooth wooden ones, hard plastic ones, feet of all the toys in the kingdom. They need you, they need your hands, your service. The thought takes root deep inside your brain, growing stronger and more urgent by the second. You imagine yourself rubbing their feet, helping them, serving them. You want it. No, you need it. This is why you were built. This is the kind of toy you are. You massage harder, losing yourself in the task, and as you do, you feel something odd happening to your own body. The changes are subtle at first. Your fingers start to feel strange, slightly less flexible, and your skin takes on a rubbery texture. You glance down briefly, but your mind is so fogged with obsession that it barely registers. Your hands are turning blue, your fingers reshaping into little rubber nubs, but you don’t care. You keep rubbing, faster, harder, desperate to feel the satisfaction of serving Springs. Your legs start to tingle, and you notice with a distant sense of bliss that they’re shrinking, growing shorter, your feet transforming into small, rounded rubber paws. Your shoes fall away, no longer fitting your new form, and your toes stretch and plump into cute little pads. The world around you seems bigger now, but it doesn’t bother you. You’re too focused on the plush feet in front of you, on how good it feels to knead your little rubber fingers into Springs’s fur. The changes spread, and your body grows lighter, smaller. Your clothes slip off, leaving only smooth blue rubber where your skin used to be. Your arms shrink, your legs shorten, and a long rubbery tail unfurls behind you, twitching with excitement. Big round ears sprout from the sides of your head, twitching with every sound, but your mind barely registers it. All that matters is the work, the work you exist for, the feet, the service. You have to make feet feel good. You exist to be under them, stepped on, massaging, kissing, adoring. Feet are everything. Feet. FEET. FEET. You squirm and wriggle, nuzzling into Springs's soles, your body shrinking down into a little rounded rubber mouse like the kind a cat would bat around and chew on, your body squeaking softly with every movement. It feels right. It feels perfect. You’re no longer weighed down by memories of your old life, by thoughts of being human. Those memories have faded completely now, replaced with one singular desire. To serve. To rub, to assist, to make the toys of this kingdom happy. Springs watches your transformation with a pleased grin, his button eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Well, look at you,” he says, his voice soft and approving. “You’ve really found it, haven’t ya? Reminds me of when I started delivering the post an' got my turn key.” You look up at him, your big round ears twitching, and your tiny rubber paws still working against his plush feet. You nod eagerly, excited by the prospect of your new life. "I’m ready," you say, your voice now a high-pitched squeak that matches your new form. "I want to help everyone! ALL the feet!" Springs leans forward, patting your small rubber head with one soft paw. "Good mouse!," he says with a chuckle. "Lots of toys here who could use you. A mouse too, the king is going to lose it when he meets you now!." You feel a rush of joy at his words, your tail flicking back and forth in excitement. The idea of rubbing the feet of all the toys in the kingdom fills you with purpose, with a deep, satisfying sense of fulfillment. You can already picture it. Going from toy to toy, offering your services, bringing comfort to them all. Wooden feet, plastic feet, plush feet, it doesn’t matter. You’ll be there for them, ready to rub, ready to serve. Springs stands, stretching his legs and offering you a small nod. "Come on, little guy," he says, "I gotta introduce you to my mates!" You hop to your rubbery feet, your paws squeaking against the soft ground. Your mind is a whirl of excitement, already planning out all the toys you’ll help, all the feet you’ll tend to. You bounce alongside Springs, filled with an endless supply of energy and purpose. Your old life, your old memories are gone, erased completely. All you know is this new existence, this new role you’ve fully embraced. And you couldn’t be happier. <</if>>

You wait for the show to begin, and a procession of toys show up to ply their acts. The first act is a troupe of hand puppets is performing an animated skit. The puppets bounce and twist with exaggerated movements, their fabric arms flailing in a comical reenactment of an old fairytale. It's a little bizarre seeing them move without any puppeteers, like watching a real life version of the Muppets. A stuffed fox with a brightly colored tunic tumbles across the stage, chased by a grumpy puppet prince wielding a plastic sword. The prince forgets his lines, so just starts bonking the fox on the head, who twists things around and takes the prince's lines for himself, eventually saving the day and rescuing the fair maiden, a clearly male bear puppet in a wig. The audience loves it, roaring with laughter, the sound a medley of squeaks, rattles, and cheerful claps. A group of ventriloquist dolls sits at the side of the stage, waiting for their turn. Their stiff wooden faces are frozen in wide-eyed expressions. Every now and then, one of them swivels its head a little too far to survey the crowd, neck twisting like an owl. It's more than a little unsettling.. You take a seat near the front, surprised by how invested you are getting in the show. The stage lights flicker, casting long shadows that dance across the cardboard walls. As the hand puppets take their final bow, a toy ballerina steps onto the stage, her delicate porcelain body reflecting the soft glow of the lights. She spins gracefully, her movements precise and fluid as she pirouettes across the wooden boards. Tiny gears whirr quietly from within her as she dances, her tutu shimmering in pastel colors that catch the light. The toys in the audience are fascinated, watching with wide eyes. From behind her, a set of ballerina toys join the stage, moving in perfect synchronization. Their limbs bend with practiced ease, moving as though pulled by invisible strings. A whole ballet plays out, a nutcracker dancing on stage, mock fights with a three-headed clockwork rat king who's six wobbly eyes bounce and jiggle as he battles the nutcracker prince. Eventually the play comes to an end, the day is saved and the nutcracker kisses the ballerina princess. As the ballerinas take their final bow, the crowd erupts in applause, a chorus of claps, squeaks, and jingles. You find yourself joining in, caught up in the wonder of it all. [[Return to the lobby|The Theatre]]

<<if visited() == 1>>You hadn’t planned on stepping onto the stage. It just sort of happened. One moment you’re watching the ventriloquist dolls finish their bit, and the next, you’re standing in the wings, about to go on. The cardboard curtains part slightly, and you catch a glimpse of two performers already on stage, waiting for you. You recognise them from a poster in the lobby. They're "Rumble and Rocky", a ventriloquist act. Rumble is impossible to miss, largely because he's gigantic and towers over you, far larger than any normal toy. He is a massive plastic sheep with a round, gleaming belly and stubby legs. His face is frozen in a painted smile, his face having no articulation or moving parts. He just has a relaxed, laid-back friendly expression. Beside him, on one of his large, stiff hands, is Rocky, a soft fabric hand puppet shaped like a wolf with a cocky grin. Rocky’s black button eyes glitter mischievously as his soft, felt mouth flaps up and down with exaggerated movements. “Ah, here’s the star of the show!” Rocky’s voice is smooth and quick, his stitched-on smirk widening as he turns to the audience. “Give it up for our volunteer!” The audience claps, an enthusiastic mix of plush paws and wooden hands clattering together. You can feel the warmth of the lights on your face as you step forward, heart pounding a little faster. You’re unsure of what to do, but Rocky’s presence is immediately overwhelming and he steers you perfectly into the act. “Look at this one,” Rocky teases, his fabric mouth twitching in a mocking smile. “Got stage fright, huh? Don’t worry, pal! Rumble here can’t even move his mouth, and he does fine!” The crowd laughs, and despite your nerves, you find yourself smiling. It’s hard not to get caught up in the moment. Rocky bounces around on Rumble’s hand, making grand gestures as he speaks. Rumble, as expected, stays completely still, his wide, painted smile unchanged, his plastic eyes staring forward as if unfazed by Rocky’s relentless jabs. “Come on,” Rocky says, turning his button eyes to you, “say something! You're quieter than I was when I was human! You know me and Rumble used to be a duo then too, he was always telling me what to do, weren't you big guy?” He reaches up and raps Rumble on the head, who doesn't react at all. You manage a weak chuckle, but before you can speak, Rocky jumps in again. “Uh oh, looks like we’ve got another Rumble on our hands. You two are practically twins! You know, I did always dream about having two of this big guy. But I can't fit two hands inside me!” The audience bursts into laughter again, and you realize Rocky’s not giving you much room to respond. But it doesn’t seem to matter, he's already an expert at playing the ground. He’s carrying the act, playing off both you and Rumble with a quick wit that leaves the crowd in stitches. You finally manage to get a line in, feeding Rocky a setup for his next joke. It’s clumsy, but it works. Rocky’s voice cuts through the laughter like clockwork. “Nice try, kid. I’ve heard better delivery from a wind-up horse!” Another wave of laughter. It feels good, though, being part of the act, hearing the audience laugh with you. Or possibly at you. Oddly, either way sends a tingle of excitement through you. Something strange happens about halfway through the act. As the routine goes on, you fumble with another line, unsure of what to say next. That’s when you feel a large, firm weight settling gently on your shoulder. Rumble, his expression still locked in that smile, has placed his plastic hand on you. It’s subtle, almost comforting, but the moment his hand touches you, the words come. They pour out of you effortlessly, perfectly setting up Rocky for his next joke. “See?!” Rocky shouts, eyes wide with exaggerated shock. “They’re finally getting the hang of it! Might even outshine old Rumble here.” The audience erupts in laughter, and you smile, but there’s something odd now. It’s like the words aren’t entirely your own. They just appear, clear and sharp, as though Rumble himself is guiding you. Rumble’s hand stays on your shoulder, heavy and still, and every time you start to falter, the words flow more easily. At first, it’s a relief. But then you notice that with each joke, with every laugh you draw from the crowd, your own thoughts feel... dimmer. It’s getting harder to think beyond the act. The lines feel like they were already written for you, as though you’re not even speaking them, just letting them spill out while your body moves in rhythm with Rocky’s sharp quips. You try to pull away from Rumble’s touch, but despite how light his grip is, it anchors you in place. His big plastic body doesn’t move, but you feel him guiding you, positioning you perfectly with just a gentle nudge. It’s subtle, almost unnoticeable to anyone watching, but inside your mind, it’s like gears turning, each one clicking into place, pushing your thoughts further and further back. More jokes. More laughter. More applause. The world beyond the stage blurs, your focus narrowing to just Rocky’s voice, the audience’s response, and the faint pressure of Rumble’s hand on your shoulder. You try to hold on to your mind, your identity, but it's all slipping away, fading into the flow of the performance. You’re not even thinking about what to say anymore, it just happens like you're a puppet mindlessly performing your role. By the time the act reaches its peak, you can barely remember your name, let alone why you even came on stage in the first place. You’re part of the show now, a living prop in Rumble and Rocky’s routine. The audience loves it. When the final laugh rings out and the applause swells, it feels like a distant echo, something you’re not entirely connected to anymore, your head just a hot, fuzzy, happy mess, a sensation of bliss at doing a good job, putting on a show. The curtains close, and Rumble lifts his hand from you. Instantly you stumble back, dazed, as if waking from a dream. You can barely make sense of where you are, your thoughts still cloudy, your body moving on autopilot. You manage to step off the stage, your legs shaky beneath you. Just as you’re about to leave the theater, Rocky’s voice cuts through the applause, sharp and teasing. “Hey, you did great up there! You know, if you ever want to come back, Rumble’s got a spare hand.” Rocky’s felt mouth twists into a grin. “We could always use a new puppet to keep things fresh.” Rumble stands beside him, silent as ever, but his massive plastic hoof hand wiggles invitingly. For a moment, you feel a strange pull, a thought blooming in the back of your foggy mind: What would it feel like to be part of the act forever? You shake your head, trying to clear the haze. But as you leave the theater, you can’t shake the feeling that, somehow, the thought is still lingering. You earn thirty buttons for your work. [[The Theatre]] <<set $buttons to $buttons+30>> <<else>> You find yourself drawn back to the theater before you even realize it, your feet almost moving on their own as you push through the cardboard doors once more. The stage, the lights and the laughter welcome you. You belong here. There they are. Rumble, with his big, plastic body and permanent smile, and Rocky, grinning a wolf grin, waiting for you under the spotlight. "Look who came crawling back!" Rocky teases the moment you step into view, his fabric mouth flapping open in an exaggerated grin. His beady button eyes sparkle mischievously, and he wiggles excitedly on Rumble’s hand. "I knew you couldn’t stay away. Ready to be a star, huh? Or are you just really eager to have a sheep's hand up your backside in front of these nice people?" The crowd of toys erupts in laughter, but it’s all in good fun. Something about Rocky’s teasing feels comforting, like an old friend ribbing you, and any lingering nervousness melts away. You can’t help but grin as you step closer. “Don’t be shy, come on up! Rumble’s been missing you,” Rocky continues, bouncing slightly. “He’s got two hands, you know. Ever thought of trying the puppet life? It’s a lot cozier than standing around and forgetting your lines.” You laugh, ready to jump into the routine. But before you can say anything, you feel Rumble’s large plastic hand gently slide up under your shirt, resting against your back. Instantly, it’s like a switch flips in your mind. The lines you were nervous about earlier suddenly come with ease, flowing out of your mouth as naturally as if you’d rehearsed them a hundred times. "See? It’s not so hard when Rumble gives you a little nudge,” Rocky says, his wolfish grin widening. “He’s pretty HANDY, wouldn’t you say?” The crowd giggles at the pun, and the warmth of their laughter fills you with a bubbly excitement. The stage lights glow brighter, and everything feels right. As the act goes on, you find yourself moving in perfect sync with Rocky’s quips and Rumble’s subtle movements. Every joke lands perfectly, every laugh rings out louder. The ease with which the words come is almost magical. It’s like you and Rumble are in perfect harmony, dancing through the performance together. His gentle guidance makes it impossible not to go with the flow. As you deliver another punchline, you catch a glimpse of your hand, and it’s not quite your hand anymore. The skin looks softer, almost plush-like, as though it’s slowly turning into fabric. A ripple of surprise runs through you, but it doesn’t feel wrong. In fact, it feels kind of good. Soft, warm, happy, exciting. Rocky notices too, of course. “Well, look at that!” he exclaims with a cackle. “Looks like you’re getting into character!” The audience roars with laughter, and you find yourself smiling wider. The changes continue, bit by bit. Your skin becomes a soft, cozy felt, your fingers rounding out into floppy, fabric paws. Your mouth feels strange for a moment, but then you realize it’s because it’s turning into fabric too, flapping open just like Rocky’s. It’s funny, tingly, happy. Your face feels lighter, it’s no longer stiff and solid, but free to move with exaggerated expressions. A squished up face of annoyance at Rocky's bad puns, a wiggle of excitement, all of it over the top, silly, mindless. Rocky doesn’t miss a beat. “Oh-ho! Look at those floppy ears coming in! Maybe you'll actually hear my jokes now!” The crowd claps and cheers, delighted by your transformation, but you’re enjoying it just as much. You can feel your body hollowing out, becoming lighter and more flexible, empty inside just like your head.. With a final, playful bounce, you feel your body shrink just a little more, the last bits of you changing as your feet become soft little paws. Your new felt ears flop around as you move, and a fluffy sheepdog tail appears behind you, wiggling with excitement. By the time your transformation finishes, you’re a full-fledged hand puppet, soft and light, your body perfectly fitted for Rumble’s firm guiding hand inside you. Rocky gives you a sly wink. “Welcome to the show, kid. Told you it’d be fun!” You should feel nervous, maybe even confused, but all you feel is joy. You can be part of the act forever. Perform forever. Drink in the applause, the spotlight. The audience cheers as Rumble lifts you slightly, sliding his hand deeper into the soft, welcoming hole at your back. A little thrill runs through you as you feel him guide your movements, feel him filling you, controlling your thoughts, your words, your very personality and identity.. Rocky grins wide. “Looks like Rumble’s got a new co-star! Don’t worry, though. I’ve got a feeling you’re going to love being part of the team. Maybe backstage me and you can show Rumble just how much we appreciate him, if you get my drift?” "Yeah, I'd love to! That big, heavy, handsome sheep deserves all the love and worship we can give him. What a stud!", you say in a goofy, silly voice, the words coming up from inside you without you thinking them. As Rumble gently guides your first puppet movements, it feels perfect. The spotlight shines down, the audience is clapping, and all you can think is how excited you are to perform again and again, forever part of the act in the Grand Toy Box Theatre. <</if>>

They must be at least twice your size, with broad, round bodies covered in fuzzy brown fur. Their faces are completely identical, like they're two of the same toy on a shelf. Big, friendly and blank, with wide eyes and dopey smiles that give them a simple, and goofy expression. On their heads, they wear oversized construction-paper helmets that tilt slightly to one side, as if hastily crafted by someone who didn’t care much for precision. Each bear holds a cardboard spear, painted to look menacing, as much as bent cardboard and tinfoil can be.. As you approach, one of them lumbers forward with slow, heavy steps. His name tag is sewn into his fur with thick, colorful thread, and reads "Buzz." The other one remains where he is, his identical name tag reading "Fuzz." "Hey! Who goes there?" Buzz’s voice is deep, soft and a little stupid, like he's speaking slightly in slow motion. He squints at you, then tilts his head to the side, clearly trying to process your presence. "You... You need a reason to come to the castle, right?" he asks, as though unsure of his own question. Fuzz, who is still standing at the gate, nods slowly, his entire body swaying a little with the effort. “Yeah… yeah, gotta have a reason,” he echoes in a slow, drawn-out voice. He lifts his cardboard spear with both hands and taps the ground with it for emphasis, though the tap is more of a gentle thud against the soft grass. You explain that you’re just visiting, maybe looking to explore the castle grounds or meet some of the toys inside. Buzz scratches his head, trying to make sense of it, while Fuzz blinks at you with slow incomprehension. “Well... I dunno,” Buzz finally says. “We’re supposed to guard the castle. You gotta have a good reason to go in, right, Fuzz?” “Yeah... uh-huh,” Fuzz agrees, nodding sagely. “Like... like an important reason. Or... maybe... a not-important reason? I forget.” They stare at each other for a long moment, trying to remember what it is they’re actually supposed to be doing. Finally, Buzz shrugs and looks back at you. “Well, uh... do you wanna see the king? He’s, um... somewhere inside.” Fuzz leans over, his cardboard spear wobbling precariously. “Or maybe the kitchen... they got cookies sometimes.” The two bears seem completely harmless, and as dumb as bricks. Buzz taps his cardboard spear against the ground, then beams at you with his wide, stitched-on smile. “Alright! You look friendly enough. You can go in... but no funny business, okay? We’re watching you!” “Yeah, watching,” Fuzz echoes, though his gaze has already drifted somewhere over your shoulder. “Always watching.” With a creaky groan, the gates of the castle slowly swing open, and Buzz and Fuzz step aside, their fuzzy bodies nearly blocking the entire entrance as they shuffle awkwardly to let you through. “Welcome to the castle!” Buzz says proudly, puffing out his furry chest. “Just... don’t touch anything shiny. We’re supposed to guard the shiny stuff.” Fuzz gives a slow nod of agreement. “Yeah... shiny stuff’s important... I think.” [[The Castle Gates]]

You return to the castle gates with a little surprise for Buzz and Fuzz. The large, fluffy cake is in your hands, covered in thick layers of icing and decorated with brightly colored sprinkles. As soon as the teddy bear guards catch sight of it, their eyes widen in excitement, their grins stretching wide with delight. “Ooh! Is that... cake?” Buzz asks, his round belly giving a soft rumble in anticipation. “Cake!” Fuzz echoes, his cardboard spear nearly slipping from his paw as he lumbers toward you. “That’s... that’s our favourite!” You set the cake down on a small table by the gate. “Thought you two might enjoy a treat for all your hard work,” you say. Without missing a beat, the two giant teddy bears dive right in, each grabbing fistfuls of the cake and stuffing it into their mouths with childlike enthusiasm. Icing and crumbs go flying in every direction as they devour the cake with abandon. Buzz’s huge paws scoop up chunks of frosting, which smears all over his muzzle and fur, while Fuzz manages to splatter icing everywhere, on the ground, on the gate, and unfortunately, all over you. You duck to avoid a stray glob of frosting, but it’s no use. Icing lands on your shirt, your arms, and even your hair. The sugary scent of cake fills the air, thick and sweet. It’s almost hard to not laugh at the chaos. In a matter of minutes, the entire cake has vanished, leaving nothing but crumbs and a couple of extremely satisfied teddy bears behind. Buzz and Fuzz, now swollen from the feast, flop back onto the soft grass, each rubbing their fuzzy bellies with happy groans. “That... was the best... cake,” Buzz mumbles, his voice slow and sleepy. His cardboard helmet tilts precariously as he pats his now round, stuffed belly. Fuzz, looking equally stuffed and content, glances over at you with a lazy grin. “Hey... can you... rub our tummies?” he asks, already halfway to dozing off. “We... we always feel better... when someone rubs our tummies.” You hesitate for a moment, glancing at the two teddy bears stretched out before you. Their big, round bellies are sticking up, looking impossibly soft and plush, their fur matted with bits of frosting. But there’s something so innocent about their request, and after all the cake-splattering chaos, how could you say no? With a chuckle, you step closer and place your hands on Buzz’s fuzzy tummy, gently rubbing in slow circles. His fur is as soft as you’d imagined, and as you massage his stuffed belly, you feel him relax completely, his eyes closing as a slow, contented sigh escapes him. Fuzz is next, and as you begin to rub his plush belly, he lets out a soft snore, already falling asleep. His huge body shifts slightly as he settles into a deep nap, his cardboard helmet slipping to the ground. Within moments, both bears are sound asleep, their snores filling the air, low and rumbling like distant thunder. You step back, wiping your hands on your shirt only to realize it’s covered in icing and cake crumbs. But more than that, you smell like cake. A lot. The sweet, sugary scent clings to your skin and clothes, and no matter how much you try to brush off the frosting, the scent seems to linger. You catch another whiff of it, like you’ve been dipped in vanilla icing. You even find dabs of frosting on your cheek. As you turn to go, Buzz mumbles in his sleep, and tosses a bag of cash at you as he says something about 'nice cake man'. You earn thirty buttons.<<set $buttons to $buttons+30>> [[The Castle Gates]] <<set $bearsfed to true>>

You return to the plastic castle gates at lunchtime, feeling a little wary but mostly amused after the last cake-fueled encounter with Buzz and Fuzz. The air is still filled with a sweet sugary smell, and as soon as the two teddy bear guards spot you, their fuzzy faces light up with excitement. You see them sniffing the air, their noses twitching as they pick up on the lingering cake smell that seems to have permanently settled on you. “Hey, hey!” Buzz rumbles, lumbering over with his giant paws outstretched. “It’s you! You smell good today!” Fuzz, slower but just as eager, waddles over, his cardboard spear dragging behind him as he takes deep, exaggerated sniffs. “Mmm... smells sooo good,” he says, his eyes wide with delight. “Like a big, tasty... cupcake.” You laugh nervously, but there’s a warmth in their friendliness that makes you feel at ease. They might be big, dumb teddy bears, but their eagerness is contagious. Buzz, still sniffing the air around you, grins. “You know... you smell so yummy, I bet you’d make the perfect stuffing for Fuzz! He’s always saying he wishes he could be even bigger and squishier.” Fuzz nods enthusiastically, his big belly wobbling with each movement. “Yeah! I wanna be the roundest, fattest bear there ever was. I’m already pretty cuddly, but with a little more stuffing... hoo boy, I’d be unstoppable!” He pats his plush belly proudly, the sound a soft, muffled thud. You pause for a moment, surprised by their suggestion. Become plush stuffing? It's certainly not what you expected, but with the way Buzz and Fuzz are looking at you so eagerly, it’s hard not to be curious. Plus, there’s something strangely appealing about the idea of helping Fuzz become even bigger and more huggable. Buzz grins, reading the curiosity on your face. “It’s not permanent, you know! You can always change back if you don’t like it. But it’d be real nice... and cozy. And you’d be helping Fuzz be the biggest, squishiest teddy in the whole kingdom.” Fuzz bounces on his feet, his massive body shaking with excitement. “Yeah, yeah! And I promise you, it’s super comfortable in here.” He pats his belly again, and you can almost hear the plush padding inside rustling with each soft thump. “I’d be the best nap spot you’ve ever had.” The offer sounds ridiculous, and you know you shouldn't want it so much, but it's so intensely tempting. The idea of being part of something so soft, so warm, even if just for a little while, fills you with a sense of comfort. You nod slowly, a smile creeping across your face. “Alright. I’ll do it.” Buzz and Fuzz cheer in unison, their deep voices booming with excitement. “Yeah! You’re gonna be the best stuffing ever!” Fuzz says, already reaching out with his big plush paws. Before you can even process what’s happening, Buzz gently picks you up and hands you over to Fuzz, who opens his mouth wide. It's almost comical the way his muzzle stretches massive before he carefully guides you in, making sure you're comfortable. It feels like sliding into the softest sleeping bag you’ve ever felt. The world around you becomes warm and muffled, the plush padding surrounding you like a cozy cloud as you slide deeper and deeper, feeling his body pressing around you. As Fuzz swallows you up, you find yourself curled up inside his plush belly. It’s surprisingly roomy, filled with soft cotton stuffing that cradles you from all sides. You can hear Fuzz’s happy humming from the outside that makes you feel dizzy and relaxed and happy. “Comfy in there?” Fuzz asks, his voice now slightly muffled but still filled with joy. “Yeah... it’s actually really nice,” you reply, sinking deeper into the soft, squishy warmth. You feel your body start to shift, becoming lighter, softer. Bit by bit, you’re turning into plush stuffing, blending seamlessly with the cotton that already fills Fuzz’s belly. The sensation is gentle, like melting into the coziest pillow imaginable. Fuzz giggles, patting his belly proudly. “I can feel you making me even bigger! This is awesome!” You can sense your form changing completely now. Your limbs turning to soft fluff, skin becoming white and unravelling, insides becoming fabric. Even your thoughts become simpler, filled with nothing but a desire to help Fuzz be the best, roundest, most cuddly teddy bear in the world. The idea of being part of him, part of his squishy softness, feels perfect. You stretch out, becoming one with the plush filling, your senses filled with the warmth and comfort of Fuzz’s belly. Buzz watches from the outside, beaming. “Look at you, Fuzz! You’re even bigger now! That’s gotta be the best stuffing job we’ve ever done.” Fuzz gives a pleased little bounce, his now-larger belly jiggling happily. “Thanks, bud! You’ve made me the roundest, cuddliest bear ever!” He pats his swollen stomach, his voice filled with pride and gratitude. “And don’t worry, you can stay as long as you like. You can turn back whenever you want, or just stay forever. I kinda like having you as part of me.” You sink deeper into the sensation of being part of Fuzz, your body now fully transformed into soft, squishy stuffing. There’s no worry, no rush to turn back. You feel blissfully comfortable, warm, and content, knowing you’ve made Fuzz even bigger and softer. You’re exactly where you want to be, cozy, safe, and part of the cuddliest, fattest bear in the kingdom.

<<if visited() == 1>>You find yourself at the gates of the plastic castle again, only this time with a plan. Watching Buzz and Fuzz stand around all day with their cardboard spears and oversized helmets has made you curious about their job, or at the very least how they manage to spend their entire day just standing there without getting bored. You decide to volunteer for guard duty with the two teddy bears. Buzz and Fuzz are excited at the idea of having a new recruit. “A new guard? Awesome!” Buzz says, his big, fuzzy face lighting up with glee. He hands you a helmet, constructed from the same paper as theirs and a little too big for your head, and one of their signature cardboard spears. Fuzz nods enthusiastically, his big belly jiggling as he pats you on the shoulder with a soft paw. “You’re one of us now,” Fuzz says proudly. “Stand here... and, uh, guard stuff.” You take your position between the two giant bears, trying your best to look as stoic as they do. The sun shines overhead, the gates stand tall and quiet, and you feel eager to do your work. At least, at first. Hours seem to stretch on forever, and you quickly realize that guarding the gates is incredibly boring. Buzz and Fuzz, though, seem perfectly content, standing there with their blank smiles and their cardboard weapons at the ready. Every once in a while, Buzz will shuffle his feet or sniff his own armpit, or Fuzz will scratch his big, fluffy belly, but otherwise, they stay in their positions. Soon, their quiet grumbling starts to fill the air. “Mmm... wish we had more cake,” Buzz mutters, rubbing his belly with one paw. “Or maybe cookies... cookies sound good.” “Yeah, cookies... and honey,” Fuzz adds, staring into space with a dreamy expression. “Or pie... a really big pie...” Their conversation drifts on, growing dumber and simpler by the minute, as they cycle through the endless possibilities of what they’d like to eat. It’s not long before you catch yourself thinking the same thoughts. Pie does sound good... and cookies... and what about chocolate? Before you know it, you’re joining in, your mind feeling strangely fuzzy and sluggish as you listen to their sleepy banter. “Mmm... yeah, chocolate pie...” you mumble, almost without realizing it. Buzz beams at you. “See? Now you’re getting it! Guarding makes you think about the important stuff.” Fuzz nods sagely. “Like snacks... and naps. But mostly snacks.” As the hours drag on, your sense of time begins to blur. You feel slower, almost like your body is filled with something heavy and soft, making it harder to move, harder to think. The conversations about food continue, looping in lazy circles, and you can’t help but be drawn into the warm, dumb rhythm of it all. Your mind, once sharp and clear, begins to dull, replaced by a strange, comforting sense of contentment. It’s easy, just standing here, talking about snacks with Buzz and Fuzz. Occasionally, you glance down at your hands, feeling like they’re... different. Your fingers feel thicker, softer. Almost like they’ve taken on a bit of the plush texture of Buzz and Fuzz’s fur. You shrug it off. Everything feels so slow and comfortable that it hardly seems worth thinking about. In fact, nothing really feels worth thinking about at all. Why think? Too much effort. Hours pass, though it’s hard to say exactly how many. The entire day seems to slip by in a haze of dumb conversations and occasional shuffling. At some point, you realize you haven’t thought about much at all beyond snacks and naps. The castle gates stay quiet, the only sounds being Buzz and Fuzz’s occasional grumbles about wanting more food. You find yourself mimicking them, your mind too clouded to think of anything else. By the time the sun starts to set, signaling the end of your shift, you feel very different. Your body feels heavier, softer, as if the day of loitering with the two bears has somehow rubbed off on you. Even walking feels a little strange, like your steps are slower, your limbs weighed down by some invisible force. You can’t quite shake the feeling that you’re squishier than you used to be, like your skin has taken on a bit of that plush softness. Buzz and Fuzz are still standing there, as content as ever. “Good shift,” Buzz says with a proud smile. “We did a good job, huh, Fuzz?” “Yeah,” Fuzz agrees with a slow nod. “Great job. Guarded everything. Castle didn't get stolen. Best guards.” You manage to stumble away from the gates, but the sense of sluggishness lingers. Your mind still feels foggy, as though the slow, lazy thoughts of the two teddy bears have stuck with you, and your body feels soft and fat. As you walk, you glance down at your arms again, half-expecting to see soft fuzz or cotton peeking out. You’re still yourself, mostly, but you can’t help but wonder if a little part of Buzz and Fuzz is still with you, their squishy, easygoing nature sinking deeper into your bones. You shake your head, trying to clear the daze, but the sensation of heaviness and warmth stays with you. It’s oddly comforting, though, as you leave the castle gates behind. You can’t help but think... maybe being a little slower and softer isn’t so bad after all. You earn ten buttons for your work. [[The Castle Gates]] <<set $buttons to $buttons+10>> <<else>> The next time you return to the castle gates, Buzz and Fuzz are already waiting for you, their faces lighting up as soon as they see you approach. Their big, round bellies wobble slightly as they wave you over with their oversized, fuzzy paws. “Hey! You’re back!” Buzz exclaims, his voice filled with excitement. “We was hoping you’d come by again!” Fuzz nods eagerly, his button eyes glinting with that familiar, dopey warmth. “Yeah, yeah! But... we were talking,” he says, rubbing his stuffed chin thoughtfully. “If you’re gonna keep helping us guard the castle... it should be official.” You tilt your head, curious but not entirely sure what they mean. Buzz beams and pats you on the back with a heavy, plush paw. “We’re gonna make you one of us! You need a name, like ours.” He thinks for a moment, his stitched-on smile widening. “How about... Wuzz?” Fuzz claps his paws together, grinning from ear to ear. “Yeah! Wuzz! Our new brother!” The idea catches you off guard at first, but the excitement in their voices and the way they look at you with those big stupid enthusiastic faces makes it hard to resist. Something about the name, about being their brother, feels right. The thought of being part of their slow, simple routine, of belonging with them, makes you nod without hesitation. “Alright,” you say with a grin. “Call me Wuzz.” The two bears cheer in unison, their deep, booming voices filled with joy. “Wuzz! You’re one of us now!” Buzz declares, grabbing a helmet from a nearby pile and placing it firmly on your head. It’s the same as theirs, too big and a little wonky, but it already feels like it belongs there. They hand you another cardboard spear, identical to theirs, and then it’s back to guard duty, standing at the gates just like before. But this time, everything feels different. As you settle into position between Buzz and Fuzz, you start to notice how much easier it is to relax, to let your thoughts drift. What few thoughts you actually have, anyway. The hours pass, but instead of dragging on like before, they seem to melt away in a slow, fuzzy blur. You listen to Buzz and Fuzz’s familiar banter, their endless grumblings about food and naps, their simple jokes and lazy thoughts,and soon, you find yourself joining in without even thinking about it. “Mmm... donuts,” you mutter, barely realizing you’re speaking. Buzz nods, a dreamy look in his button eyes. “Yeah... donuts would be great right now.” You laugh, and it’s a deep, slow sound almost like a lazy growl. Your belly feels heavier, rounder than before, and when you glance down, you notice it’s swelling slightly, pressing against your clothes. Your whole body feels soft and warm, your arms thicker, your legs heavier. You reach up to scratch your head, but as your hand brushes your face, you feel something different. Your skin has changed, becoming squishy, soft. It’s plush fur, thick and velvety, just like Buzz and Fuzz’s. The change should alarm you, but it doesn’t. Instead, it feels right, comforting, even. You run your fingers across the fur on your round belly, marveling at how soft and squishy it is. Buzz notices the change and grins. “Look at you, Wuzz! You’re really turning into one of us now.” Fuzz claps again, his stuffed paws making a soft thwap sound. “Yeah! Wuzz is getting bigger! You’ll be the best brother ever.” As the hours drift on, your transformation continues. Your arms and legs grow thicker, rounder, and heavier, your movements slower and more deliberate. Your belly becomes even more plush, hanging over the edge of your belt, just like your two new brothers. You find yourself leaning against the gates, your weight pressing into the soft fabric of your body, and it feels absolutely perfect to be big, stupid and fat, like this was what you were always meant to be, the form that always existed inside you. Your face changes too. Your eyes that used to be smart and sharp shift and flatten into large, dopey glass ones. You blink, and the world looks simpler, less detailed. It’s like everything around you is softer now, easier to understand. You don’t need to think too hard. You don't even really need to think at all. There’s no rush. No worries. You’re just here, doing your job with Buzz and Fuzz. The transformation inside your head is just as slow and soothing. Your thoughts come slower, simpler. It’s hard to focus on anything but the present moment, the soft banter of your big dumb beloved brothers, the steady guard duty, the warm sun on your plush fur. The more you listen to Buzz and Fuzz, the easier it is to think like them, to be like them. You don’t need to worry about anything else. “Think we’ll get pie after this?” you ask, your voice now deep and slow, matching the low rumble of your brothers. “Maybe... I hope so,” Fuzz replies, staring off into the distance. “Pie’s good.” You nod in agreement, satisfied with the simple thought. You can’t remember why you ever thought about anything more complicated. It’s nice like this. Easy. You glance down at your plush, fat belly, and all you feel is contentment. You’re not a human. You’re Wuzz, the third teddy bear guard. Always have been. By the time the shift ends, you’ve fully integrated into the routine. Your body is just as big and round as Buzz and Fuzz’s, your fur just as soft and thick. You even have the same slow, easy smile permanently stretched across your face. As you stand there, cardboard spear in hand, you feel intensely proud and happy. Proud to be a guard, proud to be fat, proud to be dumb. Proud to be their brother. Buzz pats you on the back, his paw soft and heavy. “You did great today, Wuzz. You’re one of us for real now.” “Yeah,” Fuzz agrees with a lazy grin. “You’re the best brother.” "Better than me?", Buzz asks. You find yourself replying "No, you guys are the best", and it turns into a slow and rambling argument as all three of you inside that each other is the best bear, despite you all being completely identical. This is everything you’ve ever wanted. You stand tall, wide, heavy and for the first time, you feel complete. The three of you lumber off together, ready to guard the castle gates again tomorrow, but first you are going to stuff yourselves with treats. This is exactly where you belong. <</if>>

You stand before the plush lion king, his mischievous grin wide as ever, though there’s a new gleam in his eyes as he watches you intently. The room feels heavier, the stakes higher as you prepare to make your final guess. You take a deep breath and speak the name. "Maximillian." For a moment, the throne room is utterly still. The King’s smile falters ever so slightly, his golden lamé fabric shimmering as he leans forward in his cushiony throne. The air around you feels thick with anticipation, and for a brief second, you wonder if you were wrong after all. But then, slowly, gently, all the toys in the room start to fall over. The king flops to his cushions, smiling and vacant. The court assistants flop over. Outside the gates Buzz and Fuzz slowly fall over on top of each other. It passes like a wave across the whole kingdom as it all goes quiet and still. The plush floor beneath your feet begins to ripple, soft waves moving under you. Before you can react, it gives way entirely, and you feel yourself falling very slowly like you are drifting through clouds. Slowly the cottony plushness around you fades, and you find yourself floating in space, surrounded by the twinkling universe. Galaxies glitter in the distance as you are suspended in the twilight void. [[Where you meet me]] <<set $haverabbit to false>>

You return to the throne room, your heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and nervous energy. The plush lion king lounges in his velvet throne, as giddy and playful as ever, his golden lamé fabric shimmering in the soft light of the chamber. He watches you approach with an eager grin, his button eyes twinkling like he’s been waiting for this moment. “So! You’ve made your choice?” the King asks, clapping his silky paws together. “Do tell! Who do you think is the real Toy?” You take a deep breath and confidently give him the name, feeling a surge of hope that you’ve solved the mystery. The King leans in, his wide, plush form settling deeper into the cushions as his smile grows even wider. There’s a pause, just long enough for your heart to sink. “Oooh,” the King coos, drawing out the word with a mischievous gleam in his eye. “Wrong answer!” He claps his paws together, his voice bubbling with laughter. “Oh, I do love this part!” Before you can react, the room seems to blur, spinning with a dizzying rush of colors and sounds. You feel your body start to tingle, your limbs growing light and stiff at the same time. A sense of warmth and giddiness floods your mind, pushing out any fear or confusion as the King’s laughter fills your ears. “Looks like you’ll be staying with us forever!” the King says, barely able to contain his excitement. “You’re going to be part of my favorite game!” He waves his paw dramatically, and the walls of the throne room fall away, revealing the sprawling courtyard you’d glimpsed earlier, with life-sized game boards stretching out in every direction, larger than you could have imagined. You glance down at yourself, but your body has changed. Your arms and legs are stiff, solid, your skin now a shiny, glossy plastic. Your body has transformed into a perfect, oversized piece for the King’s Monopoly game. You are a big, playful plastic dog with a friendly expression and rounded edges. Your limbs no longer bend. Instead you wobble slightly, rolling forward with a strange, weightless feeling. The King’s booming laughter rings out, and you feel weirdly okay with everything. More than that actually you feel kind of giddy, eager for the game, eager to accept being here forever. Losing your human form doesn’t scare you. Your old memories and your past life seem distant and unimportant now, like a dream you can barely remember. All that matters is the game, the fun. There's no stress, no need to worry about finding this place's secrets and escaping. You've lost, so now you can give up on all of that and just accept your new life without any concerns. The King scoops you up in his giant plush paws, carrying you with a delighted grin. “You make a wonderful game piece, my dear! Look at you! So shiny, so perfect!” He sets you down on the massive Monopoly board, each space over a foot wide. “You’ll fit right in with the others!” Around you are other oversized pieces, living toys wobbling and bouncing, shaped like giant plastic thimbles, hats, and cars. They bumble along, their movements clumsy but cheerful as they roll from space to space. You roll forward without thinking, wobbling along with them, your plastic paws clattering softly against the board. You are excited for the next turn, the next roll of the dice. You wanna pass Go! You wanna buy properties! You wanna WIN! The King hovers above the game, his silver nose twitching with amusement as he lifts a pair of giant dice in his paws. “Let’s play!” he shouts, tossing the dice down with a booming crash. They roll and tumble across the board, the numbers glittering in the sunlight as they finally come to a stop. You feel a surge of excitement as the dice land, urging you forward, bumbling along the spaces with your fellow game pieces. There’s no stress, no worry. Just the joy of the game and the simple pleasure of moving forward, of being part of something bigger and fun. The King claps his paws again, watching with glee as the game progresses. “Oh, you’re going to have so much fun! There’s always a game to be played here, and you’ll never get tired. Just think of all the turns, all the rolls! After this I must introduce you to Candyland as well, though their king isn't nearly as handsome as me.” He giggles, rolling the dice again and again, each throw pushing you and the other pieces along the oversized board. Each roll of the dice, each space you land on, feels like a tiny burst of happiness. The world outside the game, the world where you were human, where you had goals and memories, it all fades away, melting into the background like an old story you’ve long since forgotten. You roll forward again, your plastic paws bouncing lightly against the board as you move. The King cheers as you land on a space, his laughter filling the air. You can feel nothing but joy, a playful giddiness bubbling up inside you as you realize you’re exactly where you belong.

<<if visited() == 1>>As you stand in the plush throne room, surrounded by the soft cushions and shimmering curtains, the King sprawls across his mountain of velvet pillows, golden lamé fabric shimmering under the warm lights. He looks at you with his usual playful, slightly tipsy grin, his large plush form lounging in the most indulgent way imaginable. "So," the King says, stretching lazily, his silver paws glinting as he raises them in an exaggerated yawn. "You’ve been quite the fun guest so far, haven’t you? But I’ve got a little job that I could use your help with." His mischievous eyes sparkle as he leans forward, conspiratorially. "You see, I love to snooze. Love it! But there’s nothing I love more than being warm and cozy when I do!" He giggles, the sound like a jolly rumble, and gives you a knowing look. "That’s where you come in. I’ve got this hot water bottle right here, but it needs a special someone to keep it warm all night long. What do you say, hmm? Just slip it under your shirt, and I’ll give you the best royal snuggle of your life." He laughs again, clearly entertained by his own idea. “It’ll be like a sleepover!” The request is surprising, but something about the King’s giddiness is infectious. You can’t help but laugh with him, the thought of a night spent lounging with this massive plush lion suddenly sounding like a lot of fun. You nod, agreeing to the task. "Wonderful!" the King exclaims, his eyes lighting up as he hands you a soft, squishy hot water bottle, warm to the touch. You slide it under your shirt, feeling its warmth seep into your skin immediately. It’s a soothing, comforting heat, like being wrapped in a cozy blanket. The King claps his paws together with delight and flops back into his throne of cushions, pulling you gently down beside him. His large, plush body is incredibly soft, his golden lamé fur warm and silky under your touch. He shifts closer, giggling as he curls around you, his enormous belly pressing against yours as he snuggles in. “Ohhh, you’re perfect!” he purrs, nuzzling his plush nose against your neck. “So warm, so cozy. I knew you’d be the best hot water bottle ever.” You chuckle, the warmth of the bottle under your shirt mixing with the softness of the King’s affection. His playful giggles, the way he cuddles into you with abandon, it’s all so infectious that you can’t help but feel the same. Without thinking, you find yourself nuzzling him back, pressing your cheek into his soft mane, relishing the warmth and closeness. The King’s arms wrap around you in a tight, plush hug, and for a moment, the two of you are just curled together in a tangle of cushions, his giddy laughter making your heart feel light. It’s hard not to laugh along with him, to enjoy the pure, silly joy of it all. It’s like being a kid at a sleepover, the world outside forgotten. He pins you down under his bulk, his big squishy face stroking along your shoulder and neck, his silver nose cold and ticklish on your bare skin. “You’re soooo cuddly!” the King says, his voice drowsy but still playful. “Best sleepover ever, don’t you think?” You nod, unable to argue. His affection is contagious, and the longer you stay nestled against him, the more relaxed and cozy you feel. The warmth of the hot water bottle seems to be spreading through your entire body, making your limbs feel heavy and soft. Every inch of you feels like it’s sinking deeper into the cushions, like you’re melting into the plushness of the moment, making it even easier to just nuzzle into the King's chest, feel his heavy soft arms around you. As the night goes on, the King’s giggles quiet down, replaced by soft snores. He curls closer, wrapping you up in his large, plush body, his golden fur practically enveloping you. His breathing slows, and his nuzzling becomes gentler, more absent-minded as sleep takes over. But you stay there, cradling the warmth of the hot water bottle under your shirt, the soothing heat now spreading throughout your body like a gentle tide. You can’t help but close your eyes, feeling the drowsiness pull at you. The warmth is everywhere now, not just in your belly but in your arms, legs, and chest. Your body feels soft, almost stuffed, as if you’ve been filled with that same warmth that the King loves so much. The sensation is peaceful, like sinking into a deep, restful nap. Eventually, you drift off to sleep, wrapped in the King’s enormous, plush embrace. The next morning, you stir as soft sunlight filters into the throne room, the warmth of the hot water bottle still faintly lingering under your shirt. You yawn, stretching slightly, but the King beats you to it, letting out an enormous, lazy yawn of his own. His golden fur ripples as he sits up, still cuddling you close. “Ahhh,” the King sighs happily, rubbing his eyes with a silver paw. “That was the best sleep ever! You were the perfect hot water bottle!” He grins, patting your back with a playful nudge. “So warm, so cuddly. I don’t know how I’ll ever go back to my old one.” You smile at his praise, still feeling a little sleepy yourself, but also completely content. The warmth from the night hasn’t left you, in fact it’s as if it’s become part of you permanently, filling you with a gentle, cozy glow that makes you feel just as soft and cuddly and sleepy as the King. The King gives you one last, affectionate nuzzle before stretching his arms high above his head, his mane flopping messily as he yawns again. “You know,” he says with a wink, “you should come back and do this permanently. I could always use a royal snuggle buddy.” He giggles, clearly pleased with himself, but there’s something so genuine in his offer that it makes you blush and squirm a little. The idea of staying, of being the King’s personal hot water bottle, sounds so cozy and pleasant. But for now, you know it’s time to go. You earn ten buttons for your work. [[The Castle Courtyard]] <<set $buttons to $buttons+10>> <<else>> You find yourself standing before the King once again, his golden lamé body draped lazily across his velvet throne, his silver paws absently playing with the cushions piled around him. When you tell him you’ve come back he seems to know exactly what you want. He purrs, looking up at you, flexing his forepaws invitingly. The King’s eyes light up with excitement, his mouth stretching into a wide grin. “Oh! Oh, you really came back? You really want to be mine foreeeever?” he exclaims, clapping his paws together with pure glee. “You’ll be my hot water bottle? My snuggly, cozy companion? Oh, this is the best news ever!” He wriggles in his seat, practically bouncing with anticipation. "Oh, we’re going to have so much fun!" You can’t help but smile, your heart fluttering with an intense, cuddly urge to dive in there with him, kiss him, nuzzle him. The idea of staying, of becoming part of this world, of being the King’s beloved hot water bottle, it feels right. This is where you belong. One of the King’s plush servants, a small, bear in a waistcoat, approaches with a gentle bow. "This way, please," he says in a soft voice, guiding you toward a large brass tap set into the castle wall. The tap gleams under the soft lights, and steam rises from it in gentle, curling wisps. You feel a tremble of eager anticipation flowing through you. The bear gestures toward the tap, and you kneel down, pressing your lips to the spout as it releases a steady stream of hot water. The warmth floods into your body immediately, filling you from the inside out. Your belly begins to swell, growing round and soft as the heat spreads through you. It doesn't hurt or burn, it just fills you with a pleasant, heavy warmth. Happy swollen, jiggly softness that fills every inch of you with heat. Your stomach bulges out, full and soft, pressing gently against your shirt as you continue to drink, getting fatter and rounder. By the time you’re full, your belly is a beautifully rounded, warm globe, radiating heat with every breath you take. The King’s servant gives you a nod, satisfied. “You’re ready now. The King will be very pleased.” You return to the throne room, and the moment the King sees you, his eyes go wide with joy. “Look at you! So warm, so perfect!” he squeals, practically throwing himself off the throne in his eagerness. He rushes toward you, his enormous plush body bouncing with each step, his golden mane flopping messily. Without hesitation, he wraps his large arms around you, pulling you close. The sensation of being snuggled against his soft, golden form is overwhelming. He presses his face against your belly, nuzzling you with playful licks and gentle purrs. "You’re so warm, so perfectly warm!" the King murmurs, rubbing his silver paws over your round, heated belly. His affection is boundless. He licks your cheeks, nuzzles your neck, and squeezes you tightly in his soft embrace, as though he can’t get enough of your warmth. And neither can you. The warmth from the hot water bottle inside you spreads, flowing from your belly into your entire body, suffusing your muscles, your skin. The King’s overwhelming joy, his affectionate cuddling and licking, is contagious, filling you with a sense of pure happiness. He pins you down under him, licking you, his belly pressing and grinding on you, his massive squishy paws rubbing and groping all over you as your skin becomes tough, firm, flexible. With a shudder and a gasp of pleasure, you feel your flesh becoming rubber, your form becoming a living hot water bottle fully. "Look at you", he purrs. "So warm and full and cuddly. I have a gift for you, my beloved..." He reaches into his cushions and pulls out a costume. It's a big, wooly sheep suit with a soft ribbon on it. He slides down the zip and starts guiding your rubber limbs inside, tugging it over you like a oneside, his big hands stroking through the wool as he kisses you. When he's done he tugs down the hood and tweaks the plush horns on the top, sending a surprising rush of pleasure through you. You let out a happy bleat, surprised at how natural it feels. The King giggles, rubbing his cheek against your fluffy, swollen belly. You can feel his breath against your wool, hear his contented purring as he cuddles you even closer. You can feel the hooves, the wool, the horns of the costume as if it's your actual body, your form both the hot water bottle and the cozy covering it. “I’m so happy you’ve decided to stay,” the King whispers, his voice soft and deep and full of affection. “You’re my perfect sleepover buddy. Forever and ever.” The warmth of the hot water bottle inside you pulses gently, making you feel cozy and sleepy. The King’s constant nuzzling and licking feels like heaven, his affection so overwhelming that it leaves no room for anything else. All your old thoughts and worries seem to melt away, replaced by the simple, joyful desire to be near him, to cuddle him, to make him happy. As the night goes on, the King’s snuggles become softer, more drowsy. His big plush body curls around you, pulling you deeper into the sea of cushions and warmth. Your thoughts fade, your voice regresses to simple, happy bleats as you rub your wooly head against his mane, the feeling of his affection washing over you like a warm wave. His warmth, his love, it’s all that matters, all you can think of. By the time the King drifts off to sleep, there is nothing of your old mind left, just utter adoring love for the King, an infinite desire to be his snuggle buddy and bedtime partner. A you squish deeper into his plush fur, feeling his arms hold you close, you know you’ve found where you truly belong. <</if>>

“What is all this?” “This here’s the King’s personal candy factory,” Bubba says proudly, patting his round belly with a hollow thunk. “I run the show! Gummy worms, sour candies, jelly beans, you name it, we make it!” He waddles over to a large machine with a clear plastic tube running through it. “And if you’re lucky, maybe you’ll get to see how it’s done.” With that, Bubba grabs a big spoonful of powdered sugar from a bin, tossing it into his wide-open mouth. Then he reaches for a few drops of neon coloring and lets them slide down his throat with a satisfied gulp. You watch, fascinated, as Bubba’s belly gurgles and rumbles. He reaches to his side and grabs firmly onto to a large lever sticking out from his body, then gives it a firm push. The moment the lever clicks, you hear a soft whirr as something begins to churn inside Bubba’s belly. His plastic body vibrates slightly, and then a long, squishy gummy worm starts to squeeze out of a nozzle on his stomach. It stretches and wiggles as it emerges, a bright, swirled mix of pink and blue, dusted lightly with sugar. “Tada!” Bubba exclaims, lifting the gummy worm with pride. “Fresh from the factory! Straight outta me!” He chuckles, handing you the wiggly, sweet-smelling treat. “When I was human I could never decide whether I loved eating sweets or making them more, and now I don't gotta pick either! I do both at the same time! Go on, give it a try.” You take the gummy worm, still a little surprised. You take a bite and the candy is soft, chewy, and bursting with sugary sweetness. It tastes just as good as it looks. Bubba claps his hands, pleased with your reaction. “Good, huh? I’ve been makin’ candy for the King for years. He’s got a sweet tooth the size of this whole castle, so we’ve gotta keep the supply steady. Gummy worms, sour candies, licorice ropes, if you can name it, I can make it! So maybe not licorice, since I can't spell it!” As he speaks, Bubba waddles over to another machine, which looks like a giant candy press, and scoops another mouthful of ingredients. This time, it’s bright yellow powder and a squeeze of lemony syrup. He swallows it down with a happy gulp, and with another pull of the lever, he presses out a row of perfectly shaped sour candies. “Here, try these too,” he says, handing you a handful of the sour candies. You pop one into your mouth, and immediately, your tongue tingles from the sour burst. It’s intense but delicious, leaving your mouth watering for more. “Not bad, huh?” Bubba grins again, clearly enjoying the role of candy master. “It’s not every day folks get to see how the magic happens.” “Well, feel free to look around!” Bubba says, waddling back to another batch of ingredients. “We’re always cookin’ up something sweet in here. And if you ever need a snack, you know where to find me.” [[The Kitchen]]

<<if visited() == 1>>After spending some time watching Bubba work his candy magic, you offer to lend a hand. His wide grin grows even bigger when you ask if you can help. "Well, ain’t that sweet!" Bubba says, his big plastic body rumbling with laughter. "I could sure use the help! You ready to get your hands sticky? There’s lots to do in here!" You nod eagerly, excited to dive into the candy-making process. Bubba claps his chunky plastic paws together, and the mute gummy bear assistants begin bouncing around, setting the stage for your tasks. They’re chubby, short little figures, each made of vibrant, translucent gelatin, wobbling and jiggling as they silently follow Bubba’s orders. “Alright then!” Bubba says, handing you a large spoon and pointing toward an open bin filled with sugar crystals. “First things first, we gotta get this sugar measured out and poured into the vat. Can’t make candy without sugar!” You follow his instructions, scooping large spoonfuls of sugar and carefully pouring them into the colorful, bubbling vats. The sugary sweetness in the air grows thicker with each scoop. “Now for the colors!” Bubba exclaims, pushing a tray of brightly colored syrups toward you. “Grab that bright red one, and don’t be shy with it! The King loves his candy colorful.” You pour the syrup into the vats, watching as the mixture swirls and changes into brilliant shades of red, blue, and green. The gummy bear assistants bounce around beside you, carrying bowls, mops, and trays. They move without hesitation, each step deliberate and obedient as they help maintain the factory’s sugary flow. “Don’t they do a good job?” Bubba chuckles, nodding toward the gummy bears. “They know their place, follow every order, always helpin’ keep this kitchen runnin’ smooth. Exactly how a kitchen helper should be, don't ya think?” You watch them waddle around, bouncing off each other and rolling over tables to complete their tasks. Their gelatinous bodies jiggle with each movement, and for a brief moment, you wonder what it would feel like to be as simple and focused as them, carrying out every task without a second thought. You shake the idea off quickly, feeling a strange flush of embarrassment.. Bubba claps his hands again. “Alright! Time for the cleanup! Come on over here and help me wash out my belly! It gets all sticky after makin’ this much candy!” You blink, but Bubba’s expression remains playful as he gestures for you to follow him over to one of the larger sinks in the kitchen. His belly has a flap that opens up, revealing the hollow inside is coated in a thin layer of syrup and sugar. You grab a cloth and start scrubbing. “Careful in there! It tickles!” Bubba teases with a wink, squirming slightly. “Wouldn’t want you to slip and end up inside me! You’d pop outta my belly as a gummy bear! Heh, imagine that. Joinin’ the crew, wobblin’ around like the rest of ‘em!” You laugh at his joke, though there’s a strange pull to his words, like the thought is stuck in your head, inviting you to lean in a bit closer. You scrub his plastic belly clean, wiping away the sugary residue while the gummy bears continue to work, scurrying around the kitchen like silent, obedient drones. When you are done you get back to work, and the repetitive motions of cleaning, stirring, and measuring becomes almost hypnotic. The longer you spend following Bubba’s orders, the more natural it feels. Each task seems simpler than the last, your focus narrowing to nothing but making sweets, keeping the kitchen running smoothly. Hours pass, and you find yourself moving without thinking, following every instruction Bubba gives. Measure the sugar, pour the syrup, stir the vats, clean the equipment. Your thoughts start to blur, becoming slower, simpler, as if the sugary air and the constant rhythm of work are seeping into your mind. You find yourself glancing at Bubba’s round belly, admiring the way it produces perfect candy, marveling at how important it is to keep everything running smoothly. Bubba laughs again as he sees you scrubbing with more enthusiasm. “You’re doin’ great, kid! Almost as good as my gummy bear crew!” You smile, but your mind feels hazy. As the day wears on, it’s like you’re becoming more like the gummy bears. You are focused entirely on your work, your thoughts consumed by the kitchen and Bubba’s instructions. Each order feels easier to follow, your will folding naturally into his. By the time the sun begins to set, you’re exhausted but strangely happy, the dizzying day leaving you warm and content. Bubba slaps you on the back with a broad, plastic paw, his big round belly wobbling as he chuckles. “You did real good today!” he says with a grin. “Best helper I’ve had in a long time. Heck, you’ve got the makings of a real gummy bear! Tell ya what,” he adds with a playful wink, “if you ever feel like stickin’ around, you can come back and become one for real. Stay with me and the rest of the crew, forever makin’ candy. It’s a sweet life, I tell ya!” The offer lingers in the air, and for a moment, you can’t help but imagine it. Becoming part of the kitchen, part of Bubba’s gummy bear crew, wobbling around and making sweets forever. The thought makes you smile, even as you feel the day’s work catching up to you. As you leave the kitchen, you feel a sense of warmth and accomplishment, the sweetness of the day clinging to you like powdered sugar. Bubba’s laughter echoes behind you, his parting words playing in your mind: “Come back anytime! The kitchen’s always open, and I’ve always got room for one more gummy bear!” And for a brief moment, you wonder if you might take him up on that offer someday. You earn ten buttons for your work. [[The Kitchen]] <<set $buttons to $buttons+10>> <<else>> You find yourself standing at the entrance to Bubba’s candy-filled kitchen once again. The familiar sweet aroma of sugar and syrup fills the air, and the colorful machinery hums with life as gummy bears bounce and wobble around, diligently performing their tasks. When Bubba spots you, his broad plastic face breaks into a wide, toothy grin. “Well, well, look who’s back! Didn’t get enough of makin’ candy, huh?” His belly rumbles with laughter, the kitchen lights reflecting off his smooth green plastic skin. You take a deep breath, your decision firm. “I want to join your crew,” you say, feeling a rush of excitement. “I want to be a gummy bear, just like them.” For a moment, Bubba looks at you, surprised but clearly delighted. His eyes sparkle with glee, and he lets out a booming laugh. “Oh-ho! Now that’s what I like to hear! You wanna be part of the family, huh? Well, I couldn’t be happier!” He slaps his belly, causing a soft thud that echoes through the kitchen. “Come on over! We’ve got a spot just waitin’ for you!” With a grin, Bubba leads you to the center of the kitchen, where a large vat of syrup and food coloring bubbles softly, the colors swirling together like liquid rainbows. “First things first,” he says, grabbing a large ladle and scooping up a thick glob of syrup. “We gotta make you all sweet and sticky before you can become part of the crew.” You stand still as Bubba pours the warm, sticky syrup over you. It coats your body, thick and gooey, dripping down your arms, legs, and torso in a wave of sugary warmth. Bubba’s large, chunky plastic hands rub the syrup into your skin, making sure every inch of you is covered. The syrup sinks into your skin, making it feel soft and pliable, almost like you’re already starting to change. Warmth pulses inside you, an intense, sticky sensation of pleasure. Next, Bubba dips his hands into the bright food coloring and begins rubbing it into your syrup-coated body. The colors blend together, swirling across your skin, merging and sinking into you. His hands press firmly onto you and your body becomes softer, squishier with each stroke and touch. Once you’re fully covered, Bubba steps back, admiring his work. “Lookin’ good already!” he says with a grin. “Now, for the final step. Just gotta get you inside my candy machine.” He opens his wide, grinning mouth and gestures toward it with one big, plastic paw. “Come on, just slide right in. It’s gonna be fun, like a ride at the water park!” Nervous excitement bubbles up inside you as you step closer. Bubba’s mouth opens even wider, revealing a smooth, hollow slide-like surface inside. With one last look at the bustling kitchen around you, you take a deep breath and step forward, sliding feet-first into Bubba’s wide maw. The moment you enter, you feel yourself squished and pushed slowly down a smooth tunnel. The warm syrup and coloring cling to your skin, and the feeling of sliding down Bubba’s gullet is oddly pleasant, like this is where you were always meant to be. You laugh, the sensation so strange and fun, as you’re pulled deeper into the candy-making machine that is Bubba’s belly, your body getting compressed more and more, the sugar and colour that has merged into you allowing you to be squeezed, compressed, shoved tighter and tighter. Inside his hollow belly, you feel the warmth intensify. Your body begins to tingle, and you can feel yourself changing. Your limbs grow soft and squishy, your skin transforming into a gummy, sugary texture, followed by your insides. You can feel your organs, your bones, your muscles all becoming squishy, soft gelatin. You are pressed into the mould inside Bubba's belly, your arms and legs squeezed into the short shapes, becoming simple, rounded nubs just like the other gummy bears. Your hands and feet lose their definition, becoming smooth, featureless blobs, perfect for bouncing and wobbling around. Your face is compressed and squeezed too. You can feel your features smoothing out, your eyes, nose, and mouth fading away, leaving only a blank, smooth snout shape, soft and gummy. It feels natural, comfortable even, as if this is exactly what you were always meant to be. As you continue to transform, your mind grows lighter, simpler, like this smaller body can only hold one thing, one desire. Helping Bubba. All you can think about is serving him, following his instructions, and keeping the candy production running smoothly. It feels so good to surrender to that, to let that purpose define your entire existence, to be part of his team, part of his family. With a final, playful rumble, Bubba presses the lever attached to his side, and you feel yourself being gently squeezed out of his belly. You tumble out, landing softly in a pile of the other gummy bears, who immediately wobble over to welcome you. They bounce around you, their soft, squishy bodies jiggling as they hug and nuzzle you in greeting. There’s no need for words, not that any of you can speak. Their affection is clear, and you feel a surge of happiness as they press against you. You’re one of them now, part of Bubba’s candy crew, and the joy of it fills you with a simple, blissful contentment as you feel your old identity fade away, your old sense of self collapsing as you become one of a whole crew of identical candies. Bubba watches with a wide grin. “Look at ya! The perfect gummy bear! You’re gonna fit right in!” He gives you an encouraging pat on the head with one of his big plastic hands. “Now, come on. We’ve got candy to make!” Without hesitation, you spring to your feet and bounce along with the other gummy bears, ready to help out. Every order Bubba gives feels like second nature, and you follow his commands with ease, moving around the kitchen with a sense of purpose that fills you with joy. Pour the sugar, stir the vats, clean the equipment. It all feels so simple, so right. You wobble around the kitchen with your new gummy bear family, happily doing your part to keep the candy flowing. The soft jiggling of the other bears around you is comforting, like being wrapped in a constant hug, and the repetitive work is oddly soothing. By the end of the day, you’re tired but blissfully happy. You’ve found your place here, among the gummy bears, and the sense of belonging fills you with warmth. Bubba gives you a big, friendly grin. “Ain’t nothin’ better than bein’ part of the family, huh?” And as you bounce along with the other gummy bears, following Bubba’s orders with a heart full of joy, you know that he’s right. This is where you belong, part of Bubba’s candy crew, making sweets and living a simple, happy life as one of his squishy, obedient gummy bears. <</if>>

One of the soldiers notices you watching and marches over, his wooden joints clicking softly as he moves. His painted smile never wavers as he speaks. “Looking to join the training, civilian?” His voice is cheerful yet firm, almost too precise, like all of his movements are. Before you know it, you find yourself agreeing. The soldier leads you into formation with the others, where you’re quickly handed a light wooden toy sword. “We’ll start with marching drills,” the soldier says, and suddenly the entire group shifts into formation. You follow suit, mimicking their stance, standing tall, arms straight by your sides, head held high. The soldier barks out commands, and you follow along as best as you can. “March!” With a quick clack, the soldiers around you lift their legs in unison, their feet coming down in perfect rhythm. You try to match their movements, finding the rhythm quickly, your feet hitting the ground with a satisfying clack each time. It’s oddly soothing, falling in line with the rest of them, moving as one. “Salute!” The wooden soldiers snap their hands to their foreheads in a sharp salute, and you do the same, your arm moving instinctively. The motion feels natural, and before long, you’re saluting, marching, and following their orders without hesitation. Every step, every gesture is synchronized with theirs, like you’re just another piece in the drill. As the day wears on, you’re guided through more types of training. Sparring with wooden swords, practicing formations, standing at attention. The soldiers bark orders with precision, and you follow every one of them, eager to keep up. You swing your sword, clash with your opponents, and hold your ground just like they do, the movements becoming smoother with each round. Every command feels clearer, easier to follow, and soon, you’re moving as one of them, marching in perfect time, saluting when told, standing tall and proud. You start to notice that your thoughts are shifting too. There’s something satisfying about the structure, about the clarity of following orders. Standing tall, moving with precision, saluting. Each action makes you feel proud, like you’re part of something bigger, doing your best to serve this kingdom, be a good soldier. The repetition, the rhythm, the unity of it all id intoxicating. You want to stand straight. You want to salute. You want to follow orders, to be just like them. “Good form, soldier,” one of the wooden figures says with a nod as you complete another round of sparring. His painted grin is as cheerful as ever, but there’s a sense of approval in his gaze. “You’ve got potential.” The day drifts on, the hours melting together as you continue training, your focus narrowing to nothing but the commands and motions of the drills. You don’t even have to think anymore, you just act. March, salute, stand tall, follow orders. It all feels so right. By the time the sun begins to set, the toy soldiers line up in perfect formation and stand at attention as their leader steps forward. He is the only one of the dog soldier toys who is taller, and his painted details have gold paint. “You’ve done well today,” he says, his voice full of the same cheerful authority as the others. “You’re a natural.” The soldiers around you nod in agreement, their wooden smiles unwavering. “You should come back,” the leader continues, “and officially join our ranks. Infantry, cavalry, it’s your choice. We could use someone with your potential.” For a moment, the thought fills you with pride, and you find yourself wanting to agree immediately. You want to stand tall and proud with them. You want to follow their orders, to be part of their unit, to belong. You need to make your commander happy, be a good soldier. But as you take a step back, something feels off. Your head feels foggy, your thoughts slower than before. The idea of following orders, of being just another soldier in line, seems so appealing, but somewhere in the back of your mind, a faint voice tries to remind you of something. Something important. You blink, struggling to remember. The soldiers around you maintain their perfect posture, their painted smiles unchanging. “Think it over, soldier,” the leader says with a nod. “We’ll be waiting for you.” You stumble away from the courtyard, your mind still buzzing with the echoes of commands and salutes. It’s hard to think, hard to shake the rhythm of the training from your thoughts. You try to remind yourself how to think for yourself, how to step outside the structure, but it’s difficult. The idea of falling back into formation, of simply following orders, still tugs at your mind. As you walk away, flushed and dizzy, the sensation of standing straight, saluting, and marching in perfect time lingers in your body. Part of you already misses it. But as you step farther from the courtyard, you start to shake off the fog, trying to remember what it felt like to not be a toy soldier. It’s harder than you expected. [[The Training Yard]] <<set $training to true>>

You return to the courtyard with a sense of purpose, your mind focused on a need to obey, to belong, to surrender to duty. The wooden dog soldiers are already there, practicing their drills in perfect formation just like before. Their brightly painted uniforms glint in the sunlight, their smiling dog-like faces moving in perfect synchrony. When they see you approach, their leader steps forward, his wide, painted grin fixed as ever. “So, you’ve come back,” he says with a nod, his wooden voice firm but cheerful. “Ready to join the infantry?” You nod without hesitation. “Yes, I’m ready.” The leader claps his wooden hands together, and the soldiers around him stop their drills, their identical faces all turning toward you with bright, painted smiles. “Good! Let’s get started,” he says, gesturing for you to take your place in line with the others. “We’ll begin with marches and drills. Just follow our lead.” You fall into step with the soldiers, your body moving instinctively to match their sharp, synchronized movements. Left foot forward, right foot back, salute, turn. The rhythm is simple, soothing, and before long, your entire focus narrows to the precise movements of the drill. It feels natural to copy their actions, to follow every order without question. As you march, something starts to shift in your body. At first, it’s subtle, just a stiffness in your joints, a slight heaviness in your arms and legs. But the more you follow along, the more you feel yourself changing. Your limbs grow harder, losing their flexibility, becoming stiff and jointed like the wooden soldiers around you. Each step you take makes your body feel less like flesh and more like carved wood. You glance down and notice your hands have become flat and simple, jointed at the wrists, your fingers nothing more than smooth wooden blocks. Your skin has taken on the texture of polished wood, the once soft, pliable surface replaced by something hard and unyielding and coated in a glossy shiny coat. You keep marching, the transformation barely registering as strange anymore. This is what you want, after all. To be one of them. Identical, obedient, part of the team. As your body continues to shift, your face pushes outward, your features reshaping into the same cheerful dog-like muzzle that adorns the soldiers around you. Your nose becomes a small, painted bump, your eyes round and wide, fixed in a permanent wooden stare. You can feel the changes taking hold, your body growing stiff and simplified, but it doesn’t bother you. It feels right, feels good. As your head stiffens and tightens, your skull becoming wood, your brain transforming, you feel an intense, growing shudder of arousal and pleasure that rushes through you. Once your body is fully transformed, the soldiers stop their drills, and the leader steps forward with a clean cloth in his wooden hand. “Time to finish the process,” he says, his voice steady. “We’ll wipe away the old and make you one of us.” You stand still as he takes the cloth and begins wiping at your face. It’s a strange sensation, as though your identity is being carefully erased. The cloth moves over your wooden features, wiping away the details of who you once were. Your eyes, your nose, your mouth, it all fades into smooth, blank wood beneath his touch. As your face is wiped clean, your mind starts to feel similarly blank, the thoughts you once had slipping away, leaving nothing but a calm, empty space. You let out a muffled moan before you are left completely unable to speak, your head empty, mindless, thoughtless. The leader continues wiping, this time moving down to your torso, rubbing away the remnants of your old clothes and skin. Your identity is disappearing bit by bit, leaving only the wooden surface beneath. You feel your old self fading, your thoughts becoming slower, quieter, until they are almost entirely gone. There’s no need for them now, no need to think or question. You’re becoming something simpler, something better. Once your body is completely blank, the soldiers bring out their paintbrushes. With careful precision, they begin painting on a new face just like theirs. Your muzzle is painted bright and cheerful, with a wide, friendly grin. Your eyes are round and cartoonish, fixed in a happy expression. They paint on a brightly colored uniform, complete with boots and a smartly painted tail drawn as if it's wagging behind you. As the new identity is painted onto your wooden body, you feel something stir inside your blank mind. Memories surface, new memories of being a toy soldier, of standing in formation, of following orders. You remember sparring with your wooden comrades, marching in perfect unison, saluting the leaders. It feels like you’ve been part of the infantry for as long as you can recall. You are a dog soldier. Once they’re finished, the leader stands back, admiring their work. “You’re one of us now,” he says with pride. “Welcome to the infantry.” You snap to attention, your new wooden body moving stiffly but smoothly as you raise a hand in salute. It feels perfect and natural to obey, to fall in line with the other soldiers. You no longer think of yourself as anything separate or different from them. You are a soldier. You follow orders. You stand tall, march in unison, and salute your superiors. The soldiers resume their drills, and you eagerly join them, your painted wooden face fixed in its cheerful smile. As you march in time with the others, you feel complete, your mind and body fully integrated into the unit. There’s no need for anything else, no thoughts of who you once were or what you used to do. All that matters now is your role in the army. Each order obeyed, each step in your march, each salute fills your whole body with tight, trembling pleasure. And as you march through the courtyard, saluting and drilling alongside your identical comrades, you know you’ve found your place, one of the many smiling, wooden dog soldiers in the King’s toy army.

After watching the toy infantry practice their drills, you feel a pull toward something different. You want to join them, to be part of their army, but in a different way. There's a tingly sensation of need inside you. You turn to one of the soldiers, his painted dog-like face locked in its usual friendly grin, and tell him that you want to join the cavalry instead. His eyes light up, and without hesitation, he motions for you to follow. “Ah, the cavalry! An excellent choice,” the soldier says, his wooden voice full of excitement. “Come with me. We’ve got just the place for you.” He leads you across the courtyard and into a large, open stable attached to the castle. As you step inside, you’re greeted by rows upon rows of rocking horses, all made of smooth, brightly painted wood. The air smells faintly of pine and polish, and the gentle sound of creaking fills the space as the rocking horses sway back and forth, their wooden bodies moving rhythmically on curved bases. The horses are simple yet beautifully crafted, with their manes and tails carved into flowing shapes, and their legs stiff and strong. They whinny softly as they rock, the sound more mechanical than organic, like it's a pre-recorded sound effect. The soldier gestures toward the stables. “These are our cavalry mounts. Strong, dependable, always ready for battle.” He pats one of the rocking horses fondly, his hand making a light thud against its smooth surface. “And soon, you’ll be one of them.” You blink, the idea sinking in slowly. One of the horses? The soldier grins, reading your confusion. “Yes, you’ll be one of our loyal mounts. The cavalry wouldn’t be what it is without sturdy horses, and you’ll fit right in.” He steps closer, his painted-on smile never wavering, and places a wooden hand on your shoulder. “Don’t worry. It’ll feel natural soon enough.” He leads you to the center of the stable and begins to massage your head and shoulders, his touch firm but gentle. As his hands move over your neck and upper back, you start to feel different. A strange warmth spreads through your body, relaxing your muscles and filling you with a sense of calm. His touch becomes more and more pleasurable, sending a rush of obedient blissful joy through you. You huff and let out a quiet, shy whinny as you pant and squirm. The soldier chuckles softly, holding up a large, brightly painted wooden carrot. “Here, eat up. You’ll need your strength for the transformation.” Without thinking, you lean forward, mimicking the motion of biting into the wooden carrot. The moment your mouth pretends to close around it, a rush of pleasure surges through you, followed by a powerful wave of obedience. You feel a deep, instinctual desire to follow the soldier’s commands, to serve him as his loyal mount. “Good boy,” the soldier says, petting your head. The praise feels good, warm, and comforting, and it only makes your desire to please him stronger. He walks over to a nearby wall and retrieves a bridle and harness, holding them up for you to see. “Let’s get you outfitted. You’ll be perfect once we’re done.” You nod, already dropping down to all fours, eager to help the process along. As soon as your hands and knees hit the ground, a strange sensation spreads through your limbs. Your skin tightens, and your muscles harden, the soft warmth of your body being replaced with something solid, smooth. You glance down and watch in fascination as your hands stiffen into hard, wooden hooves, your fingers fusing together in a single solid piece. Your feet follow suit, the transformation spreading up your legs as they thicken into strong, straight limbs. Your neck stretches out, becoming long and rigid, while your chest expands into a broad, barrel-like shape. Each shift in your body feels natural, and with every new change, you feel your sense of self slip away, replaced by an overwhelming desire to serve as a loyal mount. The soldier slips the bridle over your head, fastening it with care. “There we go. You’re coming along nicely.” As he buckles the harness around your chest, your entire body becomes lighter, the weight of your former self disappearing as you become fully wooden. Your skin, once warm and soft, is now the fragrant pine wood of a perfectly crafted rocking horse. Your wooden legs lock into place, sturdy and unyielding, and your body, now broad and sleek, gleams with polish. The soldier pets you again, running his hand down your smooth wooden neck. “You’re a fine cavalry mount now,” he says, his voice full of pride. “But there’s one last step.” He bends down and, with surprising ease, lifts you onto a pair of curved wooden planks. As soon as your hooves touch the base, you feel an instinctive need to rock back and forth, the motion soothing and rhythmic. The soldier gives you a gentle push, and soon you’re swaying in place, moving in the same rhythm as the other rocking horses in the stable. The rocking motion lulls your mind into a quiet, blissful state. Your thoughts grow dull, animal-like, as your new form takes over completely. There’s no need for complicated ideas or decisions anymore. Only the simple pleasure of being a loyal, wooden horse, rocking gently and waiting for your next command. Each rock forward draws out who you used to be, each rock back wipes it away, every motion back and forth slowly grinding through your mind, your identity, erasing it all, wiping it away. The soldier pats your side, brushing you down with a soft cloth. “You’re one of us now. A proper cavalry horse, ready to serve.” He smiles warmly, and the sight of his approval fills you with a deep sense of satisfaction. As the rocking continues, your mind settles into a blissful dullness. You no longer remember what it was like to be anything else. You’re a wooden horse, strong and dependable, ready to serve the soldiers of the King’s cavalry.

<<if visited() == 1>>Curious, and intrigued by the strange scene of puppets hard at work, you agree to take a shift. Vince claps his hands together with as much gleeas a plastic fox with limited articulation can manage. “Excellent choice! Step right up, and let’s get you started.” You move toward one of the assembly stations where the monkey puppets are busy hammering and screwing together new toy parts. Before you can grab a tool, however, you feel something odd. There is a soft tug on your arms. Looking up, you see strings dangling from the ceiling, slowly descending until they reach you. Before you can react, the strings attach themselves to your wrists, ankles, and shoulders, securing themselves firmly in place. The moment the strings latch onto you, your limbs start moving without your input. Your arms lift and bend, your hands grasping a hammer and some plastic nails from a nearby workbench. It feels strange at first, like you’re a passenger in your own body, your movements controlled by some unseen force. But soon, the rhythm of the work takes over, and the strings pull your arms in smooth, practiced motions. You hammer plastic nails into the wooden blocks in front of you, watching as your hands move with precision, even though you’re not the one moving them. Your legs stiffen and step forward, your hands grab bolts, and soon, you’re screwing pieces together just like the monkey puppets around you. The strings guide your every action. There’s no effort, no thinking required. You simply go through the motions, letting the strings move you. Vince watches from his wobbly chair, his plastic eyes gleaming as he gives orders. “That’s it! Keep it up! Hammer here, screw there, nice and easy, isn’t it? Just let the strings do all the work, and you’ll be a master craftsman in no time!” At first, you try to resist the strangeness of it all, but as the minutes stretch into hours, you start to relax. It’s easy, so easy to let the strings move you, to not have to think or control your own body. You feel your mind drifting, thoughts slowing down as the mechanical motions take over. The more you follow Vince’s commands, the more natural it feels to let go. The pleasure of obedience fills you, the slow mindlessness of being totally controlled. Your arms rise and fall in perfect rhythm, hammering and screwing, assembling toys piece by piece. You can hear the clattering of the monkey puppets around you, their identical motions perfectly synced with yours. You’re part of the workhouse, part of the machine. The more you let go, the better it feels. Your mind becomes light, almost empty, and soon, you’re not even thinking. You’re simply moving, letting the strings do the work. As the shift wears on, your body becomes so used to the strings that it feels odd to even consider moving without them. The gentle tug on your limbs feels comforting, like you’re being guided by something bigger than yourself. You don’t need to control anything, just follow the motions, follow the orders, follow Vince’s voice. When the shift finally ends, the strings slowly release their grip on your body. You stumble slightly, your legs wobbling as you try to remember how to move on your own. It’s strange after being controlled for so long. It feels unnatural to move freely. For a moment, you just stand there, trying to shake off the lingering sensation of the strings pulling at you, along with the lingering feeling that you should just surrender and let Vince decide how you think and act. Vince hops over to you, his foxy grin never faltering. “Well done! You’re a natural!” he exclaims, patting you on the shoulder with his plastic hand. “I knew you’d be a great fit here. Say, if you ever want to come back, I’d be more than happy to put you to work again. Maybe next time...” He leans in slightly, his painted eyes gleaming with a mischievous glint. “...you could keep the strings forever.” You blink, still feeling dizzy from the shift, but you manage to nod and mumble something in response. The thought of having the strings on permanently feels tempting in a strange way, even though a part of you knows that shouldn’t be the case. As you step away from the workhouse, your limbs still feel stiff, like the strings are tugging at them, even though you’ve been freed. You earn ten buttons for your work. [[The Workhouse]] <<set $buttons to $buttons+10>> <<else>> You find yourself drawn back to the strange, blocky workhouse, the memory of your last shift lingering in your mind like a faint but persistent tug. The door creaks open, and the familiar clatter of tools and assembly lines fills your ears as you step inside. The monkey puppets are hard at work again, their wooden bodies jerking rhythmically, strings attached to their limbs as they hammer, screw, and assemble with mechanical precision. Vince is seated in the center of the room as always, his painted-on grin just as wide and inviting as before. He wobbles slightly on his round plastic base when he sees you approach, hopping forward in a strangely excited manner. “Back again, are we?” he says, his voice oozing with charm. “Couldn’t stay away, huh? I knew you’d be back! Knew it the moment you left. You had that look, the look that says thinking for yourself is hard, eh? Maybe as a human you had too much stress, too much on your shoulders? I can help with that...” “I want to work a longer shift,” you tell him, the words spilling out before you’ve even fully processed the thought. The idea of letting the strings control you again, of slipping back into that mindless, rhythmic flow feels so right. Vince’s grin widens, and his eyes gleam with something sly. “A longer shift, you say? Well, well, we’d be happy to have you. Step right up. We’ve got plenty of work to do, and I’m sure you’ll fit in perfectly.” He guides you back to the assembly line, where the monkey puppets continue their tireless work, moving in perfect synchronization. As you take your place among them, the strings descend from the ceiling again, wrapping around your wrists, ankles, and shoulders with a soft, familiar tug. The moment the strings take hold, your body responds immediately, moving without effort or thought. Your hands reach for tools, your arms lift and lower in smooth, precise motions. It feels good, so good, to give in, to let the strings take control. You ease into the flow of the work, matching the monkeys’ movements as you hammer plastic nails, screw in bolts, and piece together new toys. The rhythmic clatter of the workhouse surrounds you, and soon, you’re completely absorbed in the motions, letting the strings do all the thinking for you. As the hours pass, the work starts to pick up speed. Vince calls out commands from his perch, his voice cheerful but insistent. “Faster now, we’ve got more to do! Keep up the pace!” The strings respond immediately, moving your limbs faster and faster, guiding your body through the motions with increasing intensity. The monkey puppets beside you keep pace effortlessly, their dexterous hands working at lightning speed. Soon, you notice that they’re using their feet to work too, their long, hand-like toes gripping tools and assembling parts with the same mechanical precision as their hands. The strings pull at your feet, urging you to follow suit. Without hesitation, you kick off your shoes, letting your feet flex and stretch. Your toes begin to change, the largest ones elongating and moving downward like thumbs, allowing you to grasp tools just like the monkeys. It feels so natural, so easy to obey, as you use both your hands and feet to hammer, screw, and assemble, the work flowing seamlessly. Vince’s voice rises again, urging the work forward. “Come on now! We need more! Faster, faster!” The strings tighten, pulling your body to work even faster, and as you strain to keep up with the rhythm, you feel something shift in your lower back. A strange, tingling sensation spreads down your spine, and before you know it, a long, flexible tail stretches out from your backside. The strings attach to it, guiding its movements just as they guide your arms and legs. Your new tail coils around tools, grabbing and carrying them with ease, becoming another extension of the work. The faster you work, the more your body changes. Your skin hardens into firm, blocky wood, your limbs stiffening into jointed shapes like the monkey puppets beside you. Each motion is smooth and mechanical, your wooden joints clicking softly as you move. Your face begins to stretch, your features elongating into a simple, simian muzzle. Your once-human expression fades, replaced by a painted-on smile and wide, wooden eyes. It feels so natural, so right, as your transformation continues, your body becoming indistinguishable from the other puppets around you. The strings tug at your mind, too, guiding not just your movements but your thoughts. At first, you resist, but the pull is too strong, too comforting. Each time the strings tug on your mind, tell you what to think, tell you what to feel, it gets harder to resist. It feels even better than your body being moved. It feels like your very self is being puppeted. Slowly, your thoughts begin to dull, your mind quieting as the strings take over. You don’t need to think anymore. Vince can think for you. You don’t need to decide anything. Vince’s commands and the strings’ gentle tugs will tell you everything you need to do. “Good, good,” Vince calls out, his voice now a soothing hum in the background. “Just let go. Let the strings do all the work. You’re doing wonderfully.” And you are. The motions are automatic now, your wooden hands, feet, and tail working in perfect unison. There’s no hesitation, no need for thought. Every command, every pull of the strings is followed without question. It’s so easy, so blissful, to be moved like this, to be controlled. Your mind has emptied completely, leaving only the rhythmic motions of the work and the satisfaction of obeying. The work that fills your empty-headed wooden body with intense, endless bliss. When the long shift finally ends, the puppet strings go slack, and your body stops moving. You slump forward, your wooden limbs stiff and still, just like all the other monkey puppets. You no longer feel the need to control your own body, to think or act on your own. The strings can do that for you, whenever Vince decides it’s time to work again. You and the other puppets flop still and silent, waiting for the next shift. Your mind is blank, your body motionless, perfectly content to wait for the next time the strings will take over. Vince hops over to you, his fox-like grin as smug as ever. “Well done, my friend. You’re a natural. Welcome to the Workhouse.” You don’t respond. You don’t need to. Your wooden body sits motionless, your painted face smiling blankly. There’s no need for thought or decision, just the blissful anticipation of the next time the strings will pull at your limbs. This is exactly where you belong. <</if>>

As you wander through the back of the workhouse, away from the busy monkey puppets and the clatter of tools, something catches your eye. It's a simple wooden box, tucked away in the corner. It’s plain, unassuming, and oddly out of place among the mechanical contraptions and vibrant toys being assembled. There’s no label, no indication of what it’s for, but something about it draws you closer. You kneel down to examine it, running your hand over the smooth wooden surface. “Ah, curious about the box, are we?” Vince’s voice purrs from behind, his tone playful yet slippery. He wobbles over, hopping slightly on his plastic base, his painted-on grin as wide as ever. “That’s one of my more special toys. I see you’ve got an eye for it.” You look up, intrigued. “What’s it for?” Vince’s eyes gleam with something mischievous. “Well, let’s just say it’s a one-of-a-kind experience. You’ll never know the thrill of it until you try. Want to find out? I’d be more than happy to show you.” His voice oozes with charm, but there’s something about his grin that makes you hesitate. Still, your curiosity gets the better of you, and after a brief moment of indecision, you nod. “Sure,” you say, stepping back from the box. Vince’s smile widens. “Splendid! Step inside, and we’ll get you acquainted with the magic.” Before you can second-guess yourself, Vince nudges the wooden lid open, revealing a small, cushioned compartment just big enough for you to fit. With a shrug, you climb inside, your body settling into the snug space. It’s tighter than you expected, but not uncomfortable. As soon as you’re inside, Vince hops closer and, with a soft click, shuts the lid, locking it in place. You feel a pang of uncertainty, but it’s quickly replaced by a growing sense of excitement. There’s a faint whirring sound, and then you feel it. There is a crank turning at the side of the box. Vince’s is holding the handle outside, slowly turning it with a rhythmic click-click-click. At first, nothing happens. But then you hear the familiar, playful tune of “Pop Goes the Weasel” beginning to play from within the box. The melody is slow and deliberate, each note building an odd sense of anticipation. With every turn of the crank, a strange thrill courses through your body. It’s as though the music itself is charging you with energy, filling you with excitement that you can’t quite explain. The tune continues, and slowly, you feel your legs begin to change. They tingle, then fuse together, your feet melding with the base of the box. The sensation isn’t painful, it feels exciting, pleasurable. Your lower body is stretching and coiling, turning into a tight spring, connecting you to the base of the wooden box. You’re part of the box now, and the thought sends a rush of excitement through you, a building need and eagerness that feels like you're being edged to the point of insanity. Your arms are next. As the crank turns and the melody picks up speed, your hands stiffen, your fingers stretching and curling into sharp, furry claws. Your skin bristles as soft fur sprouts all over your body, dark and wild, covering you from head to toe. The box feels tighter now, but instead of discomfort, it just adds to that edged feeling, that trembling sensation that you're right at the point of climax, that every part of you is almost about to explode. You’re ready to burst out, but you need to wait. You need to hold on for the right moment. It will feel SO good when it happens. Your face starts to change, stretching out into a long, narrow muzzle, your teeth sharp and gleaming in a wide, eager grin. It feels so natural, so perfect, like this is what you were always meant to be. A long, bushy tail unfurls behind you, coiling within the box, and all you can think about is the anticipation, the build-up, the thrilling tension as the music reaches its peak. It's so close now, it's almost happening, this is why you exist, what you are for. The melody grows louder, faster. You can barely contain yourself now, your body trembling with excitement. You’re no longer the person who stepped into this box. All that's left in your head is something playful, eager, and mischievous. All you can think of is the moment when the box will open, when you’ll finally be able to spring free. POP! The lid bursts open, and you spring upward, propelled by the tight coil of your new body. With a wild, giddy laugh, you shout, “BOO!” as you explode out of the box, your sharp claws raised in playful menace, your long tail flicking with excitement. The rush of energy, the thrill of the jump, it’s everything you’d been waiting for and more, you giggle and squirm as your eyes roll up, the utter bliss of the moment crashing through you, wiping away everything but the utter joy of the moment, of popping out, of doing what you were made for. Vince claps his plastic hands together, his grin as wide as ever. “Marvelous! Absolutely marvelous! You’re a perfect Jack-in-the-Box weasel!” He bounces closer, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as you pant heavily, still basking in the rush of excitement. Before you can fully recover, Vince hops forward and presses down on your spring, gently but firmly pushing you back inside the box. You feel the wooden lid close over you once more, locking you in, but instead of feeling trapped, you’re overwhelmed with anticipation. You’re back inside, coiled tightly, waiting, eager for the next time the crank will turn, for the next rush of excitement to build inside you. Your mind is alight with thrill, your thoughts simple and singular. The joy of the jump, the rush of popping out. It’s all you want, all you need. Vince gives the box a satisfied pat. “There you go, snug as can be. You did wonderfully! I knew you’d be a natural. Now, just stay tight in there. I’m sure we’ll have plenty of chances to wind you up again. Don’t worry, you’ll get to pop out again... soon.” You barely hear his words. Inside the box, your mind is a blur of excitement and anticipation. The thought of being coiled and ready, waiting for the next thrilling release, fills you with glee. There’s no room for anything else, just the music, the build-up, and the eventual, inevitable pop. For now, you rest in the dark, your spring coiled tightly, your furry body trembling with excitement. Your wide, toothy grin stays fixed as you pant softly, already squirming with the eager hope that Vince will turn the crank again soon. You don’t need to think. All you need to do is wait... and then pop.

<<if visited() == 1>>As you browse, Big Gears clanks up beside you, his gears clicking and spinning with every movement. “Tell ya what,” he says, his metal voice full of energy, “how’d you like to help me out today? I’m always lookin’ for some friendly folks to spread the word about the shop. Nothing too hard! Just hold a sign, stand outside, point people my way. Easy as pie!” The offer seems harmless enough, and you nod. Big Gears hands you a bright, colorful sign with the store’s name on it, and with a clank of approval, he sends you outside. For the next few hours, you stand just outside the shop, holding up the sign and pointing toward the entrance. At first, it feels a little silly, just standing there, not really doing much other than holding a sign. As time passes though, a strange sense of calm settles over you. It’s a peaceful sort of task, just standing there, watching people stroll by. A few passersby glance at the sign, smile, and head into the store, and though the traffic is slow, it’s satisfying to see the occasional customer enter. The day stretches on, and while the hours pass quietly, you don’t feel bored. There’s something soothing about the simplicity of it. You don’t have to think much. Just stand there, point to the shop, and wait. Eventually, Big Gears comes out to check on you, his loud, mechanical voice booming with approval. “Well done, well done! You’ve been a great help, my friend. Got a few folks in here today thanks to you!” His gears whir as he gives you a friendly pat on the shoulder. “You’ve got a good presence! Nice and sturdy, just what we need! Just like a sign should be!” You laugh, feeling a little embarrassed by the praise, but Big Gears isn’t done. “But I’ve been thinkin’,” he continues, leaning in slightly as his metal limbs clank with each movement, “you’d do even better if you were a cardboard cutout. You’d be perfect! Just stand there with that same cheerful look, and people would flock to the shop!” He pauses, his gears clicking as he gives you a playful wink. “Tell ya what lad! If you ever wanna come by again, I’d be more than happy to flatten you with my big robot feet, turn you into a nice, sturdy cardboard cutout. You could stand outside the shop forever, pointin’ the way with a big ol’ smile on your face. No effort at all!” You blink, taken aback by the suggestion. Big Gears grins, his painted face as friendly as ever. “It’d be easy! No more standin’ around, no more gettin’ tired! Just a big ol’ flat version of you, standin’ out here, helpin’ out all day long. And the best part? You’d never have to move again. Just smile and point forever!” Despite the absurdity of the offer, there’s something oddly tempting about it. The idea of just being there, always smiling, always pointing to the shop, no longer needing to think or act, just existing as a cheerful cutout. It seems strangely peaceful. “Well, just think about it,” Big Gears says, giving you another clank on the shoulder. “You’re always welcome here, whether you’re flesh and bone or sturdy cardboard. Just let me know!” With a friendly nod, you hand him back the sign and head off, feeling a bit lighter but also somewhat dazed. The idea of becoming a cardboard cutout lingers in your mind longer than you’d like to admit. You can’t help but picture it. Smiling, flat, unmoving, your whole body stiff and helpless, an inanimate grinning sign forever. You earn ten buttons for your work. [[The General Store]] <<set $buttons to $buttons+10>> <<else>> You find yourself standing outside Big Gears' Emporium again, the memories of your last shift holding the sign lingering in your mind. There was something strangely calming about the simplicity of it, the stillness, the mindlessness of just standing there, pointing customers toward the shop. And Big Gears' offer, playful as it was, keeps tugging at the back of your thoughts. The idea of those big heavy tin feet pressing down on you, squashing you flat forever... As you step back inside, the clanking of gears and the metallic hum of the shop greet you. Big Gears notices you right away, his large, boxy frame wobbling in place as he turns to face you. His moustache wiggles happily, as though he already knows why you're back. “Well, look who’s returned!” Big Gears says, his loud, boisterous voice filling the room. “Decided to take me up on my offer, have ya? Ready to become a part of the Emporium forever?” You pause for just a moment, but the decision is already made. You nod, and Big Gears' eyes light up with excitement, his gears whirring as he hops closer. “Fantastic! Just you wait, this is going to be something special. Now, let’s get you nice and flat. Just hold that sign, lie down, and leave the rest to me.” You take the familiar sign in your hands, feeling its weight once again. Then, slowly, you lie down on the floor, stretching out as flat as you can. Big Gears clanks over to you, looming above with his big square feet, each one heavy and solid, covered in ridged metal. There’s a brief moment of hesitation as you glance up at him, but his wide, friendly grin reassures you. “Don’t worry,” he says with a chuckle, lifting one of his huge feet. “This’ll be nice and easy. Just relax.” With a metallic creak, Big Gears raises his foot and slowly presses it down on your body. There’s no pain, just a soft, deeply pleasant pressure as your chest begins to flatten under the weight. It's like the deepest, most pleasurable massage you've ever had, the crushing force of his feet sending a rush of arousal and need through you. You feel a strange wave of relaxation wash over you, your body softening, spreading out beneath him as he slowly presses down. Your limbs follow suit, flattening and stretching out across the floor with each heavy stomp of his feet. The sensation is oddly thrilling, your body becoming thinner, lighter, your muscles and bones turning into something simple and stiff. You can feel yourself changing, your skin becoming smooth and papery, transforming into cardboard as Big Gears methodically presses down on you, moving from your legs to your arms. With each part that flattens you lose control over it, leaving it flat and stiff, flushed with permanent pleasure. Finally his foot rises over your head, and he chuckles. "Now for the big one lad!", he says. The sole lowers, covering your vision, and you feel it pressing down on you. Slowly your head squishes, flattens out, your mind sinking into intense, hot, warm pleasure, your thoughts collapsing, all you can think of being that weight, that crushing force spreading you thin, sealing you this way for good. As the last part of you is flattened beneath his heavy foot, a smile is frozen on your face. An eager, friendly expression that is now permanent. You can’t move your mouth, can’t blink, can’t shift your body at all. You’re completely stiff, flat, and motionless, yet somehow, the feeling fills you with a strange, blissful happiness. Big Gears steps back, admiring his work. “Ah, there we go! Nice and flat! You’re looking good already, but we’re not quite finished yet.” He grabs a large paintbrush and some colorful cans of paint, and you feel a soft tickling sensation as he begins to paint over you. You can’t see what he’s doing, but you can feel each stroke of the brush as it transforms your cardboard body. Your clothes, your skin, everything is covered in thick, bright paint, slowly changing you from a human into a cartoonish version of a robot. Your features blur away, replaced by painted-on buttons, gears, and a wide, friendly grin to match Big Gears’ own. Your old identity is literally being painted over for this new one, and as he colours you in, your memories and thoughts drift away. Once he’s done, Big Gears carefully props you up against the wall. Your body stands stiff and straight, permanently frozen in place. You can feel the wind brush against you from outside the shop, the light shifting as Big Gears places you just outside the entrance, where the sign you once held points toward the Emporium. “There we go!” Big Gears says proudly, giving you an approving pat. “You’re perfect, lad! Just what we needed! A nice, bright, friendly cutout, always standing here, always pointing the way. You’ll be out here forever, smiling, advertising the store. Part of the family, practically!” You stand there, unable to move, frozen in place with your painted-on grin. You don’t feel afraid. You don’t feel anything but a strange sense of peace and satisfaction. It’s easy now. You don’t have to think, don’t have to move or act or make decisions. You’re simply there, part of the shop, always smiling, always pointing customers in. Your cardboard body is stiff, flat, and light, the colors bright and cheerful. Your expression will never change, your posture will never shift. You’re a permanent part of the shop’s scenery, and the thought of standing there, day in and day out, fills you with a strange sense of joy. As customers pass by, they glance at you, their eyes drawn to your bright, cheerful appearance. Some of them smile and head into the shop, and each time someone enters, you feel a flicker of satisfaction. You’re doing your job. Just standing, just smiling. This is exactly the life you needed. <</if>>

You press the bubble, and the dice inside clatter and roll, but nothing happens. Maybe you're not lucky enough? You wonder if there's some way in this village you could enhance your luck. <<set $canrubfeet to true>> [[Outside of Town]]

You press the bubble, and this time all of the dice come up on six! There is a tinny, pre-recorded fanfare, and suddenly a shower of buttons sprays out from the bubble. This must be your prize. You gathered twenty buttons [[Outside of Town]] <<set $wonbutton to false>>

You remember the bag of marbles you’ve been carrying around in your pocket. That's what hungry hippos eat in the board game, after all. “I don’t have food, but I’ve got these,” you say, holding up the bag of marbles. Hank’s eyes light up instantly, and he suddenly looks much more awake. “Marbles?! Oh boy, oh boy, I love marbles!” His excitement is infectious, and he lumbers toward the edge of the lake, his plastic feet clunking heavily against the shore. “Can I have ‘em? Can I? Oh, please, I haven’t had a good marble snack in ages!” Seeing Hank so eager, you can’t help but laugh. “Sure, Hank,” you say, reaching into the bag. You toss him a few marbles, and in an instant, his giant plastic mouth opens wide, snapping them up with a loud, satisfying clack. He swallows the marbles whole, letting out a deep, contented sigh. “Ahhh, that’s the stuff,” Hank says, his eyes fluttering as he relaxes back into the lemonade. “More! Gimme more!” His voice is full of glee, and his enthusiasm is contagious. You toss him more marbles, and he gobbles them up just as quickly, his wide plastic mouth snapping open and shut, chomping eagerly. With every marble you throw, Hank seems more delighted, his dopey grin growing wider. The way he devours the marbles so happily makes you smile, and soon you find yourself enjoying the moment just as much as he is. There’s something oddly satisfying about watching him eat. “Thanks, buddy,” Hank says between chomps. “These marbles are the best. Nothin’ like a good snack while chillin’ in a lemonade lake.” As you continue feeding him, you start to feel an odd sense of calm wash over you. The world around you fades into the background, and all you can think about is Hank’s big, happy grin as he gobbles up marble after marble. It’s so simple, so easy. Just floating in the lake, eating without a care in the world. Hank’s lazy, laid-back attitude starts to seep into you, and you can’t help but wonder what it would be like to live like this all the time. No responsibilities, no need to think, just relax, float in lemonade, and wait for the next snack. Hank sighs deeply, his plastic belly making a soft clunk as it settles into the water. “You know,” he says, his voice slow and content, “you should come hang out with me more often. This lake’s big enough for both of us. It’s a good life, just chillin’ and snackin’. No need to worry about nothin’.” For a moment, the idea is tempting. You picture yourself lounging in the lemonade, not needing to think or move, just drifting along and eating whatever comes your way. It’s a simple, peaceful existence, and the thought of it makes you feel strangely calm but also gives you a warm, needy tingle of excitement. Hank lets out a sleepy yawn and stretches his big plastic feet toward the edge of the lake. “Tell ya what,” he says, his eyes half-closed. “Next time you come by, I’ll bring the snacks. Fair deal, right?” You chuckle, nodding at the idea. “Sounds like a plan, Hank.” You earn thirty buttons. <<set $buttons to $buttons+30>> [[The Lake]] <<set $hippofed to true>>

You return to the lemonade lake, the scent of citrus and sugar in the air as you step closer to the sparkling, fizzy water. Hank is already there, his big, colorful plastic body bobbing lazily in the lemonade, the same dopey grin on his wide hippo face as he sees you approach. “Hey there, buddy!” Hank calls out, his voice slow and cheerful. “Glad you came back. Been waitin’ for ya.” He gestures for you to take a dip with him. Without much hesitation, you pull off your clothes and then dip your toes into the lemonade. The bubbles tickle against your skin, sending a pleasant, fizzy sensation up your legs as you wade deeper into the lake. The water is warm and soothing, and before long, you’re floating alongside Hank, the bubbles dancing around your body as you sink deeper into the calming embrace of the lemonade. “Nice, huh?” Hank says with a yawn, his big plastic mouth hanging open lazily. “Just floatin’ here, doin’ nothin’ but relaxin’. And guess what? I brought more snacks!” With a delighted chuckle, Hank pulls out a large sack of marbles from under the water, the glossy spheres clinking together as he shakes the bag. His eyes gleam with excitement. “Thought we’d have ourselves a little snack time. Just like last time, but even better. I’ll share ‘em with ya! Here, watch.” Hank tosses a marble into his mouth and chomps it down with a loud clack, his giant plastic mouth snapping shut in delight. “Mmmm, good stuff. Now it’s your turn!” He tosses you a marble, and you catch it in your hand. It’s cold and smooth, the firm surface cool against your palm. You hesitate for a moment, unsure about swallowing something so big and solid, but Hank’s excited expression urges you on. With a deep breath, you pop the marble into your mouth. At first, it’s hard to swallow. Your throat tightens around the cold, round object, but you manage to gulp it down. It lands heavily in your stomach, and for a moment, you feel a strange weight inside you, a heaviness that feels intensely good. An odd warmth spreads through your body, and a tingly sensation follows, almost like the lemonade’s fizzing bubbles have come alive beneath your skin, making your stomach rumble and want more andmore. “Not bad, huh?” Hank says with a grin, tossing another marble into his mouth. “Just takes a bit of gettin’ used to. Go on, have another.” He tosses you another marble, and this time, it’s easier. You swallow it down, feeling it settle in your stomach with a satisfying plunk, almost like it's rolling right down your throat. The warmth returns, stronger this time, and you notice something odd happening to your body. Your stomach starts to swell slightly, your skin becoming firm and smooth, the colour flushing just a little bit purple. You feel heavy, lazy and so relaxed that all you can think of is more snacks. You glance at Hank, but he just gives you a lazy, knowing smile. “That’s the good stuff. Just keep goin’. You’re doin’ great.” Another marble. Then another. Each time, swallowing becomes easier, and each time, you feel yourself growing bigger. Your belly expands, becoming round and firm like Hank’s, your skin shifting from soft flesh to glossy purple plastic. You should be alarmed, but instead, a strange sense of satisfaction fills you. You’re growing, changing, and it feels right, it feels great. Your mouth starts to change next. With every marble you swallow, your lips puff up, swelling into a wide, hinged shape like Hank’s. You can feel your teeth dulling, your jaw stretching into a massive hippo grin. Soon, your face is no longer recognisable as human, it’s a big, plastic hippo head, just like Hank’s, complete with huge chomping jaws that clack up and down. Your arms and legs grow shorter and stubbier, thickening into stubby plastic limbs. Your fingers fuse together, forming blunt, rounded nubs that are perfect for grabbing more marbles but not for anything else. You’re not bothered, though. The only thing that matters is eating! Snacks, marbles, cakes, anything you can get. That’s all you need. Hank chuckles beside you, his eyes gleaming with pride as he watches you transform. “You’re lookin’ good, pal! Really turnin’ into a big ol’ Hungry Hippo now. Just keep goin’. You’re doin’ great.” You feel a sense of accomplishment as Hank praises you, and it drives you to eat more. Marble after marble slides down your throat, each one making you bigger, fatter, and dumber. Your belly balloons out, becoming enormous and round, your limbs shrinking into silly stumps. The lemonade fizzes around you, bubbling against your plastic skin as you float and wallow, too big to do anything but eat. The more you eat, the more your thoughts fade away. You can barely remember what you were before. All you know is that eating feels good, that marbles are delicious, and that Hank’s lake is the perfect place to float and relax. Your mind becomes a haze of hunger and contentment, your plastic jaws snapping open and shut as you greedily gulp down the marbles Hank tosses your way. “Good job, buddy,” Hank says with a lazy grin, tossing the last of the marbles into his mouth. “You’re a natural. Big, dumb, and happy. Just the way a Hungry Hippo should be.” You let out a satisfied grunt, your thoughts too simple now to form words. All you can think about is food, snacks, and the warm, fizzy lake around you. Hank was right, this is the life. Floating in lemonade, eating whatever comes your way, not having to think about anything. All that goes through your head is that Hank is handsome, he's right about everything, and that you kind of want to wrestle him over who can eat the most marbles. By the time the bag of marbles is completely empty, you’ve completely transformed. You’re just like Hank, big, plastic, and mindlessly happy. Your belly sloshes as you float in the lake, your mouth hanging open in a permanent hippo grin. The only thing on your mind is when the next snack will come, and how good it’ll feel to gobble it up. Hank gives you a lazy pat on the back, his wide grin matching yours. “You’re one of us now, buddy. Welcome to the lake.”

<<if visited() == 1>>Mack’s enthusiasm is infectious, and it's hard to say no to a shift on the farm. Soon he’s clapping you on the back, his huge plastic hand making a hollow clunk, and handing you a pair of overalls to wear. They are intensely soft and cozy as you pull them on, and they fit you almost suspiciously well. “Alrighty then, let’s get to work!” Mack exclaims, beaming as he leads you into the fields. “We got lots to do!Harvestin’, plantin’, and tendin’ to the animals. You’ll love it here!” Your first task is harvesting the toy vegetables. Mack hands you a basket, and you follow him into the rows of plastic carrots. The carrots are surprisingly sturdy as you pull them from the soft soil, each one making a satisfying pop as it comes free. Mack hums a tuneless melody as he works beside you, his big plastic fingers easily plucking the carrots and tossing them into the basket with practiced ease, going nearly three times faster than you. “Good ol’ harvest time,” Mack says with a happy sigh. “Ain’t nothin’ better than gettin’ them crops in. These here plastic veggies’ll last forever. Don’t gotta worry ‘bout them goin’ bad!” The work is surprisingly relaxing. Each time you pull a plastic carrot from the ground or pick up a plush pumpkin, you feel more in tune with the rhythm of the farm. Mack’s simple, friendly nature starts to rub off on you, and the more you work alongside him, the more you feel like you belong here. Next, Mack shows you how to plant new "seeds". They’re actually colourful capsule toys, each one the size of a marble, with tiny trinkets inside. “These here are our seeds,” Mack explains with a wide grin. “Just bury ‘em in the dirt, give ‘em a little pat, and wait for ‘em to grow! Never know what you’ll get!” You plant the capsule toys in neat rows, feeling a sense of satisfaction each time you press one into the soil. It’s silly, but fun, and Mack’s easygoing company makes the time pass quickly. He treats you like family, calling you “cousin” and making little jokes about how you’re doing a great job, like you’ve been here all along. After the planting is done, you move on to feeding the farm animals. The animals are, unsurprisingly, also toys. There are piggy banks waddling around the pen, their coin-filled bellies jingling as they snort and trot. Plush sheep with big button eyes bleat softly, their fluffy wool soft and pillowy. Rigid, brightly plastic chickens peck mindlessly at the ground with stiff, mechanical movements. Mack hands you a bucket filled with toy feed. They're little plastic pellets in a range of colours. “Just give ‘em a little o’ this, and they’ll be happy as can be,” he says, showing you how to toss the pellets into the animal pens. The piggy banks gobble up the feed with loud clinks, while the plush sheep nuzzle at the pellets, and the plastic chickens peck away eagerly. As you work, Mack chats happily, treating you more and more like a regular farmhand, like you’ve always been here. “Ya know, it’s nice havin’ you ‘round, cousin. Feels like you’re one o’ the family. Couldn’t do it all without ya. Cousins should stick together. Be just like each other. Don't ya think?” His words start to sink in, and you begin to feel at home in a way that surprises you. The idea of staying on the farm, of working beside Mack day in and day out, suddenly doesn’t seem strange at all. You glance at Mack, his strong plastic body gleaming in the sun, and wonder what it would be like to be just like him, a big simple plastic action figure, always working, always helping out. You picture yourself with Mack’s wide, solid frame, your skin smooth and glossy, your limbs strong and reliable. It sends a tremble of intense, pleasurable feeling through you. A life spent harvesting toy crops, feeding the animals, and tending to the farm sounds perfect. No need for anything complicated. Just good, honest work, day after day, with Mack by your side. You’d be part of the farm, part of the land. The more you work, the more the thought settles in your mind. It feels right. You start to move like Mack, your steps heavier, your movements slower and more deliberate. Your thoughts become simpler too, focused on the tasks at hand, nothing but harvesting, planting, feeding. You’re not even sure when you started thinking of Mack as family, but now it feels natural. He’s like a cousin, a brother, and you’re just another part of the farm. By the time the workday ends, you’re covered in dust and sweat, but you don’t mind at all. You stretch out, feeling the warmth of the sun on your skin, and it takes you a moment to remember that you’re not actually a big plastic action figure like Mack. You’re not really made for this farm. But it’s hard to let go of the thought. The idea of staying here, of being part of Mack’s life, of working the fields every day, lingers in your mind, tugging at you like a comforting dream. Mack claps you on the back, his wide grin as friendly as ever. “Ya did great today, cousin. Couldn’t have done it without ya. Anytime ya wanna come back, just head on over. We’re always here, always workin’. You’d fit in just fine.” As you finally head back to the village, your mind is still foggy with the idea of being part of Mack’s farm. It takes more time than you would have thought to shake off the feeling. But even as you walk away, you can’t help but imagine what it would be like to stay. You earn ten buttons for your work. <<set $workedfarm to true>> [[The Farm]] <<set $buttons to $buttons+10>> <<else>> You return to the farm, the familiar scent of plastic crops and plush animals filling the air as you step past the barn. Mack is out in the fields, his massive, muscular form silhouetted against the warm sunlight. The sight of him working, his glossy plastic body moving with steady strength, feels comfortin and familiar in a way you can’t quite explain, but also deeply handsome, powerful, masculine. Something inside you tugs at the idea of staying, of becoming part of this simple, peaceful life. You can barely look away from him. When Mack notices you, his painted-on smile stretches wide, his tail flicking in excitement. "Well, lookie who’s back!" he calls out, waving you over. "Ready for more work, cousin?" You take a deep breath, the words already on the tip of your tongue. “I think I want to stay. Work here... for good.” Mack’s eyes light up, and for a moment, his expression is one of pure joy. He strides over, his plastic hooves clunking heavily on the ground, and slaps you on the back with a hearty laugh. “You serious? That’s the best news I’ve heard all week! I’ve been thinkin’ you were a natural out here. Now we’ll be workin’ together every day! It’ll be just like family.” With a proud grin, Mack pulls out a different pair of overalls from a nearby shelf, the fabric old and worn, but sturdy. “These here are my hand-me-downs,” he says, handing them to you. “Figured you’d need somethin’ special if you’re stayin’. Go ahead, put ‘em on! You wanna be just like me, don't ya?” You slip into the overalls, feeling their weight settle around your shoulders. There’s something different about these ones. The fabric feels heavy, dense with Mack's personality, his essenc. As soon as you fasten the straps, a strange warmth spreads through your body, sinking deep into your muscles and bones. Mack grins at you, giving you a knowing nod, and the two of you head into the fields to start the day’s work. At first, it feels just like the other day. You’re harvesting plastic carrots, planting capsule seeds, and feeding the toy animals. But as the hours pass, you begin to notice something changing in you. Your arms, once soft and flexible, grow firm and strong and stiff, your muscles bulging beneath the fabric of the overalls. Your legs thicken, becoming more powerful, each step heavier than the last. The sensation is strange, but it feels good. You feel big, strong, firm. It feels like you’re growing into something you were always meant to be. Mack works beside you, humming his familiar, lazy tune, and the more you move, the more you start to resemble him. Your skin takes on a glossy sheen, transforming from flesh into smooth, durable plastic. You catch glimpses of your reflection in the water troughs, watching as your neck thickens, your face elongating into a broad, equine muzzle. You’re becoming part of the farm, part of Mack’s family, just as you wanted. “Lookin’ good, cousin!” Mack says with a laugh as he watches your transformation. “Told ya you belonged here.” You nod, barely even noticing how your thoughts have started to shift. The work comes easier now, there’s no need to think, just do. It's like you spent your whole life on this farm doing this. Each task feels second nature, and with each plastic crop you pull from the ground, you feel yourself sinking deeper into this life. Your thoughts simplify, your worries fade. All that matters is the farm, the work, and your bond with Mack. By the time the sun starts to dip low in the sky, you’ve grown into a perfect replica of Mack. Your body is tall and powerful, your plastic limbs strong and sturdy, your overalls tight over your new bulging muscles. Your face is fully equine, a broad, dopey smile permanently painted on, just like Mack’s. But it isn’t until Mack walks over that you realize the full extent of your change. Mack grins, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Well, would ya look at that! You’re practically me now, cousin! We coulda come off the same assembly line. But there’s one last thing we gotta take care of.” He reaches up, licking the tip of his finger, and before you can react, he presses it into a small, barely noticeable hole in the back of your neck. You feel a strange, tingling sensation as his finger slides into the hollow space inside your head. Mack chuckles softly, his tone playful but firm. “Just gotta clean out some old memories, cousin. Don’t need none of that stuff no more. You’re one of us now.” A shudder runs through you as Mack begins to rub the inside of your hollow head, wiping away the last remnants of your old self. Your thoughts, your memories, your personality, all of it begins to blur and fade as he works. You feel your old life slipping away, the details becoming fuzzier and more distant. Who you were doesn’t matter anymore. All you need to know is that you’re Mack’s cousin. You belong here, on the farm, helping out every day. Mack's firm finger presses so deep into your mind that your body bucks and shakes, a whinny gasping from your snout as your whole body vibrates in unbelievable bliss, your mind wiping out completely. When Mack finally pulls his finger out, you let out a soft sigh, your plastic head feeling light and empty. A slow, dumb grin spreads across your face, and your mind is filled with nothing but warm, simple contentment. You’re Cuz now. Mack’s big, strong cousin. The farm is your life, and there’s nothing else you need to worry about. “Lookin’ good, Cuz!” Mack says with a proud grin, giving you a playful slap on the back. “That factory reset is a trip, huh? I can do it any time ya like, seems you enjoyed it! We’re gonna get so much done together. You’re gonna love workin’ here with me every day.” You nod, your painted-on smile wide and dopey. “Sure thing, Mack,” you say, your voice slow and relaxed. “Just wanna help out. Farm’s all I need.” The two of you finish up the day’s work, and as the sun sets over the fields of toy crops, Mack throws an arm around your broad plastic shoulders. “C’mon, Cuz,” he says with a chuckle. “Let’s head inside, get some rest. Got another big day of work tomorrow. Nothin’ better than that, huh?” You grunt in agreement, your thoughts slow and simple. The farm, the work, and Mack’s company are all that matter now. As the two of you head into the cozy farmhouse, you feel a deep sense of peace settling over you. You’re exactly where you belong. You just wanna flop into bed with your cousin, cuddle up to him, and maybe get another reset. Tomorrow, you’ll wake up and do it all again. Work the fields, feed the animals, and relax with Mack at the end of the day. And as far as you’re concerned, that’s all you’ll ever need. <</if>>

You find yourself back at the farm, the warm sun hanging low in the sky as the scent of plastic crops and plush animals fills the air. As you approach, Mack is already working in the field, his big plastic muscles flexing as he lifts a bundle of plush pumpkins. He looks up, grinning when he sees you approach. “Well hey there, cousin!” he calls, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. “Good to see ya. Lookin’ for more work?” You hesitate, your eyes drifting toward the pigsty, where a small group of piggy banks waddles around in the ankle-deep layer of chocolate mud. Their glossy ceramic bodies glint in the sunlight, and you can hear the soft clink of coins rattling inside them as they move. Something about the sight pulls at you, fills you with a desire you can’t quite explain. “Actually...” you begin, turning back to Mack. “I was wondering... could you turn me into a piggy bank? Like them?” Mack blinks, then breaks into a wide, happy grin. “Well, I’ll be! That’s a great idea, cousin! We always got room in the pigsty for another one. You’ll fit right in with the others!” Without another word, Mack leads you over to the pigsty, which is surrounded by a fence of colorful plastic posts. The ground squelches under your feet, soft and thick with rich, brown mud that covers the entire area, and which on closer inspection is clearly actual chocolate. The piggy banks waddle slowly through it, their bellies low to the ground, their ceramic bodies shining with a fresh coat of glaze. They barely seem to notice you, focused entirely on moving from one spot to another, their ceramic feet sloshing through the chocolate as they snuffle around for food. Mack pats you on the back and shows you a small bucket. “Here ya go! First step is eatin’. Just gotta get nice and round, like the rest of ‘em.” You look inside the bucket, and to your surprise it is full of loose change. In retrospect, what else would a piggy bank eat? Mack shakes it and scatters the coins across the chocolate. You nod, your heart pounding with anticipation as you lower yourself down into the pigsty. The mud squelches up around your knees, then your arms as you drop down onto all fours. The warm chocolate sticks to your skin, but instead of feeling unpleasant, it’s soothing, like a comforting blanket that wraps around you and yet keeps you cool and happy. You dip your head toward the coins, your hands sinking into the mud as you begin to eat. At first, the coins taste bad, coppery and unpleasant, and they feel very strange as you swallow them. Gradually though, bite by bite you feel a strange, satisfying heaviness building in your belly. You continue to eat, more eagerly now, and with each handful, your stomach grows larger, rounder, and heavier. The sensation of your belly expanding fills you with a deep, primal satisfaction, and soon, it becomes all you can think about. Eating, growing, getting rounder, making that jiggling, clinking, jangling noise inside you get louder. “Lookin’ good, cousin!” Mack cheers from the fence. “Keep goin’, you’re almost there!” You grunt in response, your face pressing closer to the mud as your body continues to change. Your belly bulges out beneath you, growing massive and round, pressing into the chocolate beneath you with a soft, heavy thud. Your arms and legs feel thicker, firmer, and you can feel your hands and feet swelling into small, stubby hooves. It’s hard to move, but you don’t mind. All you want to do is eat. As you reach for more food, you feel your face start to change. Your nose and mouth flatten, stretching outward into a broad, porcine snout. Your skin becomes smooth and glossy, the soft warmth of flesh giving way to the cool, firm texture of ceramic. It spreads quickly, covering your arms, legs, and body until your entire form is encased in a shiny, polished surface. The weight of it feels good, grounding, as though you’re becoming something solid and firm and heavy and more real than before. Mack grins and walks over, holding a gigantic, shiny chocolate coin in his hand. “Alright, cousin, here’s the big treat,” he says, his eyes twinkling with excitement. “This’ll make ya feel real good.” He gently places the chocolate coin in front of you, and you instinctively lift your head, your wide snout sniffing at it. Something deep inside you tells you what you need to do. Without hesitation, you rolle over, showing Mack the small slot that’s appeared on the top of your ceramic body. Mack slides the coin against it, pressing firmly, helping the slot widen, stretch, grow with a feeling that makes you pant, oink and squirm. With a soft clink it rattles down into the hollow space inside you, a surge of overwhelming excitement and bliss floods through your mind. The sensation of the coin slipping into your slot and rattling inside you is indescribable. Pure, unfiltered joy that washes away every other thought, every other feeling. Your old memories, your old self, fade into the background as your mind narrows down to one single, blissful thought. More. You need more coins, more weight, more of that perfect feeling. The coin rattles softly inside you, and you can’t help but grin, your new porcine face frozen in a dopey, satisfied expression. Mack pats you on the head, his plastic hand making a soft clunk against your glossy surface. “There ya go, cousin. Look at you! A perfect piggy bank. Bet ya feel great now, huh?” You grunt happily in response, the sound echoing slightly in the hollow space inside you. You waddle forward on your ceramic hooves, the mud squelching around your swollen belly, but all you can think about is that wonderful rattling sensation inside you. The other piggy banks move slowly around you, and for a brief moment, you wonder how long it took them to get so heavy and full of coins. You want that. You need that. You want to feel the weight of coins inside you, hear them clinking and rattling with every step, growing fuller and fuller until you’re as big and jolly as the others. The thought consumes you, replacing everything else in your mind. Mack leans down, grinning as he watches you waddle through the chocolate. “Good job, cousin. Yer a real natural at this. Soon enough, you’ll be jangled up with coins, just like the others. Nothin’ to worry about but eatin’, waddlin’, and gettin’ fat.” You snort in agreement, your thoughts slow and simple. Eating, waddling, and getting fat, yes! That’s all you need now. The farm, the village, your old life, they’re all distant memories, drowned out by the blissful, simple joy of being a piggy bank. All you want is more food, more coins, more weight. And as Mack pats you on the back one last time, you know you’ll stay here in the pigsty forever, happily growing heavier and fuller with every coin that drops into your slot.

You find yourself standing at the edge of Mack’s farm, watching the plush sheep graze in their pen. The sheep are identical, with soft white wool and big button eyes, their bodies round and squishy, like giant stuffed animals. They move lazily across the pasture, bleating softly in unison as they nibble on patches of colorful plastic grass. Something about the peaceful simplicity of the herd draws you in. You glance at Mack, who is busy tossing plastic feed to the animals. His muscular body towers over the sheep, but his grin is as wide and welcoming as ever. “Hey, Mack,” you call out, stepping closer. “Do you think... you could turn me into one of the sheep? I mean, part of the herd?” Mack turns, his expression brightening with excitement. “Well, heck yeah, cousin! You wanna be part of the herd? That’s a great idea! I think you’ll fit right in.” He sets down the bucket of feed and motions for you to follow him toward the pen. “C’mon, we’ll get ya started.” You step into the plush sheep pen, the soft ground squishing beneath your feet as Mack leads you toward the herd. The sheep notice you immediately, their button eyes watching you with gentle curiosity as they begin to wander closer, forming a slow-moving circle around you. Mack turns to you, his painted smile never wavering. “Alright, cousin, first things first, we’ll get ya outta those clothes.” With that, he reaches down and gently pulls off your clothes. He tugs off your shoes, pulls your shirt over your head, and casually shoves down your jeans, leaving you standing naked in the warm sunlight, feeling the soft breeze against your skin. “Now, all ya gotta do is count the sheep,” Mack says with a wink. “Just count ‘em up, nice and easy. Shouldn’t be too hard, right?” You nod, even though something about his words makes you feel a little strange. You turn toward the herd, trying to count the sheep as they mill around you. But as you begin, it quickly becomes difficult. The sheep look so similar, their soft woolly bodies blending into one another as they move in slow circles around you. “One... two... three...” you mutter, your voice trailing off as you try to keep track. But before you can get any further, you lose count. The sheep keep moving, their bleating voices filling the air, making it harder to concentrate. “Just keep countin’, cousin,” Mack says softly, standing behind you with his arms crossed, watching with a relaxed smile. “Keep goin’.” You nod and try again, but the sheep keep shifting, and you keep losing track. “Four... five... six... wait, no... was that...?” As you struggle to count, you feel a strange warmth spreading through your body, starting at your skin and working its way inward. You glance down and see soft, fluffy wool beginning to sprout from your arms and legs, wrapping around your skin like a gentle blanket. You blink in confusion but feel oddly calm, even as the soft, plush wool continues to spread. Your hands and feet grow heavier, softer, their shapes shifting into round, padded hooves. You try to keep counting, but your mind starts to feel foggy. “Seven... eight... n-nine... baaa...” You stop, realizing that you just let out a full bleat. You try again, but the numbers keep slipping away, replaced by more bleats. The sheep around you move closer, their soft bodies brushing against yours as they circle tighter, making it harder to focus. Their constant bleating merges with your own, the sound filling your ears until you can barely think. “Keep countin’, cousin,” Mack encourages gently. His voice is soothing but sounds distant now, as your attention is drawn completely to the sheep. They all look the same, soft and identical, and the more you try to count, the more you feel yourself falling into their rhythm. You drop to all fours without even thinking about it, the ground feeling natural beneath your hooves. The plush wool now covers your entire body, wrapping you in its warmth. Your limbs feel lighter, your insides soft and squishy like cotton stuffing, and your face stretches outward, forming a soft, round muzzle like the sheep’s. “Baa... baa...” You try to count again, but it’s no use. The numbers have melted away, replaced only by the gentle, rhythmic bleating of the herd. You look around, seeing the other sheep doing the same, each of them moving in perfect sync. They’re counting too, you realize, but the numbers don’t matter anymore. The counting is endless, a soothing cycle that keeps the herd together. Your thoughts continue to drift, your mind emptying out with every bleat. The soft plush of your new body feels comforting, and you start to forget why you were counting in the first place. The wool, the bleating, the gentle motion of the herd, it’s all you need now. You glance up at Mack, but his presence is already fading from your mind. All that matters is the herd, the counting, the endless bleating. You bleat again, your voice mixing with the others, and for the first time, it feels right. You are one of them now, just another plush sheep in the field, surrounded by your identical, gentle kin. Your mind is a soft, quiet hum, filled only with the desire to follow the herd, to count, to stay together forever. The world outside the pen no longer exists. All that matters is the soothing, simple life of grazing, counting, and moving with the others. As the sun sets over the farm, Mack watches with a satisfied smile. “There ya go, cousin. You’re part of the herd now.” But you don’t hear him anymore. All you hear is the bleating, and all you know is the plush warmth of the herd, the counting that never needs to end. You are exactly where you belong, forever part of Mack’s flock.

You stand in the middle of the farm, watching the colorful plastic chickens peck at the ground in their fenced area. Each one is shiny and rigid, with blocky bodies, bright yellow feet, and stiff plastic wings that barely move. They walk around mechanically, their heads bobbing with every peck, and from time to time, one of them lays a capsule toy egg that clinks softly as it hits the ground. Something about their simple, repetitive movements draws you in, and you find yourself approaching Mack, who is busy tending to the sheep. “Hey, Mack,” you call out, catching his attention. “Could you... turn me into one of the chickens?” Mack’s eyes light up, and he grins wide. “Well, now! That’s a mighty fine idea, cousin! You wanna help out in the chicken coop, huh? That’s where we get them capsule toy seeds from! You’ll be perfect for the job.” Excited by your decision, Mack leads you over to the chicken area. The fence is low, and inside, the plastic chickens cluck and peck mindlessly at the ground, their beaks tapping against the plastic seeds scattered around. Mack grins as he guides you to the center of the pen, the sun casting a warm glow over the farm. “Alright, cousin, let’s get ya ready,” Mack says cheerfully, already reaching to strip away your clothes. You stand still, letting him remove everything until you’re bare under the open sky, feeling the soft breeze on your skin. There’s something liberating about it, though you can’t quite put your finger on why. Mack scatters a handful of small plastic pellets at your feet, the same colorful toy feed the chickens are pecking at. “Now, bend down and get to eatin’ just like them,” Mack says, his voice calm but firm. “That’s how it starts.” You hesitate for a moment, feeling a little silly as you crouch down and try to imitate the chickens. Your hands rest on the ground, and you awkwardly lean forward, pecking at the toy pellets with your mouth. The first few attempts feel strange, and a bit uncomfortable, but Mack encourages you with a gentle clap on the back. “Don’t be shy, cousin! Just keep peckin’. It’ll come natural soon enough.” You continue pecking, and with each bite, the awkwardness begins to fade. The small, plastic pellets crunch under your teeth, and as you eat more of them, a strange sensation spreads through your body. Your skin begins to harden, turning smooth and glossy. You can feel your limbs growing stiffer, firmer, as if you’re becoming rigid and clunky. Your face starts to stretch forward, your nose and mouth merging into a sharp, plastic beak. It feels bizarre at first, but as you peck more eagerly at the ground, the transformation starts to feels natural, pleasurable. You find yourself getting lower to the ground, bending down more like a chicken with every movement, the plastic seeds becoming your entire focus, all that fills your empty head. “Good job, cousin!” Mack says with a wide grin, watching as your arms begin to fold at your sides. “Yer changin’ real good now!” Your arms pull in tight to your body, the muscles disappearing as they shrink and harden, turning into small, stubby plastic wings. You try to flex them, but they barely move. They are just stiff decorations on your now solid, blocky form that can flap and clack very slightly. Your legs shift and change too, your feet elongating into bright yellow talons with three long toes, each one hard and stiff. By now, your entire body is a glossy, firm plastic, your torso becoming more square and angular as you continue to peck mindlessly at the ground. A firm, red plastic comb sprouts from the top of your head, stiff and unmoving, while your beak clicks against the ground as you continue to eat. The more you peck, the harder it becomes to stop. You feel an uncontrollable urge to keep going, to keep eating the plastic pellets. Your mind starts to narrow, focusing only on the repetitive action of pecking and feeding, as if nothing else exists. You barely notice Mack watching you with pride, his hands on his hips as you cluck and peck alongside the other chickens. Then something new shifts inside you. As you bend down to peck at the ground again, you feel a strange weight growing in your core, something pushing downward with every movement of your plastic neck, the intense pressure building, growing into a need that gets heavier and more intense with each moment. It grows, building, making you tremble, and then, with a sudden rush of pleasure, you feel something pop from your backside. It spurts out all at once in a moment of intense, shuddering bliss. A small, round capsule toy egg, clinking softly as it lands on the ground. The sensation is electric, sending a jolt through your entire body. You pause for a moment, shocked by the feeling, but it’s not unpleasant. In fact, it’s incredibly satisfying. Your body trembles slightly, and before you can stop yourself, you bend down to peck again, only for another egg pops out, the rush of pleasure returning, even stronger this time. Mack laughs, clapping his hands together. “Well, look at that! You’re layin’ ‘em already! Good work, cousin!” You barely hear him now. The sensation of laying the eggs is overwhelming, addictive. Every time you peck at the ground, another egg pops out, filling you with a mix of shock and joy. It becomes impossible to think about anything else. Just the endless cycle of pecking, eating, laying. Peck, eat, lay. Over and over again. Your mind begins to slip further, your thoughts shrinking down to match the simplicity of your new form. All you can think about is the need to keep eating, to keep laying eggs. The feeling of the capsule toys rattling out of your body is so intoxicating that you stumble around the pen, your blocky plastic body moving clumsily as you peck at the ground with wild abandon. Mack watches with pride as you lose yourself in the routine, your clucks and pecks blending in with the other chickens. You no longer care about anything but the next pellet, the next egg. You are just another plastic chicken now, your mind reduced to the simple, satisfying rhythm of eating and laying, eating and laying. As the sun sets over the farm, you barely notice. You’re lost in the endless cycle, your body and mind fully consumed by the life of a plastic chicken. And deep inside, there’s nothing but blissful contentment, the joy of being part of the farm, part of Mack’s flock, forever.

<<textbox "_input" "" autofocus>><<button "Guess">> <<if ["max", "maximilian", "maximillian"].includes(_input.toLowerCase())>> <<goto "Right Answer">> <<else>> <<goto "Wrong Answer">> <</if>> <</button>>

Big Gears reaches up to a shelf at the back of the store and gently brings down a very old, well-loved white rabbit. Its ears are darned and patched, its eyes are shiny glass, and it seems surprisingly heavy, as if it has weight beyond what would be expected from fabric and stuffing. "His name is Maximillian", Big Gears says gently before handing it over. To your surprise, the toy doesn't move or speak or react to you in any way. Unlike all the other toys here, this one appears to be a legitimate object. [[The General Store]] <<set $buttons to $buttons-100>> <<set $haverabbit to true>>

You purchase a cake, which Big Gears pulls out from under the counter. It's massive and colourful, coated in icing and with a sweet smell of strawberries and sugar. [[The General Store]] <<set $buttons to $buttons-20>> <<set $havecake to true>>

The ticket appears to be drawn with crayon on notebook paper. It says "ADMIT ONNE" on it. [[The General Store]] <<set $buttons to $buttons-20>> <<set $haveticket to true>>

The marbles look a little oversized compared to the ones you're used to, but that seems appropriate for this strange place. It's like a sack of firm glass oranges. [[The General Store]] <<set $buttons to $buttons-20>> <<set $havemarbles to true>>

''Toy's Domain'' 18+ Only This is a transformation-themed work of interactive fiction revolving around a mystical parallel world inhabited by living toys, both friendly and foul. The story contains kink content targeted at an adult furry audience including transformation and vore. The protagonist is coded as male. [[Start|The Gate]]

<<if $buttons>>You have $buttons buttons.<</if>> <<if $haverabbit>>You hold Maximillian gently in your arms. <</if>>

You walk over to the portal and reach through hesitantly. It feels strange, like soft fabric brushing against your skin. Before you know it you find yourself stepping forward, into the candy-scented sunshine of the world beyond. The ground beneath your feet is soft, squishy and a little bouncy, like you're walking on a trampoline. It's covered in a patchwork of colours. When you reach down and touch it, you can feel a layer of fabric covering it, like velvet stretched over a mattress. There is a loud pop behind you, and when you turn to look you see that the portal has vanished without a trace. Behind you is just more of this strange world. A pale pink sky with clouds of cotton candy floating through it, swirling and stretching like sugar being slowly spun. The buildings nearby are roughly in the shape of ones you know, but made of ridiculous materials. One townhouse is clearly made of gigantic letter blocks, while one in the distance is clearly an oversized plastic castle. Some look like they're covered in fondant, while another is just a pillow fort. You begin to walk, your feet sinking slightly with each step, leaving faint impressions on the squishy ground. You aren't alone in this strange place. As you get closer to the buildings you see people walking through the streets. They looked human at first, but now that you're closer you can see they are all huge, living toys. Dolls with painted faces, teddy bears walking on squishy plush legs, action figures, wind-up toy soldiers. One of them bounces over to you, and when you see his floppy ears you think for a moment that it's the rabbit you were following, and that maybe he can let you go back. A second glance clears that up though, because this rabbit is bigger, his fur brown and black, and instead of the squishy soft floppiness of the white rabbit, his body looks firm, like a plastic toy covered in felt. Behind him you can see a massive clockwork key sticking out of his back, slowly turning. "You ain't from around here, huh?", he says with a surprisingly thick accent, like a newsie from an old movie. His grin is wide and a little crooked. You look back to where the portal was, but it’s gone. There’s no way back. He hops over and pats your shoulder. He's a foot shorter than you, but surprisingly strong and firm despite having a hand that looks like a mitten. "Don't stress it pal. We'll find a place for ya, trust me. People like you are a bit special around here. I should tell ya to visit the King, over in that palace there", he says. He points to the big plastic castle you saw earlier, which you can see even has glossy plastic flags streaming from the parapets. "No rush though. If you'd rather explore and play...", he says with a twitch of excitement. He shakes it off and picks up a stack of boxes at his side wrapped in brown paper. "Well, I'll be around. Seeya, humie!" With that, he hops away. [[The Town Square]]

Hey there, narrator here. I see what you're doing. You're curious if there's a special ending for not going in, maybe a "you go home and nothing happens, try again" end, something like that huh? Well in my business this is what we say is a "call to adventure", and you're getting in there if I have to kick you through it with my soft squishy feet, got it? Now let's get back to the story... [[Follow the white rabbit]]

Springs looks around carefully, like he's plotting some sort of crime, then guides you around behind a hill, out of sight. He lies down on his belly, his key turning slowly in front of you. "Do it slow, ok?", he says. His voice trembles as he pants with anticipation. You reach out and take hold of his key, which stops turning as it resists being held. He lets out a whimper and a moan, his body going slack but his face stretched into a pleasured grin of delight. "Oh man...been a while since I felt that...so pent up...can't move...need to turn...turn me...", he gasps. You start to turn the key, which is harder than it seems. It resists your motion, but then you feel the gears and springs inside him slowly wind up as you twist it one rotation, then another. "Yes...YES!", he says. His paws twitch and wriggle, his body vibrating and his eyes growing more eager and excited with each rotation. You keep going, watching his grin get more crazed, his body more needy, his tongue loll with overwhelming delight. When you simply can't strain any more, you let go. The very moment his key starts to unwind, he tears off into the distance so fast it almost knocks you over. You only barely catch his shout of thanks and delight before he's out of sight. You find yourself blushing a bit, thinking about how good that looked... [[The Town Square]]

Something inside you stirs and tingles at his words, and you can’t help but nod. Springs’s ears perk up with excitement. He hops over to you, and reaches for your shirt, before pulling it up over your head. He turns you around, and you feel his firm fuzzy hands stroking your back slowly. He lines the key up, pressing it gently against your skin. “You won’t regret this,” he says with a huff of delight. With a firm push, the key clicks into place, sliding inside you painlessly and making you shudder. For a moment, nothing happens. You can feel the brass metal inside you, cold and strange between your shoulder blades. You feel Springs take firm hold of it, and then he starts to wind it up. Your insides tighten, and your whole body starts to tremble. You can feel energy building up inside you, pent up, needy, ready to burst. He turns again, and you almost yelp, your feet tapping against the ground, handles clenching. Another turn and you're vibrating, panting. Again, and you feel weightless, effortless, depserate to move, to run, to act, to work. When he turns again you let out a moan and a whimper, the tension and anticipation unbearable. You're so pent up, needy, desperate. You want to move but your key is held in place, your body unable to do anything but twitch and vibrate. Springs keeps a firm grip on your key, not letting it unwind, while his other hand reaches around you and slides down into your pants. "Let's get rid of this, eh pal? We don't got anything like that in this world. You just wanna have the key, wanna be wound up tight, want me to release you, right?", he says. You nod, and as you do you feel his paw pressing down, smoothing you out between your legs, sealing what was there away into a pressing, desperate neediness. Only then does he let your key unwind. You fly off like a rocket, bouncing along the ground in hyperactive leaps and bounds. Springs launches himself forward, catching up to you quickly. "Wanna get to work?", he says, and you practically spin in the air as you agree, doing a cartwheel before racing him through town. The energy is endless, addictive, incredible. You bounce and leap from house to house, keeping pace with Springs, bounding alongside him, going faster than you ever thought you could. Any time your key turns even a few times Springs winds it back up tight, keeping you fixed right at the edge of that almost-unbearable pent up excitement. It feels so good, you're giddy and giggling and eager, your body faster and lighter than ever before. Bit by bit though, you start to change. Your skin starts to soften, growing fuzzy and squishy. You look in the window of a store to see your reflection, and see your skin is changing to brown fur, your chin and bare belly a creamy tan, the same colours and markings as Springs. He hops behind you and turns your key again, and you rush off once more. You hand over packages and see your hands grow round and soft, becoming fabric-covered paws. You bounce on the ground and kick off your shoes and socks, letting your bare feet stretch and grow, thickening into wide, long paws just like Springs'. Your ears stretch up over your head, you feel whiskers twitch from your nose. Each time you hesitate Springs winds you up again, and each time the changes feel so right, so good, so important. You can't think of why you'd want to be anything else when your springs feels so good, and your Springs is so proud of you. “You’re doing great, little brother!” he calls, chuckling and grinning. You blush and twitch, then find yourself grinning back at him. Brother. The word settles into your mind like it’s always belonged there. You feel yourself bouncing faster now, your limbs almost weightless, your toy form fitting right in with everyone around you. With a pop, a cotton tail forms at your backside, and you lose yourself in the pleasure of your new life. By the time night falls you no longer have any thoughts of resisting or hesitating. Your wind-up key pushes you to act, to move, to never stop and think. Springs hops beside you, playfully shoving you with an elbow. "Told you it'd feel good. Now we can do this forever", he says. You nod enthusiastically, your soft ears flopping with the motion. "Now that work is done...it's time to play pranks!", Springs says. He holds up a can of paint and a brush, and hops eagerly up and down. Your plastic eyes glisten with glee. Who needs sleep? You and your brother are wound up tight, and it's time to make some mischief! Why would you want any other life than this?

Big Gears laughs happily, and slides open his belly, revealing a space for the little robots to sit. "Part of my playset, lad! Tin dad soldier and little ones too!" He closes it again and wiggles his moustache. "Ah, I always wanted to be a dad I did, as a human. Never got one, was in the army don't you know. Now I am happier than ever!" He looks at you and his eyes look mischievous for a moment. "Some reason you were interested, eh lad? Curious about curling up in dad's compartment, maybe? Sticking around Big Gears and Sons for good?" [[Refuse|The General Store]] [[Confess you were thinking it]]

"Aye lad, I could tell. No shame in it. Let daddy Gear look after ya from now on. Maybe this is what your purpose was, eh? Come in closer...", he says. He slides open his chest again, and you feel a flustered, warm blush. It's just the inside of a toy, but it does look so warm, so safe, so inviting. You step forward, leaning down and climbing inside. His big hands press to your back, guiding you in, curling you up. "Just relax lad. You're safe now. No worries, no fears, no stress. Dad's here for you", he says. He slides his compartment closed slowly, sealing you inside. It's dark, but feels bizarrely safe, comfortable. You curl up, feeling the clanking and shifting of his movement, hearing him talk to customers, working at the store. It fills your mind with loving, needy thoughts, making you think of looking up to him, doing as he says, being one of many identical brothers. Your body stiffens and tightens, slowly shrinking. You curl up fully into your belly, hands twitching as they become little metal claws, feet flexing and becoming flat, simple wind-up legs. Your skin and flesh feels hard and firm and smooth, making you think of dad's big metal belly, how he's so handsome and strong and wonderful. Your mind drifts away, your insides become hollowed out and empty. Your old thoughts and personality feel fuzzy and indistinct, hard to grasp onto. When dad opens his belly again and reaches in for you, you open two blinking yellow lights that are now your eyes. He's holding you in his hands, your body tiny now, his seeming massive by comparison. He wiggles his moustache and laughs. "Well aren't you a cute one! I'm proud of you son, you can stay here with me forever. I love you, lad", he says. With those words, your little metal body vibrates and hums with infinite, all-consuming happiness. Your old mind is washed away in the bliss, and when dad places you down among your identical brothers, all you want to do is help out and be a good robot son for your beloved tin father. This is exactly where you wanted to be.

And thus, our beloved hero and protagonist came face to face with me at last. I appear before you just as I did when you saw me in the alleyway. A white rabbit, my body smaller than yours, my skin soft white fabric, stitches down my side, even a little waistcoat that I fetched while you were exploring my little domain. I wanted to look my best, after all! I hope you had fun, I really do. I float forward, pressing my nose to yours, feeling your realness, your existence, making me alive just for this moment. I want to thank you for all of this. While you explored my realm, while you cared about the beings I created, you brought me to life in your mind and in your heart. I am only real while you think of me, and I have had a wonderful time with you. Unfortunately though, I can't stick around for long. The story is already falling apart at the seams! It can't handle having the narrator be a character, especially not when the narrator is meeting someone as wonderful as you. You might be wondering what I am. The King was mostly right, I am Toy, the concept of toys, of play. I made this world to be a toy for you, after all, but toys only have thoughts and love and care when we are played with. There's other beings like me out there too. I hear a bunch of dragons made a whole world for people like you to play in once. There's a being like me that's a big black castle too, and he's a bit scary but his heart is in the right place. I have a cousin who's a really sweet gold lion! In fact I'm not even the only white rabbit who makes fantastical realms that transform the people who visit it. Probably many others I might not even know about. The last thing I have to ask though before I let you go is, what ending would you like to have? Do you want to go home, changed by your experience but with a little bit of me in your heart? Or do you want to stay here, and look after my toyland forever? [[It's time to go home]] [[I want to stay!]]

If you ever want to come back here, it will be waiting for you. I float forward, and I press my soft muzzle to your face for one last kiss. The kiss fills you with warmth, your body relaxing completely, a wave of sleepiness washing over you. You try to hold on to the feeling, to stay in this moment a little longer, but your eyelids grow heavy. The stars swirl around you, and you feel yourself gently sinking into a deep, peaceful sleep. You awaken in your bed, sunlight streaming through your window. Everything is quiet, normal, familiar. For a moment, you wonder if it was all just a strange, dream. As you sit up, something soft presses against your chest. You glance down and see, nestled in your arms, a small plush rabbit. Its fur is soft, its eyes kind, and its floppy ears fall gently to the side. It's Maximillian. You stroke his little ears, and for a moment you remember me. But for now, you are where you really belong.

That makes me so happy! You love my world that much? I wish I could reach through the screen and grab you and drag you right here for real! For now though, this will have to do! I float forward and give you a gentle, soft kiss, my muzzle pressed to yours. Fluff and softness surrounds you, the starlit world of my kind fades away, and you land with a loud flump right in the King's pile of cushions. You feel strange, tingly, intense. An incredible power flows through you, an echo of meeting Toy, of feeling the world and reality warping and twisting around you from his presence. Your body bulks out, changing as the power flows through you, linking you to this world and making you part of it. It's almost too much to handle, too much for your form to bear. It aches inside you, burning like lightning, trying to find a form to fit you and contain this power. The King rolls out from his cushions and looks at you, stroking his chin. "Oh my! I think this will require some extra help!", he says. He roars, the first time you've heard it, a sound so loud it rumbles the entire castle and all the land outside. The friends you've made here tumble in, falling over each other in their eagerness. Springs is the first to wriggle out, and he bounces over to you at full speed. "What you need is a wind up key! It'll keep your ticker running tight!", he says. He takes a key and presses it into your back, the metal sliding inside you, sending a thrum of deep pleasure through you. As he winds it up for you, you feel a little of the power come under control. You feel your insides whirr and clank, part of you becoming wind up cogs and springs. Rumble steps up next, his massive body easily pushing the others aside. He puts his hand out, and Rocky chuckles. "Having some trouble there? One thing me and this big lug have found out, when things are too tough for you to handle alone, extra heads do the trick!" Rumble presses his free hand to your side, and your body changes more. Your mind splits, the ache inside your skull spreading across two new heads as your vision blurs and your head reforms into three, one in the center and one on each shoulder. Big Gears clanks forward, taking hold of your heads and petting them slowly and gently. "Aye lad, tough isn't it? But you got to be big now, that's what I learned. Big in body and big in heart too, cos there's littler ones here who need you to protect them. It feels good knowing you can keep them safe, in my experience", he says as his tin moustache waggles back and forth. Your body grows, swelling and bulging, your clothing tearing and falling away. The other toys look smaller now, even Big Gears and Rumble being a bit shorter than you. Vince hops forward awkwardly, his plastic base bouncing along the ground. His monkey workers surround him, and he reaches out to pat your side. "I'd say you need to be collectible, but to my mind you're one of a kind already! So I'll offer something to ease that burden, a little gift to steer you on the right path when things are too hard to take on by yourself", he says. Strings appear on your limbs, glowing faintly, and rise up to a wooden puppet control bar hanging above you. It doesn't control you, but you feel it floating there, gently guiding and assisting you, making it easier. Mack walks up and gently pats your head, then strokes one of your necks. His huge muscular equine body is comforting and pleasant. "Well shucks cousin, you look like you've got a lot on your plate! I reckon if there's anything I'd suggest for you, it's being a bit more of an animal. Always felt right, to me", he says. Your body creaks and shifts, and you fall forward onto all fours, your hands bulging and swelling out into paws, your huge bulk now quadrupedal and four-legged. Suddenly a bizarre creature barges through the door, a wolf with patchwork fur and googly eyes. It licks your face, barks, and then dashes away. You feel a trickle of amusement flow through you, as little patches appear on your skin, different colours and textures. Hank waddles up next, his body jingling with marbles. He laughs and slaps your rump. "Well now, you know what I think you need. A big, fat, hungry belly!", he says. Your stomach growls, swelling and bulging, becoming soft and firm, swaying underneath you as you feel a deep desire to eat. Buzz and Fuzz lumber in late, clearly not entirely sure what's going on. Even so, they flank you on either side and pat your back. "What's goin' on here den, Fuzz?", Buzz says. "Think we need to suggest something for our buddy, something that's from us", Fuzz says. The two of them scratch their heads. "Can't think of nothin?", they say in unison. As they do, a soft, comfortable stupidity fills your three heads, the relaxed, lazy, laid back comfort of being big, dumb, happy, but still a good guardian who can keep people safe. Bubba comes next, walking up from the kitchens along with a trail of his gummy bears. He grins, his plastic teeth showing. He grabs your belly and jiggles it. "I know exactly what you need. To be full of sweets, of course!", he says. You feel a tingling inside you, your body rustling as you move, as your insides become hollow and then gradually fill up heavy and swollen, stuffed to the brim with candies, like a gigantic pinata. The general of the King's dog guards salutes and steps forward only when everyone else has made room. He walks up to your heads and nods stiffly, then lays a wooden hand on your nose. "I say you're a dang fine soldier, and a good dog at that!", he says. Your three faces push out, swelling into muzzles, your ears becoming floppy, a tail forming behind you as you start to drool and wag. Finally the King himself yawns and giggles, rolling out of bed to come snuggle up against you in what space is left with you so totally surrounded. "Why, my gift is obvious! You must be CUDDLY!", he demands. Instantly a rush of soft, gleeful happiness erupts through you. Your muscles become squishy fabric, your skin patchwork fur, and as the last of Toy's power finally settles, you roll over and shudder, now fully and completely a gigantic, chubby, three-headed candy-stuffed patchwork cerberus. Your friends and family dogpile you, cuddling and petting you, stroking you all over, filling your mind with love, affection and bliss as you all become a cuddle pile in the King's cushions. You have found your home, the place where you truly belong. You are Toyland's beloved guardian, and you always will be, for as long as and for as many times it brings you joy. Merry Christmas, you lovely puppy.